Tag: classical music

Art Biz with Liz: Ending 2020 with Classical Music

Elizabeth S Leave a comment

What “normal” aspect of life on campus do you miss the most? Game days? Studying in Hatcher? One of the things that I miss the most about a “normal” school year at the university is the vast array of live performances. The COVID-19 pandemic led to the closure of concert halls, theaters, and opera houses across the country. Those on campus were not excluded, and it’s been strange to walk past Hill Auditorium and think about its emptiness.

2020 was a tumultuous year. Still, there were plenty of inspiring performances throughout it that demonstrated artists’ dedication to keeping their art forms going. Shutdowns sparked a flood of videos across the internet that showcased determined singers and musicians, both amateur and professional, performing from their homes. The shift towards online was not only encouraged but necessary as online viewers became the only audience. With grace and determination, live performances became synonymous with livestream, a moving reminder of the flexibility and unity needed to survive trying times.

It only seemed fair to end 2020 by listening to the art that I have greatly admired throughout the pandemic. Since the start of my college career, I’ve been grateful to Arts at Michigan, the University Musical Society (UMS), and friends I met on campus for introducing me to the magic that is live classical music in the form of professional quartets, orchestras, and more. I remember seeing the Takács Quartet with clarinetist Anthony McGill, for example, at the Rackham auditorium in April of my freshman year. Yesterday, I watched and listened to the Takács Quartet again, only this time through a special reprise of a UMS digital presentation that was available for streaming through December 31st. Listening to the emotional drama unfold in Price’s String Quartet No. 2 in a minor (Mvt. ii) and the dizzying array of timbres in Debussy’s String Quartet in g minor (Mvts. iii, iv) seemed like a fitting end to 2020. Whatever next year brings, I wish you health, happiness, and *hopefully* a live concert or two.

Check out the UMS website to read more about digital presentations being offered this season.

Navigating Burnout

Julia Leave a comment

 Photo by Julia Rose Lawson. 

I started playing violin when I was eight years old, and the Suzuki method of teaching guided my studies for about four years until I started playing the viola. I never saw myself becoming a musician; I was more interested in becoming a famous actress or singer, and viola was just a hobby. But the more I practiced, the better playing viola felt. Eventually I went to a summer camp and experienced playing in an orchestra for the first time, and I realized what passion felt like. I became a music nerd by the time I was a sophomore in high school, but more specifically, a classical music nerd. Classical music felt so special to me. I started listening to it all the time and dedicated hours upon hours of my week to practicing and various musical commitments. It became everything to me. And my experience at a classical music camp gave me a glimpse of what my life could be like if I pursued music full time. I loved it: the feeling of success from becoming a better player, the adrenaline that flooded my limbs during performances, and the friends that I made who inspired me artistically and showed me what real love in a friendship felt like. When I left camp, I wanted to commit to being a classical musician because it showed me how perfect my life could be. For the next three years, I put everything I had into becoming a good enough viola player to get into my top choice college: the University of Michigan School of Music, Theatre, and Dance. (Surprise, surprise, I got in… hence my writing a blog post for Arts at Michigan.)

I am a junior now, still pursuing viola performance. Sometimes, I feel so immersed in music, that it doesn’t feel like music to me anymore. It’s analyzed, fragmented, repetitive, robotic. It’s causing me anxiety when I work on anything else. I have spent almost eight years with this viola on my shoulder– my longest relationship. I love it because it has taken me everywhere that I have needed to go in my life. Without it I would not have met my closest friends and because of that, I would not be myself. I wouldn’t be here, in Michigan. And maybe it’s cheesy to say, but I feel connected to it. In my heart. How could I not? Eight years and thousands of hours. It is my part of my body and it is my voice. But I have done so much. It is so integral to my identity that I don’t know who I am without it, and that’s not necessarily a good thing. Lately, practicing has become more mundane and I constantly question myself about what I really want.

I know classical music isn’t my path anymore. I have to stick with this degree because the training is good and I care about being a good violist, but I also have to start challenging myself again. It’s dangerous to pursue an art if you don’t love it. And I know that deep down I love it, but it’s been a really long time since I’ve felt genuinely passionate about something.

The truth is that my ideas about what music is are changing. Since I’ve gotten to college, I have been more exposed to jazz, world music, roots music, and improvisation. Musical improvisation has been this big concept looming over my head as I question what it really means to be a musician. Improvisation requires you to make music in the moment, like a real-time composer. To be a good improviser is to have a musical mind, but what if I can’t improvise? If I can only play what’s printed on a piece of sheet music, do I have a musical mind? No, but I know I want to. Every musician wants to know music like that. If you know music like that, and you have the technical abilities to play whatever you want, your creative expression will be endless. And that’s what I really want: to be able to fully, freely, creatively express myself in a musical way.

The Blackbird

Justin & Ersun Leave a comment

I don’t like writing about music. To be honest, I don’t really like music. I respect it as an art form–quite highly, especially as I hold no talent in it. But music is not central to my life. Most people—that I’ve met—claim they couldn’t live without music. Almost every piece of writing about music—that I’ve read—illustrates music as such a beautiful and magical thing. I guess I’m just blind to the magic. Deaf, rather.

Many pretentious listeners claim that popular or electronic (if there’s a difference) music is awful and they only listen to classical composition. There seems to be a strange attraction to classic rock, jazz, and other genres of song too, but classical orchestras and pianos pieces seem to be prime examples of good, “quality” music. To fill my auditory palette, I’ve tried listening to “Classical Radio” on Pandora. After subjecting myself to most of these pieces, which some scientific articles claim to improve mental ability and health, I’ve come to somewhat understand the appeal. The lack of lyrics and electronic intervention to iron out audio wrinkles makes them somewhat natural. They hold a bit of imperfection, or at least a chance of it. They seem to create more pure sounds. This being said, I still wasn’t convinced that the music was worthwhile or beautiful. It was still something I could live without.

I’ve recently discovered Olivier Messiaen. Like many composers, he’s some French guy who devoted himself to the study of sound. Most of his work, like that of other composers, can be emotionally engaging and all that jazz. Actually, not jazz—different genre. Anyway, most of his work, despite some quirks that may or may not be pleasing to the ear, did not interest me. But then I found his Le merle noir, “The Blackbird.” You can listen to it on YouTube if you’d like.

The Blackbird is a chamber work designed to mimic the birdsongs of blackbirds. Messiaen explores the various cries, of terror and beckoning of the blackbird. I enjoyed the shrill moments in the piece, the sudden jolts and lulls, that mirrored the natural world. Judging by the comments on YouTube, the piece has had positive reception. This kind of surprised me, considering I enjoyed listening to it. There wasn’t a consistent melody or “beat”—things that I’d normally miss and others would normally love. Rather it was true; well-representative of the natural entity it was imitating. The natural birdsong of the blackbird is not innately beautiful (or heard as such), but Messiaen’s work displays it in this light. It gives an honest illustration and enables us to enjoy it. This is something that makes music useful: the ability to make the mundane beautiful. For me, this was done in The Blackbird.