My new fascination as of late is electric guitar. I have long been a purist, sticking staunchly to my professed identity as a classical guitarist and guarding my fingernails with my life. I gave my acoustic guitar to my brother long ago, deciding it was time to streamline and focus on the style of guitar playing that I would be building a career around.
Now as I've spent a few years specifically honing my classical technique, I've suddenly become fascinated with the world of electric guitar which I've neglected to take an interest in because it was perhaps too loud, too masculine, too different than what I've been training my fingers to do since I was five. During a class I took last semester on British Pop Music Since 1970 (yes, that is actually a class at USC, and it was so fun I didn't want the semester to be over!) I was introduced to the stylings of electric guitarist Vini Reilly of the post-punk band, The Durutti Column, which is still going strong today. I'd never really heard electric guitar played the way he does. He plays without a pick and does little strumming, and his right hand technique makes it obvious that he's had some classical training. He's got this great atmospheric sound that shifts effortlessly between keys with bits of melody floating about that always have a sort of haunting flavor to it. (Check out this video if you're interested; the viola and brass instruments are also a nice touch.)
There is a burgeoning scene for electric guitar in the art music world, and many electric guitarists are starting to bridge the gap between their instrument and classical music. There are even concerti being written for orchestra and electric guitar, an unlikely combination, but almost more practical because of the advantage in projection that electric guitar has over classical. And as classical players deal with issues such as finding authentic sounding methods of amplification or sticking to the traditional belief that a classical guitar should not be amplified at all, it is hard not to admit that the instrument has limitations in its use in many arenas of its own genre, especially in the orchestral and chamber music world.
I've had my electric guitar for about 7 years now (I got it for my 21st birthday as a fun gift from Paul) and can probably count the number of times I've fiddled with it. In wanting to expand my musical abilities this summer, this was one area I have been increasingly intrigued in and decided I would see if I could try playing electric in the band at church. Our band is not an easy band to play with, at least for me, as we generally do lots of gospel-style songs that are always in flat keys, a deterrent for any guitar player. Go figure why many contemporary worship songs are written in very basic diatonic keys like G or D; most guitar players dislike any mention of E-flat since our instrument is tuned to E.
So in my time last week playing with my electric and the awesome experience I had this weekend playing with the band, I discovered something I should have realized a long time ago: it's the same instrument! I can sort of play this thing already. In fact, a lot of stuff is even easier than it is on classical. The upper positions are way more accessible because of the cutaway, hammer-ons, slurs, trills and licks take way less effort to make audible, and changing the quality of sound is possible by the flip of a switch. How about that for technology? I guess sometimes I'm scared of things that are unfamiliar to me, and now I feel strangely liberated from the classical pedestal that I've stood on for awhile.
The nice thing about LA is that there is music absolutely everywhere. We saw a fantastic show this weekend by singer-songwriter Priscilla Ahn, who has a voice like a bell and a girly personality that makes you feel like she's one of your best friends. She also plays a mean kazoo. And I opened my window about an hour to hear my neighbor across the street shredding it up on his electric guitar. I'm listening intently to see if there are any riffs I can pick up. Mixed in with the trumpet playing of another neighbor down the street, I smile knowing that I am in a mecca for the creative- and I love it.
Now, to find myself a distortion pedal.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
5000
Sometimes it is easy to believe that God can't do the impossible. I believe this quite often and ironically, it takes faith for me to believe that God can't do certain things because I have seen him do amazing, miraculous things during my lifetime. Yet my memory is short and I forget to attribute so many blessings to Him. In times of need, I am like a whining, crying child.
In John 6, I relate to the character of Philip. When Jesus asks him how they could feed the crowd of 5000, he responds that even 8 months wages would not be enough to feed the entire crowd. To disprove Philip's cynicism, Jesus takes five loaves of bread and two small fish from a boy and feeds the entire crowd. And as for the leftovers, he tells his disciples to gather them up so that they will not be wasted.
God wastes nothing in our lives, even when it is things that flow out of his abundant provision. I have been seeing this happening in my own life lately and I am so incredibly grateful. In just a few weeks, I have seen him suddenly provide for my every need- from selling my car, to being able to pay my tuition, a summer job, and finding part-time teaching work for the fall.
I can't believe that there was a point where I forgot that our God is in the business of miracles- miracles that meet our every human need and waste absolutely nothing.
In John 6, I relate to the character of Philip. When Jesus asks him how they could feed the crowd of 5000, he responds that even 8 months wages would not be enough to feed the entire crowd. To disprove Philip's cynicism, Jesus takes five loaves of bread and two small fish from a boy and feeds the entire crowd. And as for the leftovers, he tells his disciples to gather them up so that they will not be wasted.
God wastes nothing in our lives, even when it is things that flow out of his abundant provision. I have been seeing this happening in my own life lately and I am so incredibly grateful. In just a few weeks, I have seen him suddenly provide for my every need- from selling my car, to being able to pay my tuition, a summer job, and finding part-time teaching work for the fall.
I can't believe that there was a point where I forgot that our God is in the business of miracles- miracles that meet our every human need and waste absolutely nothing.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
For the hatred of money...
"For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil..." -1 Timothy 6:10
I usually picture greedy people with money signs for eyeballs when I hear this, or imagine fast-talking Wall Street bankers from the 80's with big hair and mustaches, expensive suits, and rolls of $100 bills in their pockets.
But do you really have to be greedy to let money get the better of you?
It is tempting for anyone to believe that your income is reflective of your self-worth. And although our society pays engineers more than teachers, bankers more than artists, this should never be taken as an assessment of one's worth. It is much easier to measure an engineer's output and utility to society than a teacher's; however, the impact that a teacher can make is immeasurable and largely unknown to anyone but the student. A banker's profit can easily be counted, but the impact that art has on those who experience it can only be sensed within the heart and soul of the viewer or audience member.
I have never thought of myself as a greedy person, but sometimes I become so acutely aware of the "injustice" I see in artists' paychecks, or lack thereof, that the danger of loving money easily preys on me. But it takes a sort of opposite form, actually. I find myself hating money, its very concept, and the fact that I as a human being can be enslaved to it even if in my heart is not greed, but bitterness. Disguised in this bitterness is a multitude of ugly things that exist because I somehow deem them to be more acceptable than greed: pride due to an inflated sense of self-worth, jealousy that artists do not produce capital easily assigned value by society, and the allowance of money as a concept into the crevices of my heart and mind where I want only God to live.
The danger in the love of money lies largely in its control over one's thoughts and actions. Ironically, my own innocent attempts to be frugal can allow it to do the same thing.
Here is an excerpt from New York artist Makoto Fujimura's Refractions, a newsletter he sends out monthly that is chock-full of wisdom and beautiful writing:
"So, if Joshua Bell with his 3.5 million dollar Stradivarius cannot stop people, none of us who creates music, art or work in iambic pentameters should expect much. But then what good are the arts? Why would artists spend time collaborating, spending days working on something that would not be well paid, or pay nothing at all, without anyone to stop to take it in? But we should note that this wasteful excess is being exercised in many hidden places, in homes where a child protégé plays his violin, on the canvases of self-taught artists, or on a humble square table filled with poetry. They may or may not turn out to be Joshua Bells, or Grandma Moses or Emily Dickinsons, but the prerequisite for the arts never seem to be a guarantee of an audience, or income. Artists are clearly not driven by mere monetary capital, but they are driven by another form of capital - creative and relational capital, the discovery of new ideas and thoughts and cultural geography."
I usually picture greedy people with money signs for eyeballs when I hear this, or imagine fast-talking Wall Street bankers from the 80's with big hair and mustaches, expensive suits, and rolls of $100 bills in their pockets.
But do you really have to be greedy to let money get the better of you?
It is tempting for anyone to believe that your income is reflective of your self-worth. And although our society pays engineers more than teachers, bankers more than artists, this should never be taken as an assessment of one's worth. It is much easier to measure an engineer's output and utility to society than a teacher's; however, the impact that a teacher can make is immeasurable and largely unknown to anyone but the student. A banker's profit can easily be counted, but the impact that art has on those who experience it can only be sensed within the heart and soul of the viewer or audience member.
I have never thought of myself as a greedy person, but sometimes I become so acutely aware of the "injustice" I see in artists' paychecks, or lack thereof, that the danger of loving money easily preys on me. But it takes a sort of opposite form, actually. I find myself hating money, its very concept, and the fact that I as a human being can be enslaved to it even if in my heart is not greed, but bitterness. Disguised in this bitterness is a multitude of ugly things that exist because I somehow deem them to be more acceptable than greed: pride due to an inflated sense of self-worth, jealousy that artists do not produce capital easily assigned value by society, and the allowance of money as a concept into the crevices of my heart and mind where I want only God to live.
The danger in the love of money lies largely in its control over one's thoughts and actions. Ironically, my own innocent attempts to be frugal can allow it to do the same thing.
Here is an excerpt from New York artist Makoto Fujimura's Refractions, a newsletter he sends out monthly that is chock-full of wisdom and beautiful writing:
"So, if Joshua Bell with his 3.5 million dollar Stradivarius cannot stop people, none of us who creates music, art or work in iambic pentameters should expect much. But then what good are the arts? Why would artists spend time collaborating, spending days working on something that would not be well paid, or pay nothing at all, without anyone to stop to take it in? But we should note that this wasteful excess is being exercised in many hidden places, in homes where a child protégé plays his violin, on the canvases of self-taught artists, or on a humble square table filled with poetry. They may or may not turn out to be Joshua Bells, or Grandma Moses or Emily Dickinsons, but the prerequisite for the arts never seem to be a guarantee of an audience, or income. Artists are clearly not driven by mere monetary capital, but they are driven by another form of capital - creative and relational capital, the discovery of new ideas and thoughts and cultural geography."
Monday, July 13, 2009
Judith Hill
You might recognize this gal from the Michael Jackson memorial- she was one of the Jackson's backup singers for his upcoming tour who was featured singing "Heal the World." I was struck by her because of the soul in her voice and the fact that she looked part Asian. I guess I wasn't alone in my curiosity because since the memorial, her website, myspace, and youtube videos have been getting a record amount of hits and comments. She's half black, half Japanese, and she loves Jesus. Prior to getting chosen to tour with Jackson, she was a local gigging studio musician like so many others here in LA. With over 30 million people watching the memorial and wondering who that girl was, I hope she'll be recognized for her talent and have no doubt that her career has now been launched. I think the world's ready for a new diva of mixed race. Here's Judith Hill singing "One Love Forever" at Temple Bar in Santa Monica.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
And I'm off!
The past month has been quite an exercise in discipline, obedience, and perseverance, and it's been fun to share about the progress I've made as a result of preparing for this competition. Yesterday, as I was running my program for the umpteenth time, I had a moment after I played a piece and said to myself, "Wow. That was fun!"
To be able to play something difficult without the burden of difficulty is one of the most joyous things I've ever experienced as a guitarist. I imagine it feels like being on the course of a marathon and not feeling fatigued, skipping and jumping to the finish line.
God continues to affirm me through this process. This morning, our pastor talked about David, a harpist whose skill, heart, and character led him to play music with healing power and be called "a man after God's own heart." I was reminded that with this investment in my skill, God will continue to open doors in my career, and that he is satisfied with me right here and right now, before I have even set foot onto the competition stage.
"Do you see a man skilled in his work? He will serve before kings; he will not serve before obscure men." -Proverbs 22:29
To be able to play something difficult without the burden of difficulty is one of the most joyous things I've ever experienced as a guitarist. I imagine it feels like being on the course of a marathon and not feeling fatigued, skipping and jumping to the finish line.
God continues to affirm me through this process. This morning, our pastor talked about David, a harpist whose skill, heart, and character led him to play music with healing power and be called "a man after God's own heart." I was reminded that with this investment in my skill, God will continue to open doors in my career, and that he is satisfied with me right here and right now, before I have even set foot onto the competition stage.
"Do you see a man skilled in his work? He will serve before kings; he will not serve before obscure men." -Proverbs 22:29
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
La Joia by Vicente Asencio
"La Joia" means "the joy" in Catalan, the native language of Vicente Asencio, an obscure Spanish composer whose music I have come to adore. His music is filled with rich French Impressionist harmonies (a la Debussy and Ravel) mixed with the valor and precision of Spanish flamenco rhythms. You can almost hear the castanets, imagine the dancers on stage, and feel as though you're observing a private moment of romantic tenderness in the melodic interludes. This is not a perfect take, but just wanted to share. It's the last piece on my preliminary round program.
When I first learned this movement I didn't feel much joy due to its difficulty. It seemed more to me like the joy that results at the conclusion of some sort of crucible, hard-earned and not flippant or happy-go-lucky at all. This has really made me reevaluate the real meaning of what joy is- that it is something that does not come easily, but is the result of one sacrifice that was made for us on a cross long ago. The result is a blissful freedom that is sweet and exhilarating all at once.
When I first learned this movement I didn't feel much joy due to its difficulty. It seemed more to me like the joy that results at the conclusion of some sort of crucible, hard-earned and not flippant or happy-go-lucky at all. This has really made me reevaluate the real meaning of what joy is- that it is something that does not come easily, but is the result of one sacrifice that was made for us on a cross long ago. The result is a blissful freedom that is sweet and exhilarating all at once.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
An exercise in tenacity
I suppose there is no point in setting a goal for yourself if you don't really go for it and do everything that you can think of to get yourself there. I read the pianist Lang Lang's autobiography earlier this year, and the determination that he exhibited to get himself into the best conservatory in China, albeit forced by his obsessive and domineering father, included practicing into the wee hours of the night with no heat, living in poverty to pay for piano lessons, and being separated from his beloved mother from early childhood to live in Beijing near better teachers. I found it hard to fathom wanting anything that badly in life. Some consider me a pretty hard worker, but my work ethic is nothing compared to his story and the story of so many other determined musicians out there.
With less than two weeks left until my competition, I am struggling with staying motivated and inspired. It comes and goes, varying with factors as arbitrary as my mood, the weather, the condition of my nails, and what I ate for breakfast. For the time being, I'm making my own efforts to do prepare my best, which includes slow practice, mental practice, small sections, running the pieces in their entirety, videorecording and critiquing myself, and scheduling extra lessons with my teacher, who was kind enough to see me all the way until next week. This week, I'm giving a few informal performances to friends who are willing to sit through 12 minutes of guitar music and hopefully make me a little nervous so I know what to expect when the pressure is on.
Undoubtedly one of the harder things about this competition is that the preliminary round is in front of a jury of about 5 judges in a normal classroom where you can see their faces and expressions and hear them writing stuff while you play. This can be really nerve-racking for me. Ironically, I'd much rather play for an audience of 1000 people where you are alone on a stage, there is physical space to separate you from the audience, the world can disappear, and the crowd at least appreciates your effort even if you make mistakes. With competitions, there is very little grace in that regard and it is harder to focus on simply expressing yourself through the music because you know that their only job is to critique you and determine whether you deserve to get to the next round.
So today I did a funny exercise. I turned the iMovie camera on, and staged my entrance into the room 7 or 8 times. I imagined how I would feel right before walking into the room and tried to make myself a little nervous. This actually worked as I felt a little more tense and noticed my heart beating slightly faster. I walked to my chair, sat down, got settled, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I started the first piece and stopped after about 10 seconds. With an instrument as naked as the guitar, any tension caused by nervousness in your hands can really alter the sound of your playing. Tensed right hand fingertips will lead to a harsher, thinner sound and less accuracy in plucking the correct strings at the right time. Tension in the left hand can make you buzz, slide off a string by accident, make your stretches less flexible, or cause you to completely forget where you are going. These are things that have all happened to me before, and the goal of this exercise was to help train my body to deal with it better. Though I felt silly imagining the judges sitting in my living room and giving a fake hello and smile to them, by the last time I went through with the exercise, I felt a good rhythm and played the first 10 seconds with much more ease than I did the first time. My dog found this whole shenanigan to be very curious, lifting her head and perking up her ears whenever I would walk out of the room, and going back to her nap on the couch whenever I started playing.
I will probably never run a marathon during my lifetime, nor do I have the desire to do so, but this certainly feels like a marathon- and right now I feel like walking. Which is perfectly fine, right? Maybe for just one mile?
With less than two weeks left until my competition, I am struggling with staying motivated and inspired. It comes and goes, varying with factors as arbitrary as my mood, the weather, the condition of my nails, and what I ate for breakfast. For the time being, I'm making my own efforts to do prepare my best, which includes slow practice, mental practice, small sections, running the pieces in their entirety, videorecording and critiquing myself, and scheduling extra lessons with my teacher, who was kind enough to see me all the way until next week. This week, I'm giving a few informal performances to friends who are willing to sit through 12 minutes of guitar music and hopefully make me a little nervous so I know what to expect when the pressure is on.
Undoubtedly one of the harder things about this competition is that the preliminary round is in front of a jury of about 5 judges in a normal classroom where you can see their faces and expressions and hear them writing stuff while you play. This can be really nerve-racking for me. Ironically, I'd much rather play for an audience of 1000 people where you are alone on a stage, there is physical space to separate you from the audience, the world can disappear, and the crowd at least appreciates your effort even if you make mistakes. With competitions, there is very little grace in that regard and it is harder to focus on simply expressing yourself through the music because you know that their only job is to critique you and determine whether you deserve to get to the next round.
So today I did a funny exercise. I turned the iMovie camera on, and staged my entrance into the room 7 or 8 times. I imagined how I would feel right before walking into the room and tried to make myself a little nervous. This actually worked as I felt a little more tense and noticed my heart beating slightly faster. I walked to my chair, sat down, got settled, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I started the first piece and stopped after about 10 seconds. With an instrument as naked as the guitar, any tension caused by nervousness in your hands can really alter the sound of your playing. Tensed right hand fingertips will lead to a harsher, thinner sound and less accuracy in plucking the correct strings at the right time. Tension in the left hand can make you buzz, slide off a string by accident, make your stretches less flexible, or cause you to completely forget where you are going. These are things that have all happened to me before, and the goal of this exercise was to help train my body to deal with it better. Though I felt silly imagining the judges sitting in my living room and giving a fake hello and smile to them, by the last time I went through with the exercise, I felt a good rhythm and played the first 10 seconds with much more ease than I did the first time. My dog found this whole shenanigan to be very curious, lifting her head and perking up her ears whenever I would walk out of the room, and going back to her nap on the couch whenever I started playing.
I will probably never run a marathon during my lifetime, nor do I have the desire to do so, but this certainly feels like a marathon- and right now I feel like walking. Which is perfectly fine, right? Maybe for just one mile?
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