It’s Recital Season at Carthage (which almost sounds like a line from that famous Bugs Bunny/Elmer Fudd cartoon about “Rabbit Season/ Duck Season”) . . . which means, among other things, a little less time for blogging, playing Pathwords and watching opera clips on YouTube. Instead, just about every spare moment of my time seems to be spent at the piano, practicing with people whose recitals are right around the corner. One consequence of the explosive growth of Carthage’s music department is that our calendar is almost ridiculously packed with recitals this time of year, to the point that there are sometimes three piled up in a single day. And yet, for as much as one might expect all these recitals might to turn into an indistinct blur, I’m actually gratified at how unique each one of them turns out to be – because each musician is their own unique self, bringing their own array of strengths and weaknesses to the table as well as their own personality and artistry. Some are incredibly organized and meticulous in their preparation, with every step of the way painstakingly scheduled. Others fly by the seat of their pants, apparently believing that the music they need to learn will miraculously enter their brain by some sort of mystical osmosis. Some are tremendously gifted but a bit lazy. Some have rather ordinary gifts but work tirelessly to make the most of those gifts. And a precious few are gifted and hard-working . . . and in fact those kind of students have become the norm rather than the occasional exception at Carthage, I’m happy to say.
This spring, I’m playing for four voice recitals as well as a clarinet recital. . . each one a fun undertaking in its own right . . . and one program I’m especially excited about because it’s so uncommon is the one I’m playing for next weekend. It will feature four french horn players- three of them playing solo works, and all four of them playing together in an exciting four-horn concerto by a now forgotten German romantic composer (whose name, as it turns out, I’m forgetting!) I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first time I was in a room with those four horn players and heard the remarkable, magnificent sound of them playing together. I’m not sure just what it is about the french horn, but it has a utterly natural, timeless quality to it that gives me shivers when it’s played well – and then to hear four of them playing together is even more moving and remarkable. Anyway, their recital is a week from tonight and I already know that this program is going to rank towards the very top of my list of favorite recitals and concerts at Carthage over the past 19 years.
Three of the four voice recitals I’m playing for this spring involve voice students of mine, and this is one of the toughest challenges I face as a voice teacher. I feel like I need to be part teacher, part cheerleader, part slave driver, and – in some cases, at least – part psychologist/ counselor. In some cases, I have to find a way to light a fire underneath a singer who is far too complacent about the task at hand – while in other cases I’m having to calm down a singer who is desperate to do well and is almost too strenuous in their recital preparation. To the one I end up saying “Get moving!” while to the other I’m saying “Calm Down. It’ll be fine.” And I actually enjoy working with students from both ends of the spectrum, because that’s what ends up calling forth all of my gifts and instincts as a voice teacher.
Working on these recitals brings to mind so many great memories from the past – recital collaborations which have really built my skills as a musician. The very first recital I played for was when I was just a sophomore in high school, back in Atlantic, Iowa- when two superb singers (fellow students of my private teacher, Cherie Carl) presented the kind of recital typically given by college students- with difficult art songs and operatic arias. It was a very tough challenge for me, and I’m sure I wasn’t quite up to the task. . . but I’m grateful to have broken into the recital business at such a young age. As opera star Christa Ludwig used to say about the importance of opera companies hiring young singers without experience, “if we don’t throw them into the water, how will we know if they’re a swimmer or a sinker?” I suspect that I sank at least as much as I swam that night, but those two wonderful singers, Sarah Wohlenhaus and Jan Kremer, managed to stay afloat despite the clinkers in my piano playing- and somehow I knew that this sort of thing was to become an important part of my life.
And indeed, when I went to Luther, I was already playing for recitals by the time I was a sophomore. One of the most memorable experiences for me was playing for the senior recital of Brian Newhouse, who is now a highly regarded announcer on Minnesota Public Radio. Brian was a very sophisticated and mature musician and a tremendously dedicated musician. . . and whether or not he realized it, playing for his recital was the very best thing that could have happened to me. I was at that point in time content to coast on my considerable gifts, and it was only as I worked with Brian on his senior recital that I came to better understand what it means to really give yourself wholeheartedly to music with true diligence. And although I can’t say that I ever worked as hard as Brian did on a consistent basis, I was a harder worker from that point on than I would otherwise have been – no question about it. And if I managed to do something special with my own voice recitals at Luther, I have Brian to thank as much as anyone.
When I went to graduate school at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln, my assistantship was as a piano accompanist, so I was playing for recitals on a very regular basis and grappling with tremendously difficult music in many cases. One of the recitals which stands out most vividly in my mind was a Sunday afternoon trombone recital featuring a student who was a non-traditional (older) student. I will never forget walking out on that stage with him and seeing NO ONE in the audience except for his teacher. But his teacher handled it so well by calling out to him and saying, “It’s okay- It’s time to play- and I’m excited to hear what you can do.” And so that’s exactly what we did.
It’s thirty years since Brian’s recital and as I help these students prepare for their recitals. . . and as I begin planning the faculty recital I am going to sing first thing this fall . . . the business of recitals is remarkably unchanged. It’s still a matter of a musician stepping on to a stage and in effect saying to the world “listen to this! Listen to what I can do!” And when it goes well, there’s nothing more exciting in the life of a musician. And there’s nothing more satisfying than being a part of that.
pictured above: the aforementioned horn quartet playing their pre-recital jury. At Carthage, anyone intending to play a recital has to offer up a sampling of the recital four weeks before the actual recital – so a panel of faculty jurors can give them the go-ahead with the recital.
By the way, something is wrong with my camera right now, and it only takes pictures through a rather narrow diagonal slit.