My grandmother, Anna Jean Hershey Myers (1926-2012)

I sat down to write this blog and I can't help but find myself drawn to a personal event that recently occurred in my life.  I meant to write about my upcoming concerts with Meredith Mecum and the practice that is going in to learning four new pieces in a short amount of time, but I'm drawn back to this recent event. I had trouble typing the first sentence without spontaneously bursting in to tears.

On February 15, 2012, my grandmother, Anna Jean Hershey Myers, died. She was 85 years old.  Anna Jean was an incredible woman. She was born in western Pennsylvania, grew up in York Springs, PA where her father, Moses Samuel Hershey, began a chain of stores, Hershey 5-10¢ (five and dime), which eventually grew to cover a large portion of northeastern states.

After graduating from Penn State with a degree in Home Economics (she could butcher a cow and sew a dress, probably at the same time) she married my grandfather, whom she grew up with and who was, himself, a Penn State grad (and one of the first Penn State tailgaters -- so there ya' go) and who became an executive in the Howard Johnson hotel/restaurant chain. They raised their four children (two sets of two, ten years apart), Cindy, Rick, Candra (my dear mommy), and Mark in cities all over the east coast: Philadelphia, Syracuse, Atlanta, Mechanicsburg, to name a few.

Anna Jean with her ten grandchildren.

She had ten grandchildren, Alysia, Allyson, Allan, Ben, Kate, Brennan, Cullen, Hannah, Mia, and me. Just before she died, Ben and his wife Beth had a daughter, Claire, which finally put a stop to her incessant, "I sure would like a great-grandchild soon," talk.

My grandmother loved to sew, knit, and make all of the things. For one, each grandchild received a knitted Christmas stocking. Sometimes Anna Jean was a bit slow getting these things done.  You see, she had a lot on her plate, what with her crossword puzzles, Jeopardy watching, newspaper reading, and…nope, that's it.  I'm not sure that Hannah and Mia (the youngest of the grandchildren) ever received their own stockings from grandmother. Or maybe they were half-finished? When I needed to make a small pad that protects the back of my cello, Grandmother helped me pick the fabric, make a pattern, and sew it together.  I use that small, maroon, velvet pad when I play the cello today. My mother and Cindy like to joke that she never vacuumed because she was "allergic" to the dust (really, she was just allergic to vacuuming) and when Cindy came to visit, the vacuum cleaner was sitting in the foyer, plugged in, ready to go, so that Cindy could vacuum her way in to the house.

In my own mind, Anna Jean is the reason that I'm a musician. Before I began playing the cello, I played the violin, and I tried desperately to fit my tiny little arms and fingers around my grandfather's full size instrument. That didn't work so well, and I eventually switched to the cello. In fourth grade, I picked up the saxophone to play in the band. My grandmother thought this was just wonderful as she had played the saxophone in the York Springs elementary school band, sometime around 1930. Somewhere in my apartment is a photo of this band, with both my grandmother and grandfather clutching their instruments.

The thought of Anna Jean honking away on a saxophone is one of the more hilarious images of her that I have in my mind. The other (which demonstrates how sheltered and protected she was as a child) is of her roller skating: Grandma Hershey, Anna Jean's mother, would only allow her to skate with one skate on, afraid that she'd fall and hurt herself if she wore both.  For those who know my mother, aunt, and uncles, it's clear that Anna Jean "protected" the first set of children (Cindy and Rick) in this same way, and left it up to fate with the second set (my mother and Mark), figuring, "hey, we got it right with the first two, the second two should turn out fine...?" For those who don't know my mother, aunt, and uncles: the first set are responsible and thoughtful, and the second set are wild and CUH-RAAAZY!  (and mildly responsible, harharhar)

All of that said, Anna Jean wasn't always wild about the music I was playing.  My youngest brother, Cullen, has been telling a story all weekend about a recital that I gave at Penn State that Grandmother came to. First, I should give some back story: Grandmother was never rude, she was always the perfect guest.  Usually, when she was out visiting with friends or family, she was was dependent on someone else to drive her home. When she was tired and ready to leave, she simply picked up her purse and held it on her lap. That was the signal.  Grandma was ready to go. Though I don't remember this, Cullen claims that I walked out on stage, sat down, and began to play my first piece (I know that this would have been the Hindemith Solo Sonata, which wasn't the easiest piece for my dear Grandmother to listen to).  About ten seconds in, Grandmother reached down, picked up her purse, and set it on her lap. She was ready to go.  Cullen claims that I saw this, and there was a noticeable sigh from the stage while I was playing.

She's a pirate!

Anna Jean was never unsupportive of any of her grandchildren.  She was always thrilled with our many accomplishments and eager to brag about us.  She was always so incredibly happy to see us when we stopped by.  Because the ten of us are spread out across the country, we didn't always make it to Mechanicsburg to visit.  A few years ago, we organized a Myers family reunion on Seabrook Island near Charleston, SC.  For the first time in a long while, Grandmother, her four children, and her ten grandchildren were visiting together at the same time.  As was usually the case, Grandmother was dressed up in some embarrassing outfit, a hula skirt or a pirate's garb.  She smiled the whole way, and only worried that her hair was mussed.

Anna Jean's entire family.

At her funeral, my uncle Mark said that in her last few months, when she was feeling worse and worse, she would still get her hair done, and when you came to visit and compliment her new hair-do, she would smile, strike a pose and just beam with delight.  One week before she died, Cullen and his girlfriend, Taryn, stopped in while home from Penn State.  Though she was exhausted and weak, she managed to gather all of her strength to smile and say hello, tell them how happy she was to see them, and ask them to come back soon.

My grandmother was an extraordinarily calm, patient, and kind person. I will miss her tremendously.

The Fifth Floor Collective and Queering the Pitch

What an exciting few weeks and months I’ve had! I haven’t updated this blog since Thanksgiving and life has been a roller coaster!  This post won’t be so “instructive” or hypothetical as my last few posts. Instead, I want to share what I’ve been up to and what I’ve been working on for the last two and a half months!

My first concert of the new year, 2012, was in Boston performing a special engagement concert on The Fifth Floor Collective’s second season. The program was a mixture of works that will be presented on my next Queering the Pitch (solo cello) program and two premieres for solo cello by Joseph M. Colombo and Andrew Paul Jackson, both members of The Collective.

Preparing these works was fascinating as these were the first pieces that I explicitly commissioned to be premiered as the part of a pre-determined concert. The two premiere pieces, Not I by Mr. Colombo and You are missing here. by Mr. Jackson, are starkly different in character and compositional style. Take a listen to both pieces on my SoundCloud page.

Joseph Colombo’s Not I is a work that I believe is very affectual, different for each person!  About the piece, Joe writes:

Not I plays with and is consumed by small melodic fragments that build up to larger structures of varying degrees and contours. Its primarily quiet dynamic plays against the intense and obsessive character of the music while momentarily giving way to shouts of hysteria. Instead of conveying a narrative, Not I expounds upon a single manic affect throughout its roughly ten minute duration.

From a cello standpoint, the piece is ridiculously difficult to both practice and perform. Though the composer notes call for the piece to be performed from memory with some small theatrics, I chose to perform the work with the score displayed on my computer screen with page turns made by the click of a foot-controlled pedal. This always seems like a fine idea, but never seems to work out perfectly in the end.

A quick aside: When I perform from my computer screen, I first learn the music from a paper score, so that it’s easier to make notes, add fingerings and bowings, and generally remind myself of the paper-ness and the organic nature of the score. Once I’ve learned the piece, I create a PDF of the marked-up document and read that document from my computer. Unfortunately, the timelines for many of the performances that I’ll be playing this winter/spring are quite short, and I never have more than a week to learn to play a piece from the computer. Tapping a pedal to turn a page is surprisingly difficult - it’s a motor skill that I didn’t learn in school!  Many things are bound to go wrong!

excerpt from J.M. Colombo's Not I

Back to Joe’s Not I: the piece moves consistently. It is obsessive and manic (which Joe marks in his instructions) and doesn’t let up more than a handful of times during the entire piece!  This makes it doubly difficult!  Not only is the piece extraordinarily difficult to perform from a right- and left-hand perspective, one must be extremely focused for the entire length of the performance. And this brings me back to the computer!  Pedal clicks which are too early or too late, unintended page skips (turning more than one page at a time and needing to quickly turn backward!), or a computer skipping to screen saver are all potential obstacles. I had to deal with some of these issues at multiple points during the Colombo work. That said, the piece was incredibly well received and was a mental joy to work on. I am a more focused performer having played this great piece. 

Andrew Paul Jackson’s piece, You are missing here., is quite different. The piece utilizes different sound worlds that split from the Colombo work (which is exactly what I wanted commissioning the guys to write these pieces)!  You are missing here. is a personal piece for Mr. Jackson:

Like most pieces I write, You are missing here, is not simply drawn from a single impetus, but is a confluence of strands as the piece was conceived during a long period of time in which the person most dear to me, my wife, was absent for long stretches of time due to her own exciting artistic pursuits.  In her absence, I found myself dusting off my cello and re-familiarizing myself with the instrument. After brushing up on solo works that I had once played, works by Hindemith, Rachmaninov, and of course, Bach, I began to view my time playing on the instrument from a creative guise. I started to communicated not just a feeling of solitary melancholy in her absence, but also capturing moments of joy and exhilaration that I wished to capture and share after the fact, like my trip to St. Petersburg that she unfortunately couldn’t join.

In effect, the piece became a deeply personal journal in which I was conveying a myriad of emotional states through the more visceral vantage of performer, rather than my more typically cerebral role of composer. In the absence of one partner, I became reacquainted with another and wrote a piece about - what else?...the absence of my other.

Practicing Andrew’s piece was not as “straightforward” in practice principles as the Colombo. There are many different techniques and tricky spots that one must execute - strings of false harmonics, strummed pizzicato in perfect fifths and extended positions, driving rhythmic sections that include tricky (but not nearly impossible) string crossings, fast finger changes and replacements, and strong chords which can’t be over-played, but still must be extremely present.  Breaking down sections in to smaller bits, and doing very little “full-piece” work makes learning a piece much faster and makes the learning more permanent. 

The two concerts that I played in Boston for The Fifth Floor Collective were a wonderful experience. I was able to be back at The Boston Conservatory for a performance in one of my favorite places, The Concert Room. The next night, I played a salon style concert at Carroll & Sons Art Gallery. This kind of concert is something that I’d like to do more of. In fact, I’ll be playing in another alternative venue in March, at Avant Garden in Houston, this time, my Queering the Pitch recital program.

My cello is happy to be in
Florida!

And what a wonderful transition (and shameless self-promotion)! This week I was a guest artist at the University of South Florida (USF) School of Music in Tampa, FL.  I arrived mid-week for a Queering the Pitch concert which featured the typical program that I’ve performed around the country over the past year, plus a new addition, the fantastic Tarantella for solo cello by the awesome composer, Dominick DiOrio (and played an encore by Marcos Balter)!

USF School of Music - yes, that's
my finger in the upper left

USF has just built brand-new facilities and their concert spaces are outstanding! I performed in Barness Recital Hall, a small recital space which has the best acoustics of any hall that I’ve had the opportunity to perform Queering the Pitch in! I was able to spend time with the cellists in Scott Kluksdahl’s studio after the performance and hear a number of them play the next day (I probably shouldn’t mention the beer garden they took me to after my performance)!

These young musicians were amazing to work with and talk to. Part of my time at USF was a lecture, something that terrified me to no end!  While I’m good at talking about myself (har har har!), who I’ve performed with, and what I’ve been doingI wasn’t sure if students who didn’t know me would be interested in hearing all of that talk!  They had some fantastic questions about commissioning new works, establishing a concert series locally and nationally, and how one promotes oneself in a world that is saturated with talented musicians. I was also privileged to hear a number of students in masterclass and individual lessons. Their responsiveness and musical maturity were astounding and I will be looking for a number of them to show up on my cellistic radar in the near future. To put it simply, the students at USF were a joy to work with and I look forward to returning next year!

With Scott and USF cellists

The past few weeks have been stressful and, simply, terrifying for me as a performer. I have jumped a few hurdles in a few short weeks that were daunting and unprecedented in my own young performance career.  I was able to reconnect with a dear friend at USF, get to know a few colleagues better, and meet new friends and colleagues in the cello studio!

OMG - That's my face!

Up next is the second round of Queering the Pitch recitals, this time with Meredith Mecum. We will be permiering new works by Dominick DiOrio, Brian Kelly, Steven Knell, and Bruce Trinkley. All of the works are in, all of them fantastic, and I am tremendously excited to begin practice this week. But not before a few days of well-deserved (if I do say so myself) relaxation - and classwork that I need to catch up on...doctorate, be damned!!

Some Yogi tea wisdom of the day: Be kind and compassionate and the whole world will be your friend.

Until next time, y'all!

Justin

Deciding What to Play

One of my favorite things to do - besides actually performing - is to dream up potential recital programs. Because I have interests that encompass many different areas of classical music, I’m always striving to satisfy both my own artistic palate and that of the audience that is paying to hear me play. Easily the most difficult part of programming repertoire - for me - is to come up with a recital that is diverse in style, character, era, and sound world but is cohesive enough to keep audience members interested throughout.

I don’t have specific steps that I go through when I program recital music. Often I think about three things:

1. What do I want to play?
2. What do I want to say to the audience?
3. Is the music that I’m choosing accessible to even the newest classical music audience member?
4.  Will anyone leave at intermission? (So, I don’t really ask myself this question, but I do wonder...) 

from Brian Kelly's Sonata for solo cello

Sometimes, a simple theme is enough for the casual audience member.  For example, when I was in graduate school, I developed a program that I called “Face à Face: music for duos.”  The repertoire include Zoltan Kodaly’s Duo for violin and cello, John Tavener’s Akhmatova Songs for soprano and cello, Beethoven’s Duo for viola and cello “with two eyeglasses obligato” and Brahms’ Sonata no. 2 in F Major.

By purposefully programming music for eclectic duos, I was hoping that the audience would find interest in the different sonorities presented - obviously, cello and piano is much different than cello and soprano! For all intents and purposes, it worked! Talking to audience members after the performance reinforced my belief that interesting music results in interested audiences.  

from Joseph Colombo's Not I for solo cello

In subsequent recitals, I’ve sought to mimic the idea of a unifying theme, even if that theme is known only to me!  A recent performance was titled - in my head - Op. 6 and included three works: Samuel Barber’s Sonata, op. 6, Richard Strauss’ Sonata, op. 6, and Ludwig van Beethoven’s Sonata in F Major, op. 5, no. 1. Certainly someone must have realized the subtle play with numbers. With these three pieces, what was actually on display was the early compositional method of three recognized masters.

from Andrew Paul Jackson's You are missing here
for solo cello

It would be difficult to talk about programming without discussing my current project, Queering the Pitch.  This project is the largest planed recital series that I’ve undertaken to this point in my young career.  In my mind, I see it as four separate but united parts: two for solo cello, one for cello and soprano, and one for cello and piano. The first challenge in programming such a project was first finding composers who were openly queer during their lives or, in the case of living composers, who are wiling to be known and potentially pigeonholed as a gay composer.

from Benjamin Britten's Third Suite for Cello

This was not nearly as difficult as I originally thought it might be. Throughout history, there have been a huge number of gay composers. There are countless composers currently living who are not only openly gay, but more than willing to be known as such.  The first challenge arose when searching for works for solo cello by these composers.  Solo cello repertoire between Bach and the 20^th-century is mostly non-existent (an exaggeration, but not entirely...) and some of the more prolific gay composers from the pre-20^th century wrote nothing for the genre.

Crazy fingerings from Ned Rorem's
After Reading Shakespeare

The three works that I settled on satisfy my three (non-mandatory) bullet points from above. I love playing Benjamin Britten’s Suites for Cello and I’ve been trying to find a reason to play Ned Rorem’s After Reading Shakespeare for a while.  I was worried that my fourth bullet point would come in to play, and that people would leave after hear the Rorem - I’ll be completely honest, it’s not the easiest piece to listen to at times.

from Dominick DiOrio's Tarantella for solo cello

Programming is not easy.  Music has a different influence on each individual. One person, who is dear to my heart and who has heard me play countless times, has told me on more than one occasion that a lot of the music that I play makes him uncomfortable and that he finds himself sitting on his hands during performances.  Sometimes, that’s the goal.  Discomfort is just as much a part of music as the music that they put on those Classics for Relaxation CDs. When programming recitals, I often stick to an infallible rule: would my mother still love me after she heard the piece I just played?  If the answer is no, then I should probably jettison that piece from the program. But if the answer is yes, well, then it’s a go!

Where I practice

Recently, I’ve been considering why I practice and how I practice.  This seems to be a semi-annual event, typically near the end of academic semesters or the conclusion of a large project.  Something that I never thought of before, however, was how I can make my time in the practice room more enjoyable for me -- more soothing, even.  There are dozens of resources on how to practice, but very few on where to practice.  I really enjoy looking at peoples’ practice rooms/spaces.  Maybe I’m the only one!  Regardless, I thought I’d type a little bit about the place that I sit six days a week for hours on end.  

Musicianly items

So welcome to my apartment in Athens, GA, a roomy-two bedroom abode that I currently call home. For much the same reason that I don’t want to eat my dinner in bed, I don’t have much desire to practice where I relax.  That said, I’m lucky enough to have a spare room that I am able to devote entirely to practice.  I furnished my practice room with the necessities that every musician needs to practice: a chair and a stand.  Also here is my modest library of music, both parts and scores, in hard copy and digital versions (kept on DVDs).

So much music...and a Dr. Beat

Additionally, I moved in an old IKEA desk that I’ve had since my days as an undergrad living in the dorms. The desk is quite large, and takes up a lot of space in my 11’x12’ practice room.  Over time, I realized that I could slightly modify this desk to suit my practicing needs.  Shown here is the final result: a drafting table styled as a large music stand.  

Balter, Colombo, DiOrio, Oh My!

With this huge table, I’m able to spread my music out (something that is necessary when playing some new music) and keep all of my things (pencils, metronome, tuner, rosin, etc) organized and in one place.  

Diplomas and a Memory shadow box

Adorning the walls of my practice space are various decorative and functional items.  Of course I display my diplomas - one sometimes needs the reassurance that goals can be met when the practicing isn’t going so well - and some concert posters from the past five years of performances.

Traditional practice rooms, the windowless boxes - sometimes soundproof, sometimes not - that adorn the hallways of music schools around the world, are very depressing.  I have never found myself inspired by a practice room.  Certainly, if a musician isn’t inspired, it becomes difficult to practice, and practicing is how we get better.  There are some practice rooms that are more technologically advanced than my humble practice space: Boston University, for example, has practice rooms that record and play back, and can replicate the particular acoustic of different spaces (from a small concert hall to a large airplane hanger).  This isn’t really necessary for me.  Northwestern University has practice rooms that look out over Lake Michigan.  Beautiful view, but drab and boring on the inside.

"Hanging" cello

Besides functioning as a large music stand, my big IKEA desk is a low-tech cello stand as well.  Using some picture wire strung through the holes in the modular desk legs, I fashioned a “cello holder” that allows me to begin practicing less than 30 seconds after I walk in to the room.  Just pick up and go!

Mirror

The most important thing - after the music and the cello - in my practice room are the multitude of mirrors hat I have placed in strategic places around me.  Through these mirrors, I take away the need for a person watching over my posture, bow position, contact point, finger height, etc.  I am now totally accountable for all aspects of my playing.

When it comes to technology, the best part of my practice space is the quick and easy recording device.  Atop my practice desk is my miniature Zoom H2 recorder.  When necessary, I can press the record button, stop when necessary and then listen to the section I just played as it is pumped out over the surround sound system that I use for various purposes.  This eliminates the need for a critical ear during my practice.  Constant analysis of the sound and musical gestures that I produce make for faster, more intelligent practice.

Should I be practicing? Yes.

Also around my practice space are some interesting “funnies” that I’ve come across over the past few years.  Many of them I’ve given to students to encourage them to practice; others are musical keepsakes that I just can’t pack away.  My favorite of these is the flow chart that hangs next to one of my mirrors.  It simply says, “Should you be practicing right now?”  Also hanging on the wall is the cover of my old International edition of the Popper Etudes.  During auditions for graduate school, I spilled a glass of wine on the cover after an unfortunate audition.  The cover subsequently fell off and now hangs in a frame, constantly reminding me that wine is bad and etudes are good...wait, I think that’s backward!

So this is my practice room. There is where I sit and get better at what I do.  This is where the music that I love comes alive and hopefully becomes a work of art.  I’d love to see where everyone else practices - or composes - and what things are similar to my space and what are very different!  Below is a quick video tour of my practice room and a few more photos!

Another view of the "hanging" cello

Practicing Commandments

I can't practice without tea!!

Daily Practice Schedule Cards

We Are. Penn State.

I am a Pennsylvania State University alum.  The University absolutely shaped me in to the person that I am today.  The University is bigger than the abuse scandal that has engulfed it’s hallowed grounds this past week.  The University is better than the person who perpetrated the alleged crimes.  The University is shamed by those who were complicit in the apparent cover up of these crimes.

Joe Paterno was integral to the evolution of Penn State over the past 60 years - from a small agricultural college to renowned research university.  Joe Paterno’s principles were the moral compass of the Penn State community.  But Joe Paterno is not Penn State. Former Penn State president Graham Spanier is not Penn State.  A few thousand student “rioters” are not Penn State.  The image of Penn State that ESPN and other media outlets have portrayed is certainly NOT Penn State.

Penn State is THON, the world’s largest student-run philanthropy, which has raised more than $78 million for the Four Diamonds Fund since 1973.  Penn State is a top 10 research and development university.  Penn State is a top 15 research library system.  Penn State is the largest alumni association in the world.  Penn State is a system of alumni that give more and more frequently to their alma mater than any alumni group in the Big 10.  Penn State is Nobel Prize winners, Tony- and Emmy-winning artists, renowned researchers, educators, and the first person to ever ‘see’ the atom.

Penn State is Fisher-Price, Ben & Jerry’s, and the Slinky. Penn State is Paternoville, the tent city of students outside of Beaver Stadium, camping each week to get the best seats in the stadium - all the while raising money for cancer research while they sacrifice their beds for a tent.  Penn State is the Proud to be a Penn Stater grassroots cause that has raised $270,000 (and still climbing) - EDIT: this total now sits at more than $458,000 -  in less than two days for RAINN, an abuse charity network.  Penn State is 96,000 students across 24 campuses in Pennsylvania.  Penn State is more than 500,000 living alumni.  Penn State is Making Life Better.

WE are Penn State.

This Musicians Ego

I've been thinking a lot about the musicianly ego recently, in particular, my own ego. This isn't a typical topic of thought or conversation for me; I've been pondering it because of some thoughts I've been having about how to promote oneself in the world.  WIthout a publicist, a performer must do all the work of finding concert venues, convincing those venues that they should hire (read: pay) said performer to perform, and after ALL THAT, the performer has to convince audience members to actually come to hear the performance! (which reminds me, har har, visit my WEBSITE)

I don't think that performers would be able to accomplish this task without a healthy ego.  Which brings me to the genesis of my thinking: is my ego, my self-esteem, my level of shame(lessness), appropriate for both the real-world performance process (above) and every day life?

How does one balance the extreme levels of self-assuredness necessary to compete and succeed in the modern world of music performance while also balancing friendships, professional relationships (in which you're often competing against those you have a professional relationship with for the next big gig), and one's own personality?

Personally, I can admit that my ego is rather fragile.  I'm sure that I'm not alone in this amongst my musicianly friends. We exist in a profession that is based on constant criticism. Newspaper reviews, weekly lessons with constructive teachers, feedback from ensemble leaders; musicians are faced with a barrage of (mostly) constructive criticism. The successful performer processes all criticisms - both constructive and harsh - and improves upon their criticized performance. Pushing past my weak self esteem is hard at times.  Am I good enough?  Do I bring something worthwhile to the music world?  Will I be able to forge a career for an extended period of time and not crack under the pressure?  And again, AM I GOOD ENOUGH?!

This is something that I've struggled with for many years, from the time that I decided to become a performance major in COLLEGE.  There were always hurdles to jump over: first, I wasn't sure that I could hack it as a performance major, so I thought about becoming a music educator, and not a performer.  When I realized that I was dedicated enough to become a performer, I switched my concentration.  Later, it was difficult to believe that I could be accepted to an outstanding graduate program for GRADUATE SCHOOL. I worked hard in the last year of my undergraduate degree and was accepted to a few schools with esteemed reputations.  After my graduate program, I never thought that I'd have the drive, motivation, nor the talent to make a career as a performer, so I entered a post-grad DOCTORAL PROGRAM.  In the midst of this degree, I began to promote myself extensively and pick up gigs.  Eventually the gigs got bigger and the travel became more intensive. I've performed across the country and the world.  You might think that my fragile ego is bolstered by these accomplishments.  You'd be right - and you'd be wrong.

Now, things have come full circle.  As the concerts and recitals that I play move around the world, in to unfamiliar territory with unfamiliar audiences, the criticisms become more pointed. I believe that I have a healthy ego.  I know that my opinions and musical ideas are sound.  Most of the time, I believe that I'm a good cellist.  But only most of the time.  We all have cracks in our armor.  It's hard to hear a teacher or colleague tell you that something you've worked so hard on sounds so poor.  It's even harder to hear that from the New York Times.  The musicianly ego - and I speak about my own, in particular - is not always the strongest (if only I had the immense ego of a Wall Street banker; I'd be unstoppable!) but the dedicated performer has the drive and motivation to persevere and succeed in whatever way they desire!

I'd love to hear thoughts!  Send me an EMAIL or leave a comment here!

Justin

#QtP and others - the composers

Recently, I've been thinking about what I could possibly write about in this blog!  I've finished my last solo cello Queering the Pitch concert (until February) and I'm in the process now of learning new music.  After battling writer's block for a few days and posting a cry for help on FACEBOOK and TWITTER, I received a brilliant suggested writing topic (many thanks to the suggest-or).  So here goes:

I posted a number of weeks ago a little stream-of-consciousness NOTE about the Queering the Pitch recital series: how it came to be in my mind, what it's original purpose was, and what it means to me now.  One line read as follows:

Members of the queer community exist in all walks of life and are prodigious contributors to humankind.

I believe this is shown perfectly in music, where members of the queer community are everywhere, from performers, conductors, administrators, and certainly composers.  So I created a project that would celebrate all that is queer in new music, one of my great musical loves.

In 2011-2012, I've commissioned composers to write eleven works for me to perform.  These pieces are being written for solo cello and soprano/cello.  My fantastic collaborator in the duo pieces is the outstanding soprano, Meredith Mecum (more about her later).

I wanted to profile just a few of the composers who have been so kind as to write these works and contribute to the Queering the Pitch project.  (Warning: In some cases, I'm just ripping biographical information from their websites!)  Not all of the composers listed are gay or lesbian.  I believe that “queer” is an all encompassing word.  One member of the queer community recently wrote to me and said: 

I love the word queer (it's how I identify myself; gay never seems to fit, and for men, seems to come with a whole bunch of requirements for admission that I don't meet, or that annoy me so much I don't want to join the club.)  Queer is it, for me.

“Straight” also has some connotations, so I think that we can all - gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, allies, etc. - come together under this term, queer.  Nobody fits in to a box, and we’re all a little bit strange in some ways, aren’t we?

Emily Cooley - Ms. Cooley is currently finishing her undergraduate degree at Yale where she's studied with Kathryn Alexander and Michael Klingbeil.  She has received awards from the National Federation of Music Clubs, the MacDowell Club of Milwaukee, the Vancouver Chamber Choir, MENC, and ASCAP, among others.  Her works have been performed by the Fifth House Ensemble, New Triad for Collaborative Arts, Yale Glee Club Chamber Singers, and the JACK Quartet.

Emily was recommended to me by a wonderful composer and colleague of mine in Boston (now a resident of San Francisco!!), Joseph Colombo.  I first spoke to her about my project in July via Skype while she was in Paris.  Having heard some of her works (click her name, visit her website, listen!), I really can't wait to hear what she writes for solo cello!  I'll be performing her as-of-yet-unnamed piece on the next iteration of Queering the Pitch solo cello in the summer and fall of 2012!  Visit her website HERE.

Dominick DiOrio - In August I put out a call for names of fantastic gay composers and JARED BERRY, a colleague of mine at UGA, recommended Dominick.  I was more than thrilled when he quickly (not kidding, I received a response to my initial contact email less than 40 minutes later) agreed to take on the project.  

Some bio info (literally copied and pasted):  

Composer and conductor Dominick DiOrio (b. 1984) is Director of Choral Activities and Associate Professor of Music at Lone Star College-Montgomery. He is pursuing the DMA at Yale University, and has also received the MMA and MM in Choral Conducting from Yale and a BM in Composition from Ithaca College. In October 2009, he was one of only twelve conductors from around the world invited to Sweden to participate in the Eric Ericson Award, the top international competition for young choral conductors.  

Klytemnestra, Dominick's new opera with Divergence Vocal Theater, has been called "dark, engrossing" (Edward Albee), "deeply psychological" (Sequenza21), and "spiky... an amalgam of contemporary opera sounds" (HoustonPress). In conjunction with the opera's premiere in April 2011, Dominick was featured on Houston Public Radio's noon-time arts program, The Front Row. He has been the recipient of many composition awards including the 2009 Young New Yorkers’ Chorus Nathan Davis Prize, the 2007 Allen E. Ostrander International Trombone Composition Prize, the 2006 Cantate Chamber Singers Young Composers’ Competition, and the 2006 Raymond W. Brock Memorial Student Composition Prize given annually to one young composer by the American Choral Directors Association. He has received recent commissions for new music from the University of Houston Honors College, Divergence Vocal Theater, Commonwealth Youth Choirs, the Yale Institute of Sacred Music, and the Cornell Chorale. Upcoming performances are planned for 2011-2012 with Houston Chamber Choir, Divergence Vocal Theater, and Juventas New Music Ensemble. His work is published with Alliance, Lorenz/Roger Dean, and Oxford.

For this commission, Dominick is writing a significant work for cello and soprano.  The cycle is based on texts of Edward Carpenter, CP Cavafy, John Addington Symonds, and Meleager.  Meredith and I will perform his song cycle, And the barriers had vanished numerous times in 2012.  The cycle is the anchor work in the Queering the Pitch II: music for soprano and cello. Everything that I have heard (both word of mouth and from listening to samples of his work) and read about Dominick excites me about this piece.  I'm also playing his composition for solo cello, Tarentella, in three or four upcoming performances in early 2012, both Queering the Pitch concerts and otherwise!  Visit his website HERE.

Andrew Paul Jackson - I first came to know of Andrew during my time at The Boston Conservatory, where we both completed MM degrees.  I frequently heard his works performed - one of my dearest colleagues, awesome cellist JENNIFER BEWERSE is a performer and great supporter of his music - but it wasn't until my time at UGA that we had any contact as far as commissions and premieres were concerned.

First his (edited) bio: 

Andrew Paul Jackson (b. 1984) is a prolific young composer with an eclectic style known for works of unfaltering lyricism and sleek construction. His compositions run the gamut of genres from short solo instrumental works to larger Pierrot and orchestral ensembles, a vocal cantata, and his first opera, Grigori Efimovich: The Memory of Liars. In recognition of his work as a composer, Mr. Jackson was the winner of The Boston Conservatory’s 2008-2009 Orchestral Composition Competition and was the recipient of the conservatory’s 2009 Roger Sessions Memorial Composition Award. Following graduation, Jackson founded and serves as the artistic director of The Fifth Floor Collective.
Mr. Jackson’s compositions have been performed by the Juventas Ensemble, the Xanthos Ensemble, The Boston Chamber Orchestra, The Moscow Chamber Orchestra, ensemble21, The Boston Conservatory Orchestra, and The Springfield Symphony and have been broadcasted on KSMU radio. He has studied composition with Andy Vores, Dalit Warshaw, and Carlyle Sharpe, as well as conducting under the tutelage of Christopher Koch and David Goza. Mr. Jackson holds an MM in Composition from The Boston Conservatory and a BA in Music Composition and Theory from Drury University.

Andrew will hopefully be writing two pieces for me to premiere soon (and play often afterward!).  The first, titled *You are missing here.* has already written as a part of my commission of The Fifth Floor Collective to write a set of works for solo cello.  The second - which we briefly discussed over tea and brunch in Boston just last week - is still a bit up in the air.  Hopefully we'll be able to work out details and Andrew will be writing a work for soprano and cello for Meredith and I to premiere and perform in 2012 and onward!  Andrew tells me that he played the cello in a past life.  He claims - I think jokingly - that he peaked in high school.  That said, during our communication, he mentioned that he played through You are missing here so he’s certainly no slouch with the cello: the piece is hard!  Visit his website HERE and the website for The Fifth Floor Collective HERE.


(EDIT - Andrew posted his own blog about You are missing here this summer!  Read it HERE!)

Bruce Trinkley - Maestro Bruce Trinkley is a Professor Emeritus at Penn State University, where Meredith and I completed our undergraduate performance degrees.  While we were students, Bruce was a on the composition faculty and conducted the Glee Club as well as writing two full length children's operas (in which Meredith had some roles!!).  As director of the Penn State Glee Club, Bruce has influenced countless singers, and his works - specifically York - The Voice of Freedom and the Pennsylvania Bicentennial Wagon Train Show - have been performed nationally and internationally (the latter was performed more than 2000 times in all 50 states in 1975-1976).

Some biographical info about Bruce from the Penn State School of Music WEBSITE: 

Professor Trinkley's music has been performed in the United States, Europe, Australia, South America and China. He has composed incidental music, songs and choruses for theatre and dance productions and has written extensively for choral ensembles, including more than 200 arrangements of folk songs, spirituals and popular songs for various ensembles. In 1976 he collaborated on The Wagon Train Show, which played more than 2000 performances during the Bicentennial. Santa Rosalia, a cantata inspired by paintings of Fernando Botero, was filmed for PBS. Mountain Laurels, a choral symphony using texts by Pennsylvania poets, was written to celebrate the centenary of State College, Pennsylvania, in 1996. Cold Mountain, a piano trio, was commissioned by the Castalia Trio for their concert tour of China in May 1998. His opera Eve's Odds won the National Opera Association's 1999 Chamber Opera Competition. Cleo, a comic opera about the making of the movie epic Cleopatra, won the competition in 2001. 

He has had composer residencies at Dorland Mountain Arts Colony, Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, Helene Wurlitzer Foundation, the Hambidge Center, the Ucross Foundation, and the Patrick Allan-Fraser Trust in Scotland. His works are published by Alliance, Alfred Music, Oxford University Press, Augsburg Fortress, Lawson-Gould, GIA, Hinshaw, Hal Leonard and Yelton Rhodes.

In 2012, Meredith and I will be performing a short song cycle that Bruce is composing with texts by Marsden Hartley.  Knowing Bruce’s reputation and having heard quite a few of his works, I can’t begin to describe how excited I am (WE are) to be performing a work by this fantastic composer!!  I have little doubt that his piece will be heard for years to come and played by countless performers. (DIAGENESIS DUO, perhaps?!)

Meredith Mecum - Last, but certainly not least, on this list of people intimately involved in my Queering the Pitch project is my wonderful collaborator, Meredith Mecum. My history with Meredith goes back years, to the time when we were both in the Harrisburg Junior Youth String Orchestra in seventh grade (I think? SO long ago…).  Since then, we've grown up musically together: we did festivals and played in Youth Orchestra together in high school; attended the National High School Music Institute at Northwestern University in 2002; went to Penn State together (graduating the same year); and now collaborate frequently, though we live in different parts of the country. (this doesn't touch on the fact that we went to prom together - but I won't post photos right now).  Meredith has performed on two recitals with me recently, one at The Boston Conservatory and once in Athens.  Both times we performed John Tavener's work, Akhmatova Songs, and both were local premiere's of the piece (each time, Ms. Mecum brought the proverbial house down).

I'm tempted to write my own version of Meredith's bio, but I certainly wouldn't do it justice, so here's a copy of the last version that I have from March of 2011 (I'm guessing things have changed, since the upcoming performances are now very much in the past!): 

Soprano Meredith Mecum was recently awarded Second Place in the first annual Ades Vocal Competition as well as an Encouragement Award from the Gerda Lissner Foundation Competition. She has covered the role of Donna Anna in Don Giovanni as a Young Artist with Ash Lawn Opera, appeared as Rosalinde in Die Fledermaus with Martina Arroyo’s Prelude to Performance, as Frau Fluth in scenes from Nicolai’s Die lustige Weiber von Windsor, and as Rose Segal in the New York City premiere of John Musto's Later the Same Evening at Manhattan School of Music. She can be heard on the recording of Musto’s work, recently released by Albany Records. 

Other performances include scenes from Cosi fan tutte, Le Nozze di Figaro, Der Rosenkavalier and Madama Butterfly, and excerpts from Clara: Images from the Life of Clara Schumann by Victoria Bond, in which she premiered the role of Clara Schumann. As a recitalist, she has performed at the Third Street Music School Settlement in NYC, and at the State Street Academy and Market Square Presbyterian Church in Harrisburg, PA. Upcoming engagements include performances as the Soprano Soloist in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with Williamsport Symphony Orchestra, a return to the Martina Arroyo Foundation in Cosi fan tutte and performing in a new outreach program being presented in New York schools. This summer, she will join Opera New Jersey singing the role of Berta in Il Barbiere di Siviglia. 

Ms. Mecum completed her Master of Music degree at Manhattan School of Music in the studio of Joan Patenaude-Yarnell and her Bachelor of Musical Arts from The Pennsylvania State University in voice performance and art history. She has participated in such programs as the Opera Theatre and Music Festival of Lucca, the Chautauqua Institution School of Music, Martina Arroyo’s Prelude to Performance, and the Ash Lawn Opera Young Artist Program.

There are others composers and performers that I’ll be working with this year as well:

Adrian Childs - Dr. Childs is a professor of music at the University of Georgia where he teaches composition and music theory.  He is also the Graduate Coordinator and therefore, a guiding force in my pursuit of a doctoral degree.  The commission of a piece by Dr. Childs has not been confirmed (which is entirely a result of my procrastination) but I look forward to working with him!  The Hodgson Quartet worked with Dr. Childs last year for the East Coast premiere of Steven Stucky’s Piano Quintet, and his fantastic piano playing, infectious personality, and sheer brilliance made me want to play a work of his immediately.  I recently heard a rumor that Dr. Childs played cello in his youth, so I look forward to getting my act together and commissioning him to write a piece soon!  HERE is his bio on the UGA Hodgson School of Music website.

Joseph Colombo - Joe is a great colleague, a wonderful composer and a member of The Fifth Floor Collective.  We met while Joe was finishing his undergraduate degree at The Boston Conservatory.  He wrote a piece, titled Sweet, for solo cello that fit in to my program of Suites (by Bach and Britten).  The piece is ridiculously hard and his new piece is no different!  His work, Not I, will be premiered early next year along side Andrew Jackson’s piece for solo cello, You are missing here and some as yet unconfirmed works.  You can read more about Joe HERE.

Laura Kaminsky - Ms. Kaminsky is the artistic director of Symphony Space in New York City.  Her work, The Great Unconformity, was written in 2010 for my incredible teacher, the astounding cellist Rhonda Rider who graciously introduced me to Laura.  Though this piece won’t be a premiere, I will be one of the first cellists to have the opportunity to play this work.  Laura recently married her partner in New York City and her work will fit perfectly with the other pieces planned for Queering the Pitch 3: music for solo cello.  Visit Laura’s website HERE.

Brian Kelly - Brian and I met when he began his MM degree in composition at UGA.  Our first meeting didn’t turn out so well: he need an ensemble to record his string quartet and asked the Hodgson Quartet for help.  Unfortunately we weren’t able to offer our services, but from that came his Sonata for Cello, and perhaps a short work for cello and soprano.  In my brief experiences with Brian, I find him to be one of the most socially conscious people that I’ve met here in Athens.  His Sonata for cello will be premiered in late 2011 and will probably receive it’s Boston premiere/performance in January, alongside the premieres of works for solo cello by members of The Fifth Floor Collective.  In his own words, Brian is:

...originally from Phoenix, Arizona. He received his Bachelor of Arts in Music from Ottawa University and is currently working on his Master of Music in Composition at the University of Georgia. 

His works tend to be of a somewhat darker nature, both in subject matter as well as harmonic language. More recent works have begun exploring political and religious themes, often in ways that attempt to express criticism of the status quo. Spanning from completely atonal to "semi-tonal," his pieces often juxtapose rhythmic intensity with lyrical sweetness.

So, I’m quite sorry for such a long blog post!  In MS Word, this document is more than five pages long.    I should have just done a video blog.  HEY!  A video blog!  That sounds like a great idea...now if only I knew what to video blog about...

Until the next 10-page post!

Justin D.