Tag: music

Scribble #19: Regret

Sydney Braun Leave a comment

“‘Just wait till tomorrow,’” 

I started off the school year thinking I just had to make it through. Through the day, through the week, through the year, through to better times. I waited all of high school to finally get to college and make friends there, and there I was, in college, waiting for it to be over so I could be on to the next era of my life, a better one with better friends. I fell fully into the trap of living for the future and simply enduring the present.

“I guess that’s what they all say just before they fall apart.”

I’ve learned since then that things change – and with enough patience, a little luck, and a good attitude, they can change for the better. Now, I am able to simultaneously look forward to the future and enjoy where I am in the moment. This past weekend, my best friend from home came to visit me in Ann Arbor. Throughout high school and into the present, she is so special to me because I always feel like I can be my entire self around her. Having her come to Ann Arbor made me realize that I feel the same way around the friends I’ve made here at Michigan – something that I didn’t quite realize was the case until this weekend.

“I was upset, you see, almost all the time.”

It’s a lot easier for me to get through the days, weeks, and months here knowing I am surrounded by the healthiest friends I could wish for, and I find myself feeling like I am enjoying my current state of being as opposed to viewing the present as an obstacle in the way of the better times ahead. I like to think the best is yet to come, but if my present is as good as it gets, I would be able to move through life happily as well – and that feeling is everything that my past self dreamed of.

“You used to be a stranger, now you are mine.”

Listen to Regret by New Order here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5V_jUncesw 

Art Biz with Liz: Arranging for the Carillon

Elizabeth S Leave a comment

When it comes to music theory, I’m at a little bit of a loss. I can read notes and rhythms, but I struggle with things such as the nuances between types of chords. I was a little bit nervous, then, when it came to arranging my own piece of music, particularly for the carillon, of which I’m still a beginner at. Luckily, I had a plethora of resources at my fingertips and chose a song I was already familiar with, “All I ask of You” by Andrew Lloyd Webber. The song already works well on its own, and it’s recognizable if you were to play it on a piano or hum the melody. It has a strong melody with existing movement and shape, which made my job a lot easier.

A huge part of arranging the piece was considering the instrument I was arranging for, the carillon. I referenced several existing resources, like “Composing for Carillon” by Joey Brink in NewMusicBox magazine and “Arranging for Carillon” by Rachel. I also referenced existing piano scores. Doing so made me think about the physical limitations of playing the song the carillon. For the most part, when playing on the piano, it’s easy to traverse across different areas on the keyboard. With the carillon, on the other hand, quick jumps between octaves or otherwise maintaining a large gap between the hands or feet can be challenging. It may be difficult to play an interval of more than a tenth in the feet, for example, or more than two octaves in the hands due to the spacing of the keys, which are farther apart than those on a piano.

Another interesting aspect of arranging for the carillon is acknowledging that once a bell is struck, it stops on its own accord. There are several things to consider related to this. For one, it can be difficult to play repeated notes in the lower register, as the heaviness of the clapper can make the batons for lower bells take longer to return. Additionally, the inability to dampen the bells can make it difficult to write sudden harmonic changes, which can sound blurred. As the carillon produces rich, thick sound and lower notes can be sustained for quite some time, it’s advised to spread out harmonies and reduce thick cords. This includes avoiding unnecessary repetition of chords and combining two voices into one. The bass register isn’t the best for busy rhythms and chordal accompaniment, but I learned that you can play around with moving them up an octave or two or reducing some notes/rhythms for simplicity. These sound properties of the carillon are different from some other instruments and are worth considering when arranging a piece. For my arrangement, this meant removing some harmonies from the bass clef and considering ways to incorporate them elsewhere.

Carillons are also interesting in that each instrument is different. Some carillons have 2-3 octaves, while others might have 4.5+ octaves (such as our two carillons at U of M). I arranged my piece with the Baird Carillon in mind, but if you want to ensure that your song sounds okay on all instruments, Perfecto notes that the safest choice is “to avoid keys with more than three flats or sharps” (Arranging for Carillon). Historical carillons were often tuned in meantone, which means the intervals were tuned to sound best in C major. Key signatures with more than 3 flats or sharps, depending on the instrument, can sound out of tune. The original “All I Ask of You” was in D-flat major, but I arranged my piece in D major, which I later transposed to F major.

As I mentioned earlier, “All I Ask of You,” already has a well-defined melody. The simpler musical texture and limited number of independent voices allow for greater clarity when playing on the carillon. This made it easier to choose which elements were absolutely essential to the piece early on in the arrangement process. After creating a skeleton score, I received feedback from my carillon instructor each week until other elements such as dynamics were added.

This was my first time arranging something, and it was actually quite fun! Now onto playing the piece.

 

References

Perfecto, Rachel. “Arranging for Carillon: An Online Guide.”

https://www.arrangingforcarillon.com/

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 16: The Army Returns (Part 3)

Alias Leave a comment

Kendra crept away from the crusty dining hall, her backpack a rock on her shoulders and her Holy Band Beanie situated snugly atop her head.  The space was empty save for a few poles, a bannister, a water bottle-refilling station, and–

 

Him.

 

Atop the fountain sat the demonic octopus, its gaze fixated on Kendra.  She pulled her Holy Band Beanie tighter over her ears and set her backpack aside, then clenched her fists.  Without stretching first, she barreled toward the accursed thing with the most vicious battle cry known to mankind, a war chant dredged up from the countless minute spent cadencing with the band to football games.

“BUTTEEEEEER!!!”  Her legs pumping, she shot toward the octopus, her arms outstretched, ready to destroy the thing–

 

THWOMP.

 

She crashed into something solid and human-shaped.  It toppled backward but did not fall onto the floor, which just saved Kendra from faceplanting before a rando who had not been there a mere two seconds before.  When her vision cleared, she realized she was staring at a figure clad in black form-fitting athletic wear from shoulder to toe.  Diminutive and squirrely, the figure bounced up and down his feet to shake out his muscles, unperturbed by Kendra steamrolling into him, then flashed her a smile that eerily resembled that of the demon octopus.

 

“Hello there,” boomed Franklin F. Franklin.

 

“Franklin, wh–how–.”

 

Franklin simply lifted an as-of-now unbruised finger upward.  Kendra’s eyes followed him and found a missing ceiling tile beyond which the ventilation shafts loomed.

 

“I’m a cymbal player.  A little knee-bending doesn’t scare me.”  Again, that smile.  “I was hoping you’d figure it out sooner.  You know, since I am the lord of reversible stuffed octopi.”

 

“F-figure out what?”  Kendra was dizzy; her head was spinning.  Everything she’d been through in the past week was because of Franklin?

 

“I was trying to film an iMovie about sentient stuffed octopi, but you kept popping up in all my critical shots.  Don’t worry; I’ll edit you out of them.”  Noting Kendra’s incredulous expression, Franklin erased his smile.

 

“It was on my bed!!!”

 

I didn’t mean for that to happen!  He just fell from my hand, bro!  I am sorry about that one.  It was completely unintentional.”  As he talked, Franklin approached the apparently-not-demonic octopus and plucked it from the water bottle filler.  “Anyway, I’m almost done filming.  Just two more months to go!”  He flashed Kendra a thumbs-up, bent his knees, and launched himself back into the building’s crawlspace.

 

Kendra shook.  All of the running, all of the terror, and it had been–it wasn’t–.

 

“Hey, Kendra!”

 

She whirled around.  The space was suddenly teeming with students, though she was certain no one had been there a moment before.  Hilary waved at her with a smile that betrayed her ignorant bliss.  “We gotta get to class, sis.  Everything okay?”

 

“Y-yeah,” Kendra stammered.  She stooped down to pick up her backpack again.  Franklin.  Franklin was–.

 

All of this for an iMovie?

 

She pushed her terror away, squared her shoulders, and trudged beside Hilary into the snow.

 

The End!  For now………………..

 

More things will happen next week!

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 14: The Army Returns (Part 1)

Alias Leave a comment

It started out subtly:  cold sweat on her hands, the crawling sensation she was being watched, tension coiling through the back of her neck.  Between homework, classes, and crying over the fact that she had to turn in her uniform last Saturday, Kendra didn’t have time to consider who–or what–her stalker was.

 

When she first spotted him, she was crying studying in her dorm room.  Her roommate was out and about, so she was all alone–save, of course, the random stuffed octopus perched eerily on her windowsill.

 

“AAAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEE!”  In her terror, she yeeted her calculus textbook across the floor and nearly spilled perfectly hot dining hall coffee.  When she came to her senses, she realized the octopus was just staring at her contentedly.  Smiling, its innocent visage harbored no malevolence she could observe with the naked eye–which meant it was harmless, right?  She knew there was a cymbal kid named Franklin who was obsessed with these things, so maybe….

 

But she didn’t know Franklin.  Franklin didn’t know where she lived.  And, most crucially, Kendra was not on the drumline.

 

She backed away slowly from the thing and its stitched-on ovular eyes.  She couldn’t take her eyes off it; if she did, she was afraid it would attack her.  But it didn’t.  After half an hour spent hiding in her laundry basket, Kendra emerged to find her room just as she’d left it, except now the octopus was gone.

 

She was on the Bursley-Baits bus the next time she spotted the octopus.  After an afternoon spent practicing Taps on her horn in the band hall, she was wiped:  her palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms were heavy.  Her vision was so blurred with exhaustion she almost did not spot the octopus swinging from one of the straps standing passengers were supposed to hold onto.

 

Though horror rose in her throat, she did not scream.  She was in public; whatever this was, the octopus could not attack her here.  It could not do anything, anyway, because it was a stuffed octopus.  She was imagining things.  Franklin must have stuck one here to troll passengers and forgotten about it…right?

 

She decided she was sleep-deprived; she was seeing things.  So she went to bed early that night and woke up refreshed, her eyes naturally sliding open to greet the day in a rare moment of bliss.  She gave a slight smile, took in her surroundings, then–.

 

The octopus, the same octopus from her windowsill and the bus, was sitting inches from her face.

 

The screech that emitted from Kendra was a cross between a banshee’s shrill and a five-year-old cackling as his mother vacuumed the carpet.  Her roommate, the people in the adjacent rooms, the residents of the hall two floors below her, and an unsuspecting clump of pedestrians on the sidewalk bore witness to her scream.

 

“What the flippin’ frick is wrong with you!?” hollered her roommate.

 

“O-O-OCTOPUS!!!!”

 

“What th–oh, that?  Where’d you get him?  He’s so cute!”

 

“HE’S A DEMON OCTOPUS, HILARY!  HE’S BEEN STALKING ME ALL WEEK!  HE’S–.”

 

Calmly, Hilary plucked the octopus off Kendra’s bed and stroked its plush head.  “Aaaawwww, hey there, widdle guy!  where’d you come from?”

 

“I don’t know!!!!  But he’s been on the bus, so he needs a deep cleaning.”

 

“Oh.”  Hilary tenderly set the octopus onto her desk so she could clean him.  “Why are you afraid of a stuffed octopus anyway?”

 

“HE’S ALIVE!!!”

 

“Alright, Kendra, calm down.  I’m sure the octopus isn’t really alive.  You’ve been reading way too many creepypastas, sis.  Here, let’s get breakfast and try to think through this rationally.”

 

To Be Continued………………………………..

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 12: Requiem for Marching Band Season

Alias Leave a comment

Ice on my tongue, crusted

Over harsh, bitter puffs of nothingness

I trusted

The months would stretch and coalesce into taffy-like time

That eternities would burn in the aftermath of summer’s speed

And all evenings would be fever dreams of drill and fundamentals and Varsity

Until the sun slid behind the lids of the multihued trees and the Fearless Leader

Summoned the teeming mass of band geeks to the center of the tower and we all

Screamed “Go, Michigan!” as a team and December was but a beam on future’s horizon

 

In January’s rut I cling

To the remainder of the season in my closet and the singing, screaming shrieks of victory

Storms of maize and blue and snow that flowed round human flesh

And the heat that dwindled into a freeze as the fall washed into my memory

And the bright maize lights and the blimp and the remembrance

The fusion of fall with first Notus, then Boreas,

42-27

Entanglement of life with Heaven

 

They said we wouldn’t win until Hell had frozen over

Before they realized

Hell is a town in Michigan.

Art Biz with Liz: Family, Friendship, and The Arts

Elizabeth S 2 Comments

The past two years have been filled with love and loss among countless others emotions and events. There’s no doubt that the COVID-19 pandemic has been a time of trial and tribulation. Throughout the isolation, the arts have been an escape, even if I took a break from participating in the performing arts myself. But as much as I have always loved the arts, they wouldn’t be as monumental in my life without the influence of other people.

Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I took some time to reflect about where I am in life and what I am grateful for. Looking back at the recent U-M Women’s Glee concert, I considered how great it felt to be there in person and have a live audience, even if the evening did include masks. Yet, despite reminiscing over the semester’s music-making and energy from the crowd, I couldn’t help but feel a pang in my chest when I remembered one person wasn’t there.

My boyfriend, grandmother, father, and I standing outside the Keene Theater after an RC Singers concert.

My grandmother was always a huge part of my life. She lived less than a ten-minute drive away and came over several times a week. Among the million memories or character traits I could share, when it came to the arts, she was my biggest support system. She was at every choir concert, theatre performance, and piano recital. In fact, I don’t know if I would have continued taking piano lessons throughout my childhood without her. Without fail, she always asked me to “play her a song” when she visited. I did so, though oftentimes more begrudgingly than not (I used to hate playing for other people, even my own loved ones).

When it came to college and I no longer kept up with the piano, my grandmother came to my choral performances. Most notably, she came to my RC Singers and U-M Women’s Glee Club concerts. Below is a picture of me and my grandmother after a glee concert, the last one “pre-COVID.”

While I could give a lot of credit to personal interest, my participation in the arts wouldn’t be what it is without the support of loved ones behind me. I’m thankful for all the people who encourage me in my writing, music-making, or other art endeavors. I thank my parents for giving me the opportunity to take piano lessons, coming to my choir concerts, and even enrolling me in ballet, even if I only did it for one year when I was eight. I thank my sister for giving me a paint set for Christmas, taking me to concerts/musicals, and driving from Ohio just to see my performances. I thank my family abroad for always reading my writing and sharing their thoughts, even if they are half a world away.

My family members and I following the U-M Women’s Glee concert on 11/20

As much as I disliked playing the piano for other people when I was a child, the support of my parents and grandmother at recitals always meant the world to me. These days, I am thankful for the support of other loved ones as well, like friends, cousins, aunts, and uncles. While my grandmother might not have been in the audience at my last glee concert, these people were, along with my parents, siblings, and adorable three-year-old nephew. I’m also grateful to all the people who couldn’t be at Hill Auditorium but cheered me on from home or in their own way.

Some friends who came to support me and Fiona at our glee concert on 11/20

 

It’s been over a year since I lost my grandmother to COVID-19. The dreams, grief, and guilt still haven’t gone away. There are so many things I wish I could say, sing, or play for her, but I’ll continue to honor her memory in my heart as I participate in the arts, just as she would’ve wanted me to. And although Grandma isn’t around anymore, I have a lot of friends and family members who continue to support me. In a way, her love for me and the arts still shines through. And that’s something to be grateful for.