Monday, December 11, 2006
Masterclasses
Thursday, December 7
And now the next level of the Cultural Exchange, where the American professionals give masterclasses to the Vietnamese students. This experience is a quantum leap above the masterclasses in Cambodia of the previous week, as many of the professorial staff at the internationally recognized Hanoi Conservatory have trained in Europe, Russia & Japan. But these masterclasses will be more about repertoire & interpretation, not basic instrumental techniques.
What becomes immediately apparent is that most students are playing from Xeroxes and not the original music. Scores from the large European music publishers are prohibitively expensive, so that is to be expected: but sometimes the editions are obscure (unknown editors presenting all sorts of eccentric markings as gospel when they never existed in the original), or in the case of one brave oboist who was actually attempting the Berio Sequenza, entire lines of music were missing.
Many of us found wonderful technique and intention, but no clue as to what to do with the notes, which has to do with that most illusory of qualities, musical style. Many of the students that I taught were playing the notes, but not the music – which may sound arcane, but is anything but. The young Vietnamese singers exemplified this problem best: they sang the words from operatic arias, but literally had no idea what the words meant, or what the story was, or who their character was supposed to be, let alone the dramatic impetus at that moment in the plot. These are the subtle ingredients that can transform a mediocre performance into a great musical experience.
But it wasn’t just the instrumentalists who were holding forth: our composer-in-residence Chinary Ung gave a class on some of his music, and those in attendance found it absolutely riveting, so much so that they weren’t able to tear themselves away to visit any of the other classes. When lunchtime came, some students were so enchanted by their American tutors that they swept them away to lunch. Jim Foschia reported that his masterclass, and subsequent lunch, was one of the best days of his life as a teacher, so profoundly moving had been his interactions. Email addresses were exchanged, and I’m sure that the internet will be buzzing for years to come with conversations started today.
After lunch, a full afternoon rehearsals for the following evening’s historic concert, then back to the Old Quarter after dinner for a little more souvenir-ing. Shopping in a new town is always a hopeful gamble, and one hopes to stumble across some treasure that you simply couldn’t return home without, and it looks like Lynn, Elissa & Kathleen really hit the jackpot. It’s not that they necessarily intended to ‘shop til you’re cyclo driver drops’, but they managed to break the bank at one tiny hole-in-the-wall shop (most are) run by the nicest lady. One thing led to another, “Look at these…!”, and before you knew it, they actually closed the place down. It was a holiday feeding frenzy – after all, why shop at home at thrice the price?
The Old Quarter shopping area has self-segregated according to merchandise. Hence, the ‘toy’ street runs into the ‘food’ street, which parallels the ‘shoe’ street, etc. After a bit of directed wandering, Jan, Tom & I finally found the ‘silk’ street and one elegant shop where (can’t seem to shake them Clintons) the distinguished Senator from New York has her suits made, as evidenced by several prominent portraits of Hillary modeling her purchases, flanked by two positively beaming proprietresses.
Since we left the Old Quarter a few pounds heavier than when we arrived, we decided to engage the services of a cyclo to transport us back to the hotel. These clever contraptions are bicycle driven rickshaws, but wishing to give the customer the best view, they are pushed and not pulled; meaning, like a cowcatcher on the front of the old fashioned steam trains, we’re out front, facing the traffic. A lovely concept, except when entering an intersection where six streets converge into one central crossing era, and the driver is playing ‘chicken’ with about 50 sets of beeping headlights that are coming straight at YOU. Having survived that little scuffle, our driver then sought refuge by merging onto the main highway, with lorries, taxis and autos barreling past at highway speeds, and spewing us with non-stop fumes. When we were finally dumped at the feet of the almighty Hilton (the driver ‘helps’ his customers out of their seats by summarily lifting the back of the vehicle, literally pouring us onto the sidewalk), he asked for a fee that was easily 20 times higher than the usual, pointing to his stomach as he pleaded. He eventually pedaled away smiling, not unpleased with our monetary compromise, as we stumbled back into lobby, an oasis of calm & order after our near calamitous version of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.
And now the next level of the Cultural Exchange, where the American professionals give masterclasses to the Vietnamese students. This experience is a quantum leap above the masterclasses in Cambodia of the previous week, as many of the professorial staff at the internationally recognized Hanoi Conservatory have trained in Europe, Russia & Japan. But these masterclasses will be more about repertoire & interpretation, not basic instrumental techniques.
What becomes immediately apparent is that most students are playing from Xeroxes and not the original music. Scores from the large European music publishers are prohibitively expensive, so that is to be expected: but sometimes the editions are obscure (unknown editors presenting all sorts of eccentric markings as gospel when they never existed in the original), or in the case of one brave oboist who was actually attempting the Berio Sequenza, entire lines of music were missing.
Many of us found wonderful technique and intention, but no clue as to what to do with the notes, which has to do with that most illusory of qualities, musical style. Many of the students that I taught were playing the notes, but not the music – which may sound arcane, but is anything but. The young Vietnamese singers exemplified this problem best: they sang the words from operatic arias, but literally had no idea what the words meant, or what the story was, or who their character was supposed to be, let alone the dramatic impetus at that moment in the plot. These are the subtle ingredients that can transform a mediocre performance into a great musical experience.
But it wasn’t just the instrumentalists who were holding forth: our composer-in-residence Chinary Ung gave a class on some of his music, and those in attendance found it absolutely riveting, so much so that they weren’t able to tear themselves away to visit any of the other classes. When lunchtime came, some students were so enchanted by their American tutors that they swept them away to lunch. Jim Foschia reported that his masterclass, and subsequent lunch, was one of the best days of his life as a teacher, so profoundly moving had been his interactions. Email addresses were exchanged, and I’m sure that the internet will be buzzing for years to come with conversations started today.After lunch, a full afternoon rehearsals for the following evening’s historic concert, then back to the Old Quarter after dinner for a little more souvenir-ing. Shopping in a new town is always a hopeful gamble, and one hopes to stumble across some treasure that you simply couldn’t return home without, and it looks like Lynn, Elissa & Kathleen really hit the jackpot. It’s not that they necessarily intended to ‘shop til you’re cyclo driver drops’, but they managed to break the bank at one tiny hole-in-the-wall shop (most are) run by the nicest lady. One thing led to another, “Look at these…!”, and before you knew it, they actually closed the place down. It was a holiday feeding frenzy – after all, why shop at home at thrice the price?
The Old Quarter shopping area has self-segregated according to merchandise. Hence, the ‘toy’ street runs into the ‘food’ street, which parallels the ‘shoe’ street, etc. After a bit of directed wandering, Jan, Tom & I finally found the ‘silk’ street and one elegant shop where (can’t seem to shake them Clintons) the distinguished Senator from New York has her suits made, as evidenced by several prominent portraits of Hillary modeling her purchases, flanked by two positively beaming proprietresses.
Since we left the Old Quarter a few pounds heavier than when we arrived, we decided to engage the services of a cyclo to transport us back to the hotel. These clever contraptions are bicycle driven rickshaws, but wishing to give the customer the best view, they are pushed and not pulled; meaning, like a cowcatcher on the front of the old fashioned steam trains, we’re out front, facing the traffic. A lovely concept, except when entering an intersection where six streets converge into one central crossing era, and the driver is playing ‘chicken’ with about 50 sets of beeping headlights that are coming straight at YOU. Having survived that little scuffle, our driver then sought refuge by merging onto the main highway, with lorries, taxis and autos barreling past at highway speeds, and spewing us with non-stop fumes. When we were finally dumped at the feet of the almighty Hilton (the driver ‘helps’ his customers out of their seats by summarily lifting the back of the vehicle, literally pouring us onto the sidewalk), he asked for a fee that was easily 20 times higher than the usual, pointing to his stomach as he pleaded. He eventually pedaled away smiling, not unpleased with our monetary compromise, as we stumbled back into lobby, an oasis of calm & order after our near calamitous version of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.
# posted by Southwest Chamber Music @ 7:07 PM 
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