This evening, I had a fun little gig playing "solo bassoon" with a clarinet quartet started by our Principal Clarinetist. It was at a local nursing home, performing Christmas tunes for their annual Christmas dinner. As I was warming up, a gentleman at the table closest to us remarked, "That sure looks like a bassoon!" Since most people can't even identify my instrument, I was delighted to discover he had a background in music. He told me he had played "a lot of bass drum and cymbals" but that he had occasion to be around bassoons quite often while studying at the Manhattan School of Music ...more than 60 years ago.
His name is William "Bill" Dolena, a native of NYC, who was a piano major at MSM in the early 1940's. When WWII broke out, specifically the attack on Pearl Harbor, he enlisted with the Marine Corps band and was sent over seas. It was then that he played "a lot of bass drum and cymbals" but wasn't often able to get his hands on the piano. By the time the war ended and he returned to the states, his piano skills had deteriorated substantially. Sadly, he was never able to finish his studies at MSM with the difficulty of the war. There's much more to the story, but he ended up in Great Falls, MT where he made a living as a piano technician until the passage of life placed him in a care facility, with his wife - which is where I met him this evening - now 97 years of age!
I can't express how touched I was, discovering another New Yorker, MSM alum and fellow military musician, in such an unexpected place. My story, though 50 years later, was quite similar. I was a student at MSM when I joined the Army National Guard Band in New York. Fortunately, I was able to finish my degree (B.M. 2002) before choosing to go on active duty to perform with Army Bands after the sobering events of September 11, 2001. It was a joy to perform simple Christmas songs for him, which brought him, and all the residents some holiday cheer. As I packed up my bassoon to leave, he asked for my name again and said, "I'm going to look you up so us two New Yorkers can go out partying together!"
An institution believed in me enough to invite me into their compensation program until I'm 65 or deemed incompetent through formal review.
A department of music vetted me through a 6-month long process and determined that I had what it takes to prepare musicians for successful careers in music.
A group of well-established colleagues felt I would be a good person to work with for the next several decades.
Those all seem a little strangely worded but that's what it means to be given the opportunity to work in our field as an educator or performer. It's a commitment worth a lot of time and money to everyone involved.
A few words about my position:
BYU-Idaho doesn't use a typical tenure track system. Their system is called CFS - Continued Faculty Status - which takes three years to complete. It is a teaching - not research - driven process. I'm encouraged/expected to complete my terminal degree and will be given the time to do so. In addition, BYU-Idaho is a university "without rank" which means that we de-emphasize formal titles and opt instead to address each other as Sister and Brother. This is also part of the culture of our faith as Latter-Day Saints. Some faculty adhere to this, others ask to be addressed as Dr/Professor.
My students call me Sister Crawford and when they graduate they call me Elizabeth.
I'm still trying to get someone to call me Your Highness, Queen of Bassooning. But no takers...yet.
How does it feel?
To capture the magnitude of securing a salaried position with medical, dental, vision, professional development support and retirement, I need to reflect on the long road that got me here.
Age 14 started teaching beginner piano to pay for lessons at Hochstein School of Music and later Eastman School of Music community education.
Age 15 started going to music camps and joined an "elite" youth orchestra.
Age 17 attended and graduated high school from Interlochen Arts Academy.
Worked various odd jobs in high school and college: ice cream girl at "Frosty's," camp counselor at Interlochen, janitor, Rite Aid, Boston Market, Resident Assistant in dorms, office assistant in Student Life, U.S. Army - which had it's own long list of non-musical duties
Went on active duty in the U.S. Army as a bandsman
Went off active duty
Stopped playing seriously, sold my bassoon for 3 years to try being a stay-at-home-mom
Went back to school for my masters degree with a graduate assistantship
Free-lanced for 3 years while in grad school and in the Army National Guard and took MANY orchestra auditions
Won a salaried orchestra gig and toured with an educational outreach quintet for 4 years
Won a visiting artist position in higher ed and taught in that position for 2 years
In my second year applied for and secured a permanent, CFS position
That's a long list and it's missing a lot of details.
This has NOT been a linear process and I'm not where I imagined myself when I was an undergrad at Manhattan School of Music.
Have you seen the movie/read the book, "Marley and Me?"
There's this great scene where Owen Wilson looks at his wife, Jennifer Aniston, and, upon reflecting on where they are in their lives, he asks, "Is this where you imagined us?"
She responds, "Isn't this better than what we imagined?"
(That might be a horribly inaccurate quote but that's how I remember it.)
I am not where I imagined myself!
I have been given so much more along this journey - much more than I would have given myself had I done only what I planned on.
I always tell my students,
Better to have a plan and depart from it than to have no plan at all.
In summary, I'm deeply and profoundly happy...and grateful, so grateful to so many mentors/friends/colleagues.
But those words don't even begin to capture the relief, excitement, realization of hopes, affirmation of hard work, return on investment, security, and continued progress that this "job" represents to me.
Several people congratulated me with the words, "You deserve this!" I've gotta admit, I don't think I deserve anything. But I do think I have earned this privilege...and will have to keep earning it while never forgetting all the work that got me here.
You don't set out to have a career. A career happens in all the little, day-to-day decisions you make as you meet the work of being a musician.
Prior to my position at BYU-Idaho, I was given the incredible opportunity to enter academia as the adjunct bassoon professor for the University of Montana School of Music. This opportunity was spearheaded by Dr. Jennifer Gookin Cavanaugh, oboe professor and woodwind area chair. Once a week I traversed the Rocky Mountains to teach the bassoonists at UM - approximately 5 hours round-trip just in travel time. It was a long day but it was such a pleasure to work with college students on a weekly basis in addition to rehearsing and performing with the UM School of Music faculty members.
I will forever be grateful to Dr. Cavanaugh for inviting me to join the faculty and for all the music faculty who warmly welcomed me. I was only there for two semesters - cut short by accepting my position in Idaho - but I learned a lot. Dr. Cavanaugh was a fantastic mentor and watching her navigate the many roles she has in the school of music was an education for me. One project in particular was her commissioning a new work for oboe and bassoon by California based composer, Jenni Brandon.
Originally funded by a grant from the University of Montana and then with additional funding from the Great Falls Symphony/Chinook Winds Quintet and other co-commisioners (Laura Medisky, Nermis Mieses, Bowling Green State University, Susan Nelson, Bowling Green State University, Bassoon Chamber Music Composition Competition Chair), Jenni Brandon composed an evocative piece, an hommage to the jewel of Montana: Glacier National Park.
I have participated in commission projects before as a performer. It's always...interesting. You're never quite sure what you will end up playing - which is both risky and very exciting. You receive music and typically program notes/compositional ideas from the composer. You are then given the great task of taking an idea and making it a reality, breathing life into something which has not yet been heard, creating the sound which will often set the precedent for how the piece is played in perpetuity.
Being a part of this creative process within a larger ensemble means that, mostly, your job is to show up, play the right notes, find the musical lines and help determine if/when they are errors in the parts. Several editions of the parts may go back and forth between the composer and the performers. Recordings of rehearsals can sometimes aid in this process depending on how "finished" the composer feels the work is.
My first involvement in a commission was in 1997. Frank Tichelli's wondrous piece for wind ensemble, Blue Shades.It has become standard rep for all the best wind ensembles but, for me, it will remain in my heart as a piece newly created and realized by several ensemble around the country. Including the Interlochen Arts Academy Wind Ensemble, where I was playing my senior year of high school.
After that, commission projects seem to come more quickly especially during my time as an undergrad at Manhattan School of Music. MSM, a proponent of new music in general, seemed to always have new works premiering within the many different ensembles. Two in particular stick out in my memory: Scott Eyerly's opera, The House of Seven Gables, which we recorded with Albany Records. The second was a piece by Lucia Dlugoszewski who passed away soon after we premiered her piece for two chamber orchestras in different meters. Sadly, the name of the composition escapes me and very little about her work can be found on the Great InterWeb.
Both of the experiences stick out in my mind because they were so wildly different from each other. Eyerly's opera was tonal, dark, accessible, with a story line well known by listeners. We spent many hours in rehearsal with the composer who actively made changes. The performances were well publicized and the recording project an obvious priority for the composer and the school. I was playing the second bassoon/contra part which required many fast changes between the instruments. In one rehearsal with the composer, my haste to grab the contra resulted in my bassoon falling out of the stand, sliding across the rehearsal room floor and separating into its many joints. There were some unpleasant words that issued forth from my mouth, a panicked retrieval of all the splayed parts, a few tears, and then a strong and awkward exchange with the composer about adequate rests for instrument changes.
In stark contrast, Dlugoszewki's peice was tackled by the New Music Ensemble under the unrelenting precision of Claire Heldrich - percussionist and master of all mind-boggling contemporary rhythms. I recall the great challenge we faced and, honestly, never conquered in preparing and performing the piece. Lucia joined us for one rehearsal wherein I would describe her response to us as...disappointed. I don't remember the performance going particularly well and likely skulked off stage myself feeling completed incapable of managing the task at hand.
Both experiences had an element of unpleasantness attached to them. When Dr. Cavanaugh told me of her desire to commission a new work, I was apprehensive.
Fortunately, Jenni Brandon is an absolutely lovely human being, a beautiful musician, as well as a gifted and collaborative composer. We presented the piece for premier at the 2016 International Double Reed Society Conference in Columbus, GA along with Brandon's The Sequoia Trio for oboe, clarinet, bassoon. I think we (all musicians) put quite a bit of pressure on ourselves when premiering new pieces (especially at our respective conferences) in front of respected colleagues and composers. Unfortunately, I think the pressure of the premier clouded my personal interaction with the piece - more worried about the product and its reception by our peers than Jenni's musical intention.
At the end of this semester my oboe colleague at BYU-I, Kristen Bull and I decided to have a double reed studio recital. To round out the recital I asked if we could perform Going to the Sun... for our students. We rehearsed the piece four times and I was amazed at how easily it came together. How all the sections made sense and, with Kristen's wonderful musical intuition, I felt like we were able to execute the segues organically. Totally void of concern for the performance in front of our students, I found myself joyfully practicing my part, listening to our rehearsal recordings, humming the themes and thinking of my four years in Montana.
Suddenly, the piece became an entirely new, beautiful, celebration and reminiscence of a magical time and place in my life.
I created a video of all my favorite pictures from our family trips to Glacier National Park to play along with our performance. As I chose pictures and continued listening to our rehearsal recordings, I was overwhelmed with the beauty masterfully depicted by Jenni. I fondly remembered my weekly drives over the majesty of the mountains, my time at the university and all the many lessons I learned and memories I now cherish.
After Kristen and I performed it, I knew I had to put together my images with the live recording from our double reed studio recital - not perfect, of course - to truly capture what I believe was Jenni Brandon's true intention for the work. The end result is below and I am unabashedly in love with it! I have watched this video numerous times and with each viewing, I'm amazed at the truly incredible creation of music I was permitted to take part in.
I'm so grateful to Dr. Cavanaugh and Jenni Brandon for being visionaries, using their formidable talents and resources to push projects just like these forward. I'm especially grateful to have made a new and positive memory with a commissioned work and truly look forward to taking part in these projects more in the future.
During my undergraduate study at the Manhattan School of Music (1999-2002) I became obsessed with the Berlin Philharmonic bassoon sound. To me, it was the most beautiful, musical, dark, luscious sounding bassoon section of any major orchestra in the world. I described it to my sister just yesterday like this,
"Imagine you have curled up in front of a fire on a cold and dreary day with a book you know you love. The book itself has that unmistakable musk found in used bookstores - old leather and brittle pages. You curl up with this book, in front of the fire, under a blanket, on a day when you have absolutely nothing else you need to do - in fact all that you needed to do, has been done. You have nothing but this wonderful book and the luxury of the day. This is the sound of the bassoon section of the Berlin Philharmonic: warm, dark, luxury."
I was an undergrad during a time when you purchased CD's. Almost all somewhere in the $12 - $20 price range unless you dug deep in the clearance bins and found a treasure. Once a week I would head down to Tower Records at Lincoln Center (because Virgin Records at Times Square was always too expensive and didn't have nearly the immense classical section), travel up to the second floor and pass through the doors into the classical section. I had to choose my recordings very carefully: cost, label, orchestra. Could I afford it, was it recorded under a reputable label, was it an orchestra with a section I loved?
I don't know how much I spent on CD's during that era but I do know that almost all of them ended up being the Berlin Philharmonic.
The first time I heard the BPO Wind Quintet in person was during my masters degree. Their tour included a performance in Utah at Weber State - it was everything! October 9, 2010.
Marion Reinhard joined the BPO Wind Quintet in 2009 after the retirement of her BPO colleague Henning Trog. It's important to note that Marion was the first female to ever received appointment to the Berlin Philharmonic bassoon section. She achieved this in 1999. You can read more about this in the NYTimes article Berlin in Lights: The Woman Question.Lesser known fact about Marion that we discovered this weekend was that she now plays with the Opera Orchestra in Milan La Scala. On their roster it states she is the contrabassoonist. She shared that after 13 years of playing with Berlin, she made the decision to move to Milan, where her boyfriend is from. I believe that's what we call amore! Marion also shared that she began playing the bassoon at the age of 16 after many years of violin study.
This weekend my flute colleague, Dr. Nadine Luke and I took BYU-I students to Provo to hear the BPO Wind Quintet and sit in on masterclasses with its members. They performed a similar program to what I heard in 2010: Anton Reicha, Quintet, op. 88, no. 5; Pavel Haas, Quintet, op. 10;
Samuel Barber, "Summer Music," op. 31; and Carl Nielsen's Wind Quintet.
On Friday night we enjoyed hearing:
Danzi: Quintet in F-Major, Op. 56, No. 3 Reicha: Andante arioso for English Horn and wind quartet Hindemith: Kleine Kammermusik, Op. 24, No. 2 Ligeti: Six Bagatelles Nielsen: Quintet for Winds, Op. 43
It was simply wonderful! It made me love the Hindemith, a quintet I haven't much been interested in, and confirmed why the Nielsen is part of our standard canon. It's impossible to count how many times I have listened to and played the Nielsen. Yet, in the hands of the BPO Wind Quintet, the piece is as fresh and exciting as ever!
Attending the masterclass with Marion rendered me absolutely star struck and I didn't ask everything I wanted to about her life, career, sound and reed-making. I'm so grateful for Dr. Smith who, with many years of hosting incredible musicians under his belt, finds it very easy to ask questions and engage in light conversation within the parameters of the masterclass setting.
I took away so much from her wisdom as she listened, played, and interacted with the student bassoonists. Much I will keep for myself in my notebook but some I wanted to share here for others to enjoy. I won't get into the repertoire specific feedback she gave but instead share some of her more precious sound bites.
"You have to change the system. Don't go back to what you are used to."
Good Air + Controlled Breath = Better Intonation
Regarding the pacing of dynamics, "You have to fight for all these things!
It's hard work but it's more interesting and more fun for you to play."
"Singing helps us get back to natural music making. We lose this
because we struggle with technical things."
"Always control yourself when practicing."
"Always look for the most natural, relaxed way to play."
Anyone who has seen Marion perform has likely observed that she sits with a harness. She shared that it is actually a guitar strap to which she has added an O-ring and hook and wears on the right shoulder instead of the left. As a student she always stood in her lessons and, to this day, feels that playing with a harness is the most freeing posture for her.
I still need to make it a #lifegoal to sit down and chat with Marion about her career and dissect her reeds. However, seeing her perform again and listening to her up close in the masterclass was absolutely inspiring. After the masterclass I found myself smiling really wide and thanking her when in reality I wanted to hug her - which I learned from our German exchange student is not acceptable (Americans...).
I would now like to rebuild my playing from the ground up!
