Compelling Interest

Things They Didn't Cover in "Guffman."

[written to a musical colleague]

Thought you might want to know what you're missing by not being involved with community theatre. I've played bass in six shows since February, and these are my observations:

Drummers seem not to be aware of the fact that a straight two-beat exists outside of the concert band. You will, therefore, be treated to a swing version of "People Will Say We're In Love," or a light rock reading of "Some Enchanted Evening." If a song is in three, you will hear light jazz rhythms with brushes on the cymbal: "Dear Friend" is a great First Act closer as a jazz waltz. When a song is a legitimate swing number, it inexplicably transforms into a shuffle if the tempo is slow to moderate.

Pianists generally have good chops, but tend to use the sustain pedal as a foot rest. And they have no concept of when to lay out to let the orchestra do its thing. If they're playing an electronic keyboard, the first sound that comes out of the amplifier...is the way it's always going to sound. Tweak? Tweak what?

Underscoring is always, always, ALWAYS too loud. But people who are in the house who already know every word of the dialogue say, "It sounds fine!" Their brains fill in gaps that they actually didn't hear.

Dynamics from piano to mezzo forte, and indications of diminuendo or decrescendo, mean nothing. They're not even topics of discussion.

Many (but not all) vocalists sing everything in a pop style. It's usually the wrong style.

And the conductors. What do they do about all of this? Nothing. They won't even throw a semi-amused look at a drummer playing a rock beat in a 1940's musical, as if to say, "You're joking, right?" Nothing to indicate that they disagree or even question it. NOTHING! They either don't believe they can tell a drummer how to play, or they don't know what to tell them, or they just don't hear what's going on. That's one reason I'm grateful for my classical training: If I have to, I'll tell a drummer how to play every beat of every measure. I'll tell him not to bring the piccolo snare drum he's so proud of, because it's the wrong sound. I'll tell him that "Edelweiss" is not a jazz waltz!

Oh, the things you're missing! I expect to meet Guffman at every show.

Listening From the Outside

The few revival recordings I've heard recently have much in common that I find lamentable (Damn Yankees, Anything Goes, Singin' In the Rain):

Vocals: Singers tend to sell their voice, not the song. I get the feeling as I listen that they are not even aware of the words coming out of their mouth; they are spouting syllables which they use solely as a vehicle to showcase their voice. They use the mood of the song to sell their sound, but they don't communicate the meaning of the words. It sounds empty.

Orchestrations: Way too much emphasis on mallet instruments. It becomes clear that many orchestrators have been heavily influenced by the cartoons they grew up watching. Over-arranging is rampant; the orchestras sound like a parody of themselves.

Orchestral color:

Bass: Electric bass for Cole Porter or Adler & Ross? I find this simply astounding.

Drums: Drummers have tuned their instruments as if they are recording with the band Toto. They all have a 1980's studio sound, not a live (as in alive), vibrant sound. Everything is dull, muffled. It's a terrible sound for a pit orchestra, which is essentially a big band with strings. They also tend to play fills which are out of style with the rest of the music (too sophisticated; too hip for the room), proving that they are often not in touch with the music that's being played around them.

Orchestral attack: Yes, they play loud or soft when they're supposed to, and they are "tight," but where is the fire? Everything sounds "correct." Compare the original Broadway cast recording or the movie soundtrack of Damn Yankees with the '94 revival. Those Fifties orchestras sounded inspired! Do today's pit musicians enjoy what they do? I don't hear it. I hear "correct" and "tight." (I'm sure that part of the problem lies in the corny orchestrations - the orchestrations are not inspired.)

Alas.

Thoughts On 3 Different Recordings of Damn Yankees

Original Broadway Cast Recording

Strengths: Includes all of the original music. Orchestra swings very well. "Joe Hardy" NOT played by Tab Hunter.
Weaknesses: Vocal performances by Gwen Verdon and Ray Walston a little flat compared to movie recording. Some great orchestral moments (dance sequences) are cut.

Movie Soundtrack

Strengths: Gwen and Ray give great, lively performances. Dance sequences are included in soundtrack, and they smoke.
Weaknesses: Tab Hunter. The component of the story regarding Joe's misery over being separated from his wife is virtually non-existent. "A Man Doesn't Know" and "Near To You" are not performed, and instead, a new song for the movie was written wherein Meg laments, after Joe has disappeared: "There's Something About An Empty Chair." Is there, Meg? Is there? Tab Hunter. Does not include "The Game," and some verses are cut out of other songs.

1994 Broadway Cast Recording

Strengths: The separation between Joe and Meg is portrayed in a much more realistic way (this part of the story IS the story.) Beautiful arrangements in the ballads, especially "Near To You." "Joe Hardy" NOT played by Tab Hunter. Includes a lot of dialogue.
Weaknesses: Some "over-arranging," especially in up-tempo numbers; can sound "Animaniac-esque."


To me, the best recording would be the original cast recording, substituting "A Little Brains, A Little Talent," "Whatever Lola Wants," and "Those Were The Good Old Days" with the movie recordings. And if one can put up with Tab in "Two Lost Souls," one can hear some great dance music that follows the vocals.

Program Notes from the Music Director

Of all the operettas written by W.S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan, Ruddigore is definitely one of them. Ruddigore has everything one would want in a 19th-century English operetta: music, dialogue, plot, scenery, intermission.

As one considers the entire output of Gilbert and Sullivan, one is immediately struck by the uniqueness of Ruddigore. First of all, it is the only G&S work entitled Ruddigore. At a deeper level, it is their only operetta which contains “If well his suit has sped” as its ninth song.

As far as historical context is concerned, Ruddigore opened sometime in the late 1800’s, so that should give you some idea. Wagner and Brahms were both active at this time. It is a little known fact that Richard Wagner attended opening night of Ruddigore. A prominent English businessman of the day spotted Herr Wagner in the lobby during intermission. This, from his diary: “[Wagner] was apparently on his way to the washroom as he passed me. I could have reached out and touched him. He was mumbling something to his companion in broken English – I thought I heard him saying something about the superiority of the German composers (I’m sure I heard him mention Beethoven). Well, I’m no expert, but if you ask me his German accent sounded a bit contrived; I’ve heard better.” Wagner himself referenced that evening in his own diary (translation my own): “Was planning to meet Herr Beethoven for coffee before the show. Was surprised to learn he had been dead sixty years. I am a bigoted, womanizing fool.”

Through the years it has been noted that Ruddigore is perhaps not as well known to the general public as other G&S works, such as The Pirates of Penzance, The Mikado, Aida, and Grease. But this is only because these other shows have been more popular decade after decade after decade.

And what of Ruddigore’s place in the 21st century? What is Ruddigore? Where is Ruddigore? Why is Ruddigore? What role does it play in our everyday existence as individuals and as a society? Well, gentle reader, just look around the room during tonight’s performance as you consider this: If it weren’t for Ruddigore, would any of us be here?

What does it really mean to be an ingenue?

I went to see a rehearsal for Oklahoma! the other night. Community theatre.

The only thing I'll say about the orchestra is that they are using an electric bass - that, to me, says it all.

Why do today's directors and leading ladies insist on playing Laurey as a hard ass? Why would any male in the audience think that Curly would be attracted to a rough, masculine girl, unless this were Oklahoma Meets Broke Back Mountain!? There seems to be a reluctance to allow Laurey to be sweet and feminine, you know, like a girl; as if sweet and feminine equates to being naive, helpless, weak, male-dependent. It doesn't. And when you add to the fact that Laurey is an ingenue, you realize that she can't, by definition of the word, be weak and helpless. Look it up!

I'm going to say it: Shirley Jones nailed it in the movie version. Her Laurey is all woman (boy, is she ever!), and she has a will of her own. But, by having a will of her own, Laurey doesn't have to be played as a she-male. So, let's all just relax and allow independent Laurey to have the grace and beauty that any burly heterosexual would fall for, okay? Good lord, in the couple of productions I've seen lately, Laurey was so gruff that even a real, live Jud wouldn't look twice.

Of Butch, Basie, and Bowl Haircuts

Butch Miles. For me, just a silly name my best friend and I used to throw around in high school. Someone would be talking to us and trying to remember a person's name when we would quickly offer suggestions to "help" jog their memory:

Burt Bacharach? Thor? Butch Miles? Flipper?

Just one of those annoying things we'd do. My friend had discovered "Butch Miles" somewhere and latched onto the name because of its ring. He even mentioned that it was the name of an actual drummer.

Years go by. In a moment of whimsy, I decide to name my bass guitar, but only to mock those who actually name their instruments. Having forgotten that the name represents an actual person, I name my bass "Butch Miles." I get my hands on one of those letter wheels that embosses letters on hard, plastic tape. I punch out the name and stick it to an inconspicuous place on my bass, right next to the bridge below the strings. You have to look right at it to see it.

Years go by. I'm rehearsing with the old church band when the lead guitarist (a long-haired rocker) spots the name.

"Butch Miles?" he says.

"Yeah," I say, a little embarrassed, but loving that someone finally caught it.

"You named your bass 'Butch Miles'?" he asks, genuinely amused.

"Isn't he a jazz drummer?" asks the keyboard player.

"Uh, yeah. I think so," I say.

The musicians in the room are a little perplexed as to why I'd name my electric bass after a jazz drummer of whose existence I am only semiconscious, and the more I think about it the funnier it becomes. Perfect.

Years go by. It is New Year's Eve, and I am downtown at Symphony Center. I have come to ring in the New Year with the Count Basie Orchestra. I open up the program and read: "The Count Basie Orchestra, featuring Butch Miles." Twenty years after tossing out this silly name to anyone trying to remember "the name of that guy," I am about to hear the namesake of my electric bass do that for which he is famous: some serious jazz drumming. A long, very loosely written chapter in my life comes to a close.

As a matter of fact, I had already made some judgments about the drummer before I'd even opened the program and learned his identity. A quick study of his drumset assured me that I would like this guy (I knew the criteria): an old Ludwig set with silver sparkle shells, a standard four-piece (snare, bass drum, one mounted tom, floor tom), two medium-sized crash cymbals on either side, and one big, heavy ride sitting (you guessed it) nice and low between the two toms. "Yes," I thought, "he will swing. He has left himself no other alternative."

And swing he did! As did the band! I was smiling and boppin' my head through the entire two-hour concert. There were a few younger players in the band (I was afraid it would be comprised of a bunch of screaming college know-nothings), but gray hair predominated, and that's a good thing. Despite the criticisms that follow, I would have to say that it was genuine Basie - it was the real thing!

Criticisms:
1. William Basie was not in attendance. He died.
2. Uneven mix between the brass and the reeds; the sax mics could have been a little hotter.
3. Soloists seemed uninspired; there were many awesome ensemble moments, but very few awesome soloist moments. Most solos were a little too "hard bop," perhaps as an alternative to inspiration.
4. Back phrasing was at times executed to such an extreme that it sounded like parody.
5. "I think the bowl haircut is going to make a huge comeback, even though Pete Rose went on to something else. I'm sticking with the bowl." [Side note: This Present Haircut, the Unofficial Biography of Butch Miles, is due in bookstores this fall.]

Hmmm. Butch Miles, drummer. And I thought it was just a silly name.

Never Bow to the Demigods

I think the practice of idolatry in music is at once hilarious and pathetic. I am speaking of the idolatrous nature of the classical music world – a world for which I was groomed during my Master’s program at Northwestern, but a world I never fell wholly in love with.

I remember falling in love with classical music while being exposed to it through my participation in 8th-grade orchestra. I had joined the orchestra at that time as a way to learn how to play the bass. From there I was hoping to play with Benny Goodman and Count Basie, if I just knew where to look them up.

My newfound love for classical music was pure in that I had grown up listening to Top 40 radio. From there, I fell head-over-heels in love with jazz (especially of the Big Band type), and then, by joining the school orchestra, I discovered Mozart and Company. I didn’t come from a background of Beethoven worshippers – I had no idea that I was supposed to idolize men in wigs and their unbelievable, superhuman genius. I just thought the music was fun to play and it sounded nice. Fortunately, I never lost that love for the music.

But as my exposure to this music increased over time, I discovered the world that has been built up around it. It is a world which seems to insist that we will only be truly fulfilled if we live vicariously in the 17th, 18th, 19th, and first half of the 20th centuries through the music that was written in those times. We must marvel at the mathematics of Bach; we must beat our breasts that Mozart died so young, so young; we know that the world will be a better place if we keep performing Beethoven’s Ninth with its message of universal brotherhood – I mean, there hasn’t been a war since he penned that powerful piece, right? I believe it was Hitler who once said: “Wait just a second. Something about that Ninth Symphony I heard the other week…hmm, there was a message in there. Let me just reflect for a moment. Yes, perhaps annihilating millions of people is something we shouldn’t do.” Powerful, indeed.

Seriously, if you read enough of the literature on the subject of classical music (which I have), if you read the typical program notes for a typical concert (which I have), if you even read some of the bios of today’s maestros (which I have), you will be inundated with a paltry hero worship written in the form of the most sentimentalized, flowery pap. Who are we kidding, people? It’s just music, for God’s sake! Lighten up!

This is what I LOVE about the musical theatre world – people in this world have a sense of humor! They’re not stuffy! They love their music and they love the FUN of it!

I have no love for the so-called classical music world – I think it’s sickening, quite frankly. But I haven’t lost my love for the music! When I play Mozart, I don’t consider myself as being on some musical mission to play “perfectly.” I play like when I play in a barn with a bluegrass band (which I’ve done). I let ‘er rip and have fun!! I enjoy it!

If you are a classical musician, I hope that you are enjoying what you do, like you would enjoy playing in a barn with a bluegrass band. If you are not, something is very wrong, and you need to approach the music like you did when you were just getting started – it was fun to play and it sounded nice. That’s why you stuck with it initially, right? If you don’t enjoy it anymore, it’s probably because your advanced studies turned it into a chore, or because some conceited conductor (or a whole string of them) made you believe that he or she is the master, and you are the peon (read "The Toscanini Syndrome" under my "I Can Read" category). To hell with that crap. Go back to your first love: the music and the music making, and forget all the stuff that’s been piled on top of it. Just play, and love playing!

I Can Take It With Me

So, in case you were wondering (and I know you were), these are the CDs that currently ride around with me in my car (in no particular order):

Soundtrack to The Five Pennies. Danny Kaye, Louis Armstrong.

Nat King Cole. Early trio recordings.

The Cole Porter Songbook, Vol. One. Ella Fitzgerald.

Brahms - The Complete Symphonies. Berlin Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan. (His interpretations weren't bad...for a Nazi.)

Handel's Messiah. Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Neville Marriner.

Stars and Stripes Forever and the Greatest Marches. RCA Victor, various artists.

On the Road. Count Basie.

Disney Songs the Satchmo Way. Louis Armstrong.

The Best of Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong. Verve.

Schubert Symphonies - Nos. 3 and 5. Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Howard Shelley.

Beethoven Symphony No. 3, "Eroica." Berlin Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan.

Soundtrack to Carousel. Gordon MacRae, Shirley Jones.

B.G. in HI-FI. Benny Goodman.

Scott Joplin Ragtime, Vol. 2. Recordings of piano rolls from the ragtime era.

The Definitive Collection - Louis Armstrong.

Now you know.

A Word About Stage Fright

I was in junior high when I got the coolest birthday gift I could imagine - a piano. It was a surprise, and I was absolutely floored as the piano movers brought it through the front door.

When I got into high school I took about a year of piano lessons. I would sit at the piano after school and run my scales - up and down, two hands, parallel and contrary motion, over and over. In the midst of these exercises, my mother's voice would come from the next room at random intervals: "Don't forget to have fun with it!" I thought she meant that I should play these dry scales with a smile on my face. That wasn't going to happen. What she was actually suggesting was to break away from the mundane aspects of practicing and play something I really enjoyed for a bit.

Skip a couple of years to my freshman year of college. I am majoring in Double Bass Performance at the University of Denver. It is the end of first quarter, and I have elected to play a jury. A jury is where you play some scales and a musical selection or two for the faculty of your instrument family. So, I was to play for the violin, viola, cello, and bass professors, and they were to grade my performance and give me whatever feedback they felt was appropriate. For a first quarter freshman, a jury is optional. I figured I might as well jump right in.

Out in the hallway, my string playing colleagues and I are waiting for our turn to go into the small room and play our jury. Almost everyone around me is a bundle of nerves - in a bad way. It's a little disturbing to watch; and most of them are upperclassmen! Suddenly (and I mean this quite literally), I heard my mother's voice in my head: "Don't forget to have fun with it!" I made a decision right then and there to do just that. I initially started playing the bass because I thought it was fun, not because I wanted to tie myself into knots in front of other people. I determined to go into that little room and have fun!

And it worked. I went into the room upbeat and confident, with my sense of humor in tow. The demeanor of the faculty instantly changed from bored and tired to alert and lighthearted. I played my tunes, they gave their constructive criticism, and I was on my way. No big deal. And everyone in the room had a good time!

Over the years I have matured as a musician and as a person, and I have come to realize that there is another aspect to overcoming stage fright. It is one thing to go out on stage ready to have a good time, but what if you mess up? What if you miss a note, come in too early or too late, draw a blank? Are the fun times over? Is that it? Do you go skulking off stage and fall into a heap listening to the audience boo and hiss? Far from it!

They say music is the universal language. If that is true, then playing your instrument is a way of speaking to other people. Language, speech, phrases - you have something to say. You choose your music based on what it is musically you want to say to your audience. Beethoven's 5th, or "Misty"? Your choice; depends on what you want to say.

Have you ever heard someone being interviewed, or giving a speech or lecture, or just talking to you at a party? Have you ever heard someone trip over a word or spend a moment trying to search for just the right one? Have you ever noticed that the interview, lecture, or conversation doesn't come to a screeching halt? It keeps going until it reaches its logical conclusion, and no one is stuck on the tripped up words peppered throughout.

"You know, the speech was going so well until he tripped on 'was' about seven minutes into it. He did the 'w' sound a couple times, then started going into 'were', backed up and tried it again, and finally got it out. It was awful. Did he say much of anything after that? I just couldn't get past it." Neither the listener nor the speaker get hung up on such things. The conversation or speech is taken in its entirety, and its point is taken.

How many times have I heard Louis Armstrong hit a bad note or goof a lyric? Many times. But did he make his point? Absolutely! He may not have given a note-perfect performance, but he said what he wanted to say and made his point clear. You knew when he was done that it sure as hell was sleepy time down south, Dolly was indeed back, or, at least from where he was standing, it was a wonderful world. The classical music parallel would be Vladimir Horowitz - he may have missed notes here and there, but you got what he was saying - you were picking up what he was laying down.

So, before I play my bass or my Joplin rag or conduct my show, I think, "What do I want to say right now?" And then I say it. I may trip on something here or there, but when I am done, my audience has heard me say, "Take the A Train," or they have heard me say, "Maple Leaf Rag," or they have heard me say, Cabaret. And they get it, and they applaude.

And I really do have fun with it!

Great Pop

Here are some of the best pop tunes ever produced (in my opinion):

ABBA: Dancing Queen

GO WEST: The King of Wishful Thinking

KATE BUSH: Wuthering Heights

THE B-52's: Dry County; Topaz

TOTO: Rosanna

CHUCK BERRY: Johnny B. Goode*

TAYLOR DAYNE: Heart of Stone

BILL HALEY and HIS COMETS: Rock Around the Clock

All well-written, well-performed, well-produced. Enjoy.

*A NOTE TO DRUMMERS WHO PLAY THIS TUNE AT THEIR GIGS FROM TIME TO TIME

If you have read much of this blog, you will know that I have this "thing" about drummers. No, not that kind of thing.

I was fortunate to have grown up with a brother and a best friend who are drummers - fortunate in that they had both developed an ear for what is good, tasteful, appropriate drumming, and they shared their insights with me. My brother is trained in classical percussion and jazz drumming; my best friend is a rock musician. Actually, my first paid gig was as a drummer, not a bassist.

The point is, though I am trained as a bassist and conductor, I am well-versed on drums. Besides, as a conductor, it is my job to know the role of the various instruments under my direction, including the role of a drumset.

That said, I just want to mention to the working drummers out there a common mistake that is made when performing "Johnny B. Goode," by Chuck Berry. If you listen carefully to the original recording, the one that everyone knows and loves, you will notice that the drummer is SWINGING. Now, imagine in your head the opening guitar riff of the tune, and hear me one more time: the drummer is SWINGING.

The common mistake is for drummers to come in playing a bubble-gum rock beat, just like the one the Beach Boys use on their tune which uses the same opening guitar riff (I can't remember the name of that song). This explains why the Chuck Berry recording sounds so cool, and why it always sounds cheesy at the gig. Chuck's drummer was playing a wide-open swing beat. Honest.

Now, if the tune is really going to rock, the bass player must do a walking bass line along with the drummer, just like on the Chuck Berry recording. However, Chuck's bassist at times would get caught up on some fancy riff that I am guessing he learned that week, disrupting the flow of the heavy swing beat. This is very unfortunate, and I do not advise emulating that aspect of the original. Just walk, baby.

Chuck played and sang the song primarily with straight 8th notes, and the pianist alternates at times between the straight 8ths and the swing. I don't know if this was planned or if it was sloppy producing, but "it is what it is" and it's a great performance.

So, drummers, you might want to talk this through at your next gig before the tune is called. Otherwise, you're likely to freak everyone out in the band if they are used to playing it the cheesy way. Have fun!