Replaced by a string quartet

It’s 8 am in London. My next door neighbor starts practising promptly. I have only met his wife who explained yesterday that he had a concert that evening. They moved into this neighborhood, what, 4 ? 5 years ago. Yet I never bothered to get to know them because one of them smokes, perhaps even both, albeit outside. The cigarette smoke drifts into my garden. And for that, I did not bother to get to meet, much less, know this virtuoso Russian concert pianist.

As the “Flight of the Bumble Bee” wears on, I find myself as the beneficiary of live background music. Ten years ago, I housed a young pianist who practised this exact piece every day while I made my move to the Netherlands. I could only imagine what my neighbors experienced through the brick walls.

Just last week, I unpacked my suitcase to the live background music of the classical guitar — Robert practising for his 3 gigs.

The third guitar concert culminated in Mauro Giuliani’s Theme & Variations. It was a piece I knew like the back of my hand. We went through it many times, the guitar struggling to be heard, the piano unresponsive and unsympathetic. After many years of tug and war, I finally relented.

The guitar cannot sound well if the guitarist has to force it to sound louder than the grand piano. Although it is absolutely possible, as Amsterdam-based composer Allan Segall proved in his first piece for piano and guitar, in most other cases the guitar has to struggle and the piano has to give in. The traditional way in which the duo is written assumes the piano is a fortepiano or some other subservient predecessor of today’s modern piano.

So Robert upgraded to a “concert guitar” — built to match the concert grand piano.

But I still had work to do. I had to constantly adjust to the volume and quality of the guitar sound.

There in Williams Hall at the New England Conservatory, on Tuesday 8th May, at approximately 9 pm, Robert performed Giuliani’s work with a string quartet. The four string players, by sheer nature of their instruments, brought out infinitely more color and texture than I could produce with 88 keys. Each of their four strings was a different instrument. They had the bows to help produce sound at different parts of the strings. They could pull, pluck, strum, hit, and more.

I sat back, resigned to my fate.

I had been replaced by a string quartet.

In the simplest case, my right hand was replaced by two violins and the left hand by the viola and cello. Thinking like this, every piano guitar duo piece can result in guitar and a string quartet or wind quartet or other combinations.

My eyes moistened as I thought of the years of preparation that led to this day. The guitarist can go on — playing solo with other instruments.

The pianist?

I’ve sold my Gerhard Adam grand piano in this Victorian cottage where I experimented with chamber music, house concerts, and eventually decided to pursue a degree in music. My Steinway Grand is sitting in a piano shop in Zeist, the Netherlands, waiting to be noticed, tried, and bought.

And I?

I have returned to where it all began. No piano. No audience. No house concert, but neighbor to a concert pianist who practises all day long.

C’est la vie.

Aranjuez Concerto in the garden of the Victorian Cottage in London, July 2002

Piano playing in Taipei, Taiwan

What a joy it was to meet up with my old friend Tina, whom I’ve known since my teenage years. The way we met was in class in the Hakka town of Miao Li Gong Guan. She was accompanying choir – and I noticed she played a wrong note on the piano.

To discover after a lifetime of wedded bliss, motherhood, career, …. she still plays the piano — that’s the joy!

I grew up in a neighborhood where our fathers were colleagues, our mothers volunteered for community activities, and we kids went to school together. We were competitive, and we all learned to play the piano. Every other year, we’d “return” to our native lands (Taiwan, Korea, etc) on “home leave.” Some industrious parents (like mine) would put us through school so we’d progress in our own languages. That’s how I met Tina.

How many of us still play the piano? Few.

My entire family learned to play the piano. First my father — in college — he learned to play the black keys. He bought a new Yamaha upright (a console) in Okinawa. My mother, my 6-year old sister, and I started piano lessons from a Japanese neighbor, the wife of one of my father’s colleagues. Eventually when my brother became of age, he started lessons, too.

As I listened to Tina sightread the Chinese equivalent of “fake book,” that is, jian pu (simplified Chinese music notation) as right hand melody and accompaniment in Western chords, I thought of all the years that had gone by. Suddenly I felt a shake. The ground beneath me trembled on the morning of Wednesday 27th March.

I stopped her. “What is it?” I asked.

Tina stopped playing abruptly.

The IKEA loft bed above the covered upright piano was shaking from side to side.

“It’s an earthquake,” she replied and went back to playing the same piece.

Barely a week has gone by since she came to pick me up at the airport. Today she waited for me at the same airport with presents.

I wish there was more time to play music — we have not even managed a duet together — ever.

“Come visit me,” I said. “You’ve missed out on all those great places I’ve lived.”

A future blog: jian pu — simplified Chinese music notation

Ides of March Concert

Branding begins with a name.

A relevant name makes it easier to remember than a non-relevant one.

Make the name easy to pronounce and spell. Then it’s easy to remember.

The 15th of March is traditionally known as Ides of March.

Ides of March first page by Anne Ku

For years, I celebrated the Ides of March, not for “bubble, bubble, toil and trouble” or the risk of it, but rather the fact that I launched my first website on the Ides of March.

One particular Ides of March in 1997, I drove my red Nissan convertible out into the wet streets of Houston. Actually, it was more than wet. It was flooding. At the wettest point, I found my car swimming in the waters of Upper Kirby. This ordeal left such an impression that, immediately upon my return, I wrote the lyrics and music to “Ides of March.”

For my Friday Piano Class, I decided to give their first recital a name — the Ides of March Concert. Doors open at 1:45 pm. The Concert begins at 1:45 pm on Friday 15th March 2013 — in Maui!!

A day in the life of the blogmaiden

It was one of those long and winding days, waking up and on the phone while having a make-shift breakfast.

8 am – I thought there was enough time for my 9 am phone appointment with the policy expert in San Francisco.

Multi-tasking on the computer. iPhone.

Then an alert from my google-calendar — a conference call on sustainability. I had completely forgotten about it.

Headset – landline. Desktop. Brewing Hawaiian coffee. Multi-island conference-call and google doc. I was typing away. I wanted to leave by 10:45 am – but as usual, it got too late to be on time for yoga.

So I made a detour – and then made lunch at my mom’s. She wasn’t there but she left her freshly washed and picked greens on the counter for me. The pot that I thought was soup for the noodles I was making turned out to be freshly cooked sweet red bean dessert. I packed them for later.

I had to cancel my 1:30 pm appointment so I could be ready for the 2 pm. Several colleagues descended upon me at once. It was time for the electric vehicle exchange outside the new science building.

I had to empty my flash drive (or memory stick as they call it elsewhere) for the digital photography class. We had gone on a photo shoot last Saturday on the West Side — in quest of EV in paradise, or at least what it should be.

A voicemail from Kentucky. Who do I know there? I had completely overlooked his e-mail of 1st Feb!

Then I opened an e-mail from the State — an urgent request for me to read some extremely technical and legal document overnight and provide feedback.

By 4:30 pm I was spent.

I stayed another 30 minutes to get things printed for review tonight. Did I really want to do more work?

As I left campus, I reminded myself to always leave before it got dark — otherwise I’d feel resentful of giving my day away.

After dumping my mom’s plastics and newspaper at the recycling corner, I drove through the park and thought how best to spend the remaining sunset hours.

Did I want to read outside? Pick rucola from my little garden? Unpack the package from Boston?

In the end, I succumbed to my bed — completely exhausted from working around the clock these last 4 days.

But there was one more day left of this week.

Can I make it?

I had already prepared the test for my 14 piano students. I’m sure they will do well tomorrow afternoon. And then I’ll go through the Circle of Fifths and tell them about Catalyst String Quartet that will be visiting Maui on 27th February.

Before lunch, I will meet with the half-Dutch, half-Chinese host of the dinner party where I will play and talk about music for Chinese New Year of the Snake. A year ago I had researched the Year of the Dragon and the lyrics from the Song and Tang dynasties and presented a lecture/recital with a Chinese soprano. It was something I wanted to do again but simply too time-challenged this year to do one properly.

Will I have time to practise?

No. I have a 9 am meeting with my procurement officer on invoices, budgets, and travel requests.

At least I managed to swim laps in the outdoor pool and got some vitamin D in the tropical sun. That was my treat.

Comfortable with unfamiliar music

Very few people, I daresay, would spend money to hear music they’ve never heard of, written by composers they don’t know, and performed by artists unknown to them. The risk of discomfort and a waste of their time and money is too high. Even fewer people would venture alone to a venue they’ve never visited before to experience the complete unknown.

You lower that risk by going with a group that’s comfortable and familiar to you, led by someone whose authority and expertise you respect.

There are too many other ways to spend your time and money that will give you the certainty of joy, pleasure, and positive value you expect.

I challenge my piano students to broaden their horizons and listen to music that is unfamiliar. They think that unfamiliar music means unknown pop songs or unknown piano sonatas. I tell them that everything they’ve heard and played so far is tonal and consonant.  What? What else is there?

Atonal. Pan tonal. Dissonant. Unfamiliar.

They have no point of reference. How do you listen to music that’s unfamiliar and possibly dissonant?

Does music have to be explained?

I say YES — a resounding YES!

Unless you are the composer or the performer, it could be your first exposure to it — and you do need a reference.

In composition class, our teachers introduced music that was unfamiliar. We followed the scores and learned the techniques of composition. In music history class, we learned to appreciate music of dead composers. In theory class, we analysed them. Perhaps it’s time I introduce unfamiliar music for my students to play so that their ears do not compensate for what they cannot read or play properly (yet).

Step out of your comfort zone and embrace the unfamiliar — how else will you learn?

Real-time crisis management of concert performers

Recently I found myself describing the busiest period of our duo’s life as that of real-time crisis management. Each concert was real-time. Each concert held surprises. We could never fully anticipate  what might go wrong. It took a lot of practice (giving concerts) to get good at dealing with the unexpected.

Some things were in our control, such as giving ourselves enough slack to get to the concert venue, but the even the reliable Dutch train system has defied our planning. We always had to get used to the piano at the venue, its interaction with the guitar, and the acoustics of the hall or room. Our performances were never “broadcasts,” except those on radio. They were interactions, for we affected the audience as much as they affected us.  Any number of things could go wrong. Ambient noise and what seemed normal in the venue’s routine (such as the sound of refrigeration) were not acceptable for optimal concert performances. Yet we had to put up with that.

Real-time crisis management implied adjusting to surprises and solving problems on the spot. When a piano leg broke just before our concert in northern Spain, we found a remedy and gave our performance as if nothing was amiss.

Our rule was never to cancel a gig and never be late to a concert. Even when traffic made it nearly impossible, we kept our word, such as the arduous journey in getting to the south of the Netherlands.

In 2008, we gave about 60 piano guitar duo concerts. In 2009, we gave 36. In 2010, we gave 61. These did not include our concerts as soloists or duo or trio with other instruments, including choir.

In 2011, we gave only 3 piano guitar duo concerts. In 2012, none.

During our active concertizing period, our daily routine consisted of practicing by ourselves, rehearsing together, booking concerts, driving to concerts, performing, and returning. The Dutch have a custom of giving fresh bouquet of flowers. During busy periods, we ran out of vases. Some audiences gave us bottles of wine, boxes of chocolates, and even organic produce from their gardens. Our reward was a fine performance with appreciation shown in the audiences’ faces. And of course, the cheque.

Given this sort of lifestyle, i.e. that of real-time crisis management, it’s not surprising that we didn’t have time to look beyond the concert stage.

Piano guitar before a concert

In 2010, it was clear that the Dutch government was going to make generous cuts to the arts. Our orchestral friends were protesting in the streets.

We set a couple of goals. Go to America. Robert would pursue his doctorate in music while I would revamp my career in other areas that would bring more certain income to allow me to live in Maui near my family. What next? We need to learn the art of planning to get there.

Piano concert in Zeist, Netherlands

On the other side of the world, I am following what goes on in the Netherlands. This coming Sunday 18th November 2012, there’s a concert in Zeist, not far from Utrecht where I used to live. I can’t get there from Hawaii but I hope my friends will visit. When they do, please also visit the room full of grand pianos.

What lives in Zeist, where the concert will take place, is my beloved Steinway Grand. It’s been tuned, regulated, voiced, and ready for sale at euro 19,500, a far cry from what I listed when I was trying to sell it on my own in Utrecht after I tried to say goodbye.

Steinway Grand for Sale in Zeist, photo: Fokke vd Meer

Sunday 18 November 2012
3 pm

Hanna Shybayeva

• Sergei Rachmaninov: Etudes-Tableaux
• Alberto Ginastera: 12 American Preludes
• Igor Stravinsky: Tango
• Astor Piazzolla: Soledad/ Michelangelo70/ Preludio 195/ Adiós Nonino/ Libertango

‘t PianoPodium

Dijnselburgerlaan 1 hal 20 3705 LP Zeist

The Netherlands

e-mail to reserve  Suggested donation 15 euros.

Materialism and the art of letting go

In this age of post-911, post-2008 financial meltdown, nobody likes to be described as “materialistic.”

When I was trying to decide whether to stay in London or move to the Netherlands, my friend Jackie observed,”You’re not materialistic, Anne. What are you going to do with all the money you earn?” With that, I decided to stop earning money and earn time. I moved to the Netherlands to study music.

Sightreading thesis and piano duet sheet music, San Francisco, May 2011

Today I reassured a friend who made shopping a ritual: “You’re not materialistic. You are sentimental. You are attached to what the things represent. You want quality things. So you take your time.”

Equally, I have asked myself why I should find it so difficult to let go of things when I have been described as being NOT materialistic.

In 2003, I threw an open house one weekend to sell my things so I could leave London with less luggage. The only things I moved to the Netherlands were my sheet music, Laura Ashley dresses, and house plants.

Now I need to do the same with all that I have accumulated in the Netherlands. But every time I see something I recognise, like the photograph of a hand-made white vase for a single rose, I’m reminded of where it came from and how it came to be. It’s a present for such and such occasion. It was given under such circumstances. Because it’s a gift, I should not sell it or give it away. But why should I keep it?

A physical object may remind us of an occasion, a relationship, a conversation, a place, or a moment in time. When we attach ourselves to an object, we are relating to all that it represents.

When we walk into a stranger’s home, nothing has history or represents anything meaningful to us. In contrast, our own homes are full of objects that bear meaning.

Buddhism talks about detachment and emptying oneself. I never understood it until now. Why be owned by what we own? Should we be slaves to objects? I would rather spend my time with people and talk about ideas. How can we detach ourselves from objects that consume our time?

Clean up your house. Adorn the walls with unfamiliar art work. Play music you’ve never heard of before. Distance yourself from what is familiar, or make what is familiar unfamiliar by all these measures. Detach yourself. These are the ways to help you let go of what was once dear to you.

Is it regret that you fear? That if you let go, you will regret doing so?

I have a dozen boxes of sheet music that took 20 to 30 years to collect — an activity I rewarded myself in the basement of a bookstore in London. The music is worth nothing to anyone else but everything to me. How can I possibly let it go?

Post-concert recordings

A CD arrived in the post about 4 weeks after the concert. Listening to it brought back memories of that action-packed, full-house evening. The guests started arriving more than an hour before the concert. Half-an hour before it began, the hall was full. Minutes before the concert, I saw the “reserved for pianists only” seats taken by two ladies who read the cards but ignored the request.

It was every concert producer’s dream: standing room only.

Perhaps it was the rigor of concert promotion effort or the success of previous year’s piano concert or both, the outcome was impressive. Nearly a month later, my hairdresser mentioned that she heard about this concert though she was not able to attend herself. One of her customers raved about it.

I was warned that seats would be taken early for the 7:30 pm concert at Maui Music Conservatory, on the second floor of the Queen Ka’ahumanu Mall in Kahului, the capital of Maui County. “Piano Synergy” was the name of this concert, which, for us 6 pianists, actually began 4 months earlier with Sunday afternoon group rehearsals.

On Saturday 14th July at 7:30 pm, Ebb & Flow Arts, the non-profit arts organization on Maui, presented that one-hour concert (without intermission) of original works for many pianos, including the premiere of a new piece it commissioned for this occasion.

The composer Thomas Osborne was not only present for this premiere but also played one of the parts: Piano 1. Aptly titled “Canyons,” it began with Piano 4, nearly always in forte or fortissimo and definitely always the loudest of all 4 pianos. Piano 3 echoed Piano 4 but slightly softer. I played Piano 2, even softer. Piano 1 was nearly always pianissimo. This method of imitation in terraced dynamics continues until an augmentation, a spacing out of the repeated passages. Listen below.

Canyons as performed by Beatrice Scorby, Robert Pollock, Anne Ku, and Thomas Osborne (mp3)

The last work to be performed that evening of the celebration of French independence on Bastille Day was none other than Darius Milhaud’s 4-piano work “Paris.” Wearing my dry-cleaned black silk dress purchased in Paris in summer of 2009, I stood up to introduce this 6-movement work. It was, without doubt, one that required the most study of all works selected for this concert.

“And now, for the piece d’ resistance, Paris, which is the raison d’etre for tonight!” There were French-speakers in the audience who were glad to help my pronunciation. Before each movement, I introduced that part of Paris and what to listen for. After Montmartre came L’isle St Louis. On a foggy day, you can hear the church bells of Notre Dame and nearby churches. Sometimes you can hear they are out of tune!

L’isle St Louis from Paris by Darius Milhaud (mp3)

Longchamp refers to the race courses. The composer chose a fugue to represent that. A fugue literally means a chase. You can hear it getting faster and more intense.

Longchamp from Paris by Darius Milhaud (mp3)

The recordings were made by John Messersmith for Ebb & Flow Arts.

Concert promotion by other media: Ebb & Flow Arts in Maui, Hawaii

Once upon a time, the concert was the talk of town. It’s the end result of all things. But nowadays there is too much competition for your attention — to0 many other things you can be doing, including staying at home and watching TV. To get people to come to a concert, you’d have to promote it.

Identify a concert’s unique selling points. Below is a photo of something quite rare: 4 pianists sitting at four grand pianos. It would catch anybody’s eye. This appeared in a free weekly paper that gets published on Thursdays — and just in time, too — the Thursday before the Saturday concert.

Pianists at rehearsal. Photo credit: Klazine Pollock

How to attract people to come to a concert? Mention the composers and repertoire, particularly if they are interesting and connects. In this case, there’s the premiere of a new piece written by a composer based in Honolulu, Thomas Osborne, who also teaches at University of Hawaii at Manoa. The date of the concert, 14th July 2012, also coincides with Bastille Day, celebrating French independence, hence a concert of music by French composers, including Darius Milhaud’s Paris.

Appeal to different audiences, including those who have access to television. The following 10 minute video clip was aired twice a day, every single day in the week of the concert on Channel 55, the 24/7 cable TV of University of Hawaii Maui College (UHMC).

Reach audiences via different avenues and media. On the Wednesday before the Piano Synergy concert, the following 25 minute clip was aired on local radio.

Kaio Radio: Ebb & Flow Arts (audio clip)

Besides local paper, TV, and radio promotions, there were also color posters, postcards, and local newspaper listings mentioning the forthcoming concerts.

What can we learn from this? While the musicians are busy practising, the concert organizer (producer) is busy letting as many people know about the concert as possible. These “previews” are important to help potential audience decide and anticipate. Here is a blog post anticipating the event.

It’s simply not enough to tell someone to come to a concert. It needs to reach all audiences in more than one way. Before doing so, one needs to think through what appeals, what attracts, what is relevant.