Sitting in this Bed and Breakfast in Caernarfon, Wales, looking out upon the channel with its slight breeze gently lifting the fog on this beautiful morning and mildly wondering why the solitary geese are not in a flock and listening to some neoclassical music on the radio and thinking grand thoughts about the castle we are about to see and experiencing a mixture of feelings that our coach tour is over, I am looking forward to a great Welsh breakfast.
It has been a great tour full of sight-seeing, wonders, adventures, exhaustion, and mostly opportunities to learn. Yesterday we stopped at a town known as having the longest name in the world. It is: Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch which means--St. Mary's Church in the Hollow of the White Hazel near to the Rapid Whirlpool of Llantysillio of the Red Cave. The Welsh language is a tough one and it would take many months to be able to pronounce most of the words. Like Scotland, Wales is a strong, lovely country full of national pride and charm.
We have our original coach again and our driver named Paul. He is an Irishman who lives in London and is full of wit and vigor as he constantly offers a creative view of the world around us. A consummate professional, Paul stayed with the coach during its mechanical problems and as soon as he could, he drove many hours to join us at Ambleside. We said goodbye to our temporary driver named Will Stewart. Will was a Scotsman quick to laugh, eager to please, excellent at driving, and made from good stock. We are glad to have Paul back as we return to London, but I am honored to have spent time with Will Stewart as well. Good people whose lives have touched mine in ways that cannot be measured.
Yesterday we toured the Beatles museum in Liverpool, further confirming in my mind they were the most influential early rock band. Their amazing songs that included folk, blues, classical, and even Indian sounds continue to be sung and covered by singers throughout the world. Not sure of my favorite but I do like Norwegian Wood, Eleanor Rigby, Blackbird, Revolution, and about 40 others! The museum allowed us to feel the surge of excitement as the band moved from small clubs to world-wide recognition. The British Invasion of music was felt in the United States as Beatlemania swept our country and began influencing future generations. All great fun and culturally significant as those who loved the Beatles in the 60s are now among the mature leaders of our time in business and in society.
Our time at Hadrian's Wall was fascinating as we reflected on the chronology of Roman rule in what is now the United Kingdom. Begun in AD 122, the wall was strategically built as a fortress to allow trade and levy taxes on travelers and deter enemies. Still standing for nearly 80 miles, much of the wall has been used for other construction projects. As I stood on the wall, looking across the rolling English hills, I wondered about my insignificant role in history and God's purpose for all of us. We are not on this earth for that long but we can make an impact during our time.
A brief stop at William Wallace's monument in Stirling, Scotland allowed us to see the castle across the way. The hero of Scotland, with his bold actions against King Edward I, has infused great pride in the people of Scotland as well as sensitivity and cognizance against governmental abuses. This makes for a veiled mistrust of leaders that permeates many of the people but also promotes nationalistic spirit. Scottish bagpipers stand tall and proud for the people of Scotland and their jovial nature does not diminish their inner strength.
It has been great to watch our students grow throughout the semester and in this coach tour through the United Kingdom. They have seen and experienced culture in ways that will change them forever. Arriving primarily with a limited framework of their lives in Texas, they leave soon with knowledge of the past, hope for the future, and an awareness of the complexities of life outside of the United States. They go back with London culture and arts, Scottish smiles, Welsh ways, lots of great food experiences, and depth of maturity. They also go back with lighter wallets!
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
LP XLII--Adventures in the UK
A friend and I walked from our Hostel in Ambleside to a restaurant in the nearby town. As we sat outside enjoying the night air, I looked over and saw a rubbish bin billowing smoke. A man with a dog had walked by it earlier and thrown his cigarette inside which subsequently caught it on fire. I quickly ran inside and yelled for the worker behind the bar that there was a fire outside in the rubbish bin. I went back outside to contain it and wait for the worker to come with a bucket of water. I lifted the top to allow him ease in dowsing of the fire. As he went back inside, I contained the fire with the lid. By the time he returned, it was under control and I smiled with my own heroic role in helping the problem.
After everybody calmed down, I went back inside and asked if that had happened before. The guy looked at me and said never. I shook my head and said that a guy with a dog had walked by and caused it by throwing his cigarette in the bin. The worker looked at me with an ugly look and said, "Was it you?" Shocked and incensed, I said emphatically "NO, I do not smoke and would never do such a thing." He obviously did not believe me and ignored me. No good deed goes unpunished.
While in Scotland and after hiking to the quaint town of Glencoe, I decided to do a bit of mountain climbing. But as I went up the mountain, I looked over and saw a ravine asking for me to meet and explore it. So I took off another direction, through the fallen trees, the shrubs, the rocks, and the stream that flowed through it. As I walked and climbed around, I recalled the days when my best friend Gary and I climbed everything we could find. We climbed Guadalupe Peak, hiked McKittrick Canyon, went through the Organ Mountains, explored Cloudcroft and Glorieta, and learned every part of Hueco Tanks that was there. We owned the Franklin Mountains and fished every body of water within 200 miles of El Paso (yes, it was hard to find enough water at times). We were little monkeys back then, hopping around on boulders, around fallen logs, up hills, down valleys. We saved each other's life a couple of times from near falls off peaks into canyons. It was all great fun.
But somehow things have changed, and I am no longer as agile as the old days. I cannot seem to climb as quickly and ducking under limbs has become more difficult. My springy legs and youthful mobility is stodgy without the gumby-like imperviousness to bumps and unusual physical demands. So in my awkwardness and as I attempted to cross the mountain stream by jumping from one log to another, I fell. It was not much of a fall but enough to get very wet and scratched up from the rocks and bushes surrounding the stream. As I laid in the mud slightly bruised, laughing silently, but mostly embarrassed, I wondered if Gary were having similar signs of aging! I got up, climbed around some more, realized it was getting darker, and headed back to our locale. It was an adventure of sorts and I was glad to experience it in spite of my shortcomings.
As we arrived in Ambleside, known as the Lake District, I decided to confine my adventures to what I do best--book scouting. Taking the boat across the extensive lake, I ended up in Bowness. A quick look at the finder, and I headed out to Windemere to the secondhand bookshop. Unfortunately it was an uphill climb of over two miles through a winding road. But I enjoyed my brisk walk and finally arrived at the small store. Book scouting these days is very inconsistent. Most rare books have been discovered and the internet has made pricing too easy by owners. This particular shop was heavy on travel and camping books but light in history and fiction. I did find one rare Dr. Seuss book that I bought. Once again, however, the journey to the shop was greater than the result! A further walk brought me to a bus station where I realized the next bus was an hour later. So I grabbed a cab and returned to the lake for another boat trip back over to Ambleside. All great fun and much less damaging to the body than climbing.
After everybody calmed down, I went back inside and asked if that had happened before. The guy looked at me and said never. I shook my head and said that a guy with a dog had walked by and caused it by throwing his cigarette in the bin. The worker looked at me with an ugly look and said, "Was it you?" Shocked and incensed, I said emphatically "NO, I do not smoke and would never do such a thing." He obviously did not believe me and ignored me. No good deed goes unpunished.
While in Scotland and after hiking to the quaint town of Glencoe, I decided to do a bit of mountain climbing. But as I went up the mountain, I looked over and saw a ravine asking for me to meet and explore it. So I took off another direction, through the fallen trees, the shrubs, the rocks, and the stream that flowed through it. As I walked and climbed around, I recalled the days when my best friend Gary and I climbed everything we could find. We climbed Guadalupe Peak, hiked McKittrick Canyon, went through the Organ Mountains, explored Cloudcroft and Glorieta, and learned every part of Hueco Tanks that was there. We owned the Franklin Mountains and fished every body of water within 200 miles of El Paso (yes, it was hard to find enough water at times). We were little monkeys back then, hopping around on boulders, around fallen logs, up hills, down valleys. We saved each other's life a couple of times from near falls off peaks into canyons. It was all great fun.
But somehow things have changed, and I am no longer as agile as the old days. I cannot seem to climb as quickly and ducking under limbs has become more difficult. My springy legs and youthful mobility is stodgy without the gumby-like imperviousness to bumps and unusual physical demands. So in my awkwardness and as I attempted to cross the mountain stream by jumping from one log to another, I fell. It was not much of a fall but enough to get very wet and scratched up from the rocks and bushes surrounding the stream. As I laid in the mud slightly bruised, laughing silently, but mostly embarrassed, I wondered if Gary were having similar signs of aging! I got up, climbed around some more, realized it was getting darker, and headed back to our locale. It was an adventure of sorts and I was glad to experience it in spite of my shortcomings.
As we arrived in Ambleside, known as the Lake District, I decided to confine my adventures to what I do best--book scouting. Taking the boat across the extensive lake, I ended up in Bowness. A quick look at the finder, and I headed out to Windemere to the secondhand bookshop. Unfortunately it was an uphill climb of over two miles through a winding road. But I enjoyed my brisk walk and finally arrived at the small store. Book scouting these days is very inconsistent. Most rare books have been discovered and the internet has made pricing too easy by owners. This particular shop was heavy on travel and camping books but light in history and fiction. I did find one rare Dr. Seuss book that I bought. Once again, however, the journey to the shop was greater than the result! A further walk brought me to a bus station where I realized the next bus was an hour later. So I grabbed a cab and returned to the lake for another boat trip back over to Ambleside. All great fun and much less damaging to the body than climbing.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
LP XLI--Journey to Scotland
Sitting in my motel with my window open, soaking in the fresh air, and looking in awe and wonder at the mountains around me, I am filled with the goodness of God's grandeur, the beauty of the world, and the unique culture of Scotland and its people. If this Scotland world is a stage, then I am blessed to be a player responding to the call of the birds, the trees, and the clean atmosphere that surrounds me. Perhaps my quest for Brigadoon has arrived and I am transported into the village that will last one day and then disappear for another century until the next materialization of this charming community.
But all is not peachy for our little coach tour through the United Kingdom. Our bus broke down about an hour from Glencoe so we waited for another bus to pick us up. During the wait, and in spite of the darkness we looked around the area known as Spean Bridge only to find a railway station currently in repair. A bus arrived and we hopped on it for the trip to Glencoe. Unfortunately we could not get our luggage which arrived the next day, resulting in a night with no luggage and lots of dirty clothes. But we slept well, ate a large Scottish breakfast of sausage, tattie scone, porridge, juice, coffee, toast, ham, and eggs, and most of us went hiking. As I walked along the road and occasionally followed the stream through the hills and into the mountains, I was intent to find the monument to the Glencoe Massacre.
When we arrived at the hotel outside of Glencoe last night, I immediately saw the sign stating "No Hawkers or Campbells." Not being of either persuasion (a hawker is a peddler), I felt at ease and welcomed into the area. But of course I wondered about the hatred of the Campbells. The story goes that in 1692, the MacDonald clan welcomed the Campbell clan and showed them Scottish hospitality. But the Campbells proceeded to massacre 38 of them out of anger for not showing allegiance to the rulers William and Mary. This has resulted in many years of hard feelings toward the Campbells that continues to this day. Long grudge for sure.
The charm of Glencoe with its small country store, Episcopalian church, one room police station, narrow roads, and stunning scenery is contagious, getting into one's heart and residing there as though Brigadoon lies dormant only to shine when it is needed or wanted. In many ways the town, the trees, the streams, the lakes, and yes, even the massacre of 1692, remind me of the value of life, the beauty that is around us, the thorns and the roses that exist throughout the world and the extent of hope and optimism for the future.
The journey to Glencoe, in spite of the mechanical challenges, took us through Loch Ness where we searched in vain for the famed monster. We did not find her, but we did find a beautiful lake surrounded by mountains and trees nestled in a valley like a dream of perfection for weary travelers seeking fresh water. The angelic and radiant world of Scotland is enveloped with a type of sanguine tranquility, ease of laughter, and expressive joy. Yet our time in Edinburgh taught me another side to this amazing country. After seeing the homes of Robert Louis Stevenson, Arthur Conan Doyle, Sir Walter Scott, and Ian Rankin we toured through various parts of the magnificent city and arrived at the famous Edinburgh Castle.
The castle which was used at times for royalty as well as a prison, has everything someone would want in a castle, tall walls, hidden staircases, deep holes, winding paths, spacious rooms, cold rooms, great views, and muscular strength. Seeing the Scotland Crown Jewels, paintings, and swords, I was catapulted backward to a time of sword-fighting, wars, power, defense, and physical aggression. The events of the past created a great pride in Scottish Heritage that continues to this day. Walking further through the castle, I found the War Museum of Scotland. In one humbling room, I saw the national registry of names of those who lost their lives in WWI and WWII. Looking for my family, I saw many Robertsons, Briggs, and some Tuckers. With my English roots that include Ireland and Scotland, I am drawn to this area and proud of my heritage.
Among the most gripping experiences I have had, was the room describing the history and new developments of prosthetic devices for soldiers who have lost their limbs. At one time, death was the expectation for soldiers without arms or legs but with modern medicine and quick attention, a soldier can live a long and fruitful life. Scots are a tough breed of people with a determination to live life to its fullest, enduring hardships and overcoming them with smiles and quick wit. And they love their music. A piper is highly regarded in this country for his talent and his inspiration. Playing the bagpipes is not simply a hobby for fun but is seen as a calling and a responsibility in war or in peace, and pipers are on the same level as leaders of a community.
Perhaps it is time to lift all musicians to their rightful place among the ruling elite! I vote for that.
But all is not peachy for our little coach tour through the United Kingdom. Our bus broke down about an hour from Glencoe so we waited for another bus to pick us up. During the wait, and in spite of the darkness we looked around the area known as Spean Bridge only to find a railway station currently in repair. A bus arrived and we hopped on it for the trip to Glencoe. Unfortunately we could not get our luggage which arrived the next day, resulting in a night with no luggage and lots of dirty clothes. But we slept well, ate a large Scottish breakfast of sausage, tattie scone, porridge, juice, coffee, toast, ham, and eggs, and most of us went hiking. As I walked along the road and occasionally followed the stream through the hills and into the mountains, I was intent to find the monument to the Glencoe Massacre.
When we arrived at the hotel outside of Glencoe last night, I immediately saw the sign stating "No Hawkers or Campbells." Not being of either persuasion (a hawker is a peddler), I felt at ease and welcomed into the area. But of course I wondered about the hatred of the Campbells. The story goes that in 1692, the MacDonald clan welcomed the Campbell clan and showed them Scottish hospitality. But the Campbells proceeded to massacre 38 of them out of anger for not showing allegiance to the rulers William and Mary. This has resulted in many years of hard feelings toward the Campbells that continues to this day. Long grudge for sure.
The charm of Glencoe with its small country store, Episcopalian church, one room police station, narrow roads, and stunning scenery is contagious, getting into one's heart and residing there as though Brigadoon lies dormant only to shine when it is needed or wanted. In many ways the town, the trees, the streams, the lakes, and yes, even the massacre of 1692, remind me of the value of life, the beauty that is around us, the thorns and the roses that exist throughout the world and the extent of hope and optimism for the future.
The journey to Glencoe, in spite of the mechanical challenges, took us through Loch Ness where we searched in vain for the famed monster. We did not find her, but we did find a beautiful lake surrounded by mountains and trees nestled in a valley like a dream of perfection for weary travelers seeking fresh water. The angelic and radiant world of Scotland is enveloped with a type of sanguine tranquility, ease of laughter, and expressive joy. Yet our time in Edinburgh taught me another side to this amazing country. After seeing the homes of Robert Louis Stevenson, Arthur Conan Doyle, Sir Walter Scott, and Ian Rankin we toured through various parts of the magnificent city and arrived at the famous Edinburgh Castle.
The castle which was used at times for royalty as well as a prison, has everything someone would want in a castle, tall walls, hidden staircases, deep holes, winding paths, spacious rooms, cold rooms, great views, and muscular strength. Seeing the Scotland Crown Jewels, paintings, and swords, I was catapulted backward to a time of sword-fighting, wars, power, defense, and physical aggression. The events of the past created a great pride in Scottish Heritage that continues to this day. Walking further through the castle, I found the War Museum of Scotland. In one humbling room, I saw the national registry of names of those who lost their lives in WWI and WWII. Looking for my family, I saw many Robertsons, Briggs, and some Tuckers. With my English roots that include Ireland and Scotland, I am drawn to this area and proud of my heritage.
Among the most gripping experiences I have had, was the room describing the history and new developments of prosthetic devices for soldiers who have lost their limbs. At one time, death was the expectation for soldiers without arms or legs but with modern medicine and quick attention, a soldier can live a long and fruitful life. Scots are a tough breed of people with a determination to live life to its fullest, enduring hardships and overcoming them with smiles and quick wit. And they love their music. A piper is highly regarded in this country for his talent and his inspiration. Playing the bagpipes is not simply a hobby for fun but is seen as a calling and a responsibility in war or in peace, and pipers are on the same level as leaders of a community.
Perhaps it is time to lift all musicians to their rightful place among the ruling elite! I vote for that.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
LP XL--Coach Tour
Loading up a bus, we left London for our coach tour through the United Kingdom. It will be a nine day trip to include cathedrals, castles, landmarks, and history. Our first stop on the way to Stratford-upon-Avon was Holy Trinity Church to see the famous sight of William Shakespeare's church and his grave. The small but beautiful church included stunning stained glass windows and a grand pipe organ. True, Shakespeare was but a man, yet a man with many literary gifts whose influence continues today.
A pleasant lunch of pasta and risotto was followed by a trip to Mary Arden's farm, where we saw how people used to live in Tudor times. Mary Arden was the mother of William Shakespeare and the daughter of Robert Arden. Seeing many animals, we were treated to a bird show and a large owl that entertained the people. Humbled by the world of William Shakespeare, we left to check into our Bed and Breakfast in Stratford. A brief rest and nice dinner prepared us for one of the finest theatre experiences I have had. We saw Twelfth Night in the new Shakespeare Theatre. Styled after the famous Globe theatre but with a ceiling and comfortable seats, the stage comes out forward into the audience. This provides a multi-dimensional feel to the show making the players have to project forward, side, and upward.
The performance was exquisite in all respects and somehow melded old and new together in a comical, but congruent use of modernisms while retaining the original language. The entire performance was at a high level and kept the audience enthralled all the way to the satisfying conclusion. Hilarious at times, touching at other times, Twelfth Night was a ideal way to end our first day of the coach tour.
Not wanting to leave the charm and cleanliness of Stratford-upon-Avon, we got on the bus for a long trip to York. On the way, we stopped for a look at Kenilworth Castle where we climbed on the walls, looked through the portals, and stood where people stood many thousands of years before. Looking around, I realized the castle was built as a fortress against enemies, as protection from outside forces, and as a comfortable though isolated location for the rulers and soldiers. Built in the 12th century, it was the site for the longest siege in English history. Our brief time there served as a reminder of how far we have come as a society. We no longer need to spend many years and great effort to defend ourselves against an enemy, to live in fear and to wonder when the next assault will be. We no longer have to depend on ruling bodies to make the decisions for our lives, to protect us from the evil being perpetrated on our territory. Do we?
With these thoughts, we headed toward Coventry where we saw the devastation of the 1940 Blitz. The destruction of the cathedral was a horrible desecration of God's house. As we stood among the ruins, I felt my heart pounding in fear as I projected myself back to 1940 and all the people must have felt. Yet the Cathedral was rebuilt next door and the town survived and the people eventually returned to their lives full of love and the richness of relationships, work, and homes. But they never will forget the destruction and the cathedral stands as a reminder of the evil and tyranny that was inflicted on the world.
A long drive from Coventry brought us to York, a beautiful hotel, and a walk through the ancient city. Called a ghost walk, we actually learned much of the history of the city began in Roman times and used by the Vikings. Today we visit the beautiful cathedral located in the middle of York. Called Minster, it is a sprawling and awesome Gothic structure that dates back to 627. Rebuilt in 1220, it is one of the largest Cathedrals in the world.
Scotland, here we come.
A pleasant lunch of pasta and risotto was followed by a trip to Mary Arden's farm, where we saw how people used to live in Tudor times. Mary Arden was the mother of William Shakespeare and the daughter of Robert Arden. Seeing many animals, we were treated to a bird show and a large owl that entertained the people. Humbled by the world of William Shakespeare, we left to check into our Bed and Breakfast in Stratford. A brief rest and nice dinner prepared us for one of the finest theatre experiences I have had. We saw Twelfth Night in the new Shakespeare Theatre. Styled after the famous Globe theatre but with a ceiling and comfortable seats, the stage comes out forward into the audience. This provides a multi-dimensional feel to the show making the players have to project forward, side, and upward.
The performance was exquisite in all respects and somehow melded old and new together in a comical, but congruent use of modernisms while retaining the original language. The entire performance was at a high level and kept the audience enthralled all the way to the satisfying conclusion. Hilarious at times, touching at other times, Twelfth Night was a ideal way to end our first day of the coach tour.
Not wanting to leave the charm and cleanliness of Stratford-upon-Avon, we got on the bus for a long trip to York. On the way, we stopped for a look at Kenilworth Castle where we climbed on the walls, looked through the portals, and stood where people stood many thousands of years before. Looking around, I realized the castle was built as a fortress against enemies, as protection from outside forces, and as a comfortable though isolated location for the rulers and soldiers. Built in the 12th century, it was the site for the longest siege in English history. Our brief time there served as a reminder of how far we have come as a society. We no longer need to spend many years and great effort to defend ourselves against an enemy, to live in fear and to wonder when the next assault will be. We no longer have to depend on ruling bodies to make the decisions for our lives, to protect us from the evil being perpetrated on our territory. Do we?
With these thoughts, we headed toward Coventry where we saw the devastation of the 1940 Blitz. The destruction of the cathedral was a horrible desecration of God's house. As we stood among the ruins, I felt my heart pounding in fear as I projected myself back to 1940 and all the people must have felt. Yet the Cathedral was rebuilt next door and the town survived and the people eventually returned to their lives full of love and the richness of relationships, work, and homes. But they never will forget the destruction and the cathedral stands as a reminder of the evil and tyranny that was inflicted on the world.
A long drive from Coventry brought us to York, a beautiful hotel, and a walk through the ancient city. Called a ghost walk, we actually learned much of the history of the city began in Roman times and used by the Vikings. Today we visit the beautiful cathedral located in the middle of York. Called Minster, it is a sprawling and awesome Gothic structure that dates back to 627. Rebuilt in 1220, it is one of the largest Cathedrals in the world.
Scotland, here we come.
Friday, March 23, 2012
LP XXXIX--How String Players Become Unemployed
The jazz singer mixing in soul, blues, and a folk flavor was getting stronger as the program continued. His nice blend of soft soul music and blues tinged with an Irish folk style was pleasantly enhanced by gentle drumming on various instruments and accompanied by a string quartet and keyboard. I was in a dark but classy room connected to a beautiful church and once again enjoying Wednesday jazz night. His voice was a little reedy with full range of notes and color in his sound. Covering the gamut of music, we heard a rich rendition of a spiritual, a folk song, a pop tune, even a chant-like blues tune. It was meaningful, personal music for all.
But as I listened, I began to be bothered by some sounds that were not quite right. Keep in mind that London is such an arts community and so populated that most public performances of anything are at a very high level. So when I began to hear problems in the group, I was a little taken aback. After a few minutes, I realized the string quartet was not playing in tune. The 2nd violin and the viola player seemed to be in conflict with each other. They were simply not in tune and it was annoying. A closer look at their faces and I thought I saw a high level of disinterest and a lack of joy in their demeanor. They seemed indifferent to the result and did not really want to be there.
I have often been told that my ear picks up subtleties that others do not hear and that I tend to listen overly critically when most people can enjoy music without having to analyze it. While there might be a little truth to this, I maintain that quality music performance is obvious to all in spite of a lack of formal music training. A group of players not playing in tune may not be specifically targeted by an untrained ear, but the annoying sound is certainly painful to all whether or not they are aware of the reason.
Concluding his first set and a break of 15 minutes, the singer returned but without the string quartet. He pleasantly, with a touch of regretful honesty, then told us that he would be performing several selections without the string quartet due to the expenses of having to pay them for the extra time. There were some awkward chuckles in the audience as he began to sing accompanied by a keyboard and a drummer. I did miss the string sound a little but the overall result was improved due to the accurate tuning.
After approximately 20 minutes, he announced that the string players would be returning (they had been in the back with their stopwatches) to play on the rest of the program. He again quipped about the cost of using string players. The added color and sound did temporarily lift the program for several minutes until once again they were out of tune. Not only were they expensive, obviously picky about pay, likely stuffy about literature (I do not know this but somehow suspect it), they simply were not that good.
String music and the string family of instruments are the expressive body of sounds in an orchestra. There is nothing more glorious than a great string player or a large group of strings playing rich, romantic music such as Brahms, Wagner, Strauss, or Mahler. A string quartet can be a magical experience in music as a stand alone ensemble or accompanying virtually any event. And because musicians have a unique skill born of a mixture of talent and bruising hard work that equals thousands of hours in a practice room, they deserve respect and tangible rewards for their efforts.
At the same time, musicians and some string players in particular need to address the possibility that in some cases their demands are short-circuiting their own careers. Maybe next time the jazz singer will choose electronic sounds or maybe no strings at all to avoid the additional expenses, the difficult scheduling, and out of tune playing.
But I have disparaged the poor players enough, for in the end I did enjoy my jazz night experience and am happy to hear the ideal combination of strings, percussion, keyboard, and a jazz singer in concert. Would I go again? In a heartbeat!
But as I listened, I began to be bothered by some sounds that were not quite right. Keep in mind that London is such an arts community and so populated that most public performances of anything are at a very high level. So when I began to hear problems in the group, I was a little taken aback. After a few minutes, I realized the string quartet was not playing in tune. The 2nd violin and the viola player seemed to be in conflict with each other. They were simply not in tune and it was annoying. A closer look at their faces and I thought I saw a high level of disinterest and a lack of joy in their demeanor. They seemed indifferent to the result and did not really want to be there.
I have often been told that my ear picks up subtleties that others do not hear and that I tend to listen overly critically when most people can enjoy music without having to analyze it. While there might be a little truth to this, I maintain that quality music performance is obvious to all in spite of a lack of formal music training. A group of players not playing in tune may not be specifically targeted by an untrained ear, but the annoying sound is certainly painful to all whether or not they are aware of the reason.
Concluding his first set and a break of 15 minutes, the singer returned but without the string quartet. He pleasantly, with a touch of regretful honesty, then told us that he would be performing several selections without the string quartet due to the expenses of having to pay them for the extra time. There were some awkward chuckles in the audience as he began to sing accompanied by a keyboard and a drummer. I did miss the string sound a little but the overall result was improved due to the accurate tuning.
After approximately 20 minutes, he announced that the string players would be returning (they had been in the back with their stopwatches) to play on the rest of the program. He again quipped about the cost of using string players. The added color and sound did temporarily lift the program for several minutes until once again they were out of tune. Not only were they expensive, obviously picky about pay, likely stuffy about literature (I do not know this but somehow suspect it), they simply were not that good.
String music and the string family of instruments are the expressive body of sounds in an orchestra. There is nothing more glorious than a great string player or a large group of strings playing rich, romantic music such as Brahms, Wagner, Strauss, or Mahler. A string quartet can be a magical experience in music as a stand alone ensemble or accompanying virtually any event. And because musicians have a unique skill born of a mixture of talent and bruising hard work that equals thousands of hours in a practice room, they deserve respect and tangible rewards for their efforts.
At the same time, musicians and some string players in particular need to address the possibility that in some cases their demands are short-circuiting their own careers. Maybe next time the jazz singer will choose electronic sounds or maybe no strings at all to avoid the additional expenses, the difficult scheduling, and out of tune playing.
But I have disparaged the poor players enough, for in the end I did enjoy my jazz night experience and am happy to hear the ideal combination of strings, percussion, keyboard, and a jazz singer in concert. Would I go again? In a heartbeat!
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
LP XXXVIII--The Umbrella Boys
Please forgive the departure from London stories. My trip to Indonesia during my London stay was revealing and in some ways life-altering.
When it begins to rain, and it rains nearly everyday, the umbrella boys, approximately age 8-11, go to work. They materialize from wherever they live to wait outside the mall with umbrellas in hand. As a person exits the mall, a boy quickly hands over an umbrella to the person, follows him/her to the car or another building, gets soaking wet, and waits for the 1,000 rupiah that comes his way. 1,000 rupiah is roughly equivalent to 10 cents.
No rain, no boys. They emerge during the rain with a purpose and a hope, usually realized, they will earn some money. They have no concern of getting wet and no regard for their own situation. They also have no care of the person with the umbrella. It is all business and if someone is willing to pay, they will gladly provide an umbrella. Upon receiving the money, they retrieve the umbrella and run rapidly back to the mall with the hope of enticing another person to carry an umbrella.
The water falling upon them makes no difference on their appearance due to their poverty and general living conditions. They are small, dirty, unkempt, unwashed, mostly uneducated, and wear the same clothes everyday. They are The Umbrella Boys and their existence is minimal and by our standards, pitiful.
But let's examine this another way. Playing in the rain and getting wet is fun, particular for a little boy. Furthermore, they suddenly have a purpose and a way of making money. Those who save it up might buy something new and special. Others spend it immediately on candy or coke or something satisfying. From this experience they learn the power of work, of making money, of providing a service, of the amazing truth of supply and demand. They represent the highest ideal of a true market economy. For some, perhaps the steady work (and it rains nearly everyday), will lift them out of poverty and into a higher form of living. For others, perhaps they are satisfied with their position and their lot.
I do not know any Umbrella Boys personally, but I saw them in action in Jakarta, Indonesia. They are real, they are entrepreneurial, and they are dedicated to their employment. Somewhere within the sadness of their poverty, there lies a truth of how sacrifice, dedication, and tenacity is beneficial. Maybe one of those Umbrella Boys will one day be a billionaire or a world leader.
When it begins to rain, and it rains nearly everyday, the umbrella boys, approximately age 8-11, go to work. They materialize from wherever they live to wait outside the mall with umbrellas in hand. As a person exits the mall, a boy quickly hands over an umbrella to the person, follows him/her to the car or another building, gets soaking wet, and waits for the 1,000 rupiah that comes his way. 1,000 rupiah is roughly equivalent to 10 cents.
No rain, no boys. They emerge during the rain with a purpose and a hope, usually realized, they will earn some money. They have no concern of getting wet and no regard for their own situation. They also have no care of the person with the umbrella. It is all business and if someone is willing to pay, they will gladly provide an umbrella. Upon receiving the money, they retrieve the umbrella and run rapidly back to the mall with the hope of enticing another person to carry an umbrella.
The water falling upon them makes no difference on their appearance due to their poverty and general living conditions. They are small, dirty, unkempt, unwashed, mostly uneducated, and wear the same clothes everyday. They are The Umbrella Boys and their existence is minimal and by our standards, pitiful.
But let's examine this another way. Playing in the rain and getting wet is fun, particular for a little boy. Furthermore, they suddenly have a purpose and a way of making money. Those who save it up might buy something new and special. Others spend it immediately on candy or coke or something satisfying. From this experience they learn the power of work, of making money, of providing a service, of the amazing truth of supply and demand. They represent the highest ideal of a true market economy. For some, perhaps the steady work (and it rains nearly everyday), will lift them out of poverty and into a higher form of living. For others, perhaps they are satisfied with their position and their lot.
I do not know any Umbrella Boys personally, but I saw them in action in Jakarta, Indonesia. They are real, they are entrepreneurial, and they are dedicated to their employment. Somewhere within the sadness of their poverty, there lies a truth of how sacrifice, dedication, and tenacity is beneficial. Maybe one of those Umbrella Boys will one day be a billionaire or a world leader.
LP XXXVII--Instrument Museums
It was with great excitement, perhaps excessively, that I entered the Royal College of Music instrument museum. What a disappointment. The famous school, known for Benjamin Britten, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Malcolm Arnold, Gustav Holst, and many others, and is located across from Royal Albert Hall has a very small nearly inconsequential museum of mostly keyboards. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but I was hoping for something more substantial in demonstrating how instruments have developed in history.
Walking around the corner, I entered the fabulous museum known as the Victoria and Albert Museum. I love this museum with its emphases on human creative history in all cultures and time periods. But alas, no instruments. I was told that they closed the room due to lack of interest. So much for that idea. I remembered, however, a brief business trip to Indonesia a few weeks ago when I was told by a fellow musician about the great museum at the Royal Academy of Music.
A bus trip and a long walk down past Regents Park brought me to the famous school which boasts of alumni and faculty including E. Power Biggs, Simon Rattle, Elton John, Myra Hess, Dennis Brain, and many others. I entered the museum and was once again disappointed, although maybe less than before. The small museum with emphases on string instruments, had a few nice displays including a wonderful natural horn and the valved horn played by master artist Dennis Brain. A nice museum certainly, but nothing substantial. I must admit my iconic moment when I gave a personal tribute to Dennis Brain, one of the great musical influences of my early career.
The best instrument museum in London, ironically, is not found in a well-known museum nor in a famous music school but is found in a more remote, residential section called Forest Hill. It is the Horniman Music, and it contains the finest selection of musical instruments I have ever seen. The one flaw is that there are so many instruments in museum, it is a little overwhelming to categorize them. The comprehensive display reminds us that musical instruments did not just suddenly happen but instead have taken years and even centuries to develop. As humankind sought after sound through instruments, there were many experiments that occurred before an instrument "made the cut" and played on the team. The team is now an orchestra or a band or any combination of instruments that have arrived and are used on a regular basis.
But no instrument simply materialized into final form to be suddenly performed by great musicians. Each instrument used today has a history and scattered among those instruments are many discarded experiments that are fascinating, ugly, failures in music. From a study of the failures and the successes, we learn more about ourselves as humans in our struggle for the ideal sound. The museum also serves as a reminder not to rest in a comfort zone but to keep trying new things and new ways to make music. Perhaps our grandchildren will have an opportunity to hear a new instrument that does not exist today!
History and excellence turned the Ophicleide and the Serpent into scrap heaps. History propelled and improved the bassoon, the clarinet, the trumpet, and many string instruments. Time and a desire for orchestral tone color killed the hunting horn. Desire for purity of sound gave us the flute. All these things and more are seen and heard at the Horniman Museum--a museum for the people and one worth a visit when you are in London.
Walking around the corner, I entered the fabulous museum known as the Victoria and Albert Museum. I love this museum with its emphases on human creative history in all cultures and time periods. But alas, no instruments. I was told that they closed the room due to lack of interest. So much for that idea. I remembered, however, a brief business trip to Indonesia a few weeks ago when I was told by a fellow musician about the great museum at the Royal Academy of Music.
A bus trip and a long walk down past Regents Park brought me to the famous school which boasts of alumni and faculty including E. Power Biggs, Simon Rattle, Elton John, Myra Hess, Dennis Brain, and many others. I entered the museum and was once again disappointed, although maybe less than before. The small museum with emphases on string instruments, had a few nice displays including a wonderful natural horn and the valved horn played by master artist Dennis Brain. A nice museum certainly, but nothing substantial. I must admit my iconic moment when I gave a personal tribute to Dennis Brain, one of the great musical influences of my early career.
The best instrument museum in London, ironically, is not found in a well-known museum nor in a famous music school but is found in a more remote, residential section called Forest Hill. It is the Horniman Music, and it contains the finest selection of musical instruments I have ever seen. The one flaw is that there are so many instruments in museum, it is a little overwhelming to categorize them. The comprehensive display reminds us that musical instruments did not just suddenly happen but instead have taken years and even centuries to develop. As humankind sought after sound through instruments, there were many experiments that occurred before an instrument "made the cut" and played on the team. The team is now an orchestra or a band or any combination of instruments that have arrived and are used on a regular basis.
But no instrument simply materialized into final form to be suddenly performed by great musicians. Each instrument used today has a history and scattered among those instruments are many discarded experiments that are fascinating, ugly, failures in music. From a study of the failures and the successes, we learn more about ourselves as humans in our struggle for the ideal sound. The museum also serves as a reminder not to rest in a comfort zone but to keep trying new things and new ways to make music. Perhaps our grandchildren will have an opportunity to hear a new instrument that does not exist today!
History and excellence turned the Ophicleide and the Serpent into scrap heaps. History propelled and improved the bassoon, the clarinet, the trumpet, and many string instruments. Time and a desire for orchestral tone color killed the hunting horn. Desire for purity of sound gave us the flute. All these things and more are seen and heard at the Horniman Museum--a museum for the people and one worth a visit when you are in London.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
LP XXXVI--Family time in London
I said goodbye at Heathrow to Clairissa, Jacob, Olivia, Joel, and Jordan and got back on the tube for the ride to my flat. We had a great time together and I knew it would provide memories for years in the family. There was the brief trip to Camden Town where things are a little less refined than other places in London. We walked into the market area where a man selling food saw Jacob and yelled in a low, harsh, strange and amplified voice, "Chicken Bang Bang...freeeee". Jacob shook his head and moved on quickly, trying not to think about the chicken bang bang. A further walk through the market of food, clothes, trinkets, and concoctions reminded us of the complexity of London and especially Camden Town. Choosing not to receive a fish foot massage (small fish in a bucket apparently love feet and massage them rapidly underwater), we bought some juice and headed back on the tube.
We did have a couple of tense moments including the time Joel nearly did not get off the bus. Clairissa and I had exited but Joel was slow in moving and the doors began to shut. Without hesitation, she grabbed the doors and pried them open for Joel to get out. It was the instincts of a mother dominating the bus. Later, with the same tenacity, I tried to prevent the tube doors from shutting to allow Olivia to get on the tube. It was a last second decision to board since we were not exactly sure if it was the right train. Determining it was correct, we jumped on but Olivia did not quite get there. I worked in vain to stop the doors from shutting until the conductor must have seen the problem and opened them. I suppose it was the instincts of a father-in-law!
The first full day of their visit we attend St. Paul's Cathedral for a service where we heard a beautiful choir and organ and all received a blessing from the President of the service. A quick lunch and we decided to experience Evensong at Westminster Abbey. The sensitive service in the gorgeous cathedral was meaningful and precisely delivered to the crowd of over 200. After two Anglican services, Jacob, Olivia, Jordan, and Joel all decided to attend Hillsong Church. They came back charged with the energy of the service and the complexity of church music today.
We did eat some amazing food including Italian, French, Chinese, and lots of traditional British carvery and fish and chips. The Chinese restaurant was a bit controlling as the wait staff insisted on placing the rice in front of the main dish. As we tried to arrange things to our liking, they came over and changed them back. It was both funny and annoying. Our experience with fish and chips was the typical average service, great food contrast of most pubs in London. Perhaps because of the sheer number of people or maybe due to the disproportionate social distribution of wealth, the service tends to be a little nonchalant in London. Yet the food is terrific with its freshness and consistency. Some may say it tastes a little bland, but I prefer fresh over excessive spices or preservatives.
During the daytime, we visited the Victoria and Albert Museum, Cafe in the Crypt, the National Gallery, Royal Albert Hall, and the British Museum. A few magical moments at Covent Garden where we ate well, drank some coffee, and heard some great music were followed by a nice stroll down Drury Lane. Sadly, it all felt like a drop in an ocean of knowledge as we did not have time to see much of anything. On the positive side, it simply serves as a reminder to return one day for more.
We attended Les Miserables and were thrilled with the theatre, the music, the story, and the overall presentation. It remains my favorite show and I was again in awe over the powerful story and the engaging, demanding music. Rich in scope, tense in action, emotional in content, Les Mis is a musical, theatrical, and literary treat for everyone. We were moved to tears by the event and left somehow changed and improved. The next night, after a delicious meal at Jamie Oliver's Italian Restaurant, we saw the comedy Hay Fever which was again terrific. Wednesday was Phantom of the Opera, a wonderful blend of love, evil, pain, exploitation, and redemption. The show was beautifully performed with great energy and electrifying scenes. Les Mis remains my favorite but Phantom runs a close 2nd!
Thursday night we attended the London Symphony Orchestra to hear Strauss, Mahler, and Brahms. It was again a special evening and made even better for me as I sat beside my precocious son and followed the score to Brahms Second Symphony. What a treat. Friday we got on a boat and headed down the Thames to Greenwich to see the Painted Hall, the National Maritime Museum, and the Prime Meridian. The long, informative day ended after another boat ride with dinner at a delicious French restaurant around the corner. Jacob and Olivia took a walk to Ronnie Scott's Jazz Club while the rest of us began packing for the trip back home.
It was quite a week for me with my family all here and having an opportunity to shepherd them around. The bus, the tube, the boat, and lots of walking gave them a chance to experience London with all its joys, opportunities, and complexities. We had a great time and I will miss them as I complete my study tour. Home in a little more than 4 weeks.
We did have a couple of tense moments including the time Joel nearly did not get off the bus. Clairissa and I had exited but Joel was slow in moving and the doors began to shut. Without hesitation, she grabbed the doors and pried them open for Joel to get out. It was the instincts of a mother dominating the bus. Later, with the same tenacity, I tried to prevent the tube doors from shutting to allow Olivia to get on the tube. It was a last second decision to board since we were not exactly sure if it was the right train. Determining it was correct, we jumped on but Olivia did not quite get there. I worked in vain to stop the doors from shutting until the conductor must have seen the problem and opened them. I suppose it was the instincts of a father-in-law!
The first full day of their visit we attend St. Paul's Cathedral for a service where we heard a beautiful choir and organ and all received a blessing from the President of the service. A quick lunch and we decided to experience Evensong at Westminster Abbey. The sensitive service in the gorgeous cathedral was meaningful and precisely delivered to the crowd of over 200. After two Anglican services, Jacob, Olivia, Jordan, and Joel all decided to attend Hillsong Church. They came back charged with the energy of the service and the complexity of church music today.
We did eat some amazing food including Italian, French, Chinese, and lots of traditional British carvery and fish and chips. The Chinese restaurant was a bit controlling as the wait staff insisted on placing the rice in front of the main dish. As we tried to arrange things to our liking, they came over and changed them back. It was both funny and annoying. Our experience with fish and chips was the typical average service, great food contrast of most pubs in London. Perhaps because of the sheer number of people or maybe due to the disproportionate social distribution of wealth, the service tends to be a little nonchalant in London. Yet the food is terrific with its freshness and consistency. Some may say it tastes a little bland, but I prefer fresh over excessive spices or preservatives.
During the daytime, we visited the Victoria and Albert Museum, Cafe in the Crypt, the National Gallery, Royal Albert Hall, and the British Museum. A few magical moments at Covent Garden where we ate well, drank some coffee, and heard some great music were followed by a nice stroll down Drury Lane. Sadly, it all felt like a drop in an ocean of knowledge as we did not have time to see much of anything. On the positive side, it simply serves as a reminder to return one day for more.
We attended Les Miserables and were thrilled with the theatre, the music, the story, and the overall presentation. It remains my favorite show and I was again in awe over the powerful story and the engaging, demanding music. Rich in scope, tense in action, emotional in content, Les Mis is a musical, theatrical, and literary treat for everyone. We were moved to tears by the event and left somehow changed and improved. The next night, after a delicious meal at Jamie Oliver's Italian Restaurant, we saw the comedy Hay Fever which was again terrific. Wednesday was Phantom of the Opera, a wonderful blend of love, evil, pain, exploitation, and redemption. The show was beautifully performed with great energy and electrifying scenes. Les Mis remains my favorite but Phantom runs a close 2nd!
Thursday night we attended the London Symphony Orchestra to hear Strauss, Mahler, and Brahms. It was again a special evening and made even better for me as I sat beside my precocious son and followed the score to Brahms Second Symphony. What a treat. Friday we got on a boat and headed down the Thames to Greenwich to see the Painted Hall, the National Maritime Museum, and the Prime Meridian. The long, informative day ended after another boat ride with dinner at a delicious French restaurant around the corner. Jacob and Olivia took a walk to Ronnie Scott's Jazz Club while the rest of us began packing for the trip back home.
It was quite a week for me with my family all here and having an opportunity to shepherd them around. The bus, the tube, the boat, and lots of walking gave them a chance to experience London with all its joys, opportunities, and complexities. We had a great time and I will miss them as I complete my study tour. Home in a little more than 4 weeks.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
LP XXXV--Church, Song, and Symphony
Hillsong Church aside, the Anglican tradition permeates the world of churches in London. Nearly every church I see and every service I experience has been influenced by the Anglican tradition of great music, beautiful art, respect for authority, and systematic embracing of God's divine purpose. Of course each church is also different, emphasizing different things, worshiping in different ways, and working within its own structure, location, denomination, and philosophy.
I am especially enjoying the variety of song material I find in London churches. Again, taking Hillsong out of the discussion, most of the churches, depending on the particular church, are using music that covers a wide eclectic spectrum from traditional hymnody, chant, modern masses, to contemporary songs. Nearly as interesting, but not quite (okay, I'll admit that sometimes I find music generally more interesting than some sermons, but please don't tell my pastor friends!), are the kinds of sermons and the content heard at each church.
A pleasant 15 minute walk brought me to the American Church of London. Walking up the imposing steps, I was met by a friendly face who welcomed me to the church. Quipping that I searched for a Texas church but had to settle for an American one, I went inside for the service. The fairly small sanctuary for approximately 250-300 people had a small pipe organ, a nice grand piano, a choir loft, pews, stone walls and lightly stained glass that was typical for churches in the area. Less ornate, and even devoid of art, compared with Anglican churches, it was generic in the sense that virtually any denomination would be comfortable in worship. The architectural design (and never underestimate the power and influence of architecture for worship and style) was open, natural, and allowed for nice reverberation of sound with little need for amplification or artificiality. No screens, no praise band, just piano was used in the service.
The small choir of 11 robed singers standing around the piano, some trained others not, was very strong and began with an Introit (not a Call to Worship) that had a jazz, spiritual flavor composed by the choir director. The energetic beginning gave way to a prayer followed by the great hymn I Sing the Mighty Power of God. The small but well-designed pipe organ was not used in the service at all. Following the hymn and a missionary moment we sang Here I Am to Worship and Here I Am, Lord. Incidentally, I must say that I really cannot stand that song/hymn at all. I do not think the theology is strong and the child-like melody is inane and campfire like. Almost sounds like a 70s hippie tune. Loathe may be too strong a word for my feelings, but that is close.
The sermon on greed and the role of money was lofty, inspiring, and global with gentle reminders to seek out the Kingdom of Heaven through generosity. We ended the service without an invitation and sang In Christ Alone. Nobody showed any interest in me, which was just fine (I sound like Shrek I think), and I left for a nice lunch at Cafe Rouge of a salmon omelette and chips. On the way to lunch, I began thinking about the London Symphony Orchestra concert we attended on Thursday night.
The magnificent and virtually flawless performance was a thrill as was sitting in a beautiful auditorium hearing the famous orchestra. Amazingly mature in performance, the entire concert rang with joy and perfection of delivery. We heard Tod und Verklarung, Kindertotenlieder, and Brahms Symphony No. 2. All wonderfully artistic with the technical and expressive skill expected from some of the world's greatest musicians.
Blessed to hear them, I remain in awe over the constant and pervasive artistic culture of London. The experience was one I will treasure always and as I reminded my Music Appreciation class, hearing the LSO is much greater and certainly preferred over anything I might say in class. Lecturing is a good system of education, but experiencing directly the knowledge is superior.
I am especially enjoying the variety of song material I find in London churches. Again, taking Hillsong out of the discussion, most of the churches, depending on the particular church, are using music that covers a wide eclectic spectrum from traditional hymnody, chant, modern masses, to contemporary songs. Nearly as interesting, but not quite (okay, I'll admit that sometimes I find music generally more interesting than some sermons, but please don't tell my pastor friends!), are the kinds of sermons and the content heard at each church.
A pleasant 15 minute walk brought me to the American Church of London. Walking up the imposing steps, I was met by a friendly face who welcomed me to the church. Quipping that I searched for a Texas church but had to settle for an American one, I went inside for the service. The fairly small sanctuary for approximately 250-300 people had a small pipe organ, a nice grand piano, a choir loft, pews, stone walls and lightly stained glass that was typical for churches in the area. Less ornate, and even devoid of art, compared with Anglican churches, it was generic in the sense that virtually any denomination would be comfortable in worship. The architectural design (and never underestimate the power and influence of architecture for worship and style) was open, natural, and allowed for nice reverberation of sound with little need for amplification or artificiality. No screens, no praise band, just piano was used in the service.
The small choir of 11 robed singers standing around the piano, some trained others not, was very strong and began with an Introit (not a Call to Worship) that had a jazz, spiritual flavor composed by the choir director. The energetic beginning gave way to a prayer followed by the great hymn I Sing the Mighty Power of God. The small but well-designed pipe organ was not used in the service at all. Following the hymn and a missionary moment we sang Here I Am to Worship and Here I Am, Lord. Incidentally, I must say that I really cannot stand that song/hymn at all. I do not think the theology is strong and the child-like melody is inane and campfire like. Almost sounds like a 70s hippie tune. Loathe may be too strong a word for my feelings, but that is close.
The sermon on greed and the role of money was lofty, inspiring, and global with gentle reminders to seek out the Kingdom of Heaven through generosity. We ended the service without an invitation and sang In Christ Alone. Nobody showed any interest in me, which was just fine (I sound like Shrek I think), and I left for a nice lunch at Cafe Rouge of a salmon omelette and chips. On the way to lunch, I began thinking about the London Symphony Orchestra concert we attended on Thursday night.
The magnificent and virtually flawless performance was a thrill as was sitting in a beautiful auditorium hearing the famous orchestra. Amazingly mature in performance, the entire concert rang with joy and perfection of delivery. We heard Tod und Verklarung, Kindertotenlieder, and Brahms Symphony No. 2. All wonderfully artistic with the technical and expressive skill expected from some of the world's greatest musicians.
Blessed to hear them, I remain in awe over the constant and pervasive artistic culture of London. The experience was one I will treasure always and as I reminded my Music Appreciation class, hearing the LSO is much greater and certainly preferred over anything I might say in class. Lecturing is a good system of education, but experiencing directly the knowledge is superior.
LP XXXIV--Morals and Culture
Each of us brings to his personal stage a glorious blend of personality, worldview, DNA, education, and cultural immediacy. Growing up in a family that rejected the hot fire and verbal dysentery of swearing, I continue to avoid and will always avoid the highly charged, offensive vocabulary of curse words. Not that I am totally innocent of such activity, but at the same time I do prefer a loftier language expression in general. Furthermore, I work in an environment that frowns on such delivery, resulting in a form of contractarianism that is consistent with my own inclinations.
But it is not simply language that I reference but instead a type of sense of our own concept of moral reasoning in our world that may or may not be entirely justified nor explained by our interpretation of our spiritual worldview. We may simply be products of a misdirected social contract that is both amusing and ironically comfortable. This is not to say that we practice a false morality, but it is to say that when another country practices a different form of such, it does not mean we are right and they are wrong. Instead, it could simply be different social norms.
Yet I am dropped into a world, a culture, a frame that has no such social contract of cursing avoidance nor reticence about displaying affection or discussing relationships openly. Bear in mind that I feel well established with my own moral code of conduct and am not reshaped by a new environment. Perhaps this will provide a level of comfort from friends knowing that I remain who I am and have no need to alter my social contract to fit into a new, but temporary environment. But it is worthy to give it thought and to recognize the differences, giving us pause and insight into our own cultural preferences and the reason behind our chosen moral restraints.
London is full of smokers. I consider this a moral problem as much as anything due to the scriptural admonishing to make our bodies a temple of the Holy Spirit. But there are two things to consider in this issue: 1) Most of us may not smoke, but are we truly kind to our bodies as we pour trans-fats and preservatives into them? and 2) Aside from the excessive rubbish that affects the environment, the suspicious problems of secondary smoke in the atmosphere, and the compounding medical problems, does smoking outside really hurt more than one person? I do not like the smoking I see, but I also do not believe it affects me in any way.
While restraint of demonstrative behavior is the expected social contract theory in London, at the same time there is an element of comfort in public displays of affection and expressions of disgust or displeasure. These events are not intended as shocking incidences to rile those unfortunate souls nearby but are a normal part of the culture. This does not mean all are involved in such activity, but it does mean that when it happens, it is within the social expectations of the culture. Rather than being offended when the young lady talking to her friend near me on the tube began swearing about some incident that recently occurred, I, instead, became curious as to her comfort level with such language. She did not raise her voice nor exclaim loudly her displeasure but she did swear quietly and comfortably about the situation.
Am I desensitized to such language and displays? Possibly. But at the same time, I have learned not to be over reactive to these things and instead to seek the good wherever I go. I wish people would not smoke, I wish they would not swear, I wish they would reserve their affection for private moments, but I am not offended nor do I really care what they do. Their actions are not about me and do not really affect me one way or another. I personally choose more restraint in my behavior but another person's lack thereof does not necessarily require any response on my part. I do not question their spirituality for I have learned that a spiritual life, a life devoted to Christ, is not necessarily a life devoid of harsh language expressions or a lack of affection. Some may say at this point that a Christian life is demonstrated by peace and restraint and a truly spiritual person acts according to this prescription, but I may counter that there are many ways to live the Christian life and individual moral issues pale in comparison with the problems of pain, suffering, and violence. But that is all another subject for another day.
The morals and the culture of London tend to avoid violence, harshness, rudeness, or subversiveness while at the same time being comfortable with other non-invasive behaviors. It makes for a different world from my own, and while I do not embrace it, I also do not need to reject it nor dispute its culture. Different, yes. Wrong, no. Again, before readers write me off as a relativist, I am not proposing a paradigm shift in moral thinking and in fact, I do embrace and choose to live within the contractarianism of my world. There are certain immovable moral absolutes as dictated through scripture that do not change. But there are also human behaviors that are not necessarily pagan nor hopeless expressions of hell bound demons. They are simply behaviors, albeit harsh ones according to our worldview.
Keep in mind that I am not attempting to shake up our world but rather to be sensitive at least to an extent to the cultural contractarianism that takes place around the world. Behaviors that seem abhorrent to us may or may not be problematic outside of our normal cultural framework. In the case of London, the general politeness (sometimes indifference however) of the people is comforting and refining. If I have to listen to the occasional foul language delivered rather casually and see the frequent kiss of two people in love, then I can accept that as a cultural norm and not any kind of an anomaly. It all makes for a fascinating world and I continue to learn new things everyday. As I have mentioned earlier, the anonymity of the individual and the legal protection of all people is a double-edged sword resulting in a type of apathetic and nonchalant acceptance of individual behavior.
The law dictates that we are protected and all have individual rights. The social contract theory designates an unwritten law of action that is a little different from my normal world. It is wise to recognize it, accept it for now, avoid it when possible, and be secure in my own comfort level of actions, knowing soon I will return to my Texas social contract world.
But it is not simply language that I reference but instead a type of sense of our own concept of moral reasoning in our world that may or may not be entirely justified nor explained by our interpretation of our spiritual worldview. We may simply be products of a misdirected social contract that is both amusing and ironically comfortable. This is not to say that we practice a false morality, but it is to say that when another country practices a different form of such, it does not mean we are right and they are wrong. Instead, it could simply be different social norms.
Yet I am dropped into a world, a culture, a frame that has no such social contract of cursing avoidance nor reticence about displaying affection or discussing relationships openly. Bear in mind that I feel well established with my own moral code of conduct and am not reshaped by a new environment. Perhaps this will provide a level of comfort from friends knowing that I remain who I am and have no need to alter my social contract to fit into a new, but temporary environment. But it is worthy to give it thought and to recognize the differences, giving us pause and insight into our own cultural preferences and the reason behind our chosen moral restraints.
London is full of smokers. I consider this a moral problem as much as anything due to the scriptural admonishing to make our bodies a temple of the Holy Spirit. But there are two things to consider in this issue: 1) Most of us may not smoke, but are we truly kind to our bodies as we pour trans-fats and preservatives into them? and 2) Aside from the excessive rubbish that affects the environment, the suspicious problems of secondary smoke in the atmosphere, and the compounding medical problems, does smoking outside really hurt more than one person? I do not like the smoking I see, but I also do not believe it affects me in any way.
While restraint of demonstrative behavior is the expected social contract theory in London, at the same time there is an element of comfort in public displays of affection and expressions of disgust or displeasure. These events are not intended as shocking incidences to rile those unfortunate souls nearby but are a normal part of the culture. This does not mean all are involved in such activity, but it does mean that when it happens, it is within the social expectations of the culture. Rather than being offended when the young lady talking to her friend near me on the tube began swearing about some incident that recently occurred, I, instead, became curious as to her comfort level with such language. She did not raise her voice nor exclaim loudly her displeasure but she did swear quietly and comfortably about the situation.
Am I desensitized to such language and displays? Possibly. But at the same time, I have learned not to be over reactive to these things and instead to seek the good wherever I go. I wish people would not smoke, I wish they would not swear, I wish they would reserve their affection for private moments, but I am not offended nor do I really care what they do. Their actions are not about me and do not really affect me one way or another. I personally choose more restraint in my behavior but another person's lack thereof does not necessarily require any response on my part. I do not question their spirituality for I have learned that a spiritual life, a life devoted to Christ, is not necessarily a life devoid of harsh language expressions or a lack of affection. Some may say at this point that a Christian life is demonstrated by peace and restraint and a truly spiritual person acts according to this prescription, but I may counter that there are many ways to live the Christian life and individual moral issues pale in comparison with the problems of pain, suffering, and violence. But that is all another subject for another day.
The morals and the culture of London tend to avoid violence, harshness, rudeness, or subversiveness while at the same time being comfortable with other non-invasive behaviors. It makes for a different world from my own, and while I do not embrace it, I also do not need to reject it nor dispute its culture. Different, yes. Wrong, no. Again, before readers write me off as a relativist, I am not proposing a paradigm shift in moral thinking and in fact, I do embrace and choose to live within the contractarianism of my world. There are certain immovable moral absolutes as dictated through scripture that do not change. But there are also human behaviors that are not necessarily pagan nor hopeless expressions of hell bound demons. They are simply behaviors, albeit harsh ones according to our worldview.
Keep in mind that I am not attempting to shake up our world but rather to be sensitive at least to an extent to the cultural contractarianism that takes place around the world. Behaviors that seem abhorrent to us may or may not be problematic outside of our normal cultural framework. In the case of London, the general politeness (sometimes indifference however) of the people is comforting and refining. If I have to listen to the occasional foul language delivered rather casually and see the frequent kiss of two people in love, then I can accept that as a cultural norm and not any kind of an anomaly. It all makes for a fascinating world and I continue to learn new things everyday. As I have mentioned earlier, the anonymity of the individual and the legal protection of all people is a double-edged sword resulting in a type of apathetic and nonchalant acceptance of individual behavior.
The law dictates that we are protected and all have individual rights. The social contract theory designates an unwritten law of action that is a little different from my normal world. It is wise to recognize it, accept it for now, avoid it when possible, and be secure in my own comfort level of actions, knowing soon I will return to my Texas social contract world.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
LP XXXIII--The London Culture of the Arts
Sometimes preferring musical art and visual art over theatre art, it was with a little hesitation that all of us attended the well-known comedy Hay Fever at the Noel Coward Theatre in the West End of London. Going early to the area, the Tucker family indulged in Jamie Oliver's Restaurant where we ate rabbit, turkey, spaghetti, and lots of great bread. Full and happy, we walked to the theatre. My misgivings over certain kinds of theatre are related partly to the delivery of lines by the actors. If overly affected, I lose interest by virtue of its glossy plasticity. If understated, I lose interest by virtue of its boredom. Without intending to be harshly judgmental, I often find myself working hard to relate to the events on stage. That said, a well-performed, meaningful play is at that height of artistic moments and such was the case with Hay Fever.
Hay Fever is a comedy dating back to 1920 about a family of four where each family member invites a guest to the house for the weekend. Each family member is involved in some sort of way with the person invited and what follows is a comical farce of personality, relationship confusion, and human manipulation. Hilarious at times with moments of bittersweet, the play is a comedic romp through dysfunctional and often unpredictable family members. As each family member uses various guests to inflict pain upon the others, the guest are caught up in a maelstrom of malevolence and misdirected goals.
It all sounds absurd, does it not? And it is, except that we know people with many of the same traits. We see all around us those who over-dramatize every event and situation and use others to advance their own silly theatrical moment. I see this nearly everyday in London and will be watching for it when I return to Texas. From the mother who posed each time she spoke to the daughter whose extremes of emotions zipped around the room with random zeal, the play seemed to remind the audience of how people like these manipulate us in the world. Even more frightening, the play had times that seemed like a gigantic mirror, forcing us to see ourselves on stage.
And this is crux of the culture of the arts. The arts, with all their complexity including theatre, visual art, and music, find ways to teach us more about ourselves, our absurdities, our emotions, our pain, our joys, our laughter, and our relationships. In doing so, we learn and hopefully grow, improving ourselves in the process and often cleansing ourselves of the difficulties that pervade our lives each day. In the case of Hay Fever, we get a chance to laugh at the absurdities on stage, which in turn makes us laugh at the people around us, and also an opportunity to laugh at ourselves. This then reminds us not to take ourselves so seriously and to avoid the viciousness of manipulating others for our own selfish dramatic purposes.
When we saw Phantom of the Opera, we did not necessarily see ourselves on the stage but maybe recognized the resulting pain of ostracizing those different from ourselves. We also are strangely reminded that love is greater than our own personal agendas and it is difficult, if not wrong, to try to hold back the tide and power of love. The torturing anguish of the Phantom is balanced by the love that he shows toward Christine. This is complicated by the love she has for Raoul and the ambiguity she feels toward the Phantom. Evil in practice, harsh in delivery, the Phantom, in spite of his lifetime of isolation born of disfigurement, has a warm, sensitive nature that is ultimately victorious over his darkness. In his victory, he gives up and loses his love Christine in an artistic expression of great emotional depth. All good stuff and it would be difficult to find a better musical than Phantom of the Opera on a London Westend stage.
London embraces the arts and in the process refines itself as a society. Far from being perfect, the arts completes this city of complexity, making it a progressive place with a strong heritage packed full of artistic understanding and enrichment. The power of arts to refine, to transform, and to shape a nation is remarkable and worthwhile. I propose we never relegate the arts to an incidental event in our culture but instead make the arts integral to our lives at all levels.
Hay Fever is a comedy dating back to 1920 about a family of four where each family member invites a guest to the house for the weekend. Each family member is involved in some sort of way with the person invited and what follows is a comical farce of personality, relationship confusion, and human manipulation. Hilarious at times with moments of bittersweet, the play is a comedic romp through dysfunctional and often unpredictable family members. As each family member uses various guests to inflict pain upon the others, the guest are caught up in a maelstrom of malevolence and misdirected goals.
It all sounds absurd, does it not? And it is, except that we know people with many of the same traits. We see all around us those who over-dramatize every event and situation and use others to advance their own silly theatrical moment. I see this nearly everyday in London and will be watching for it when I return to Texas. From the mother who posed each time she spoke to the daughter whose extremes of emotions zipped around the room with random zeal, the play seemed to remind the audience of how people like these manipulate us in the world. Even more frightening, the play had times that seemed like a gigantic mirror, forcing us to see ourselves on stage.
And this is crux of the culture of the arts. The arts, with all their complexity including theatre, visual art, and music, find ways to teach us more about ourselves, our absurdities, our emotions, our pain, our joys, our laughter, and our relationships. In doing so, we learn and hopefully grow, improving ourselves in the process and often cleansing ourselves of the difficulties that pervade our lives each day. In the case of Hay Fever, we get a chance to laugh at the absurdities on stage, which in turn makes us laugh at the people around us, and also an opportunity to laugh at ourselves. This then reminds us not to take ourselves so seriously and to avoid the viciousness of manipulating others for our own selfish dramatic purposes.
When we saw Phantom of the Opera, we did not necessarily see ourselves on the stage but maybe recognized the resulting pain of ostracizing those different from ourselves. We also are strangely reminded that love is greater than our own personal agendas and it is difficult, if not wrong, to try to hold back the tide and power of love. The torturing anguish of the Phantom is balanced by the love that he shows toward Christine. This is complicated by the love she has for Raoul and the ambiguity she feels toward the Phantom. Evil in practice, harsh in delivery, the Phantom, in spite of his lifetime of isolation born of disfigurement, has a warm, sensitive nature that is ultimately victorious over his darkness. In his victory, he gives up and loses his love Christine in an artistic expression of great emotional depth. All good stuff and it would be difficult to find a better musical than Phantom of the Opera on a London Westend stage.
London embraces the arts and in the process refines itself as a society. Far from being perfect, the arts completes this city of complexity, making it a progressive place with a strong heritage packed full of artistic understanding and enrichment. The power of arts to refine, to transform, and to shape a nation is remarkable and worthwhile. I propose we never relegate the arts to an incidental event in our culture but instead make the arts integral to our lives at all levels.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
LP XXXII--Family
A bit behind in blogging, I am still having a great time in London and also working hard keeping up with my classes I am teaching and keeping all the gears oiled and running smoothly. Meanwhile my family is all here now! Clairissa and Joel have been here for 3 weeks and are now in their last week. Jacob, Olivia, and Jordan all flew in on Saturday night. Jet-lagged but excited, we went took them to two Anglican services on Sunday at the two greatest Cathedrals in the world--St. Pauls and Westminster Abbey. Sunday night they attended the Hillsong service for one of the great rock and roll Christian experiences in London.
Monday morning began with a brisk walk through London, followed by a walk through the British Museum. Lunch at the Crypt at St. Martin in the Fields was delicious and filled us well for a two hour walk through the incredible National Gallery of Art located at Trafalgar Square. Exhausted but thrilled by the art, we walked through Covent Garden and back home for a quick nap, dinner, and then Les Miserables.
Les Mis remains one of the finest, if not the finest, show in the world. A West End musical, it involves the finest actors, singers, players, sets, and technical crew in London. Powerful, sensitive, gripping, with stunning music and a story that is guaranteed to move even the most stoic, Les Mis is an experience that should be enjoyed by everyone. If you are coming to London, add it to the list of musts for your time.
Today we visit the Tower of London, the Tate Modern Art Museum, and then attend the play called Hay Fever. Prior to the play, we are eating a meal at Jamie Oliver's Italian restaurant. Other than running out of money, we are having a great time with more to come! Mainly it is great having my family around. We may have to make this an annual event for the Tucker family!
Monday morning began with a brisk walk through London, followed by a walk through the British Museum. Lunch at the Crypt at St. Martin in the Fields was delicious and filled us well for a two hour walk through the incredible National Gallery of Art located at Trafalgar Square. Exhausted but thrilled by the art, we walked through Covent Garden and back home for a quick nap, dinner, and then Les Miserables.
Les Mis remains one of the finest, if not the finest, show in the world. A West End musical, it involves the finest actors, singers, players, sets, and technical crew in London. Powerful, sensitive, gripping, with stunning music and a story that is guaranteed to move even the most stoic, Les Mis is an experience that should be enjoyed by everyone. If you are coming to London, add it to the list of musts for your time.
Today we visit the Tower of London, the Tate Modern Art Museum, and then attend the play called Hay Fever. Prior to the play, we are eating a meal at Jamie Oliver's Italian restaurant. Other than running out of money, we are having a great time with more to come! Mainly it is great having my family around. We may have to make this an annual event for the Tucker family!
Friday, March 09, 2012
LP XXXI--Experiential Learning
Thursday was a prime example of the benefits of experiential learning for an academic class. Taking the tube, we rode for nearly 50 minutes to a distant stop where we then walked to the Asian Music Circuit. Greeted by an Indian man named Viram Jasani, an amazing man of high intellect and musical skill, we entered the world of Asian instruments, music, and philosphy. It was all experiential learning at its finest and reminded me of the flaws of education in the abstract. Too often we as educators spout facts and information without providing reasoning nor concrete examples of the relevance and significance of the information. When we have an opportunity to demonstrate and experience the learning, then we should not subjugate that chance for something in the abstract. Talking all day long about a topic is not as strong nor impacting as experiencing it, touching it, hearing it, and subsequently knowing it.
Instead of talking about Asian music, we suddenly had a chance to experience it, to hear it, to see it, to touch it, and to feel it. Approaching Eastern music with a Western mentality however, is to miss the entire point of the music and to be disappointed with its result. But it is imperative to accept it as an outgrowth of the culture and the religion from which most of it springs. Without dwelling extensively on Hinduism, it is necessary to understand the basics of the practice in order to digest the music. We need to keep in mind that Hinduism is not a religion requiring declarations of faith or creeds, but instead it is an umbrella kind of concept derived and encompassing the Vedic tradition. Summing it up is weak and is risky in the sense that an oversimplification could result in ignorance rather than true knowledge, in sweeping conclusions rather than full understanding. But in brief, Hinduism and its music is about finding the centre and the balance in life. One must embrace the juice of life or the Maha Ras or the Amrit Ras in the sacred mood of the sound. Ras is a broad term referencing music and its intended or accompanying emotion. One cannot separate the sound from its effects nor the sound from the spiritual intent of finding the juice of life. Whether it is dance, prayer, grief, joy, peace, love, beauty, or friendship, the music becomes an integral expression and determinacy of the mood and the inner balance sought.
In the broadest sense, our Western musical world is not that different with its emotional intent and power of sound. Regardless of the style or the venue or the purpose, music in our modern culture continues to have a major influence on our individual and corporate attitudes. From Country/Western to religious choral music to folk music to hard Rock or Classical, music both expresses our emotions and often shapes them.
Back to the Asian Music Circuit. We were given a chance to hear many instruments and to learn about their origins and usage in the various Asian culture. The modern facility was replete with a kind of old and new philosophy demonstrating our need to know and understand the heritage but to progress forward in culture. Taken upstairs, our guide showed us a high tech system of using a computer guru to teach us pitch, rhythm, and style. As the guru develops the ability of the user, the goal is to find independence from the mechanical guru. Our guide pointed out that Hinduism is a process of education that seeks to develop the individual to the point of not needing help. Again, this seems to me to be the broadest purpose of education. I teach with the ultimate goal of telling the student I am no longer needed. Our guide then played us a video using an Asian instrument with the Rock band Led Zepplin. It was fascinating, timely, and mesmerizing. We may not have found the juice of life in that experience, but we saw a glimpse of it at the end of the journey toward knowledge of the culture and the music.
An hour at the Circuit was a drop in the ocean of what we could have learned, but our time was short and we had to move onward. What a blessing it was to be at the Asian Music Circuit, learning a philosophy and music that is foreign, meaningful, and beautiful. We said our thanks and goodbyes and headed around the corner for another hands-on experience. It was the Tech Music School and it was a kick. Without fanfare or even much interest in us, the man at the main desk immediately handed us passes to allow us into the school. We were then ushered through several rooms containing guitars, computers, sound boards, microphones, wires, cables, and a couple dozen students with headphones either playing practice pads or listening to something.
The Tech Music School has over 600 students hoping to become rock musicians or to work in the industry of rock music in some capacity. Unlike a traditional university, we saw very few books or scholarly interest of any type and instead were thrown into a world of practical training and accomplishment. With a type of get it done attitude, the school has rocketed forward and become one of the top training grounds in London and perhaps in the Western world. Boasting of catapulting Radio Head and Bjork, the School is committed to excellence in all respects and is very selective in its acceptance rate.
We found ourselves in a small room sitting in chairs in front of a large television monitor and a substantial drum set. In walked Les Davidson who proceeded to rock our world. Having played with Leo Sayer, Pete Townshend, Sniff 'n' the Tears, and Tina Turner, we were given a chance to talk with an experienced, highly successful, working Rock guitarist. He was full of energy and information talking about practicing, soloing, getting gigs, traveling, copyright (he believes one of his songs was stolen by a successful well-known band), and what actually takes place on stage. He reminded us of the "other" personality that must happen on stage and the transformation of performance that occurs. Without that entertainment side, a skilled musician cannot be successful. He laughed when he told us that his role as a lead guitarist is to solo well but otherwise to stay a little in the shadow of whoever is the lead singer. It was quite an hour and we wished it could continue. But he was scheduled to work with a band and had to leave.
In about two hours, we experienced music on a level that would normally take weeks to achieve. It was experiential learning at its finest and we were all blessed by the time. And now, as I complete this little blog, I am going to experience some London orange juice without the trans-fats I get in Texas. Pure unadulterated juice, I hope to find my mood in its flavor and to keep balance within me. It is fun to write about the juice and to think about it, but it is best to experience it.
Instead of talking about Asian music, we suddenly had a chance to experience it, to hear it, to see it, to touch it, and to feel it. Approaching Eastern music with a Western mentality however, is to miss the entire point of the music and to be disappointed with its result. But it is imperative to accept it as an outgrowth of the culture and the religion from which most of it springs. Without dwelling extensively on Hinduism, it is necessary to understand the basics of the practice in order to digest the music. We need to keep in mind that Hinduism is not a religion requiring declarations of faith or creeds, but instead it is an umbrella kind of concept derived and encompassing the Vedic tradition. Summing it up is weak and is risky in the sense that an oversimplification could result in ignorance rather than true knowledge, in sweeping conclusions rather than full understanding. But in brief, Hinduism and its music is about finding the centre and the balance in life. One must embrace the juice of life or the Maha Ras or the Amrit Ras in the sacred mood of the sound. Ras is a broad term referencing music and its intended or accompanying emotion. One cannot separate the sound from its effects nor the sound from the spiritual intent of finding the juice of life. Whether it is dance, prayer, grief, joy, peace, love, beauty, or friendship, the music becomes an integral expression and determinacy of the mood and the inner balance sought.
In the broadest sense, our Western musical world is not that different with its emotional intent and power of sound. Regardless of the style or the venue or the purpose, music in our modern culture continues to have a major influence on our individual and corporate attitudes. From Country/Western to religious choral music to folk music to hard Rock or Classical, music both expresses our emotions and often shapes them.
Back to the Asian Music Circuit. We were given a chance to hear many instruments and to learn about their origins and usage in the various Asian culture. The modern facility was replete with a kind of old and new philosophy demonstrating our need to know and understand the heritage but to progress forward in culture. Taken upstairs, our guide showed us a high tech system of using a computer guru to teach us pitch, rhythm, and style. As the guru develops the ability of the user, the goal is to find independence from the mechanical guru. Our guide pointed out that Hinduism is a process of education that seeks to develop the individual to the point of not needing help. Again, this seems to me to be the broadest purpose of education. I teach with the ultimate goal of telling the student I am no longer needed. Our guide then played us a video using an Asian instrument with the Rock band Led Zepplin. It was fascinating, timely, and mesmerizing. We may not have found the juice of life in that experience, but we saw a glimpse of it at the end of the journey toward knowledge of the culture and the music.
An hour at the Circuit was a drop in the ocean of what we could have learned, but our time was short and we had to move onward. What a blessing it was to be at the Asian Music Circuit, learning a philosophy and music that is foreign, meaningful, and beautiful. We said our thanks and goodbyes and headed around the corner for another hands-on experience. It was the Tech Music School and it was a kick. Without fanfare or even much interest in us, the man at the main desk immediately handed us passes to allow us into the school. We were then ushered through several rooms containing guitars, computers, sound boards, microphones, wires, cables, and a couple dozen students with headphones either playing practice pads or listening to something.
The Tech Music School has over 600 students hoping to become rock musicians or to work in the industry of rock music in some capacity. Unlike a traditional university, we saw very few books or scholarly interest of any type and instead were thrown into a world of practical training and accomplishment. With a type of get it done attitude, the school has rocketed forward and become one of the top training grounds in London and perhaps in the Western world. Boasting of catapulting Radio Head and Bjork, the School is committed to excellence in all respects and is very selective in its acceptance rate.
We found ourselves in a small room sitting in chairs in front of a large television monitor and a substantial drum set. In walked Les Davidson who proceeded to rock our world. Having played with Leo Sayer, Pete Townshend, Sniff 'n' the Tears, and Tina Turner, we were given a chance to talk with an experienced, highly successful, working Rock guitarist. He was full of energy and information talking about practicing, soloing, getting gigs, traveling, copyright (he believes one of his songs was stolen by a successful well-known band), and what actually takes place on stage. He reminded us of the "other" personality that must happen on stage and the transformation of performance that occurs. Without that entertainment side, a skilled musician cannot be successful. He laughed when he told us that his role as a lead guitarist is to solo well but otherwise to stay a little in the shadow of whoever is the lead singer. It was quite an hour and we wished it could continue. But he was scheduled to work with a band and had to leave.
In about two hours, we experienced music on a level that would normally take weeks to achieve. It was experiential learning at its finest and we were all blessed by the time. And now, as I complete this little blog, I am going to experience some London orange juice without the trans-fats I get in Texas. Pure unadulterated juice, I hope to find my mood in its flavor and to keep balance within me. It is fun to write about the juice and to think about it, but it is best to experience it.
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
LP XXX--Tales of Hoffman, Clash of Ideals
We got dressed up, grabbed a bus, and headed to the opera house. Called the London Coliseum, it is a beautifully ornate theater with 4 levels of seats totaling 2,153, dating back to 1904. Although our seats were on the top level, the sound is such that one can hear from any location. Feeling almost on top of the stage, our seats allowed us to see down into the pit where a large orchestra resided for the opera performance. The opera was Tales of Hoffman by Jacques Offenbach (1819-1880), a German born French composer of light opera. The opera is based on the stories of E.T.A. Hoffman who is also the main protagonist of the opera. Actually three separate stories in three acts with a kind of rounding out of the first story, Tales of Hoffman is a very successful opera with great demands on the singers and the orchestra.
Are there substantial differences between musicals and operas? I do not think so. Some may say that opera is primarily sung not spoken but the same can be said of Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables. Candide, the marvelous opera by Leonard Bernstein, has extensive spoken dialog as does Mozart's masterful The Magic Flute. Some may say that musicals have lighter thematic material than opera, but in truth, it is hard to find heavier themes than Oliver! by Lionel Bart, or Sound of Music by Rodgers and Hammerstein or hard to find lighter themes than Gilbert and Sullivan or Franz Lehar. Maybe some may try to argue that opera uses greater craft of musical language or exercises a "classical" model than do musicals, but this is weak upon careful analysis of the actual music. In point of truth, there are stunning harmonies found in Cole Porter, Leonard Bernstein, and Frederick Lowe, and quite simple construction found in Verdi, Puccini, and Rossini.
But there is one shining difference, and that difference is slowly being eroded as well both in opera and musicals of today: amplification. We have a clash of ideals that extends beyond the question of what is opera and operates at the core of what music is and what academic training seeks to substantiate. What are the roles of electronic amplification, microphones, speakers, woofers, frequency adjustment, compression, channels, boards, in an acoustic environment? Is an all acoustic, non-artificial musical production the ideal? Is academic training solely about the acoustic world of natural instruments (including the voice) without any kind of artificial enhancement? Should it be? Is a study of rock/pop music actually a study, at least partially, of artificial, electronic power for the sound?
These two worlds are clashing and have done so for over 50 years as academic musicians, art music, classical music, and tradition battle with current trends in amplification and sound management. As I have mentioned before, much of this is due to architecture and space used in performance. In an acoustically pure environment, no electronic enhancement is needed. But in a flawed sound space, electronics are necessary for balance and for emotional impact. Dynamic range is easily accomplished in a cathedral but difficult to manage in a hall filled with carpet. Performing Beethoven or Mozart with sub woofers and constant sound board alterations is both an affront to the past and anathema to the purity of the music.
Yet performance space has changed and with it people have altered their expectations. In response to the opportunities for artificial sound, we have seen the development of popular and rock music in secular and sacred cultures. But at the same, we have seen great resistance to sound enhancements and an embracing of the heritage of acoustic, naturally produced music. These two ideals rage in battle in our musical culture each day. Will there be a winner or can the two co-exist successfully? In London, they both remain active with rock music and musicals benefiting from the artificiality of electronic enhancements, and with chamber music, opera, and orchestras gaining from music spaces that allow for great personal expression without any amplification.
As for me, I can live comfortably in both worlds and can embrace the philosophy of each without it detracting or minimizing the other. The opera, Tales of Hoffman, in its purity of no microphones or electronics of any kind was as terrific as was Wicked with all its effort at electronically balancing the sound of instruments and voices. What I desire, and it may be Utopian, is a recognition of the value of each ideal and the discernment to know when to use one or the other. Just as there are many styles of music and many different environments for making music, there are many ways to treat sound. It is necessary and vital to know something about the acoustic world of music and the electronic world of music. Both have a place in today's world and both have worth in academic and non-academic settings.
Monday, March 05, 2012
LP XXIX--Mozart, Rimsky-Korsakov and Absolutes
There are no absolutes in art. There are absolutes in conduct, in moral standards, in science, math, and scholarship, but there are not absolutes in art. By virtue of its subjectivity, its creativity, and its personal expression, there is no one absolute standard for art. No matter how many ways I approach this issue, I come to the same conclusion, that there are as many ways to create art as there are human beings on the earth. This being the case, it is impossible to put constraints on the human capacity for creativity, for expression, for initiative, and dreams. This is not to say that all art is equal nor that all human expressions are examples of the finest art, but it is to say that there are flaws in establishing artistic absolutes as ideal standards for creative expression.
There are, however, many truths that can be found within those great works of art deemed excellent by virtue of their longevity and their acknowledgement of greatness by experts in the field and by the thousands who approach the work with expectations born of their concepts and interests. Two composers who come to mind are Mozart and Rimsky-Korsakov. In their manuscripts we find genius of expression, of craft, of emotional power, and of instrumentation. Their musical language is such that it has a wide, historical, and current appeal, resulting in a commitment by performers to excel at adhering to the composers' intent and communicating that intent as expressively and accurately as possible. Such was the case with the two performances I heard on Sunday.
Walking over to St. George's Bloomsbury, about a 5 minute walk, we arrived and sat down, ready to hear a recital of chamber music. As we studied the program, we realized the performers were not budding students hoping to make a career in music performance, but were in fact the principal players from the Royal Opera House. They were truly marvelous musicians in all respects. Sounding like a recording in the beautiful church, the musicians played with great ease and fluidity, never sounding strained but always comfortable with every phrase, rhythm, rapidity, scale, arpeggio, and sustained note. Working as a team, we heard Beethoven and two Mozart works performed at the highest level. Each performer working independently and congruently gave us a warm, gracious tone quality that was surpassed by dazzling technique and adorned with sensitive and appropriate expression.
With an hour for a nice meal of lasagna, we prepared to attend an orchestra performance at Royal Festival Hall. The 10 minute bus trip and 5 minute walk brought us to the beautiful hall. Our seats were located to the side and up from the orchestra, giving us a great view of the players and the conductor. It was the Budapest Symphony visiting London and they were marvelous. The conductor nearly pounced on the orchestra with joy and leadership as he took them through Brahms Tragic Overture followed by the Lalo Symphonie Espagnole. Stunned by the technique of the violin soloists and the emotionally sturdy performing of the entire orchestra, we sat still waiting for Scheherazade.
This being one of my favorite works in the orchestral repertoire, I am quite familiar with it and, although I enjoy it every time, I am no longer emotionally changed by any performance. Yet from the first note to the last, I was on the edge of my seat in excitement. The orchestra was among the finest, if not the finest, I have heard in life, and the performance of Rimsky-Korsakov's masterpiece was incredible, powerful, and exhilarating. Extreme dynamic range, long expressive melodic lines, and rhythm without flaw charged through and the orchestra never relented in its desire to communicate the music to the audience.
The lengthy ovation at the end, in a town very accustomed to fine performances, served as a reminder there are great musicians all over the world and excellence is found everywhere, but does not happen without great exertion. The Budapest Symphony Orchestra, like all great performing ensembles, has paid the price for excellence and achieved it. There may not be absolutes in art, but there certainly are high standards that give the rest of us goals for our artistic expression.
There are, however, many truths that can be found within those great works of art deemed excellent by virtue of their longevity and their acknowledgement of greatness by experts in the field and by the thousands who approach the work with expectations born of their concepts and interests. Two composers who come to mind are Mozart and Rimsky-Korsakov. In their manuscripts we find genius of expression, of craft, of emotional power, and of instrumentation. Their musical language is such that it has a wide, historical, and current appeal, resulting in a commitment by performers to excel at adhering to the composers' intent and communicating that intent as expressively and accurately as possible. Such was the case with the two performances I heard on Sunday.
Walking over to St. George's Bloomsbury, about a 5 minute walk, we arrived and sat down, ready to hear a recital of chamber music. As we studied the program, we realized the performers were not budding students hoping to make a career in music performance, but were in fact the principal players from the Royal Opera House. They were truly marvelous musicians in all respects. Sounding like a recording in the beautiful church, the musicians played with great ease and fluidity, never sounding strained but always comfortable with every phrase, rhythm, rapidity, scale, arpeggio, and sustained note. Working as a team, we heard Beethoven and two Mozart works performed at the highest level. Each performer working independently and congruently gave us a warm, gracious tone quality that was surpassed by dazzling technique and adorned with sensitive and appropriate expression.
With an hour for a nice meal of lasagna, we prepared to attend an orchestra performance at Royal Festival Hall. The 10 minute bus trip and 5 minute walk brought us to the beautiful hall. Our seats were located to the side and up from the orchestra, giving us a great view of the players and the conductor. It was the Budapest Symphony visiting London and they were marvelous. The conductor nearly pounced on the orchestra with joy and leadership as he took them through Brahms Tragic Overture followed by the Lalo Symphonie Espagnole. Stunned by the technique of the violin soloists and the emotionally sturdy performing of the entire orchestra, we sat still waiting for Scheherazade.
This being one of my favorite works in the orchestral repertoire, I am quite familiar with it and, although I enjoy it every time, I am no longer emotionally changed by any performance. Yet from the first note to the last, I was on the edge of my seat in excitement. The orchestra was among the finest, if not the finest, I have heard in life, and the performance of Rimsky-Korsakov's masterpiece was incredible, powerful, and exhilarating. Extreme dynamic range, long expressive melodic lines, and rhythm without flaw charged through and the orchestra never relented in its desire to communicate the music to the audience.
The lengthy ovation at the end, in a town very accustomed to fine performances, served as a reminder there are great musicians all over the world and excellence is found everywhere, but does not happen without great exertion. The Budapest Symphony Orchestra, like all great performing ensembles, has paid the price for excellence and achieved it. There may not be absolutes in art, but there certainly are high standards that give the rest of us goals for our artistic expression.
Sunday, March 04, 2012
LP XXVIII--Windsor Castle, Health, Hillsong
Ah the London air is frigid but exhilarating, almost begs for a quick pace whether walking or running, and seems to contain an urgency of cognition and improvement. Feeling unfair to the London world if I do not comply, I find myself engaged in the process of holistic learning and the attempt for good health. Aside from the propensity for smoking found in many of the locals, the people are in excellent health. The constant walking is part of this story but so is the illegality of trans-fats and preservatives in the food. As one who struggles with bad cholesterol and potential heart disease, I am glad to know of the reduction in the trans-fats in my diet. In addition, the food does not have the constant preservatives of much of our American food. This means that everything tastes fresh and natural but does not last as long in the refrigerator. Buy it and eat it within a few days or it will not be good. Several months in London will result in better health (unless one takes up smoking I suppose) due to walking and the lack of trans-fats. Can I keep this habit in American on my return? Probably not!
Running two miles through Russell Park this morning, I reflected on our previous day's visit to Windsor Castle. Never caring that much for castles, but at the same time wanting to be supportive of my wife's desire to see one, we jumped on a bus for the hour long ride to Windsor. We arrived at the front steps and were stunned by the castle in front of us. The large, almost concentric structure included...oh no, an elderly man just ran by me going much faster than I. Suddenly humbled, I increased my speed but could not come close to his pace. Where was I in my reverie? Oh yes, the castle.
In the middle of the castle stood a large circular structure surrounded by a moat with beautiful flowers, shrubs, and well manicured grass. Making our way around the structure and through the surrounding walls, we walked into the living quarters of Windsor Castle and were treated with grandeur and opulence unlike anything previously experienced. China place settings set the standard for all dishes everywhere, gold chalices, swords and knives on the walls, tapestries inlaid with gold, ornate beautiful furniture, and royal paintings to equal that of the National Gallery. Among the treasures were rooms of...yikes, another person, this time an older lady just ran by me. I was getting tired but Londoners were passing me by as though I were crawling. Looking around I realized that everyone was in better shape.
No matter how much I run or try to get in better condition, the truth is that a lifetime of fatty, over-preserved foods and little consistent walking has made me slow and weak. Sadly, this could be true of most of us I fear. Each day I run, I am humbled by the people around me. I suppose a little humility goes a long way, but enough is enough.
Back to the castle. I was entranced by the ornate rooms with painted ceilings, the crown moldings, and the gold trim around most items. Many Van Dyke portraits adorned the walls but were paled by the original Peter Paul Rubens art that shimmered with Classical motion and Baroque shadings and power. We saw a room with a doll house, another full of Queen Elizabeth photographs, and still another with gowns and uniforms. After seeing the rooms, we visited the stunning chapel within the walls of the castle where we saw a beautiful nave and transepts. The historical castle was worth every minute of our trip and we left enriched by the experience.
This morning we worshiped at Hillsong, located in the Dominion Theatre, home of the Queen show We Will Rock You. Filled with over 2,000 people the service was a hard rock, heart thumping, joyous time of honoring God through music and the spoken word. 3 guitars, 1 bass, 2 keyboards, a trap set, and 7 singers led the worship service that was enhanced by rotating lights, sub woofers, and an advanced sound system. We had a blast and then heard a topical sermon on walking with God by following His word. The sermon spent some time extolling the virtues of absolutes in conduct as established by Biblical law. He explored and denounced the problems of relativism as dictated by societal norms.
I found it all rather ironical considering that the music was a manifestation of the relativism that pervades our artistic world. Music, art, theatre all are sensitive to, benefit from, and respond directly to the relative changes in contemporary culture. Without that kind of progression, we have artistic stagnation. Does art in all its complexity gain from or suffer from the relativism of our world? More will need to be written on this wonderful and contentious topic. Meanwhile, off to hear the Budapest Symphony play Scheherazade.
Running two miles through Russell Park this morning, I reflected on our previous day's visit to Windsor Castle. Never caring that much for castles, but at the same time wanting to be supportive of my wife's desire to see one, we jumped on a bus for the hour long ride to Windsor. We arrived at the front steps and were stunned by the castle in front of us. The large, almost concentric structure included...oh no, an elderly man just ran by me going much faster than I. Suddenly humbled, I increased my speed but could not come close to his pace. Where was I in my reverie? Oh yes, the castle.
In the middle of the castle stood a large circular structure surrounded by a moat with beautiful flowers, shrubs, and well manicured grass. Making our way around the structure and through the surrounding walls, we walked into the living quarters of Windsor Castle and were treated with grandeur and opulence unlike anything previously experienced. China place settings set the standard for all dishes everywhere, gold chalices, swords and knives on the walls, tapestries inlaid with gold, ornate beautiful furniture, and royal paintings to equal that of the National Gallery. Among the treasures were rooms of...yikes, another person, this time an older lady just ran by me. I was getting tired but Londoners were passing me by as though I were crawling. Looking around I realized that everyone was in better shape.
No matter how much I run or try to get in better condition, the truth is that a lifetime of fatty, over-preserved foods and little consistent walking has made me slow and weak. Sadly, this could be true of most of us I fear. Each day I run, I am humbled by the people around me. I suppose a little humility goes a long way, but enough is enough.
Back to the castle. I was entranced by the ornate rooms with painted ceilings, the crown moldings, and the gold trim around most items. Many Van Dyke portraits adorned the walls but were paled by the original Peter Paul Rubens art that shimmered with Classical motion and Baroque shadings and power. We saw a room with a doll house, another full of Queen Elizabeth photographs, and still another with gowns and uniforms. After seeing the rooms, we visited the stunning chapel within the walls of the castle where we saw a beautiful nave and transepts. The historical castle was worth every minute of our trip and we left enriched by the experience.
This morning we worshiped at Hillsong, located in the Dominion Theatre, home of the Queen show We Will Rock You. Filled with over 2,000 people the service was a hard rock, heart thumping, joyous time of honoring God through music and the spoken word. 3 guitars, 1 bass, 2 keyboards, a trap set, and 7 singers led the worship service that was enhanced by rotating lights, sub woofers, and an advanced sound system. We had a blast and then heard a topical sermon on walking with God by following His word. The sermon spent some time extolling the virtues of absolutes in conduct as established by Biblical law. He explored and denounced the problems of relativism as dictated by societal norms.
I found it all rather ironical considering that the music was a manifestation of the relativism that pervades our artistic world. Music, art, theatre all are sensitive to, benefit from, and respond directly to the relative changes in contemporary culture. Without that kind of progression, we have artistic stagnation. Does art in all its complexity gain from or suffer from the relativism of our world? More will need to be written on this wonderful and contentious topic. Meanwhile, off to hear the Budapest Symphony play Scheherazade.
Saturday, March 03, 2012
LP XXVII--Oxford, Wicked, the Arts
As I continue to live in this large, bustling metropolis, I become more convinced of the value of the arts in culture. In my brief London time, I will have had the joy and pleasure of attending Rock of Ages, Shrek the Musical, Billy Elliot, Stomp, We Will Rock You, Wicked, Les Miserables, Phantom, Matilda, three orchestra concerts, three recitals, two Evensong services, four art galleries, five museums, two operas, three rock concerts, and 12 plays. While some of this is due to having the resources of a city, most of it is due to a recognition of the role of the arts in society and culture.
We visited Oxford, where parts of Harry Potter took place, and learned about the 38 colleges within the city. The tour took us to the square, the chapel, the dining hall, and several of the colleges. We learned about the tutor system that is supplemented by the once a week lecture system of education. Applying strict academic rigor, thought, and cognitive application to disciplines, the system is about strengthening one discipline while being exposed to all subjects. Avoiding catering to the wealthy elite, Oxford seeks out and finds students dedicated to scholarship, to learning, to cognitive advancement, creativity, and personal development.
Nearly every church in London has a concert series that provides free music at least once a week for the surrounding community. These concerts also give musicians at all levels of training and accomplishment a venue to display their talents. Wealthy patrons frequent these events looking for that special gift to support and homeless often venture in to get warm and experience beautiful music. It is art music for the masses and everyone benefits from the constant opportunity for the musical arts. Rather than a societal anomaly, live art music is integrated within the culture of living.
The musical show Wicked, a story of how the wicked witch in Wizard of Oz came to be, is a high energy, buzzing, emotionally changing show replete with amazing lighting, staging, acting, and great pop-oriented music. Songs such as Defying Gravity, and Popular give the audience a lift as we imagine a different kind of world, a world where we dream, where we improve, where we become something better. Other songs like As Long as You're Mine and For Good are tender expressions of how the connection to others is essential to our well-being and to the completeness of our lives. Entertaining, yes. Meaningful, certainly. Wicked has something for everyone and is worth every minute of the experience. The energy of the show is intoxicating, resulting in a captivating catharsis of joy and excitement.
I took the Rock and Roll class to a club in Nottinghill to experience a live rock concert. Not knowing the venue, I was surprised to find a large, muscular bouncer checking identification and monitoring the free event. We made our way down a long staircase into a small, very dark area. Deafened immediately by recorded music with enhanced sub-woofer bass, we wandered around looking for the band. Walking up to a lady sitting in a chair, I screamed "Where is the band?" She screamed back at me, "They are on a break and will return at 9:30." I nodded my thanks since I was worried my voice was leaving me and listened for a few minutes. I soon screamed my apologies to the class and we left. It was a disappointment in many ways for I had hoped to show how rhythm and guitars are used in a live rock setting. But it was also a relief to my ears to leave the venue. So much for that experience. Not everything is positive all the time!
I am thankful for being in London, but I am especially thankful for those senses of sight, sound, touch, and emotions that allow me to love the arts, to love music, and to respect all kinds of art experiences. In a way that is difficult to define but certainly real, art--music, art, and theatre, in all its splendor makes life better for everyone. We should never relegate the arts to a lower place in curriculum, in culture, or in day to day living for it is in the arts that we make the world a better and more refined place.
We visited Oxford, where parts of Harry Potter took place, and learned about the 38 colleges within the city. The tour took us to the square, the chapel, the dining hall, and several of the colleges. We learned about the tutor system that is supplemented by the once a week lecture system of education. Applying strict academic rigor, thought, and cognitive application to disciplines, the system is about strengthening one discipline while being exposed to all subjects. Avoiding catering to the wealthy elite, Oxford seeks out and finds students dedicated to scholarship, to learning, to cognitive advancement, creativity, and personal development.
Nearly every church in London has a concert series that provides free music at least once a week for the surrounding community. These concerts also give musicians at all levels of training and accomplishment a venue to display their talents. Wealthy patrons frequent these events looking for that special gift to support and homeless often venture in to get warm and experience beautiful music. It is art music for the masses and everyone benefits from the constant opportunity for the musical arts. Rather than a societal anomaly, live art music is integrated within the culture of living.
The musical show Wicked, a story of how the wicked witch in Wizard of Oz came to be, is a high energy, buzzing, emotionally changing show replete with amazing lighting, staging, acting, and great pop-oriented music. Songs such as Defying Gravity, and Popular give the audience a lift as we imagine a different kind of world, a world where we dream, where we improve, where we become something better. Other songs like As Long as You're Mine and For Good are tender expressions of how the connection to others is essential to our well-being and to the completeness of our lives. Entertaining, yes. Meaningful, certainly. Wicked has something for everyone and is worth every minute of the experience. The energy of the show is intoxicating, resulting in a captivating catharsis of joy and excitement.
I took the Rock and Roll class to a club in Nottinghill to experience a live rock concert. Not knowing the venue, I was surprised to find a large, muscular bouncer checking identification and monitoring the free event. We made our way down a long staircase into a small, very dark area. Deafened immediately by recorded music with enhanced sub-woofer bass, we wandered around looking for the band. Walking up to a lady sitting in a chair, I screamed "Where is the band?" She screamed back at me, "They are on a break and will return at 9:30." I nodded my thanks since I was worried my voice was leaving me and listened for a few minutes. I soon screamed my apologies to the class and we left. It was a disappointment in many ways for I had hoped to show how rhythm and guitars are used in a live rock setting. But it was also a relief to my ears to leave the venue. So much for that experience. Not everything is positive all the time!
I am thankful for being in London, but I am especially thankful for those senses of sight, sound, touch, and emotions that allow me to love the arts, to love music, and to respect all kinds of art experiences. In a way that is difficult to define but certainly real, art--music, art, and theatre, in all its splendor makes life better for everyone. We should never relegate the arts to a lower place in curriculum, in culture, or in day to day living for it is in the arts that we make the world a better and more refined place.
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