Saturday, October 15, 2011
Navigation
Welcome to my recital website! Here, you'll find an explanation of what I'm doing, some basic ground rules, and extended, interactive program notes for each set (Bach, Webern, Beethoven, P.D.Q. Bach), and thanks. Enjoy!
Friday, October 14, 2011
The inspiration, and "Classical" music at yet another crossroads.
First, let me say that I'm aware of the (somewhat) obnoxious cliché in this post's title, but I wouldn't use it if it wasn't warranted. This is an experiment in an interactive recital experience. It could work really well, or it could tank. Either way, it's an experiment in having a web-friendly, social network-y recital.
Why on earth would I want my audience to play with iPads and smartphones during my senior recital? Classical music performances are supposed to be about breaking away from technology and connecting with history. Right?
Maybe. It depends who you ask, and where you are.
The Orange County, California-based Pacific Symphony held a concert in July, encouraging the audience to live Tweet the performance. Yes, this was an outdoor concert, and yes, outdoor concerts are often relaxed experiences. But there's definitely carry-over to indoor settings, and even to my undergraduate non-degree senior recital.
I aim to incorporate technology, with a sprinkling of social media, into my recital. Why bother? I'm never going to be a famous cellist, and the extent of my recital publicity is a line on the UD Music department calendar (which, by the way, has been down for a few weeks...) and a Facebook event. In other words: I'm no big deal. I'm hoping to fuel a grassroots trend in the industry by creating a spark at UD. If I use technology, maybe other people will do the same. They'll tell their music-major-friends at other schools, and their friends will tell other friends. Voila, a movement! A precedented movement, no less. Professional organizations are incorporating media into classical music performances, but these additions have yet to make their way into colleges and universities.
Cartoon from The New Yorker's Tumblr site.
I don't know how I feel about live tweeting a funeral. It's probably tacky, but I'm not prepared to make that argument. Instead, I encourage (pretty please!) you to tweet this recital. The hashtag is #rebeccarecital. If you have a full view of this site, you should see a Twitter box on the right side of the home page that will collect tweets to my hashtag. I'm told there's a delay of several minutes, so don't be afraid to tweet early and often! Say whatever you want--I won't be offended.
Classical music, also known as is at a crossroads. This is an old story. It's no secret or surprise that the audiences are getting older and older, and "young people" aren't attending performances. I find this slightly fascinating, because we college students can get tickets to the Philadelphia Orchestra for $10, but most of us would sooner drop $60-$90 to see Katy Perry. Math time: want to see Philly six times, to theoretically pay the same amount as one Katy Perry concert? Instead, we can buy a $25 season pass for rush tickets. Two and a half college students can have unlimited access to a (the?) top US orchestra for the same price as one ticket to see auto-tuned lip syncing. (As an aside, I'd like to say, for the record, that I like Katy Perry. Haters, step aside.) I'm not the only one making this connection. Deceptive Cadence, a blog from NPR Classical, recently posted about the not-so-outrageous cost of an opera excursion versus something like an evening at a basketball game or breakfast at Starbucks. The classical music industry is making it incredibly easy for my generation to get into concerts, but we aren't biting.
My generation is all about technology and social media. We live our lives on Facebook, and we wouldn't have it any other way. We wouldn't know how to have it any other way. We probably wouldn't want it any other way. If all our typical interactions are enhanced by the internet and social media, why shouldn't our art include that technology? There are jokes about how the smartphone killed the bar conversation, because we can so easily go on Google and find out if John Cleese is still alive and kicking (spoiler alert: he is). But what about music?
I can't count how many times I've sat in performances, and wondered about some tangential musical detail, wishing I could instantly break out Google-to-the-rescue. I'm giving you permission to take out your phone or your iPad or your tablet or iTouch (did I miss anything?) and mess around on the internet during my recital. No computers, though. Keyboards are loud, and the cello can be very quiet. In a perfect world, you'd be reading the information found on this site, and maybe searching for additional information about the music or composers on my program. But utopias can't exist, even for an hour. Please don't do anything on the internet that you wouldn't want your grandparents to see, but feel free to do what you need to do. I will be on stage playing a particularly lovely program, so you'll probably want to pay attention to that at some point.
The purists out there will criticize me (to my face or otherwise) for perpetuating the growing disconnect between performer and audience we musicians strive to maintain. As audience members, we can be lucky to enter into an unnamable state of total connection with a performance. When we experience that connection, we become judgmental of anyone less engaged. We especially get frustrated or even angry when someone moves too loudly or a hearing aid starts humming. Whether we admit it or not, we don't like when other people ruin our personal concert-attending experiences. I can't please everybody, but I'm willing to bet that some sort of social media-infused concert is the way of the future. I apologize to those desiring a more traditional concert experience, but I stand by running my experiment through this recital.
I'd love feedback about this process. Talk to me, e-mail me, write on my Facebook wall, leave comments here, or send a carrier pigeon. Is this too gimmicky, or could it have staying power? I thank you for participating and hope you enjoy the performance!
Peace.
Maybe. It depends who you ask, and where you are.
The Orange County, California-based Pacific Symphony held a concert in July, encouraging the audience to live Tweet the performance. Yes, this was an outdoor concert, and yes, outdoor concerts are often relaxed experiences. But there's definitely carry-over to indoor settings, and even to my undergraduate non-degree senior recital.
I aim to incorporate technology, with a sprinkling of social media, into my recital. Why bother? I'm never going to be a famous cellist, and the extent of my recital publicity is a line on the UD Music department calendar (which, by the way, has been down for a few weeks...) and a Facebook event. In other words: I'm no big deal. I'm hoping to fuel a grassroots trend in the industry by creating a spark at UD. If I use technology, maybe other people will do the same. They'll tell their music-major-friends at other schools, and their friends will tell other friends. Voila, a movement! A precedented movement, no less. Professional organizations are incorporating media into classical music performances, but these additions have yet to make their way into colleges and universities.
Cartoon from The New Yorker's Tumblr site.
I don't know how I feel about live tweeting a funeral. It's probably tacky, but I'm not prepared to make that argument. Instead, I encourage (pretty please!) you to tweet this recital. The hashtag is #rebeccarecital. If you have a full view of this site, you should see a Twitter box on the right side of the home page that will collect tweets to my hashtag. I'm told there's a delay of several minutes, so don't be afraid to tweet early and often! Say whatever you want--I won't be offended.
Classical music, also known as is at a crossroads. This is an old story. It's no secret or surprise that the audiences are getting older and older, and "young people" aren't attending performances. I find this slightly fascinating, because we college students can get tickets to the Philadelphia Orchestra for $10, but most of us would sooner drop $60-$90 to see Katy Perry. Math time: want to see Philly six times, to theoretically pay the same amount as one Katy Perry concert? Instead, we can buy a $25 season pass for rush tickets. Two and a half college students can have unlimited access to a (the?) top US orchestra for the same price as one ticket to see auto-tuned lip syncing. (As an aside, I'd like to say, for the record, that I like Katy Perry. Haters, step aside.) I'm not the only one making this connection. Deceptive Cadence, a blog from NPR Classical, recently posted about the not-so-outrageous cost of an opera excursion versus something like an evening at a basketball game or breakfast at Starbucks. The classical music industry is making it incredibly easy for my generation to get into concerts, but we aren't biting.
My generation is all about technology and social media. We live our lives on Facebook, and we wouldn't have it any other way. We wouldn't know how to have it any other way. We probably wouldn't want it any other way. If all our typical interactions are enhanced by the internet and social media, why shouldn't our art include that technology? There are jokes about how the smartphone killed the bar conversation, because we can so easily go on Google and find out if John Cleese is still alive and kicking (spoiler alert: he is). But what about music?
I can't count how many times I've sat in performances, and wondered about some tangential musical detail, wishing I could instantly break out Google-to-the-rescue. I'm giving you permission to take out your phone or your iPad or your tablet or iTouch (did I miss anything?) and mess around on the internet during my recital. No computers, though. Keyboards are loud, and the cello can be very quiet. In a perfect world, you'd be reading the information found on this site, and maybe searching for additional information about the music or composers on my program. But utopias can't exist, even for an hour. Please don't do anything on the internet that you wouldn't want your grandparents to see, but feel free to do what you need to do. I will be on stage playing a particularly lovely program, so you'll probably want to pay attention to that at some point.
The purists out there will criticize me (to my face or otherwise) for perpetuating the growing disconnect between performer and audience we musicians strive to maintain. As audience members, we can be lucky to enter into an unnamable state of total connection with a performance. When we experience that connection, we become judgmental of anyone less engaged. We especially get frustrated or even angry when someone moves too loudly or a hearing aid starts humming. Whether we admit it or not, we don't like when other people ruin our personal concert-attending experiences. I can't please everybody, but I'm willing to bet that some sort of social media-infused concert is the way of the future. I apologize to those desiring a more traditional concert experience, but I stand by running my experiment through this recital.
I'd love feedback about this process. Talk to me, e-mail me, write on my Facebook wall, leave comments here, or send a carrier pigeon. Is this too gimmicky, or could it have staying power? I thank you for participating and hope you enjoy the performance!
Peace.
Ground rules and expectations
Since this is a new idea, there aren’t any real established ground rules for acceptable etiquette. Instead of assuming everyone will read my mind, I’ve decided to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do.
Do:
- Watch the recital. I’ve worked hard on this program, so please do pay it some attention.
- Use the website. I wouldn’t have made it if I didn’t want you to browse.
- Click on links and go on tangents. That’s the whole point!
- Turn the sound off on your device. LED screens are welcome, but ringtones or other internet noises are not.
- Comment on my posts, and Tweet to my hashtag. Web 2.0 is here to stay!
- Come back to the site after the concert to see what you missed during the performance. I have links to audio and video materials, and they’re worth checking out (but not while I’m playing!)
Don’t:
- Use a laptop. I don’t want to seem discriminatory against those who don’t have smartphones, tablets, or iPod touches. Believe me, that’s not the point at all. Even as I type this, I’m distracted by the sound of the key clicks. Imagine the distraction that could be caused by a hundred people in a wet acoustic during a quiet movement of pointillism.
- Spend all your time on Facebook, e-mail, etc. Some is fine, but please be cool. It is my recital, after all!
- Answer calls. This should go without saying, but I can’t be too sure! Please, please, please, just hit “ignore.” Whoever it is can wait a couple minutes.
- Be the first one to clap. This pointer is mostly for my mother, and others who might be in the same boat as she is. If you know that it's time to clap, go ahead and start something. The Philadelphia Orchestra published a brief online guide to concert etiquette. Feel free to observe their points under "Be comfortable," and the second point under "Be courteous." Please ignore the first point in the "Be courteous" section--I want you to use electronic devices, just not with sound.
Bach Suite No. 2 for Unaccompanied Violoncello in D Minor
Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) composed his six suites for solo violoncello while in Cöthen. The six suites all have the same basic form: prelude, allemande, courante, sarabande, two shorter dance movements (either boureés, menuets, or gavottes), and gigue. The second suite in D minor, performed today, follows this formula with menuets as the penultimate dances. After the prelude, which travels through various key areas closely related to tonic, the movements of the suite are binary; each first half begins in D minor, and each second half begins either in F major or with an A major chord. The second menuet is an exception to this rule, as it is in D major. It is common for the second of the penultimate dances to be in a parallel key, or key with the same tonic but in a different mode.
This suite will be performed on a modern replica of a Baroque cello. It has no endpin, uses gut strings, is tuned a semitone below standard modern tuning (A415 instead of A440/2), and uses a different kind of bow. Aside from these factors, playing the Baroque cello is a similar experience to playing the modern cello. The notes are in the same place and the bow works the same way. Minor technical adjustments are made to compensate for the manufactured differences, but the instrument is remarkably similar to its modern relative. I chose to use of this cello to have a more historically informed performance of the suite since it is an instrument similar to those used during Bach’s lifetime.
I also chose to use this cello because I find it incredibly rewarding to play, and I wanted another chance to show it off on campus! This cello arrived at UD on April 23, 2011--the day before my birthday (that also makes my recital date the cello's 6-month UD anniversary!). When I played it for the first time, I immediately fell in love with the instrument. I'm serious--you can ask Dr. Murray if you don't believe me! Since then, I have loved playing this beautiful instrument. I've been playing it for about six months, but it's still in the baby instrument phase. That means it doesn't like to stay in tune for very long. At this performance, I might need to stop in between movements to retune, so please pardon the pause if that happens.
Finally, I apologize in advance to those with absolute pitch who might be frustrated to hear this suite sounding in what sounds like C-sharp minor as a result of the instrument's low pitch.
Since this and others of Bach's cello suites are based upon Baroque dances, I'll leave you with some examples of actual dancing, courtesy of YouTube.
Allemande:
I also chose to use this cello because I find it incredibly rewarding to play, and I wanted another chance to show it off on campus! This cello arrived at UD on April 23, 2011--the day before my birthday (that also makes my recital date the cello's 6-month UD anniversary!). When I played it for the first time, I immediately fell in love with the instrument. I'm serious--you can ask Dr. Murray if you don't believe me! Since then, I have loved playing this beautiful instrument. I've been playing it for about six months, but it's still in the baby instrument phase. That means it doesn't like to stay in tune for very long. At this performance, I might need to stop in between movements to retune, so please pardon the pause if that happens.
Finally, I apologize in advance to those with absolute pitch who might be frustrated to hear this suite sounding in what sounds like C-sharp minor as a result of the instrument's low pitch.
Since this and others of Bach's cello suites are based upon Baroque dances, I'll leave you with some examples of actual dancing, courtesy of YouTube.
Allemande:
Anton Webern, or "Overdramatic Romantic teenager becomes overdramatic Pointillist"
Anton Webern (1883-1945) is best known for writing twelve-tone serial music, as inspired by his teacher Arnold Schoenberg. Some say Webern charged by the note, as most of his pieces are incredibly short. The Two Pieces were written in 1899, before Webern met Schoenberg. They are lyrical, tonal, and full of outward emotion. Webern, a musicologist as well as a composer, saw his music as descendent from that of Gustav Mahler. The Two Pieces were written with a Romantic vocabulary, and are reminiscent of Mahler’s lieder. Incidentally, these pieces are the first evidence of Webern’s compositions; he wrote them for himself and his mother, a cellist and a pianist, respectively. When I first came across these pieces, I didn't believe that they were composed by the same Webern I studied in my 20th century harmony and history classes and whose music I found unpalatable. It turns out that they were indeed written by our friend Anton, when he was fifteen or sixteen years old, and sound beautiful to most who enjoy the cello and piano. Webern never titled these pieces, and they were given the name Two Pieces after his death. Their practical, specific title makes sense in the context of Webern's oeuvre; some of his most salient pieces have titles such like Symphony and Piano Variations. Short and to the point.
The Drei Kleine Stücke (Three Little Pieces) are atonal, pointillist, and incredibly brief. Altogether, they consist of thirty-two measures of music. The outer movements are incredibly slow and frequently call for false harmonics and sul ponticello playing (bowing at the bridge) to create varied sound effects. These outer movements are also incredibly soft; they are rarely notated at a louder dynamic than piano. In contrast, the second movement is incredibly loud and fast. These pieces combine a non-diatonic pitch vocabulary with highly complicated rhythms. I urge you to listen to these pieces with an open mind and open ears. They don't sound like the music most of us grew up with, but they can be fascinating.
Check out my Spotify playlist featuring Webern, Schoenberg, and Alban Berg (another composer with strong associations with the Second Viennese School and 12-tone composition). The playlist includes Webern's Two Pieces and Drei Kleine Stücke, as well as his Symphony. Also: Piano Suite and Verklärte Nacht by Arnold Schoenberg. The former is 12-tone, and the latter is tonal. Finally, Alban Berg's Violin Concerto and the opening of his 12-tone opera, Lulu.
The Drei Kleine Stücke (Three Little Pieces) are atonal, pointillist, and incredibly brief. Altogether, they consist of thirty-two measures of music. The outer movements are incredibly slow and frequently call for false harmonics and sul ponticello playing (bowing at the bridge) to create varied sound effects. These outer movements are also incredibly soft; they are rarely notated at a louder dynamic than piano. In contrast, the second movement is incredibly loud and fast. These pieces combine a non-diatonic pitch vocabulary with highly complicated rhythms. I urge you to listen to these pieces with an open mind and open ears. They don't sound like the music most of us grew up with, but they can be fascinating.
Check out my Spotify playlist featuring Webern, Schoenberg, and Alban Berg (another composer with strong associations with the Second Viennese School and 12-tone composition). The playlist includes Webern's Two Pieces and Drei Kleine Stücke, as well as his Symphony. Also: Piano Suite and Verklärte Nacht by Arnold Schoenberg. The former is 12-tone, and the latter is tonal. Finally, Alban Berg's Violin Concerto and the opening of his 12-tone opera, Lulu.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Beethoven Theme & Variations
Seven Variations on “Bei Männern, welche Liebe fühlen” from Die Zauberflöte, WoO 46, by Ludwig van Beethoven
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) is arguably the most talked-about composer in Western classical music. His nine symphonies and thirty-two piano sonatas comprise the meat and potatoes of his compositional output. Most historically salient have been the fifth and ninth symphonies. The opening motive of the fifth symphony corresponds to "victory" in morse code and was used by the allied powers in WWII. His ninth symphony included a choir in the final movement, paving the way for voices in subsequent symphonic writing, a technique celebrated by later composers.
Beethoven composed five sonatas for cello and piano, making him the first to write in this genre. The sonatas allow the cello a partnered rather than subordinate role with the piano. Earlier examples of this type of writing for other instruments include Mozart's sonatas for violin and piano. In addition to the five cello sonatas, Beethoven wrote three sets of variations for cello and piano: one on a theme from Händel's oratorio Judas Maccabaeus, and two on themes from Mozart's opera Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute).
The programmed set in E-flat major comes from Pamina and Papageno's duet about love from The Magic Flute. The piece opens with a statement of the theme, with the piano in the dominant role. Beethoven, master of development and variation, sends the theme through seven contrasting emotional states before returning to a shortened paraphrase of the original theme. Beethoven had a tormented relationship with the concept of love during his lifetime; perhaps this set of variations expresses his feelings toward the varied emotions love can elicit. For more on Beethoven and love, consider Maynard Soloman's Beethoven for its extensive discussion of Beethoven and the Immortal Beloved.
Here is a performance of the duet from Die Zauberflöte, with Lucia Popp as Pamina and Wolfgang Brendel as Papageno.
Check out my "Basically Beethoven, Minimally Mozart" playlist on Spotify. It has a bunch of Beethoven's music that I think is good and worth listening to. It's by no means exhaustive, but it's a good starting place.
Lyrics to the duet for German speakers:
Pamina:
Bei Männern, welche Liebe fühlen,
Fehlt auch ein gutes Herze nicht.
Papageno:
Die süßen Triebe mitzufühlen
Ist dann der Weiber erster Pflicht.
Papageno and Pamina
Wir wollen uns der Liebe freun
Wir leben durch die Lieb allein,
Wir leben durch die Lieb allein,
Pamina
Die Lieb versüßet jede Plage,
Ihr opfert jede Kreatur.
Papageno
Sie würzet unsre Lebenstage,
Sie winkt im Kreise der Natur.
Pamina and Papageno
Ihr hoher Zweck zeigt deutlich an,
Nichts edlers sei als Weib und Mann,
Mann und Weib und Weib und Mann,
Mann und Weib und Weib und Mann,
Reichen an die Gottheit an.
Mann und Weib und Weib und Mann,
Reichen an die Gottheit an.
An die Gottheit an, an die Gottheit an.
In men, who feel love
A good heart is not lacking.
To sympathize with the sweet instincts
Is then the wives [sic]
first duty.
We want to be happy with love
We live through love alone,
We live through love alone,
Love sweetens every torment
Every creature offers itself to her.
It seasons our daily lives,
It beckons us in the circles of nature.
Its higher purpose indicates,
Nothing is more
nobel [sic] than wife and man,
Man and wife, and wife and man,
Man and wife, and wife and man,
Reach to the height of Godliness.
Man and wife, and wife and man,
Reach to the height of Godliness.
To Godliness, to Godliness.
Translation of full zingspiel here, by Lea Frey
Friday, October 7, 2011
PDQ Bach: Suite No. 1 For Cello All By Its Lonesome
Suite No. 1 For Cello All By Its Lonesome (S. 1a)
By P.D.Q. Bach (1807-1742)?
Edited with the loneliness known only to those of integrity, by
Professor Peter Schickele
1. Preludiamble
2. Sarabanda Carmen Miranda
3. Gigue-o-lo
The following program notes appear printed in the sheet music. I wish I could take credit for them, but I'm not that funny.:
P.D.Q. Bach’s composing life has been divided, and not a moment too soon, into three creative periods: the Initial Plunge, the Soused Period, and Contrition. That the unaccompanied cello suites hail from the last of these periods is indicated by the fact that they harken back, stylistically speaking, to the composer’s father, Johann Sebastian Bach, yet lack the poignant anarchy that is so characteristic of the works of the Initial Plunge, the other period during which the scourge of Wein-am-Rhein was in a paternally emulative mode.
The original manuscript (or “ms.”, as we professionals say) bears the inscription “For Clara Bow.” Since P.D.Q. lived more than a century before the silent screen star, there has been speculation that the composer was musically and/or romantically (or both) involved with some German ancestor of The “It” Girl, but if there was indeed such a person in his life, it seems more likely that she would have been connected (either as dedicatee or performer[or both]) with the CONCERTO FOR TWO PIANOS VS. ORCHESTRA IN E♭ MAJOR, since, in German, “Das ‘Es’ Mädchen” means not only “The ‘It’ Girl,” but also “The ‘E Flat’ Girl.”
It turns out, however that “Für Clara Bow” is not a dedication at all, but rather an indication of what kind of bow is to be employed when performing the pieces; that is, the curved bow that P.D.Q.’s father is presumed to have intended for the performance of his unaccompanied cello suites is to be eschewed for these works in favor of an English “clear bow,” the word “clear” used here in the sense of “straight,” as in, “you can see clear across town from this window; that bump on the horizon is the tax collector’s aushaus.”
Nevertheless, the first person to play these suites was, in all likelihood, another woman, the fiery Russian cellist Pia Tigorsky. Her virtuosity in juggling paramours was as legendary as was that which she displayed with involved with her instrument, and she is known to have been in Baden Baden Baden at the same time that P.D.Q. Bach was there, perpetrating the works of his Contrition Period. This “brilliant comet in the musical heavens,” as the English historian Chuck Burney called her, thought of herself as Cleopatra, and spent her highly nomadic life looking for her Antony, who, in addition to be the love of her life, would help her start a music school. She was born in Siberia and died in Philadelphia, having failed to find Tony or found Curtis. (Incidentally, Pia Tigorsky was, as far as can be ascertained, the first woman ever to play all six of the unaccompanied cello suites by J.S. Bach above the Arctic Circle.)
Professor Peter Schickele
Department of Musical Pathology
University of Southern North Dakota
At Hoople
RC: Self-proclaimed “musicolologist” Peter Schickele (b. 1935) has devoted much of his professional career to the “discovery” of works by P.D.Q. Bach, the (fictional) son of Johann Sebastian Bach. In actuality, Schickele writes music satirizing J.S. Bach, filled with jokes intended for those with musical savvy. Distributed by Public Radio International, Schickele Mix served as a vehicle for Schickele’s joking musical mind from 1992-2007.
A well-rounded musician and colleague heard the end of my recital preview. When I finished and walked off stage, she asked me what this last piece was. She said it sounded like Bach, but there something was wrong. That's the point! When Schickele writes as P.D.Q. Bach, he uses elements of J.S. Bach's music, but does changes things around to entertain the musically learned. My favorite example of Shickele's blatant satire is in P.D.Q. Bach's Short-Tempered Clavier: Preludes and Fugues in All the Major and Minor Keys Except for the Really Hard Ones. I am unfortunately unable to link to that music here, but I highly suggest you seek it out elsewhere. In this work, Shickele satirizes J.S. Bach's Well Tempered Clavier, using contemporary popular melodies to write preludes and fugues. The Suite No. 1 For Cello All By Its Lonesome is less outwardly funny. The first movement is similar to the prelude of Bach's third cello suite, and the third movement can more-or-less be linked to the gigue of the fourth Bach cello suite. However, J.S. Bach never wrote blues scales in his music, as far as we know...
I recommend searching for some P.D.Q. Bach videos on YouTube. You'll find some fun things like "The Art of the Ground Round," and more!
many, many thanks
Since I have the space, I'd like to give thanks where thanks are due. There are plenty of folks who have provided me with the scaffolding to give a successful recital. If I were to thank everyone by name and with description, I could go on forever. For now, I'd just like to give a shout-out to those who have had an obvious and direct impact on this recital. To everyone else, please know that I'm thinking fondly of you.
First and most obviously, Prof. Larry Stomberg. For putting up with me for 3+ years. For taking a chance on the high school senior who couldn't really play the cello and guiding that kid to a senior recital. For bouncing ideas and offering advice. For pushing me to always be better and always be more into the string, dribble the basketball, throw the frisbee, and pet the cat.
My parents, Marvin and Charna Cweibel. For encouraging me to play the cello, even though it meant driving me to school early and picking me up because my cello couldn't come on the bus. For being my parents and doing all those wonderful things parents do. For making a kick-ass reception.
Prof. Marian Lee. For being a fabulous pianist and fabulous at life. Playing with you is such a pleasure! Also, for agreeing that Beethoven is a jerk.
Prof. Russell Murray. For so much, but most pertinent: for acquiring the Baroque cello and suggesting I play the Bach suite on it (and for letting me come over and practice during the summer while the music buildings experienced cave-like climates). For coming to my unofficial preview and "pretending" to listen.
Prof. Phil Gentry. Also for so much, but again, most pertinent here: for encouraging this website madness and giving me lots of great ideas. For being ok with my thesis taking a bit of a backseat in the thick of recital preparation.
Prof. Daniel Stevens. For somehow managing to provide awesome constructive criticism that still manages to be completely heartwarming. For geeking out over atonal Webern with me.
Amanda Talarico. For volunteering to be my personal stylist! For knowing far more than I ever will about hair styles and makeup colors and convincing me that I need to care about these things.
Tons of other people. Thank you all for being you, and helping me be me.
First and most obviously, Prof. Larry Stomberg. For putting up with me for 3+ years. For taking a chance on the high school senior who couldn't really play the cello and guiding that kid to a senior recital. For bouncing ideas and offering advice. For pushing me to always be better and always be more into the string, dribble the basketball, throw the frisbee, and pet the cat.
My parents, Marvin and Charna Cweibel. For encouraging me to play the cello, even though it meant driving me to school early and picking me up because my cello couldn't come on the bus. For being my parents and doing all those wonderful things parents do. For making a kick-ass reception.
Prof. Marian Lee. For being a fabulous pianist and fabulous at life. Playing with you is such a pleasure! Also, for agreeing that Beethoven is a jerk.
Prof. Russell Murray. For so much, but most pertinent: for acquiring the Baroque cello and suggesting I play the Bach suite on it (and for letting me come over and practice during the summer while the music buildings experienced cave-like climates). For coming to my unofficial preview and "pretending" to listen.
Prof. Phil Gentry. Also for so much, but again, most pertinent here: for encouraging this website madness and giving me lots of great ideas. For being ok with my thesis taking a bit of a backseat in the thick of recital preparation.
Prof. Daniel Stevens. For somehow managing to provide awesome constructive criticism that still manages to be completely heartwarming. For geeking out over atonal Webern with me.
Amanda Talarico. For volunteering to be my personal stylist! For knowing far more than I ever will about hair styles and makeup colors and convincing me that I need to care about these things.
Tons of other people. Thank you all for being you, and helping me be me.
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