Sunday 26 January 2014

Different types of musicians

Last night, I went to have dinner with some friends of mine. Both professional musicians, both in their fifties. Unlike so many other musicians I know, they are both still really engaged with being musicians. They still want to share music with others - by performing, teaching, coaching and listening. I find them both incredibly inspiring. They are also both really normal. They have other interests. Their feet are well and truly on the ground - and their heads are.... well, where they should be. Not up anything, as the saying goes.

On the way there I was reflecting about these two, and how much I respect them both. And they are the sort of players where their goal is simply to share music. They walk on stage and seem to say to their audience (without saying it out loud, of course) "Look! We have found this piece of music! It's just wonderful. We'll play it to you the best we can - and hopefully you'll think it's really wonderful too.... Have a listen." There is a real ego-less way of being and playing.

Then there are other sorts of performers. They walk on stage and say "Look! Look at me! Listen to how I play this! I'm great! You should notice me!". And they fill their conversations with their friends and colleagues about how they were noticed the other day, or should have been noticed by others, or how well their CD sales are, or how much they have been played on the radio.

The second sort of musicians are often far more successful. They have the names that you would know, if you were not in 'the business'. I find them phonies (thanks Holden Caulfield). I try to be around them as little as possible. And sometimes, these known names are not like the second type of performer. But, in my opinion (and after all, this is only my opinion), not so much.

I really believe that performing is not about fame. It is not about being noticed. It is about sharing. And for the sort of performer who doesn't even write their own music, it is about me even less. It is about Bach, or Bloch, or whoever. It isn't about adulation, or travel, or being noticed. It is simply about taking dots on the page, and turning them into something that makes others smile, or cry, or remember that wonderful day and how they felt.

I hope, when I am in my fifties and beyond, that I am like these two people.

Friday 24 January 2014

Creativity under fire

If anyone has been reading this (or the facebook posts for 'Bach in the Dark') they will know that at the end of January I'm recording a disc.

This is a big deal for me, as every recording project I have ever done has been hugely unpleasant. There is always something that goes horribly wrong - someone can't play something, there's too much noise outside, it's freezing cold, egos get in the way.... this list goes on and on.

But after two years of a dear friend (and a musician I admire so very much) asking me to record with him, I have said I'd try it one more time. If I was going to record with anyone, it would be him. I have decided not to listen to raw takes - I am bringing down a very trusted pair of ears (that do not belong to me) to listen to the takes, as I know that at the first whiff of an out-of-tune anything, I will stop being creative and imaginative, and become some kind of uninteresting cello-playing robot. And that wouldn't be true to everything I hold dear as a performer.

So, for better or worse (hopefully better), I am going to Melbourne to be a creative cellist with lots of patience as we have to do things a number of times to get everything right. (I am not so patient. That will be hard. Not as hard as the last Bartok piece we're doing, though.)

We rehearsed a lot last weekend. We gave a little concert to some friends who gave up their Sunday afternoon to come a tell us what they thought. We've talked endlessly about how things are going to go. A recording schedule has been drafted. I have so many callouses I could stick pins in most of my fingers and not feel a thing.

So it's nearly upon me. I am reminded of my favourite quote (at the moment) about creativity, by Anna Funder. "This is the trick to creative work : it requires a slip-state of being, not unlike love. A state in which you are both most yourself, and most alive and yet least as sure of your own boundaries, and therefore open to everything and everyone outside of you."

Here goes........

Friday 3 January 2014

Holidays....

I've just come back from a week away down the south coast. My long-suffering, very patient partner (aka 'The Bear') and I escaped Sydney and went to stay in a little house with four other really dear friends. The little house it a bit neglected, but charming. The balcony wobbles. The oven is terrible. The stair-rail up the side of the house wouldn't pass an OHS test. As someone climbs the stairs, the whole house wobbles like a firm blancmange. But it was the most perfect place to be.

We talked a lot. Read. I knitted (my new hobby). There was a lot of laughter. Lots of wine, champagne and some fabulous cider. Loads of Maltesers (TM). And these people put me back together after a pretty huge year. My job is excellent, don't get me wrong. But it wears me out by the end of the year. I feel like an old flannel in some grotty Laundromat. Being around five wonderful people for a week was the most excellent thing.

I also had to take the cello with me. I am recording a CD at the end of January, which terrifies me. Every recording experience I have done up to this point has been incredibly stressful and really, I'd rather have root canal work. But I have agreed to try it again with my dear 'musical brother' accordion-playing-whizz. So I had to slope off for a few hours every day to practise.

It was a really enjoyable process, having the space to be creative. To try a few new things here and there. And to really enjoy playing again.

So here's to 2014. I'm planning a year with many things in it. Some terrify me. Some I've done before. Some I've been wanting to do for a while. But I'm hugely optimistic. And smiling. Could be the result of an excellent week away. Thank you to the Bear, the Cabin Boy, the Wordsmith, the Colour Guru and the Lens-Cap Operator. I love youse all.