A wild and crazy evening of existential proportions

So on Friday, I went to bed at 8 AM.  Let me correct that, and say that I went to bed on Saturday at 8 AM, rather than Friday night.  Why?  Well, I'm not entirely sure, exactly, but it ended up being a fascinating night of discussion, and me acting as the mom in my group of friends, and keeping them from doing things epically stupid.  (Although dumb things did happen.)  Let me retell the evening's events:
10-12 PM: Did a small recording for some Weezer project involving Rivers Cuomo's bedroom recordings from the early 90's, which then are being accompanied by overly dramatic strings.  It was a pretty silly project, and we were only recording snippets of music, and the songs weren't necessarily all that great, but I did it just so I could say that I did it.  I also requested that my name be listed in the booklet as Kayleigh "kmizzle" Miller, viola, so if that ends up happening, it will totally be worth it, as we weren't paid in beer or money.
12:30-2:30: went to the bar on campus, and had a few pitchers with the violas.  I probably had three glasses of beer, and I decided I was done, but the rest of my entourage kept going for it, which meant that they got pretty loopy, and I very quickly established that my new roll was as mother, to make sure that no one regretted the evening.  We witnessed a tragically drunk person fall flat on his back in the bar, and a crew of the sound engineering folks picked him up and took care of him.
2:30-3:30: Had a discussion, in a circle on the floor, about the convergence of good and evil, and what that could mean.  Basically, my friend Brian has been reading this Philip K. Dick sci-fi novel in which good and evil and intertwined within the same force/being, which is only revealed in the end of the story, and he was still reeling with the information.  This gets expanded upon later in the morning, but for now, everyone talks about their religious beliefs, and whether evil is a separate force, and whether Christianity allows such crazy talk.  Our numbers began to decline, as people got drunker and needed to remedy themselves in the water closet, so by 3:30, it was just me and my violist friend (and Bostonian) Brian.  So we got to talking to all those unnecessarily deep things like:
What is perception?  What is reality?  What is knowable, if anything?  Is there a good force in the world, and if not, then what keeps us alive, and happy?  It ended up being an hour and a half conversation that went in circles and didn't necessarily accomplish anything (the consequence of philosophy study) but it was fascinating to realize that in the end, we only know what we think, and everything else is based on our situational perception.  As in colorblindness, hearing loss, or any other sensory distortion, what traditional society defines as "normal" is anything but.  Yet, experience and memory are entirely based in our perceptions and misperceptions of situations, so in essence, there is no absolute truth, or action in any given situation.  This sort of dialogue could go on for days, but let's just stop there and say that reality is complicated.  By 5, we decided we might as well stay up for sunrise, which was around 5:40, and was slightly less than dramatic, but was tender unfolding of darkness into a mystical blue glow into light.  It made us think of one of the kindertotenlieder songs in which the author says that his child, his light has gone out in the night, and if not for the sun's rise, he could not survive the night's clasp.
6-7: In a fit of stupidity (told you it would happen) my friend kicked his flip flop over the railing of the 6th floor balcony, and onto the 5th floor balcony, which are rooms that belong to individual residents.  Now, at 6 in the morning, you can't exactly just wake someone up and say "Hey, I'm an epic idiot.  Can I go on your balcony?" Brian (and I) proceeded to make a variety of fishing pole style devices which were created to knock the shoe off of the porch.  We found a length of rope, and few planks, and proceeded to fool around with this for an hour, until the shoe landed on the concrete in front of the building.  Meanwhile, we saw faculty go for morning runs, elk, people photographing the elk, people photographing the elk look strangely at us, and a few maintenance people gave us a look of disapproval and curiosity.  In the end, Brian succeeded, and I fell asleep in the corner near the heater.  By the time we got the shoe, it was almost breakfast time, and we decided to make it until 7:30, when we would enjoy an warm and delicious hot breakfast, which was indeed one of the tastiest meals I'd had in a while.  There were poached eggs, sauteed mushrooms, hashbrowns, and mediocre croissants, but overall, it was the perfect ending to a very long evening contemplating existence and corporeal beings.

listening to: radiohead

words of the week: Sartorial and Corporeal, both which were used in a masterclass.

Aargh, and why gym yoga sucks

Today started off so well.  It really did.  But it got rather unpleasant by the end of the day.  Here's why: I went to a gym yoga class, because it was free, and it was pretty awful.  Terrible sequencing, way too many beginners, bad instructional cues, no anatomical sense in the sequencing, etc.  Example: started in child pose, then down dog, vinyasa, and crow? All within the first 4 minutes of class?  I almost started laughing, because it was fucking ridiculous.  It was also a lot of people who had no idea what they were doing, and I was in pain watching their form, since many of them were ignorantly cruising for a bruising.  So that was pretty upsetting.  It sort of did the trick for what I was going for-I just didn't do the stupid things, and didn't do too many vinyasas, but it was also upsetting.  The other thing I found out today was that my friend, who was watching my car, (but hopefully not driving it much?) took a friend to the emergency room, and then got sideswiped in the parking lot.  (But of course, not while he was in the car, so now there's a huge scrape on my bumper, no police report, which means I can't easily claim it, and I'm not even in the country.)  That's been majorly stressing me out, since I hadn't wanted him to be driving my car much anyways, and for this to have happened so soon after I left is really upsetting.  I know it's not his fault, and I shouldn't be mad at him, but I had given him the key to my car in the hopes that he would move it every now and again, not get it hurt.  Now, a trip to the emergency room is totally justified, but what kind of major bad luck is that?  It's pretty ridiculous.  I'm not sure what to do about it, and I hope he's willing to pay for some of the damage.  Without a police report and more extensive documentation (like proof that the other car hit me) I can't get reimbursed, which he of course didn't realize.  It's just stressful to not be able to do anything about it, and to not be able to do anything about for a month and a half at least.  The damage isn't structural, so the car is still safe to drive, but it looks really bad, and that's upsetting to me.  Either way, I don't know what to do, and I've been emailing people for advice, since my parents would flip if they found out.  I need to fix it before they visit me again, and that's that.

On a more positive side, I'm playing Theofanidis in a recital on Friday, and I'm excited about that.  I also climbed a mountain, and had  a ground squirrel eat from my lap, and sit on my knee.  So cute, it was disgusting.  My friend took some good pix, so hopefully those will follow!

listening to: The passion pit cover of "Tonight, Tonight" by the Smashing Pumpkins

Moving is like squeezing your soul into a cardboard box and drowning it

I'm so glad I'm done moving.  For now.  I'm still having anxiety dreams about moving, especially to Boston in the fall.  Last night, I dreamt that I forgot to take out my furniture, and that I instead just left the state without actually moving anything.  I moved out of my Rochester apartment all of last week, and put everything into a storage unit in the Roc.  Then, I have to come back in August, and get a truck, and move stuff to Boston, which will be scary and complicated, because I theoretically have to go to orientation, or at least audition for orchestra, which all occurs before September 1st, when I have an apartment.  So it's going to be bad and scary and all of those usual things.  But more importantly, I simply don't understand how I seem to acquire more things, even though I buy less things each year.  It's like my possessions become more and more unwieldly each year, and then to get them into a truck is like trying to stuff a sleeping bag into it's microcompact little nylon bag.  It felt really good to be sorting, purging, donating, recycling, but then the box moving came, and it was pretty awful, especially since I did most everything myself.  It was sad to be putting my whole life into a bag or box, through it into another box, and then hope that I wouldn't need it for 10 weeks.  Since I'm going to California after Banff, I had to pack for all sorts of weather possibilities, and also had to bring tons of music.  I never realize how much stuff I have, and how much stuff I need, until I have to put it into a box, and make it weigh less than 50 pounds.
It was definitely an insightful experience.  It made  me want to live in 1997, the era of inflatable furniture and jelly sandals, so that moving would be super easy, even though it could cause chafing and blisters.  I also realize that the platform shoes were pretty tall back then, so any space saved with furniture compactness would be lost with the transport of 3-4 inch platform sandals and 28" bell bottoms.  So maybe it's all relative.  Either way, it was stressful, and damaging (bruises! back pain! sliced off part of my finger!) and I'm looking forward to 2 whole months without moving.

On the bright side, my luggage arrived last night, and now I can brush my teeth.  Don't ever overestimate the joy of dental hygiene.  I am also playing Ligeti tomorrow in a class, and Theofanidis on Thursday, and then I will attack some Takemitsu, in the most flowing, beautiful way possible.

The Grumpy Traveller

After fourteen hours of travel, door-to-door, I made it to Banff last night, short my luggage, and pretty damn tired.  (Got there at 10:30 PM mountain time, 12:30 eastern).  My flights were delayed, and I missed the bus that I was supposed to catch.  But the real clincher is that I STILL DON'T HAVE ANY LUGGAGE. And it's been over 12 hours since I landed, and 14 hours since I changed planes.  And I'm really fucking pissed.  I have no clothing, no music, no underwear, and frankly, I don't have the means at 7:42 in the morning to get it from downtown Banff because nothing is open.  I called United this morning to see where my shit was, and I got rerouted to a foreign country call center, (great!) and that just topped off my morning.  Needless to say, I am not a happy camper.  I am a firm believer in personal hygiene, especially when meeting people for the first time, and this is bad.  At least I have my viola and my computer, but otherwise, way to go United.  After a shitty week of moving and cleaning, how nice that my day of travel should suck so much.  At least people were nice to me at all of the airports, but still.
AARRGGGHHHH.

Highlights from Geekfest 2010

Ahh, yes.  The Viola Congress, which I was in fact dreading, turned out to be wicked awesome.  (Think of that with a Boston accent, k?)  First of all, I got to stay with a friend whom I haven't seen much in the last two years, so that was pretty great.  Second of all, I got hired by Kim to be her personal assistant in the fall.  Third of all, I found out that Garth Knox, the man, the legend, is coming to NEC next year.  Yes, my debt is absolutely totally 100% going to be worth it.  (Here's a pic of them both!)  Fourth of all, I got to hang out with my college roommate, and feel awesome when going to an urban outfitters in an old church.  Oh, and did I mention that there were two to three concerts a day by solid faculty?  

Concert highlights:

Garth Knox Solo Recital (one word: baller)

Kimmy Kashkash's double whammy: Shostakovich Preludes arranged for viola and piano one day, amazingly weird performance art for viola and percussion the next day.  I am SO looking forward to my future employment.

Nobuko Imai's lovely interpretaions of Takemitsu, especially beautiful in realizing that she is 66-67!  

And more!

I was also thrilled to have contemporary music concerts EVERY DAY that I was there.  I don't love all music equally (Brahms and I are NOT speaking right now, since he's making me play him in July) but damn, I love the weird shit a lot.  Garth Knox also sold us all on his contemporary etudes Viola Spaces which I am definitely going to learn.  No question. He's our newest viola crush, when it comes to this stuff, and he makes an amazing team with Kim when it comes to duets.  

And the moral, is this makes me excited to practice!  And learn stuff! And also believe that there's hope for me too, because we all play so differently and want such different things in a career. (But don't worry, I'm still stalking Grizzly Bear in my spare time and making greeting cards and baking.)  I just think there's a possibility of doing lots of things that you love, and maybe everything will work out someday, and you and me and everyone else we know will be bathing in the splendor of their heart breaking with music.

listening to: garth knox, bruno maderna "viola," broken social scene "world sick" from forgiveness rock record.

Oh wait, and we got a free stainless steel viola water bottle and two free sets of strings.  YES.

Underwear Fail

So I found these on etsy last week, and I emailed them to MJ and then she emailed regretsy, and now they're on the website.  Epic underwear fail.  The comments are truly priceless, though.

It has a hint of Dylan's Rare 1967 Release, with a tinge of this rare 1980's grunge band EP release...

One of the things I have thought about doing with my life is writing about music. Preferably not classical music. I have thought about this for many years, even looking into getting a journalism degree instead of a music masters. But at the end of this whole 'writing about music,' whether popular or classical, I end up dissatisfied. Why? Because writing and describing any form of art is a way of making it something other than it is. When I write about what Scarlett Johanssen's voice, I'm saying what I think it sounds like, what it's been influenced by (whether or not it has) and what it lacks. And that's great, but I almost feel like the better advice is to tell someone else to listen to a piece of music or see a painting, and judge for themselves. With classical music, I can very clearly articulate what I like and don't like. (impressionism, tone color, minor seconds, sevenths, irregular ostinati, sweet viola/saxophone/bassoon/bass/trombone soli in orchestral pieces, minimalism, occasional tonality, extended techniques.) But I can't always apply these ideas to popular music writing. The things that I like about Grizzly Bear are not always what the popular music critics make note of. They might talk about their influences, their forward and backward looking inspirations, etc. But the things I hear are:

1) Diversity of texture: irregular drum lines, especially as reinforced by the bass line and kick drum

2) Awesome 2-4 part harmony: duh. 2 lead singers

3) Beatles' like diversity of singers: 2 lead singers, sometimes alternating

4) A wide range of song styles, from the folksy, acoustic and intimate style to a more extroverted and raw sound.

5) Creepiness: sometimes the songs are creepy as hell, because of harmonies, slow build ups, distortion, etc.

What I hear in Lady Gaga is:

1) The speak-song style of Gwen Stefani, Black Eyed Peas (see, I'm alluding to previous groups! Yikes) or a husky Cher (from the late 90's) which yields a fairly limited vocal range and volume, not belting, but not ethereal

2) Really good basic beat structure usually complimented by a synthesized pitch pattern, which may be irregular

3) The songs are usually in 2 or 4, layered with a series of electronic repetitive textures. The melodic lines stay in limited tonal areas (I-iv-V-vi). (Just dance repeats the minor third interval a gazillion times!!!)

4) Her most successful songs are the ones in which the combination of beats, simple catchy melody and texture are diverse. Her worst songs (and there are quite a few that drift towards Fergie of Black Eyed Peas bad.) are lopsided, and lack one of the basic ingredients for success.

Suggestions: varied tempi, more irregular beats rather than a repetitive track, and more diverse chords/melodic lines. She clearly has a limited vocal range, and it comes through in her songs.

But really, does it matter? Does my opinion on why or why these songs are not good make a difference in whether or not people like it? Nope. Not at all. You could just as easily criticize it for being commercial in its production values and musical aesthetic, which juxtaposes with the style, video, and performance aesthetic, creating a hyperbole of sorts. Quantifying art is really hard to do, even if you think it's clearly "bad." One of the main premises of art is exploring territory which is difficult to explain in words, and that must be experienced, seen, witnessed, etc. I don't usually read reviews very closely, whether of music, movies, or books. I usually read a paragraph or two, get an idea for what the reviewer thinks, and then decide if it's flaws and strengths interest me. That's it. I rarely read the whole thing. I usually look at Pitchfork's reviews, look at the number score, listen to a track or two, read a paragraph and move on. In the end, I want to make my own decisions about music and art and whatnot, and while I'd like to think that my opinion is worthwhile, everyone has a right to evaluate music, art, and creative mediums. Thus, I will probably never be a professional music critic.

listening to: The Morning Benders

You can hear the album version here: (their recent album, "Big Echo" was produced by own of the members of Grizzly Bear.)