Tomorrow, Ryan and I perform our 2nd cabaret show, If Music Be the Food of Love: A Culinary Cabaret at the Times Cinema Theater, 5906 West Vliet Street, Milwaukee. The show starts at 1:30pm, and will be followed by the 1996 movie Big Night.
I like pairing shows with movies that share a theme. The last time we did our movie show and followed it with Singin' in the Rain. Not really the same theme except we sang about movies, old and new, and then watched a classic film. This time, we are doing a show about food and how the subject of food is used in song as a metaphor for finding love, losing love, sex, as status, as a way of saying goodbye, in marketing, and as entertainment. I'm very excited about the show - I like all the songs we've picked and I think we've put them together very creatively. And the movie is one of my favorites, starring Monk's Tony Shalhoub and Stanley Tucci (Julie & Julia, which I haven't seen yet). It's about two Italian brothers who come to 1950s New Jersey to open an authentic restaurant and are met with skepticism from a market that thinks nothing but spaghetti & meatballs is REAL Italian food.
We've been marketing this show much more than we did our May show. Our February show was full, even though our marketing was primarily via Facebook - but that didn't work for May. We put up a lot of posters, mailed postcards, and did a lot of BOGO deals for my students, WAC members, neighborhood association members. I'm hoping it pays off. Even without a BOGO deal, $15 for a live show + a great movie is a steal. So please come - we're good, really! :D
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The obligatory 9/11 post
Boy, that sounds cynical. And it's 9/12 today, so what's the point of writing yet another post about how yet another person never will forget 9/11 and remembers exactly where he/she was when everything happened?
Of course I thought about 9/11 multiple times during the day - if you were on the internet, had the TV or the radio on, you couldn't help but being reminded of the day. Plus I was singing the alto solo in Karl Jenkins' The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace last night with the Menomonee Falls Symphony at the Basilica, and the piece has a very strong anti-war message. So in my mental preparation for the piece, I thought of how I was going to bring my feelings about war into my interpretation.
I find it difficult to sit still on stage. Suddenly everything begins to itch. It didn't help that I bought a new dress and didn't realize till I was sitting on stage that if I dropped my head even slightly, it brought the tag into direct contact with my back. And I had to sit there through 7 movements - I was singing in movements 8, 11 and 13.
In movement 7, the chorus sings a charge to battle. It's powerful music - very rhythmic, utilizing all the forces of the orchestra and chorus. But at one point, the chorus begins to scream - cries of anguish crescendoing along with the orchestra and then stopping abruptly. 30 seconds of silence follow, and then a trumpet solo rings out, unaccompanied. The strings come back in with a sustained, dissonant line, joined the tolling of bells, and the low strings playing a foreboding melody.
It was the screaming that got me. All I could think of was when the towers came down on 9/11, and you saw the people outside running away from the smoke and debris, and heard the screaming. And it was just like that. I'm sure my face gave away all my emotions - it was so visceral for me, and I'm sure for the audience as well. Getting up to sing the 8th movement, with text written by a survivor of Hiroshima - "Pushing up through smoke - in a world of darkness with overhanging cloud...." was heart-wrenching.
The section starts at 4:40 on this video. (I find it interesting that this is a Slovenian group performing the piece - my father is from Slovenia, and I don't find a lot of Slovenian performances on You Tube. )
Of course I thought about 9/11 multiple times during the day - if you were on the internet, had the TV or the radio on, you couldn't help but being reminded of the day. Plus I was singing the alto solo in Karl Jenkins' The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace last night with the Menomonee Falls Symphony at the Basilica, and the piece has a very strong anti-war message. So in my mental preparation for the piece, I thought of how I was going to bring my feelings about war into my interpretation.
I find it difficult to sit still on stage. Suddenly everything begins to itch. It didn't help that I bought a new dress and didn't realize till I was sitting on stage that if I dropped my head even slightly, it brought the tag into direct contact with my back. And I had to sit there through 7 movements - I was singing in movements 8, 11 and 13.
In movement 7, the chorus sings a charge to battle. It's powerful music - very rhythmic, utilizing all the forces of the orchestra and chorus. But at one point, the chorus begins to scream - cries of anguish crescendoing along with the orchestra and then stopping abruptly. 30 seconds of silence follow, and then a trumpet solo rings out, unaccompanied. The strings come back in with a sustained, dissonant line, joined the tolling of bells, and the low strings playing a foreboding melody.
It was the screaming that got me. All I could think of was when the towers came down on 9/11, and you saw the people outside running away from the smoke and debris, and heard the screaming. And it was just like that. I'm sure my face gave away all my emotions - it was so visceral for me, and I'm sure for the audience as well. Getting up to sing the 8th movement, with text written by a survivor of Hiroshima - "Pushing up through smoke - in a world of darkness with overhanging cloud...." was heart-wrenching.
The section starts at 4:40 on this video. (I find it interesting that this is a Slovenian group performing the piece - my father is from Slovenia, and I don't find a lot of Slovenian performances on You Tube. )
Monday, August 24, 2009
Grateful, grateful, truly grateful I am
I am grateful that my summer schedule was so full, and that I got to enjoy working with returning students (Maureen, Julia, Elyse), and with a whole bunch of talented newbies (Grace, Grace, Rose, Joanne, Luke & Anna), as well as the rest of my wonderful students.
I am grateful for the opportunity to work with wonderful peers and learn new things about CCM at the Shendandoah Conservatory with Jeannette Lovetri and her master teachers. And to enjoy being out on the east coast again, which is ultimately where I belong (but not just yet - maybe 5-10 years).
I am grateful for the creativity of my peers and musical partners, and for their acceptance of my creativity.
I am grateful I made it through a summer schedule that crammed 5 days' worth of singers (plus the returning ones and newbies - see above) into a 3-1/2 day schedule. A schedule that will not be repeated again next summer, I can tell you that right now!
I am grateful for a husband who prepares wonderful meals for me at the end of my teaching day, and a wonderful dinner for the party held yesterday at the end of the teaching season (the summer season, anyway). And for those who came and partook - and for those who didn't, hey, there's a lot of tax-deductible leftovers for us to enjoy!
I am grateful for the opportunity to work with wonderful peers and learn new things about CCM at the Shendandoah Conservatory with Jeannette Lovetri and her master teachers. And to enjoy being out on the east coast again, which is ultimately where I belong (but not just yet - maybe 5-10 years).
I am grateful for the creativity of my peers and musical partners, and for their acceptance of my creativity.
I am grateful I made it through a summer schedule that crammed 5 days' worth of singers (plus the returning ones and newbies - see above) into a 3-1/2 day schedule. A schedule that will not be repeated again next summer, I can tell you that right now!
I am grateful for a husband who prepares wonderful meals for me at the end of my teaching day, and a wonderful dinner for the party held yesterday at the end of the teaching season (the summer season, anyway). And for those who came and partook - and for those who didn't, hey, there's a lot of tax-deductible leftovers for us to enjoy!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Transitions
When I started this blog, I intended to write once a week about singing- and studio-related things only, venturing into the personal only as it related to the main topic.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, my last blog entry was July 15...
and forgive me for self-indulgence but I want to write about other things today.
Yesterday I put my parents on a plane to Florida. They will be moving into a nursing home near my sister's home. I may never see them again.
For those of you who know my relationship with my parents or who know my parents, you might be saying, "Congratulations!" For those of you who judge my relationship with my parents, you might be saying, "So what's the difference? You hardly ever saw them anyway."
My relationship with my parents has been contentious, to say the least. I returned to Milwaukee in 1996 because the family medicine residency programs were top notch and would afford Bill good training and because I had a yearning to reconnect with my parents and my hometown.
Two out of three ain't bad.
I had done a lot of self-work in getting through my divorce. I recognized mistakes I had made in my personal and professional relationships in my 34 years of life and worked very hard at correcting them and trying not to repeat them. I thought I could apply the same concepts to my relationship with my parents and be a better daughter and have the family relationship I always wanted growing up.
It didn't work. My attempts at reaching out were never enough - always too little, too late as far as they were concerned. Always an opportunity for comparison - "Caroline calls more than you do and she's in Florida." (I called more when I was in Baltimore because they were always happy to hear from me then!) - for sarcasm - "We thought you forgot our phone number." (Two days had gone by between calls - and phones work both ways.) And after Mom's dementia kicked in, for twisting the knife - "Yeah, she calls for you all night, and I tell her, don't bother, Christine doesn't care."
And even though I distanced myself in the interest of self-protection (at the advice of professionals), making dutiful calls at least once a week, visiting on holidays, and wishing that they had listened to my sister and me when we tried to get them to move to Florida or at least to assisted living before all these health issues had surfaced, when my sister told me last Friday that she found them a spot in a nursing home in Florida and had booked them a flight for August 8, I felt ... lost. (Okay, that was after the initial celebratory glass of wine.)
My husband doesn't get it. He only knows these people as the ones who snuck out of our wedding early because they weren't getting enough attention, who told us our wedding was "nothing to brag about" because it wasn't Catholic, who have said dreadful things about people of other races and religions and gender identities, and whose initial response to the end of my first marriage was "What about the money you owe us?" He's thrilled that they will be too far away to hurt me anymore.
But I remember - or at least I have pictures of - the little girl whose Daddy adored her, and was constantly whispering in her ear and laughing with her. I remember the Mother who would defend her child no matter what, sometimes going overboard, but fierce in her defense. And that went beyond childhood. I remember when the priest at my first teaching job berated me in front of the school (that job is a whole 'nother blog entry!) and she called him and identified herself as a mother whose daughter had called her, very upset about how he had treated the music teacher, and gave him a piece of her mind. The poor old coot was racking his brain trying to figure out just which student had a mother with a foreign accent, and kept asking her, "Are you Maria's mother? Jenny's?" and she told him, "I won't tell you because I don't want you to take it out on my daughter."
He deserved it.
So even though I haven't known those people for years, and I never will again, those are the people for whom I feel loss. I will truly never see those people again. As far as the people who took their place, I may never see them again. And I probably will start calling them more frequently, because now that we are far apart, they will again be happy to hear from me.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, my last blog entry was July 15...
and forgive me for self-indulgence but I want to write about other things today.
Yesterday I put my parents on a plane to Florida. They will be moving into a nursing home near my sister's home. I may never see them again.
For those of you who know my relationship with my parents or who know my parents, you might be saying, "Congratulations!" For those of you who judge my relationship with my parents, you might be saying, "So what's the difference? You hardly ever saw them anyway."
My relationship with my parents has been contentious, to say the least. I returned to Milwaukee in 1996 because the family medicine residency programs were top notch and would afford Bill good training and because I had a yearning to reconnect with my parents and my hometown.
Two out of three ain't bad.
I had done a lot of self-work in getting through my divorce. I recognized mistakes I had made in my personal and professional relationships in my 34 years of life and worked very hard at correcting them and trying not to repeat them. I thought I could apply the same concepts to my relationship with my parents and be a better daughter and have the family relationship I always wanted growing up.
It didn't work. My attempts at reaching out were never enough - always too little, too late as far as they were concerned. Always an opportunity for comparison - "Caroline calls more than you do and she's in Florida." (I called more when I was in Baltimore because they were always happy to hear from me then!) - for sarcasm - "We thought you forgot our phone number." (Two days had gone by between calls - and phones work both ways.) And after Mom's dementia kicked in, for twisting the knife - "Yeah, she calls for you all night, and I tell her, don't bother, Christine doesn't care."
And even though I distanced myself in the interest of self-protection (at the advice of professionals), making dutiful calls at least once a week, visiting on holidays, and wishing that they had listened to my sister and me when we tried to get them to move to Florida or at least to assisted living before all these health issues had surfaced, when my sister told me last Friday that she found them a spot in a nursing home in Florida and had booked them a flight for August 8, I felt ... lost. (Okay, that was after the initial celebratory glass of wine.)
My husband doesn't get it. He only knows these people as the ones who snuck out of our wedding early because they weren't getting enough attention, who told us our wedding was "nothing to brag about" because it wasn't Catholic, who have said dreadful things about people of other races and religions and gender identities, and whose initial response to the end of my first marriage was "What about the money you owe us?" He's thrilled that they will be too far away to hurt me anymore.
But I remember - or at least I have pictures of - the little girl whose Daddy adored her, and was constantly whispering in her ear and laughing with her. I remember the Mother who would defend her child no matter what, sometimes going overboard, but fierce in her defense. And that went beyond childhood. I remember when the priest at my first teaching job berated me in front of the school (that job is a whole 'nother blog entry!) and she called him and identified herself as a mother whose daughter had called her, very upset about how he had treated the music teacher, and gave him a piece of her mind. The poor old coot was racking his brain trying to figure out just which student had a mother with a foreign accent, and kept asking her, "Are you Maria's mother? Jenny's?" and she told him, "I won't tell you because I don't want you to take it out on my daughter."
He deserved it.
So even though I haven't known those people for years, and I never will again, those are the people for whom I feel loss. I will truly never see those people again. As far as the people who took their place, I may never see them again. And I probably will start calling them more frequently, because now that we are far apart, they will again be happy to hear from me.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Letting people go
Today I had to tell a long-time student's mom that I could no longer work with that student anymore. There have been too many no-shows, examples of thoughtlessness, "forgetting" checks, breaking promises ... and I haven't been doing the student any favors by accepting excuses, rescheduling missed lessons, or accepting payment weeks late. It has to stop for my own self-preservation as well as to teach the student that there are consequences for bad behavior.
I'm sad about this. I hate letting good singers go, even if it's for good reasons. And this student has a great deal of potential - great musician, fine young voice, and smart.
The two students that I've had to let go because of trust issues were both people who professed to be beyond-devout Christians... and I've caught both of them in lies.
I'm sad about this. I hate letting good singers go, even if it's for good reasons. And this student has a great deal of potential - great musician, fine young voice, and smart.
The two students that I've had to let go because of trust issues were both people who professed to be beyond-devout Christians... and I've caught both of them in lies.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Putting together the fall schedule
I just sent out an email to my students to set up the 2009-2010 schedule. I lost about 10 people at the end of this school year - 6 graduated, 4 decided to move on for various reasons. But I replaced 6 of them, and several of the current roster decided to increase their lesson times from 30 minutes to 45 minutes. I was surprised - last year I had decided to phase out the 30 minute lesson time entirely because longer lessons are so much more effective in helping the student apply the technical things we do in the first 15 minutes to actual singing. But with the economic crisis, I wasn't going to push it. I didn't have to. People wanted to do it.
Also, I'll be teaching vocal pedagogy at Carroll University again this fall. I'm excited about that - I really enjoy helping people find their teaching voices so that they can help others find their singing voices. Plus I've decided that the income from that gig is going toward a ... wait for it ... cleaning woman. (Reinemachefrau!)
Heading out at the end of this week for Jeannette Lovetri's Contemporary Commercial Music Pedagogy Institute at Shenandoah Conservatory. I'm doing the first two levels of the program and will be certified in Levels 1 and 2 of Somatic Voicework. I'll tell you what that means when I get back!
Also, I'll be teaching vocal pedagogy at Carroll University again this fall. I'm excited about that - I really enjoy helping people find their teaching voices so that they can help others find their singing voices. Plus I've decided that the income from that gig is going toward a ... wait for it ... cleaning woman. (Reinemachefrau!)
Heading out at the end of this week for Jeannette Lovetri's Contemporary Commercial Music Pedagogy Institute at Shenandoah Conservatory. I'm doing the first two levels of the program and will be certified in Levels 1 and 2 of Somatic Voicework. I'll tell you what that means when I get back!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Top Ten Things That Make Me a Happy Voice Teacher
1. When a student posts a line of a song I've given her or him as his/her Facebook status - "I'll find myself at the end of the world where the earth and the sky are one."
2. When a student tells me she'll remember singing the Dead Nuns Chorus from Carmelites for the rest of her life.
3. When a student tells me that she loves opera - and she's only 13 and came in to the studio a year before only liking bluegrass and boy bands and I haven't even given her opera to sing, she's just heard other people doing it and wants to do it too.
4. When the parent of a student who has just done her first ensemble recital tells me, "Your studio is full of really nice, supportive kids, and they made my daughter feel at home."
5. When someone tells me her high school senior project is about vocal pedagogy.
6. When a kid who formerly only followed heavy metal headbanging tells me that he is now obsessed with Wagner. (Honestly, it's not that much of a stretch.)
7. When a girl who formerly swooned over the Jonas Brothers now swoons over Placido Domingo - at least on recordings.
8. When a brand new student can read the IPA I've written on my dry-erase board.
9. When I told my students that Richard Miller died, and most of them said, "OH NO!" (Again, my base is grades 9-12.)
10. When students see a song from Street Scene or Lady in the Dark or Threepenny Opera and immediately blurt out, "I don't mean to be curt, but give me that vial!" (See L.A. Law)
2. When a student tells me she'll remember singing the Dead Nuns Chorus from Carmelites for the rest of her life.
3. When a student tells me that she loves opera - and she's only 13 and came in to the studio a year before only liking bluegrass and boy bands and I haven't even given her opera to sing, she's just heard other people doing it and wants to do it too.
4. When the parent of a student who has just done her first ensemble recital tells me, "Your studio is full of really nice, supportive kids, and they made my daughter feel at home."
5. When someone tells me her high school senior project is about vocal pedagogy.
6. When a kid who formerly only followed heavy metal headbanging tells me that he is now obsessed with Wagner. (Honestly, it's not that much of a stretch.)
7. When a girl who formerly swooned over the Jonas Brothers now swoons over Placido Domingo - at least on recordings.
8. When a brand new student can read the IPA I've written on my dry-erase board.
9. When I told my students that Richard Miller died, and most of them said, "OH NO!" (Again, my base is grades 9-12.)
10. When students see a song from Street Scene or Lady in the Dark or Threepenny Opera and immediately blurt out, "I don't mean to be curt, but give me that vial!" (See L.A. Law)
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