A penny for your thoughts?

People often ask performers “What goes through your head when you are playing music?”

Great music has the ability to open up vivid images in the brain. To help the listener (and therefore the performer as well, as they are also listening) take their mind somewhere it wouldn’t have gone on its own.

I’m not just talking about classical music, this happens in other genres as well. Earlier this year whilst playing in the backing band (MSO) for Nick Cave I had an extraordinary experience of complete exhilaration and immersion in the music. There was simply no escaping the passion!

Being honest, it is possible while playing an instrument to mentally prepare the dinner, make a shopping list and worry about the milk that has been left out. The same way that once one has mastered driving, it is possible to get from A to B without really knowing how.

That is why, when playing with a musician like Dmitry Onishchenko, it is like taking a drive through spectacular scenery, with twists and turns and breathtaking views.

We have been rehearsing Shostakovich’s piano quintet and Ian Munro’s Divertissement sur le nom d’Erik Satie for a week and I can confess that my household has suffered. Dinner has been ad hoc, and there was no porridge this morning, which meant we didn’t need the milk that I had put in the cupboard (rather than the fridge).

Dmitry’s imagery of these pieces is personal, profound and delightfully intuitive:

“This music is very mechanical. In Russia, this was a wonderful thing. To be in a working factory was to be proud, it was a very optimistic image.”

“I imagine here that there is a man having cut his wrists, and the blood is dripping on the floor rhythmically. He is looking at the sun and feeling the sun on his face.”

“I hear this waltz as the opening of a show, and when I enter, the curtains go up.”

“In Russia, there was positive music piped into the streets. Everyone was scared but they had to pretend to be incredibly optimistic. There is always the other feeling here. Not just a happy face.”

Our rehearsals have seemed more like we are curating an exhibition than preparing a concert as we all got in on the act…

“Here! I found that image from Monet’s cathedral.”

“This movement sounds like we are walking alone through the snow… “

“I always imagine a factory worker here who is drunk, but desperately trying appear sober as he operates heavy machinery…”

These rehearsals have reminded me that when we hear music like this, our brains, souls and complete wellbeing are revitalised. Especially when it is played by someone of the spirit of Dmitry.

It is up to the listener how you hear the music and what images are created in your mind, but one thing is for sure, I suspect these upcoming concerts with Dmitry are going to be like visiting the Louvre!

My longest love affair

I have probably spent more time with my cello than any other family member, friend, boyfriend or husband. We have shared some of my favourite memories and some of my darkest hours. I found my cello in England in 1997, and I remember someone saying to me at the time “I think you will outgrow that cello in about five years’ time”. I simply didn’t believe them, just like I never believed that I would ever break up with my first serious boyfriend.

It is time to confess to my cello that I think it is time to move on, so I have been tentatively flirting with other instruments. Yes, I do feel a little adulterous and I am already dreading the day I have to say to my cello “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Unfortunately, I don’t know much about my current cello, other than it is a French Thibuoville Lamy cello from around 1920. Much like my friends, I don’t care about their pedigree, all I care about is that I like spending time with them, and that they bring out the best in me.

The great instruments have layers of sound to be discovered, and indeed, as they are played and ‘conversed with’ they improve, and their sound qualities change. It is a relationship that continues to develop. They will rise to any challenge thrown them and will challenge players to play beyond their creative capabilities.

It is now time for me to admit (probably ten years too late!) to me and my cello that I have grown into a musician that needs more vocabulary, more colours and more support for my musical ideas. It’s a good sign that I am needing to find a new voice.

I am reminded me of an 80s classic film, Electric Dreams. The heroine’s cello gets smashed in the doors of a lift and her boyfriend says to her, it doesn’t matter, you are the one that made the cello sound that way. The music is in you, not the cello. Wise words.

Having said that, the late Chris Martin said to me “My dear, you can’t make a gourmet dinner out of a pig’s ear.” Words that inspired me to travel to England and find my Lamy cello. My Lamy cello is a beautiful instrument. Definitely many steps up from a pig’s ear, but like changing one’s culinary tastes, I am searching for a new ingredient.

I am looking forward to the journey of discovery ahead and I’ll be sure to write about my experience of ‘dating’ some new cellos.

Now here is the question: do I opt for a modern or aged instrument? A modern one will grow with me as we discover each other’s strengths and weaknesses. It will be responding to its first owner in a way that it will never respond to anyone who will own it after me. Just like my son’s relationship with me will form the way he bonds with his friends and partners in the future. Or do I go with a pre-loved instrument, one that already has a defined personality and a cello that has far more years experience and wisdom than me?

It seems my flirtations with cellos at Alex Grant‘s shop are going to get a little more serious…

Hopefully I can find a way to keep my current cello and buy the cello that will help me continue my musical adventure. (The good thing is, it is far more socially acceptable than living with an ex-husband!)

DISCLAIMER: I am in a very happy marriage with my wonderful husband!

Sneak peek of a Behind Closed Doors rehearsed reading

The fear of dirty laundry

In an attempt to demystify the string quartet and classical music, Flinders Quartet join forces with four actors from Red Stitch Actors Theatre to show what really goes on “Behind Closed Doors“.

We (Flinders Quartet) have never liked airing our dirty laundry (proverbially of course). There are certain things and events in one’s private life that should remain, well, private. So it does come as a surprise to find ourselves about to embark on a project that is purpose-built to give the inside scoop on what happens in the rehearsal room. The power struggles, the self-doubt, the internal personal dynamics, and most importantly, the unravelling of the musical text. The fifth member of the quartet, whom we always see as the composer is sometimes the most argumentative voice in the room, refusing to give in until we come to an agreement.

The main challenge in this project has been the integration of the music and spoken word. If we were to simply re-enact a rehearsal for forty minutes, the audience would most probably leave! Through getting to know Adam Cass (my new favourite playwright) and the four actors over the last twelve months, the original script has gone through quite a chrysalis to emerge into something I am incredibly proud to be a part of, which is lucky because this project is honestly quite frightening. I imagine it is like a celebrity being caught by the paparazzi with no make up. Through this play, the neurosis that artists suffer and desperately try to hide, the unending decisions of how to play a single phrase and all the elements that we would normally shield from the audience have become our primary focus on stage.

In Behind Closed Doors, we sit in formation as we would in a rehearsal and the actors stand behind us. They are our voices and we are their instrumentalists. What is funny is that in this play, the quartet is rehearsing Schubert’s Death and the Maiden for a Wigmore Hall debut. Ever since I became enamoured with chamber music at the first Melbourne International Chamber Music Competition in 1991, my dream has been to perform at Wigmore Hall. In this play, I can almost imagine that dream comes true!

Adam sat in on hours of rehearsal and recorded everything. Amazingly, a jocular conversation between Erica and myself about the buttons on her blouse has made its way into the play as a conversation between two estranged lovers.

Did I mention this play is entirely fictional?

Click here for a sneak peek of a recent rehearsed reading.

2012 PERFORMANCE SEASON

Monday 1 October @ 6.30pm – Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre
Bookings: (03) 9699 3333 or online

Tuesday 2 October @ 7.00pm – Utzon Room, Sydney Opera House
Bookings: (02) 9250 7777 or online

Saturday 6 October @ 2.30pm – Montsalvat Barn Gallery, Eltham (VIC)
Bookings: (03) 9699 3333 or online

Competitions and art: the need for validation

OK, so Flinders (my quartet) has this task of choosing a pianist from the six finalists of the Sydney International Piano Competition of Australia (SIPCA) to tour with us next year. I have been listening on the radio and immersing myself in the piano world. These pianists have a true herculean task ahead of them. To get to the finals, they have performed over two hours of music – and most of it from memory. Then they play two concertos in one week. Just undergoing the process of preparing for the competition deserves a huge pat on the back and herein lays the value of competitions. I used to be strongly against competitions, but now, I do appreciate what they represent and how, when used the right way, they can help shape a future musician. In order for music competitions to be beneficial to the performer, we need to fall in love with the music, not the competitor.

My own experience with competitions is almost solely contained in the first few years of Flinders Quartet. Our raison d’être became the National Chamber Music Competition (now the Asia Pacific Chamber Music Competition) and then the London International String Quartet Competition and the Melbourne International String Quartet Competition. I remember it as being incredibly nerve racking, exciting and at the time, it was an all-consuming activity. I can only speak personally, but the competitions were actually inspirational and debilitating at the same time. In order to get through the experience, I was forced to ask myself “Why am I doing this?”, “Does anyone care about what we have to say as musicians?” and finally “Can I keep on doing this?”. Yet at the same time, I was hearing some life changing performances with a sparkle you only hear in competitions.

Through asking and then answering these questions one inevitably arrives at the same conclusions that Michaela Kalowski has articulated in her article for SIPCA.

It is the process, not the result that is the most beneficial for artists. (Although having said that, for one of the thirty-six pianists, the result will ensure their career is given an enormous kick-start.) Dealing with the stress brings one to the conclusion that stress in music making is incredibly counterproductive. (I only have to imagine being a brain surgeon to realise that my job is far less stressful than most!) It also becomes apparent that the desire to win is closely linked to the desire for the artist to have validation.

I can honestly say that Flinders Quartet started improving immeasurably the day we decided to stop competing. No longer was playing about being “right or wrong”. It became all about the music, rather than about ourselves.

In listening to the six SIPCA finalists, there is one who has definitely caught the ears of Flinders Quartet as someone who truly immerses themselves in the music rather than the instrument or indeed themselves. Stay tuned to find out who will be playing with FQ in 2013!

Who said children and Bach don’t mix?

Last Thursday I performed two Bach Suites at my local Docklands community centre as part of their lunchtime series. (Docklands is quite a tight knit community, and a joy to live in, but that’s another story.)

Shortly after I arrived, four children came in. This is nothing new, children run freely in the centre – “they must be going to the library” I thought. I did a double take as they sat themselves very firmly in the front row. “Did anyone tell them this was an all Bach concert?!” I was beginning to panic…in my mind, Bach is for a sophisticated palate. Unappreciated by the uneducated and let’s face it, seven year olds by definition are generally less educated than most traditional Bach lovers.

In all, there were six children waiting eagerly for me to start. They all asked questions and were all very excited to tell me about the instruments they were learning. I began to relax a little… “it may not be a repeat of the disastrous Velcro shoe incident”. (A child in a quartet concert that was fascinated by her Velcro shoes…I never knew velcro was so noisy!)

So I began. Not only did these children listen attentively throughout the forty minutes of Bach, they asked intelligent questions, bopped up and down freely in all the appropriate bits and honestly seemed rapt in this three hundred year old music. I admit that I did talk between movements, which helped break up the concentration, but I spoke on an adult level about Bach – and the children got it.

Shame on me and the majority of the musical community for underestimating the musical appreciation of children and most of all, shame on me for underestimating the music of Bach. Children do not need to be patronsied in their music education. If music is full of energy, colour, subtlety and layers of understanding, it can be appreciated by people of all ages and education. Full credit to the parents and guardians who took those six children to the concert last Thursday. I can only hope we can all learn something from the unlimited potential of the mind of a child.

Why mess with greatness?

In today’s world of CDs, videos and the magnificent resource of YouTube, we have far more choice in which recording of a given work to listen to than ever before. So why do we keep playing the same old works? This is a question I am asking myself as we prepare Beethoven and Smetana for our next Flinders Quartet concerts.

The answer is pretty simple – these works have stood the test of time for a reason. They are great works of art. People don’t stop looking at a Van Gogh painting just because it is old! Can we bring something new to these works? I think the answer to that is: I have no idea. I believe the job of the musician is to develop a relationship with the composer, dead or alive, and bring an occasion to life through music.

World events are obviously well documented and remembered. Pieces of music created at a given time allow the musicians playing them, and the audience listening to them, the chance to experience a certain time in history. It is a world that definitely requires the imagination of the listener, but that is a wonderful thing. Each listener can have his or her own relationship with the past.

It is a bizarre duplicity between the past and present. A present day musician developing a relationship with a composer who has been dead for well over 100 years is certainly a complicated time travel plot. That’s why, I think, we are playing these works – this century hopping fun should be shared with the masses.

Flinders Quartet Silent Inspiration
Bowman ~ Beethoven ~ Smetana
May 28 @ 6.30pm – Melbourne Recital Centre (Elisabeth Murdoch Hall)
May 29 @ 7pm – Sydney Opera House (Utzon Room)
June 2 @ 2.30pm – Montsalvat Barn Gallery, Eltham