THE GLENN GOULD PROJECT - Karishmeh Felfeli's Blog about Glenn Gould, Music, Animals and Life.

Pioneering women ethnomusicologists Part 2 - Frances Densmore

2011-12-05T03:01:00.000-08:00

The now-famous photo capturing Frances Densmore and an Indian chief in a recording session of sorts!

FRANCES DENSMORE (1867-1957)

Unlike Alice Cunningham Fletcher who came to the music of the Native Americans (and to anthropology/comparative musicology) relatively late in life, and mainly as an enthusiastic 'amateur', Minnesota-born Frances Densmore was an Oberlin trained pianist who was reportedly 'frightened by the Indian music' she heard at the World Fair Columbian Exposition in Chicago (Myers, 1993). However, it was Fletcher's monograph on the Omaha Indians that sparked Densmore's own interest in the subject and initiated a lifelong career as a pioneering, prolific ethnomusicologist. I find it fascinating to trace the development of Densmore's own career and compare it to the development of the discipline of ethnomusicology. From 1903 until 1957, Densmore published more than 120 books, monographs and articles on American Indian music and produced over 2000 wax cylinder recordings of this music. In addition her collections of Chippewa and Teton Sioux musics continue to remain landmark reference works in the field even though they were written in 1915 and 1918 respectively.

'Music is intertwined with the life of every race. We understand the people better if we know their music and we appreciate the music better if we know the people.'

But what was it that caused a prim, young, well-educated Victorian women who could have gone on to have a perfectly respectable musical career to venture into dangerous regions, and endure numerous personal hardships to study this 'frightening' music? An overview of a handful of Densmore's writings suggests that she was, like Fletcher before her, deeply invested in the music of the people she studied. Her background as an accomplished musician gave her the added advantage of being able to transcribe and analyse this music. In evaluating her writing, it is obvious that her most important contribution is to the field of regional studies (as opposed to comparative studies which were the trend in ethnomusicology at the time). Her early writings are much more focused on musical/theoretical issues in 'primitive music' as Indian music was then called. One such example is her 1909 article 'Scale Formation in Primitive Music' where Densmore undertakes a detailed analysis of several hundred Chippewa songs which she recorded so as to determine whether the music of the American Indians conformed to any known principles of 'tonal' music. Densmore, like other scholars working at the time (notably George Herzog) was preoccupied with understanding musical form and structure in Native American songs, for she concludes that article by saying that she has found, in her experience that the 'minor third' interval is given most prominence, and calls this interval the 'principle interval of musical intuition'. In later articles from the late 1920s, Densmore is still preoccupied with these issues, for these articles are titled ' What Intervals do Indians sing' and 'Musical Composition among the American Indians'. Another article from this period attempts to provide an overview of existing scholarship on Indian music in the 19th Century, with Densmore offering her own opinions on the findings of other scholars. Interestingly, she (modestly) fails to include any of her own work in this overview, even though she was a very well established ethnomusicological scholar by this time.

Unlike Alice Cunningham Fletcher's writing, Densmore's own style is far more analytical and focused on concrete musical issues without too many diversions into the historical or spiritual. But Densmore thought differently about her own work, for in a letter from the 50s to Willard Rhodes, she states that her own personal approach is opposed to becoming very technical. She also states that she prefers to use the term 'study of Indian music' instead of 'musicology' for this reason. Compared to Fletcher, Densmore is much more specific when discussing the music she has studied, for instance she does use tribe names (Ojibway, Chippwea) and avoids too many broad generalisations. However, in most of her writings, the words 'Indian music' and 'primitive music' are still widely used. Her writings also tend to reflect the preoccupation amongst early ethnomusicologists for 'collecting and preserving' non-Western musics as is reflected in the fact that her songs are arranged by social context and function with detailed descriptions about genesis and use. She was also one of the first ethnomusicologists to address issues of 'acculturation' in her 1934 article 'Songs of the Indian soldiers during the World War'.

As for Densmore's (emic) transcriptions, I found them far more useful and accurate, for they do provide a good general idea of the music being heard. Even shortly before her death at the age of ninety, she travelled to the Seminole Indian community in Florida, and recorded and transcribed their music. She was also one of the earliest ethnomusicologists to experiment with new technologies for the purposes of transcription and analysis such as phonophotography and graphic notation.

I have only scratched the surface of the writings and recordings of both Frances Densmore and Alice Cunningham Fletcher. There are other women ethnomusicologists from this period, most notably Natalie Curtis and Helen Roberts, and I know there are still others who remain forgotten today. I am only beginning to discover the work of these women who were motivated to take 'the road less travelled' despite the fact that they could have chosen far more 'comfortable' scholarly pursuits. There are many unanswered, problematic questions, especially when one considers that Native American music and songs are interwoven with cultural and spiritual life amongst these people. Is listening to them out of context as it were a contradiction of many of their beliefs? I would argue that it is not, for many of us will come to some of this music through the work of pioneering ethnomusicologists who, through their writings and dedication, express the traditions and values of the Indian people who have faced persecution for the longest time.

Pioneering women ethnomusicologists Part 1 - Alice Cunningham Fletcher

2011-12-05T02:20:00.000-08:00

Alice Cunningham Fletcher (1838-1923)

This blog post has been a long time coming - well, at least a few weeks! As some of you have noticed, I've been quite slack with updating the blog, and my radio program 'Offbeat' is also going through something of a revamp, partly because of work/study commitments and partly because of ill-health (which is quite normal for most of us this time of year). One of the main changes to 'Offbeat' will reflect my existing research interests and new 'direction' in life, but more about that soon.

In the meantime, I thought I'd share some thoughts on two pioneering, inspirational women in music, best remembered as two of the most significant scholars of North American music between the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. There is a strange serendipity to this blog post, for it was ten years ago that I found myself in a sleepy college town in Ohio, America: Oberlin, famous for its music conservatory and liberal arts college. As you will see, there is an 'Oberlin' connection with both Densmore and Fletcher.

So, who are these women, and why should you know about their work? Both Alice Cunningham Fletcher and Frances Densmore are best remembered in the discipline of 'ethnomusicology', which, when in its earliest form was called 'comparitive musicology'. Early music historians felt that 'comparitive musicology' was best understood as the study of non-Western, 'exotic' or 'primitive' musics, as opposed to 'musicology' which was limited to the study of European Art music (what we think of as western classical). The term 'comparitive' presumably reflected the trend of early studies of non-Western or 'primitive' musics that were mainly focussed on comparing these musics to existing musics (i.e. art music). No surprise then, that the term 'comparitive' was eventually dropped by the mid 1950s in favour of 'ethnomusicology' which was coined by Jaap Kunst. However, over half a century before this, there were two distinct 'schools' that had developed under 'comparitive musicology' - the German school, which included acousticians and psychologists who emphasised 'lab work' in their collection and dissemination of 'primitive' musics (of whom Carl Stumpf and Eric von Hornbostel of the Berlin Phonnogrammarchiv are notable examples) and the American school, which emphased more practical, field-based research, mainly of the music of the Native American Indians. Elsewhere in Europe, nationalist sentiment played an important part in the revival of interest in folk music, reflected in the collections of Hungarian folk musics of Bartok and Kodaly, as well as of English folk musics by Sharpe and Grainger (more about him soon). Throughout Europe, composers of 'classical' or 'art' music were also incorporating the song of the 'peasant' as it were, into their compositions, to enrich and enhance this music.

Turning to 'comparitive musicology' of the American school from the late 1880s until the outbreak of the second World War, I found it fascinating that four out of five of the most important ethnomusicologists (even though they didn't call themselves that, at the time) working with North American Indian music were women. Apart from Alice Cunningham Fletcher and Frances Densmore, the other pioneering scholars were Natalie Curtis and Helen Roberts.

But both Fletcher and Densmore were amongst the first to go into the field, live with their informants, transcribe, record and analyse this music. And both women did so in incredibly dangerous and difficult conditions, giving up relatively comfortable lives to endure long journeys and live in the most isolated communities. Both women were also involved in 'engaged activism' (Fletcher more so than Densmore), in that they cared deeply about the communities and people they were working and living with, as opposed to being merely concerned with extracting their music and culture so that it could be studied under a microscope by 'white, affluent scholars'. This sort of 'engaged activism' is a priority for many current ethnomusicologists and anthropologists, who want to distance themselves from the colonial origins of their field and 'give back' to the communities and people they work with.

ALICE CUNNINGHAM FLETCHER (1838 - 1923)
Alice Cunningham Fletcher was engaged in activisim, defending minority rights and fighting for land reforms amongst the Indian tribes at the turn of the century, well before anyone else was. And even though she considered herself an ethnographer (or amateur anthropologist) as opposed to a 'musicologist', her work is mainly acknowledged in historical accounts of the discipline of ethnomusicology. Ironically, in anthropological circles she is largely ignored - perhaps because of her lack of professional training, or the fact that she could not boast of a fine 'European lineage'. However, Fletchers studies, writings and findings must be credited for the development of the field of ethnomusicology in North America, and I really do hope students and scholars of North American music, in particular, continue to examine these in their own historical context for years to come.

Alice Cunningham Fletcher is most closely associated with her monograph 'A Study of Omaha Indian Music' from 1893 and she is also best remembered for publishing the first detailed description of a ceremony with detailed transcriptions (The Hako: A Pawnee Ceremony, 1904). Some of her writings and books are found in Native American community bookstores to this day, something that indicates just how respected she was amongst those whose musics and cultures she studied. In her article 'The Study of Indian Music' from 1915, Fletcher is still concerned with understanding this music in the context of its own people and their traditions as well as in relation to the beginning of what she calls 'culture music'.

' By the study of Indian music it is possible to retrace some of the steps that have led from song to culture music'

Assessing some of Fletcher's writings and placing them in their own historical context (remember, this was the late 1800s!), there are some problems typical to the ethnomusicological literature of that period. For instance, in the article from 1915, Fletcher mentions that most of her intensive study is focussed on people 'classified as Plains Indians', but there is no mention of the name of any tribe or tribes she has studied or of any cultural/musical findings specific to that tribe. I presumed that this particular article was based on her experience with the Omaha tribe (given that most of her 'ethnomusicological' work was done in this area, with the help of Francis La Flesche), but since Fletcher was actively involved in campaigning for and administering land allotments for the Pawnee, Dakota and Cheyenne tribes, the article could be based on her studies with any one of these tribes. The 'great plains' span a very large geographical area, and while there are some general similarities between the musics of this region, there are also differences between each tribe's music. As Bruno Nettl (1956) points out, the music of the Dakota tribe is quite different to that of the Blackfoot, in that the former tends to encompass a large vocal range, and is rhythmically and melodically more complex, where as the latter tends to feature simpler melodies and rhythms spanning a smaller vocal range.

Despite these broad generalisations which were quite typical of early ethnomusicological writings, and despite the fact that Fletcher's writing style is very descriptive, and romanticised, with frequent insertions of historical information, her findings of the main characteristics of 'Indian music' are those that you would find in most 'World Music' college textbooks today. As she observes, 'Indian music' is nearly all vocal (sung usually by males or choruses), with a large proportion of song texts containing vocables such as 'yu-waw', 'hi-hi', 'yu waw hi'. Fletcher also observes that melodies are mostly monophonic and that tone systems vary from pentatonic to diatonic and even chromatic. Fletcher is also very sensitive to the spiritual, sacred and religious beliefs of the Indians, the significance of 'dreams' and 'spirits' in their songs, and again, a lot of what she explores in this context matches other literature on this music from more recent times. Some may argue that because Fletcher was so passionate about Indian music and Indian culture, her writings were not sufficiently 'scientific' or 'objective'.

Another problem that arises from Fletcher's pioneering ethnographic work, is the transcriptions of the songs she collected and recorded, which were prepared with the help of another Oberlin trained musician, John Filmore. Fletcher would only attempt to notate the basic melodic outline, and Filmore would then prepare extensive transcriptions by listening to the wax cylinder recordings. However, Filmore's transcriptions contain 'harmonisations' of these Indian melodies and songs - in other words, what is certainly NOT 'Western' music suddenly looks like it on paper. There are key-signatures, time-signatures, and, as I said, harmonisations. The result is that while these may sound absolutely delightful if played on piano and sung, they bear little resemblence to the original song. These transcriptions are also one reason why Fletcher's work is so overlooked or ridiculed by modern historians, for they felt she was trying to 'Westernise' or 'Americanise' the native people. However, Fletcher does outline the reason for these harmonisations in her 1898 paper, where she describes an experiment of sorts that she conducted together with a friend from the Indian community she was living with. She played on piano the melody of a song he had recorded for her and he failed to recognise the tune, because his ear was drawn to (and distracted by) the mechanical sound of the hammers striking the keys. Fletcher then sang the melody and played the tune on piano simultaneously, and the Indian singer found it easier to sing along with her. However, he claimed that the music still did not sound 'natural' to him. It was only when Fletcher played a few simple chords underneath the melody line, that her Indian collaborator was satisfied. This led both Fletcher (with greater insistance from Filmore) to conclude that the Indian people had some idea of harmony. Unfortunately, the transcriptions bear little or no resemblence to my experience of this music, even though Fletcher's own annecdote was fascinating to read. Moreover, the transcriptions lack any 'descriptive' markings to indicate any peculiarities in the music, such as vocal pulsations, or the 'crying' or sobbing sound that breathing vocables are meant to portray. Her writings also tend to be filled with words that describe very 'Western' notions of music and song, for example she uses the words 'piano' and 'forte' instead of 'soft' and 'loud' and also uses the word 'aria' instead of 'melody' or 'song'. Despite this, I do feel that accusations and criticisms towards Alice Cunningham Fletcher are utterly unwaranteed, given that she devoted most of her life to campaigning for land-reforms, and 'giving-back' to the Indian community well before anyone else in ethnomusicology was concerned with this sort of engaged activism. As Jeff Titon points out on his Sustainable Music blog, even though today's historians fault Fletcher for failing to respect the native cultures, her writings, transcriptions and work must be best understood 'in light of the prevailing climate of opinion regarding Native Americans. The alternative to Americanisation after all, had for nearly three centuries been to exterminate them and confiscate their lands.'

Ultimately, Alice Cunningham Fletcher's life-long interest in Indian society, music and culture as well as her passionate advocacy for Indian rights and reform is visible in these earliest writings and in the work she did to 'give back' to those she lived and worked with. Most importantly, through her evocative writings and recordings, she inspired a generation of young American ethnomusicologists, most notably a young Frances Densmore who would go on to become a pioneering woman ethnomusicologist in her own right.

Stephen Posen, Executor of Glenn Gould's Estate remembers his close friend - An intimate birthday radio special

2011-10-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

Stephen Posen and Karishmeh Felfeli

Glenn Gould (b. 25th September 1932)

CROSS POSTED FROM THE OFFBEAT RADIO PROGRAM WEBSITE

"As far as I was concerned, Glenn was a warm, brilliant, funny fellow." - Stephen Posen
Air Date:
24 September 2011
LISTEN TO PART 1 - Stephen Posen and Karishmeh Felfeli remember Glenn Gould

LISTEN TO PART 2 - Stephen Posen and Karishmeh Felfeli remember Glenn Gould

This program is the second in a series of upcoming specials devised and produced by Karishmeh Felfeli and devoted to Glenn Gould between August 2011 and October 2012. On the eve of what would have been Glenn Gould's 79th Birthday, Offbeat presenter and Gould scholar Karishmeh Felfeli explores the Canadian man and musician whose work she has been researching for the past decade, and whose philosophies were instrumental in her own musical journey. In this intimate program, Karishmeh explores that side to Glenn Gould that is often glossed over, his empathetic, kind, good-natured, fun personality. Her guest on the program is Stephen Posen, a Toronto based lawyer, who was Glenn Gould's close friend, lawyer and who has been the Executor of the Estate of Glenn Gould since the time of the pianist's untimely death in 1982. Steve shares his thoughts on his friend, and also sheds some light on what he was like as a person, thereby debunking a lot of the common preconceptions people have about Glenn Gould. Karishmeh and Steve also discuss Gould's will and legacy, and its future for coming generations. The conversation is coloured by some musical examples - Bizet, Schoenberg, Beethoven, Liszt, Sibelius and Bach. Ultimately, this program is a simple tribute of sorts, shedding some light on Glenn Gould, human being extraordinaire, as opposed to the common perception of Gould as an "eccentric, musical genius."

PLAYLIST
Schoenberg - Piano Concerto, Molto Allegro
Bach - Well Tempered Clavier Book 1, Fugue in F sharp major
Beethoven - Sonata for Violin and Piano in G, Movt 3 - Scherzo Allegro Trio
Brahms - Concerto in d minor, Adagio*
Bizet - Nocturne in D major
Beethoven arr. Liszt - Symphony No. 6*
Bach - Keyboard Concerto No. 7 in G minor, Movt 2

All works marked with * are extracts, the rest of the musical examples are complete recordings.

For more information about any of the above recordings, and direct links to them on Amazon, check out Karishmeh's Glenn Gould Project Website "Read and Listen" page.

You can also get these recordings and much more on the iTunes Glenn Gould Page here

EMAIL THE PROGRAM - offbeat AT dublincityfm DOT ie

If you missed Karishmeh Felfeli's programs with Glenn Gould's biographer Kevin Bazzana you can listen to them here.
Check out Karishmeh's Glenn Gould Project Blog and Website to read her own thoughts on Gould, as well as on music, animals and life, or follow her on Twitter here.
Find out more about the CBC's upcoming 10 DVD collection "Glenn Gould on Television" here.
Visit the Sony Classical Website about Glenn Gould.
Find out more about the work of the Glenn Gould Foundation here.

Glenn Gould Biographer Kevin Bazzana talks maverick pianists on "Offbeat", Dublin City FM

2011-08-06T00:30:00.000-07:00

Canadian Music Historian and Biographer Kevin Bazzana collaborated with me on Offbeat, my radio program for Dublin City FM, and spoke about the end of the golden age of piano playing, maverick pianists, as well as the subjects of his two biographies - Glenn Gould and Ervin Nyiregyhazi. Most well known for his superb, award-winning biography of Glenn Gould "Wondrous Strange", Bazzana is also author of one of my favourite books of the past few years, "Lost Genius", the biography of the forgotten Hungarian pianist Ervin Nyiregyhazi.

The program features my conversations with Kevin Bazzana, as we explore some historical recordings, comparisons of piano recordings, and featured performances by de Pachmann, Rachmaninoff, Scriabin, Freidman, Richter, Tureck, Uchida, and, of course, several recordings of Glenn Gould and Ervin Nyiregyhazi. Bazzana also talks about the motivation behind both biographies, and his career as a non-academic writer (despite having a PhD, the subject of his dissertation being Glenn Gould), and his interest in talking about classical music to people from all walks of life.

Maverick Pianists and Glenn Gould (the first part of two programs featuring Kevin Bazzana) aired on 6th August 2011, at 9 p.m. GMT on Offbeat, 103.2 Dublin City FM

LISTEN TO PART 1 - Kevin Bazzana on maverick pianists and Glenn Gould

LISTEN TO PART 2 - Kevin Bazzana on maverick pianists and Glenn Gould

Maverick Pianists and Ervin Nyiregyhazi (the second edition of two programs featuring Kevin Bazzana) aired on 13th August 2011, at 9 p.m. GMT on Offbeat, 103.2 Dublin City FM

LISTEN to Kevin Bazzana talk about maverick pianists and Ervin Nyiregyhazi

Singing the Gathas in Avestan for an Irish Radio Play!

2011-07-20T11:55:00.000-07:00

The House on Shareni Street

Written by Sheila Llewellyn and produced by Aidan Mathews for RTE Radio 1
Winner of the 2011 PJ O'Connor Award for Radio Drama

I've just listened to a radio play that aired on Ireland's national radio broadcaster - set during the '79 Revolution. I was asked to contribute, so I chose to sing some of my favourite Gathas from the Zend Avesta in the Avestan language.

Mainly for my grandfather Manuchehr, who taught my brother and me these verses when we were both children, for our Navjote. I used to love the sound of them so much, it wasn't a chore at all, and to this day, if I'm especially nervous or worried about something, I sing/recite these to myself. Before every concert/recital, I would do the same, so it was quite surreal to lend my voice and share these deeply private, personal verses over the airwaves. I'm grateful that I was born in India, so that my family were able to live as they saw fit, and so that me and my brother could have our Navjote, so that we could live as practising Zoroastrians, go to Anglican schools, enjoy Indian music alongside Persian music, and pursue Western classical music and drama while also speaking in Gujarati and Hindi. I'm also grateful that I spent the first part of my adult life in Ireland, because despite all the challenges I faced there, I was allowed the freedom to live as I liked, and do whatever I wanted. I wonder if I will ever get to feel the same way about Iran....Anyway, I've made my grandfather very happy today - I'll add a link to the podcast when it's available, and I'll also send him a copy. He will feel his life (or that of his father, who travelled to India from Iran via mule!!) has not been in vain after all.

The House on Shareni Street

Written by Sheila Llewellyn and produced by Aidan Mathews for RTE Radio 1

LISTEN TO THE ENTIRE PLAY - THE HOUSE ON SHARENI STREET HERE
Duration 55 mins

On John Lennon and Glenn Gould - kindred souls that just did not know it!

2011-04-10T14:20:00.000-07:00

John Winston Lennon

Glenn Herbert Gould

Acerbic. Sharp. Cynical. Contradictory.Compassionate. Authentic. Mesmerising. Brilliant. Enigmatic. It might be a coincidence that Glenn Gould and John Lennon were both born under the zodiac sign of Libra but I've been thinking about both men and musicians for a while, and have found them to have far more in common than Gould would ever admit!

On the surface, there appears to be little evidence that their paths ever crossed. One can speculate that Lennon might have come across Gould's Solitude Trilogy radio documentaries, via Yoko Ono's friendship and collaborative history with John Cage, a composer with whom Gould also communicated and collaborated. There's no definite proof that Lennon ever heard Gould's documentaries, but The Beatles' Revolution Number 9 uses the same recording techniques (loops, overdubs, sound effects, noise addition) that Gould himself used in the Trilogy, as well as musical innovations that were also used by John Cage, Beethoven and Bach! Ian Hammond goes into more detail about the possible sources of inspiration for Revolution Number 9 in his essay on this explorative piece, but apart from that, there is no evidence that The Beatles ever knew or even cared about Gould's work. Gould's opinions on The Beatles, on the other hand, are well documented - it is safe to say that he had very few good words to say about most of their recording output, and was almost as damning towards them as he was to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

How is it that two men who lived such radically different lives could have anything in common? One, a caustic Liverpudlian who would go on to create music that would redefine the 20th Century. The other, a Canadian icon who would shatter the sterile "classical music" industry, and abandon the concert platform at the height of his fame. Yes, on the surface, these two brilliant minds appear to have made their mark on the world, on humanity and on music in very different ways - in a sense, I would never be able to choose between Lennon's creative genius or Gould's puritanical art. But I was drawn to Lennon in the same way as I was drawn to Gould - through their musicianship and later, through their brilliant, if sometimes flawed personalities. They were both geniuses, yet their lives were shaped by the decisions they made and the often controversial disregard they both had for authority, for the press and for the commodification of their art.

Glenn Gould spoke about his dislike of The Beatles in a conversation with Jonathan Cott - who, as fate would have it, was the last person to interview John Lennon. Cott (being writer/critic for Rolling Stone) was not going to accept a lukewarm dismissal, so Gould had to articulate his thoughts on the subject - though I'm sure Gould was bright enough to know Cott might have asked him about The Beatles, given the writer's own background! Gould claimed to be irritated by the "middle period Beatles" with their "sitars" and "new-fangled mysticism" - in a sense, he blamed The Beatles for the dominance of harder rock music within the popular music genre. For Gould, who had grown up with the Big Band sound, The Beatles represented the end of an era in popular music that he felt was more refined, more sophisticated than the loud, simplistic rock music the Merseyside lads created, so he turned on them in typical Gouldian fashion. I honestly don't believe for one second that Glenn Gould really hated the music of The Beatles as much as he claimed to - I think it was simply the fact that he did not know many other rock bands, and because The Beatles were so highly regarded by composers such as Ned Rorem (who called them the greatest tunewriters since Schubert), Gould felt he had to intervene with a typically convoluted criticism. I sometimes feel (and this is the case with Gould's criticism of Mozart's Piano Sonatas) that Gould could be so over the top in his dismissal of someone or something because he felt he had something in common with the person in question but could not bring himself to admit to it, or that he really admired the person in question and was a bit irritated, a bit insecure about the fact that they had done creative things that he himself wanted to but could not find the means to do so. Before all the crazy Gouldians start screaming at me, I'm not suggesting that Gould was any less of a genius for thinking and feeling this way. It is a very basic, human response to aggresively criticise or outwardly dislike the very same person you deeply admire or love (don't most teenagers do this when falling in love for the first time?). I don't think Gould was obsessed with Lennon, obviously, or The Beatles for that matter, but I don't believe for one second that he was as ignorant of their music as he claimed to be. In Gould's case, it is just that apart from his mother and one other teacher, he never had any other formal musical education - so he was exposed to a restricted number of composers, allowed to form his opinions early, and never really given the push to expand his horizons or challenge his preconceptions.

Yet, both Glenn Gould and John Lennon were not afraid to take a chance when it came to music. Gould was brave enough to record interesting, out-there repertoire, (the Goldbergs or Schoenberg's Piano Concerto) that other pianists would not touch, and even braver to record this music in a way that completely surpassed anything that had been done before. Lennon was brave enough to take Rock and Roll by the balls and write songs that summed up the most fundamental of human emotions - love - in a way that was edgy and authentic, pure and visceral. Take "I want to hold your hand" or "Help" - both songs that produce the same effect on me that Gould's Goldberg Variations did. Even Gould admitted he could not fault "I want to hold your hand" - it sums up Lennon's genius in under three minutes.

Despite their seemingly tough exterior, both Glenn Gould and John Lennon demonstrated that even geniuses are only human - neither of them were exempt from criticism and scrutiny throughout their lives (something which continues decades after their death) and this made them insecure, distrustful and often painfully shy, despite their willingness to embrace new media and technology to share things that were close to their heart. And even though Gould was, in many ways, "the last puritan" and Lennon a "drug taking hippie", their own personalities and the image they presented to the outside world was very different to the kind of men they were behind closed doors. In this respect, they couldn't be more similar. Sadly, the fact that both Gould and Lennon were such enigmatic, creative people meant that the world could never get enough of them. And despite their love for and obsession with their art,both men probably wanted nothing more than to be left alone - this is reflected in Gould's quest for "Solitude" and Lennon's five year hiatus as a house-husband. There is no question about the fact that at their best, Gould and Lennon were incredibly loving, compassionate, kind men with a hatred for injustice of any kind - this is reflected in Lennon's numerous Anti-War campaigns and Gould's bequest of his entire estate to the Toronto Humane Society and the Salvation Army. In fact, their love of animals is something that is often glossed over - Lennon was an ailurophile who always had many cats no matter where he lived. Gould, a dog lover, could not bear cruelty to animals, and said he got on better with animals than with people.

Yet when it came to relationships with people, Gould and Lennon could be as cutting and cold, as they could be generous and giving. I find revelations of Gould's "affair" with Cornelia Foss utterly pointless and dreary - his private love life is meant to be just that - private. But what can be confirmed is that he was as obsessive and passionate in love as he was when immersed in a musical project - provided his other half could accept his madness and genius for what it was, without any need for him to change or compromise. The same can be said of Lennon's relationship with Cynthia Lennon, and his behaviour towards Cynthia and Julian when the latter was still a child. In many ways, Yoko Ono was probably the only woman who "got" Lennon, in that she accepted him for what he was and who he was, a flawed, imperfect, brilliant man with more good qualities than bad. Sadly for Gould, there was nobody, man or woman, who was willing to love him as he was - Cornelia Foss stated that while she lived with Gould for four years, and he was also excellent with her children, the arrangement and environment was too unstable, too difficult long term, which is why she returned to Lukas Foss and reconciled with him. If Cornelia Foss is to be believed, then Glenn Gould was more "human" than some people like to believe (the same sort who think that God and the church were the sole inspiration for Johann Sebastian Bach's art). He was passionate and not repressed sexually, and the very fact that he chose to fall for a married woman and be with her makes him have more in common with someone like John Lennon (who left Cynthia, fell in love with Yoko, then went off for a year with May Pang).

In December 1980, when John Lennon was shot to death, Glenn Gould had begun thinking about re-recording Bach's Goldberg Variations. He was approaching fifty, and was excited about revisiting this immense work with which he had begun his career as a recording artist. He was also strangely philosophical about life itself - and had become fixated with the notion that he would not live past the age of fifty. Lennon was no stranger to Eastern mysticism and theories of reincarnation, but then again, neither was Gould. Both men were fascinated by the idea of reincarnation and the multi-life view - Gould spent quite a bit of time reading about the hereafter, numerology and mysticism and was convinced he would be reincarnated a couple of years after his death as Sam Caldwell. Lennon, who had been to India, followed the Maharishi, then seen through him and written about his experiences in the brilliant "Sexy Sadie", also had a strong idea of reincarnation. He simply said “I imagine that death is like getting out of one car and getting into another.”

If that is true, then both John Lennon and Glenn Gould are very much here, the question is where - or "within whom?" Does it matter? I don't think so - I'm just fascinated by the fact that when I listen to a John song like Isolation, or hear Gould's distinctive humming in a Sarabande by Bach, it produces the exact same reaction within me. A combination of bliss at the beauty of the music itself, and sadness that both men are not alive and creating right here and now. They may be long gone, but I can't help but think that if their take on the afterlife is to be believed, both John Lennon and Glenn Gould are hard at work in a recording studio somewhere, adding overdubs to contrapuntal poetry. Gould might even have gotten over his youthful dislike of The Beatles, and I wouldn't be surprised if he took it upon himself to play the Baroque interlude in "In my Life" with John singing and playing guitar. There might be a few cats in this studio in the clouds, and an old stray dog as well - come to think of it, when I die, I very much hope I get the chance to express my crazy thoughts and ideas to both these creative minds in person. Until then, I can only hope that I go on as truthfully and with as much integrity as I can summon up, and using both Glenn Gould and John Lennon as examples in how to live your life without selling your soul or yourself for the sake of fame and money.

Me and my piano - on life without a piano, Glenn Gould's pianos and why I now identify with adult pianists

2011-01-20T02:38:00.000-08:00

It has taken me a long time to write something here. And like many of the posts on this website, this too has been written on a train. I'll type it up when I'm back at a computer next. Today's travelling time was 8 hours and 10 minutes, and the journey would be a lot less bearable had I not brought two of my favourite "letters" volumes - those of Glenn Gould and Mozart. I'm not a Mozart "groupie" as such, but I always find the urge to dip into his letters from time to time, and they never fail to make me laugh, cry and get completely inspired. Though it always feels wrong reading his most private letters, ones that were never intended for my eyes.

In both Gould's letters and Mozart's, there are frequent mentions of the sort of pianos they were playing on.I don't need to go into much detail with Gould's love for his Steinway CD318 piano and also that battered Chickering as I've already spoken about both pianos before. Gould also speaks about his experiences with pianos in foreign countries and how he coped with all the challenges that came with playing on less than perfect (in some cases, downright brutal) instruments. It has always puzzled me when concert pianists dead and alive develop such a fixation on one particular piano, or make of pianos that they are reluctant to play anything else. It also irritates me beyond belief when young up and coming pianists start throwing tantrums if a Steinway concert grand is not exactly what they want - I witnessed an 18 year old young Canadian pianist yell and scream at her father (her manager) and concert promoters because she wasn't happy with the piano she had just played on. Insane behaviour! I've always enjoyed the challenge of playing on ANY piano, anywhere, at any time. At concerts, I would avoid practising on the piano of choice too much beforehand, simply because I got a bit of a kick out of sitting down and not knowing what to expect and then making friends with the instrument through the music I was playing. I realise, I'm the insane one, but then again, I have always viewed the piano recital or concert as a way to express myself, irrespective of the kind of piano I'm playing, or the acoustic in the hall, or even the lighting for that matter.

Having said that, I don't think I comprehended the full extent of my love affair with one particular piano, a Yamaha upright that I found hidden at the back of the piano store many years ago, and one that I insisted on buying even though it wasn't for sale, or even on display. As soon as I sat down and played it, I knew that this piano was one in a million - far more beautiful than even some of the baby grand pianos I had played. More importantly, I knew it was a toughie - it wouldn't go out of tune very often and would be a good match for my hours of practice as well as for my pupils. Sure enough, as the years went on, I would only need to tune it maybe once every 16-18 months, if that. Sometimes I would only tune it as a precautionary measure - it was that special! But like all materialistic things, it is important to not get "too" attached, so when life's circumstances dictated that I had to sell it, and relocate, I did it without getting too sentimental. It was nice to know that it would be going to a deserving piano student (a late starter teenager) and I had far greater worries and problems to cry about rather than the loss of a piano, which could be replaced at a later stage. So I sold it, used the money to clear some of my short-term debt and disappeared off the face of the developed world.
For the first year or two, I had so much to cope with - a serious illness, adjusting to life in India after being away since I was 18, and quite a bit of upheaval caused by these changed circumstances.

My radio programs brought me immense joy and creative satisfaction, and also took up so much of my time, along with working 9-5 after years of being a full-time musician/teacher - so the piano, that piano or any piano was far from my mind. To some extent, I think I made a very conscious decision to suppress all thoughts related to piano playing - I packed away all my music scores and books - boxes and boxes of them, and gave most away to the library and one of my adult students. In India, it was easy to suppress, because there were no pianos to be found anywhere in the city that I was living in. Plus, I was living a very simple life - rising at dawn, sleeping by 8 p.m. (electricity failures for a few hours each day mean one uses the natural light far more than one does in the west), looking after the menagerie of stray dogs and cats, working, cooking, reading, meditating and making radio programs. It was easy to assume a sort of new identity and a very important time in my life - stripped away from everything that defined me. Without my piano, music books, students, I did not know who or what I was. I've written about the experiences I had with people who knew me and "friends" who stopped contacting me once they had heard I was not giving concerts or doing anything music related. Even that was something I coped with, and took it as one of life's important lessons.

On a side note, I will never forget how excited I was when I first left India to go to America, and when I set foot into the music conservatory with all the practice rooms filled with concert grands! That alone seemed like a good enough reason to audition, to leave India and pursue a life of music, irrespective of the fact that I would always need to work two or three jobs to support myself if I was to do this.

Even as a child, I did not get a piano until after I had finished my Grade 8, after I played my first concerto in public - when I was about fourteen years old. Most of my childhood consisted of 5 a.m. starts - I'd go to my piano teacher's house before school, she would lock me in, go to Mass and then two hours later, I would go to school, having done my daily practise. So fast forward fourteen years...being "without" a piano should not have been so traumatic, given that I had never been born into a house which already had one!

But I realise now, that it was traumatic. After nearly two years of not even touching a piano, I had the chance to play one some months ago - I was finally living in a city where pianos aren't rare, mysterious objects. As soon as I sat down at the piano, I found it excruciatingly difficult to focus on the task at hand - read through some easy Schumann piece - because I was so completely overwhelmed by the emotions I was feeling, reuniting with an instrument that has been such a vital part of my life. In many ways, it was like seeing someone you were in love with for a lifetime and attempting to converse with them again after not having any contact with them for a long time. It was an out of body experience, in one sense. I never felt like I was physically present, and the notes on the page might as well have not been there. My fingers trembled violently, I could hear my foot shake non stop at the pedal, my eyes were glazed over and my mind filled with all the questions, ideas, memories. I had devoted my life to playing music in front of people, and also in later years, sharing my musical knowledge to adult and amateur students. For the FIRST TIME, I could honestly say I knew how they must have felt. For that evening, sitting there at the piano, I honestly believed I had forgotten EVERYTHING - from reading music to actually playing it. I had suppressed my grief at being forced to give up something that meant so much to me, something that was my entire identity, and being reunited with it was just too painful.

The ordeal of the previous few hours was made worse by the fact that I had to have this most personal experience in front of another person, a student at the music college who was possibly the least empathetic person I've ever come into contact with, though I didn't see it at the time, as my head was spinning so much. Later that night, I replayed the events of the previous few hours in my head, and was glad of one thing. I didn't feel any anger. As in, I didn't feel any bitterness or resentment. I wasn't thinking along the lines of "two years ago, I could toss off any of the Bach concerti from memory, and sight-read pretty much anything, now I can't even play a childishly easy piece." There was none of that. I think somewhere deep down I had not lost perspective totally. I was having a horribly difficult experience but it had nothing to do with my actual musical ability.

And that is why I feel so, so vindicated - that I chose to devote my twenties, and most of my professional career as a pianist to helping older "amateur" (hate that word) pianists. My first piano professor had warned me at our third lesson "stop running around teaching adults who can't play a note, you're wasting time with such nonsense." Lovely woman, wasn't she? I did the opposite. I would practice for my conservatoire exams, competitions and spend all my spare time working with absolute beginners, or anyone who had not played for years and wanted to resume playing. And I speak the truth when I say that nearly all the advanced adult students I taught over the years could perform in front of an audience to a superb standard, something which I never saw that professor do! So much for "amateur" pianists and "professional" pianists.

I'm digressing, but then again, I always do when writing here. I was actually making the point that even the most out-of-practise adult pianist never really forgets. And that all it takes for anyone to play the piano to a very high standard is a true love of music, focused practice and a teacher who is willing to bring out the student's full potential - through sound technical help but also through empathy and sincerity.

I'm still on the road a lot. Radio, my "other" love, takes up a lot of my time, as does living in the real world, making ends meet and saving tigers and old dogs (!). But I have been playing much more these past few months and my piano no longer lives at home. In fact, I don't have just one piano anymore. I now have a menagerie of pianos to choose from - a beautiful grand in a tiny church, a battered old Broadwood upright (similar to the piano I finally acquired in India) in the local school hall, and Clavinovas, Steinways, Yamahas, Kawais all thrown into the mix depending on where I'm staying and whether I've spent all my money for the day on food and the Big Issue. Adults and amateur pianists still seem to find me (just a few days ago, I spent two hours at a piano with a frail, elderly Dutch woman who had not played in over forty years - she knows and loves her French music) for I still love working with those who have all the talent and enthusiasm but who have also had to take different paths in life.

One of the highlights of my time in Ireland was the fact that two of my adult students played in the National Concert Hall (similar to playing the Wigmore, for instance). This, despite comments from the country's musical "elite" saying "how can you let just anyone play". One audience member said afterwards, she didn't get a copy of the program, so she had no idea that the pianist was not a full-time performing musician, such was the quality of playing and performance. I'm also fed up with those who adopt a sort of "luvvy" attitude to adult/amateur pianists, implying that there's nothing wrong with people wanting to play the piano as long as they do it for their own enjoyment - the truth is, anyone can get to a phenomenally high standard at the piano - it's just a combination of choosing the right repertoire, fixing all the technical issues, and learning "how" to perform.

As for me - I picked a Bach English Suite, one that I had never played before, to get me back into the swing of things. The joyous fourth suite in F sums up how I feel about music - the boundless energy in the Allemande makes me think of the fact that even life's most horrific setbacks can't take away my enthusiasm and musical ability, while the Sarabande (as played by Glenn Gould in his astonishingly romantic, improvisatory recording of the piece) makes me think that Bach was the most romantic man that ever lived. It's so beautiful, I almost want to inflict it upon every student! I cannot get enough of this piece, and after years of listening to Gould's beautiful interpretation of this, I've immersed myself in it. And then there's Charles Ives - I just love playing his piano music, it makes me want to sign up for a gym membership, so I can work those arm muscles and play the music for hours without collapsing!

I'm not grieving about my piano anymore. It has finally become "a piano". I even played it some time back, when I visited my former student to work with her on some vocal repertoire. She confirmed that it had not been tuned in two years...some things never change!

I'm also not freaking out about the fact that I didn't play a note of music for two years. If anything, I'm glad I can finally look my adult students in the eye and say " I know exactly how you must feel."

But I do know that irrespective of how apprehensive anyone may feel about resuming lessons after many years, or tackling a difficult concerto movement or Etude, it is not impossible to regain strength, dexterity, confidence, memorising ability and self-belief. We all get nervous, but you can cope with it if you know your worth, as a human being and as a musician, and if you feel 100% secure in yourself and your playing (that's where a great teacher makes all the difference). Plus, this neurosis about only playing virtuoso classical piano music HAS GOT TO STOP. I've always programmed different genres into my piano recitals and even now, I love nothing more than playing a Mozart sonata and launching into some Kinks or Indian film music. If Leonard Bernstein were alive today, he would agree. Take his cue, and have fun.

Glenn Gould and Mahatma Gandhi (a celebration of two inspirational Librans)

2010-12-02T14:22:00.000-08:00

I hold that the more helpless a creature, the more entitled it is to protection by man from the cruelty of man. - Mahatma Gandhi

Today, October 2nd is Mahatma Gandhi's Birthday. I never forget this date, because it was always a school holiday - "Gandhi Jayanti" as it is called in India. Gandhi's colourful life and extraordinary impact on the Indian freedom struggle formed a part of every history book in school, back when I was a child and teenager, though this old black and white photo of Mohandas Gandhi as a young boy never made it into any of those books. The Gandhi that I know is the Gandhi that the rest of the world remembers today, the Gandhi portrayed so brilliantly by Sir Ben Kingsley in the 1982 film which also featured Rohini Hattangadi as Kasturba Gandhi (who studied in Pune as well). It was only when I saw the play Mahatma vs Gandhi written by Dinkar Joshi, when I was about 16 years old that I began to question the "Gandhi" that I had looked up to for so long. I guess that was also one of the moments when Gandhi became less of a God-like figure, more of a flawed human being with an inspiring mind and vision.

The play addresses the conflict and tormented relationship between Gandhi and his eldest son Harilal. It delves into all sorts of unsettling sub-plots such as Gandhi's single-minded puritanical way of life and the havoc this plays with the life of his devoted wife Baa (Kasturba Gandhi) and his family. As the eldest son, Harilal could do nothing right - for how can anyone live up to a father like Mahatma Gandhi? A father who is followed by thousands and thousands of people, who is adored, revered and worshipped. I remember feeling particularly overcome with emotion towards the end of the play, when the Mahatma's freedom struggle takes on epic proportions, and a country of a billion people is hanging on to his every word, his every move, while his eldest son is found on the verge of death in Bombay's Forase Road (a notorious red-light district). Harilal was weak, incapable of seeing the world through his father's eyes, incapable of giving everything up in the quest for truth. When Mahatma Gandhi was shot dead by Nathuram Godse (a Pune fellow, ironically!), the entire country mourned the loss of "their father". Millions of people, the poor, the untouchables, world leaders turned up to pay their respect. Yet, when Harilal died just a few days after his father, alone, destroyed by disease, in a penury, only a handful of family members turned up for his cremation. The rest of the country, the world, for that matter would remain oblivious to the fact that the two Gandhis could ever be related, let alone father and son. One was the epitome of purity, truth, "Godliness" - the other was plagued by inadequacy, alchoholism, debauchery and lonliness.

Anyway, my intention was not to talk about Harilal Gandhi's tragic life, but to share my thoughts on the similarities between Glenn Gould and Mohandas Gandhi. Astrology aside (both Gould and Gandhi are born in the first week of Libra), I find it fascinating that a man born in Porbandar, India in 1869 would have anything in common with a classical music genius born to a Canadian Presbyterian family in 1932. Gandhi had no connection with Canada, and Gould loathed hot weather! Yet both men were hugely influenced by and extraordinarily devoted to their mothers - Glenn's mother was his first piano teacher, her love and enthusiasm for the instrument and for music played a vital part in the young boy's musical development while Gandhi's mother was a deeply religious, spiritual woman who advocated a life of austerity and celibacy. The young Glenn Gould wrote his own little newspaper "The Daily Woof" devoted to articles and news about his animals and shows how much the young pianist loved animals even when he was still a young child. The eighteen-year old Mohandas Gandhi joined the London Vegetarian Society and continued to speak out against cruelty to innocent creatures for the rest of his life. In fact, both Gould and Gandhi used their fame and status to speak out about this very worthy cause.

Both men were, by all accounts, obsessive about their work, about the search for ecstasy in one's art and one's work, and, in Gandhi's case, the search for truth at all costs. For many years, journalists and fans speculated about Gould's love life, his sexuality and his relationships. Was he asexual, gay, bisexual, or totally devoted to music, so that there was no room for love or sex in his life? The speculation was put to rest once and for all when it was revealed that he had a passionate relationship for four years with Cornelia Foss, wife of pianist/conductor/composer Lukas Foss. Gould never married, nor did he ever reveal any aspect of his private life to the public or the media. The image of Gould as the last puritan, or as this lost genius seeking ecstasy through his music is one we are all familiar with. His relationship with the music of Bach has led many to believe that Gould's own puritanical nature was influenced and strengthened by Bach's deeply spiritual, religious keyboard music. Mohandas Gandhi was married to Kasturba when he was 14 and she a year younger, for arranged child marriages were the custom of the time! And while the couple went on to have children (the first of which was born when Mohandas was only 15 years old), Gandhi's thoughts and writings on celibacy are well documented. There has also been much debate as to whether Gandhi's popularity with women was at least in part due to the fact that he took a vow of Brahmacharya (voluntary celibacy) after 23 years of marriage to Kasturba. And if one delves deeper into the writings, letters and documented books about Gandhi, his radically controversial, fascinating thoughts on love between a man and a woman, sex, relationships and celibacy all stem from a relentless pursuit of truth. And as Cornelia Foss described her relationship with Gould as being passionate and chaotic, but ultimately unstable, so can one sympathise with Kasturba Gandhi - she had to agree to her husband's every whim, and ultimately serve him until his dying day. If her own desires and needs were regarded as secondary, it was for the greater good of the country, for the greater good of mankind.

Which brings me to my last comparison - their perfectionist nature and the mercilessly high standards both men set for themselves and those around them. Even though academia never appealled to either, both men found their calling in life pretty early on. Gould found solace in the music of Gibbons, Byrd, Mozart and Bach while Gandhi realised that he never wanted to practice law, or work as a barrister, opting instead to work with the untouchables, with the poorest of poor to bring change at the grassroots level in his own country. I wonder if the unwavering work-ethic of both men stemmed from some deep rooted insecurity. This would explain why even though Gandhi turned the British Raj on its head without picking up a single weapon, he could not bring himself to accept his own son's weaknesses. Perhaps in his son he saw a little of himself, or the kind of man he could very well have been had he not pursued his work, his mission, his freedom struggle zealously. Similarly, Gould's inability to maintain a stable, loving, long-term relationship could have stemmed from the fact that he was afraid to let any one human being into his inner world, because it would compromise his carefully controlled personal and professional life. I always get the impression when I am reading Gould's letters, or watching him speak, or even hearing his voice, that this is a man who is absolutely terrified of his innermost self being revealed, even subconsciously. No surprise then that he prepared and wrote every script for his radio and television programs diligentely and obsessively. As for that famous Gould wit and humour, again sometimes I wonder if that is just a defence mechanism, for at times it feels a bit too scripted, a bit too forced.

At the core, I feel as though both men were driven by the desire to change the world around them (like all great human beings have done) - Gould wanted the classical piano recital to disappear off the face of the earth, he wanted recordings to replace the classical concert, he wanted the world to embrace the music of Shoenberg, Berg, Webern, Krenek, Gibbons and Byrd, he wanted to make films, radio programs and write magazine articles, he wanted to break down musical boundaries on the one hand (expressing a desire to record an album with Barbara Streisand, for instance) but he refused to record much romantic piano music (he only played Chopin in a "weak" moment, for insance!). Gould wanted to change the world's perception of what a classical pianist could be, could do - of what it meant to be a consumate artist. He wanted the rest of the world to share his idea that the purpose of all art, of all music, was to attain a state of ecstasy and wonder. Similarly, Gandhi wanted to change the world around him - he cleaned toilets with the untouchables to show that discrimination between one's fellow man is a sin and must not be tolerated. He believed that animals deserved the same kindness that human beings bestowed to one another. He wanted to free India from the shackles of foreign rule, and to prove that the Indians were not dependent on the British, he spun his own clothes and made salt from the sea. Both men wanted to change the world in very different ways, but both were willing to cut people out of their life if they did not share this vision, and abide by their rules. The world as we know it would be a very different place withought the vision of peace, non-violence and equality for all creatures that Gandhi devoted his entire life to. The world as we knw it would also be a very different place without the music of J.S.Bach in the hands of Glenn Gould, or the impact of this Torontonian on musicians, music students, animal lovers, people from all walks of life really. At the core, both men were human. They were flawed, and they did make mistakes. They were human, after all! So this week, as the world remembers Mahatma Gandhi's 141st Birthday, let us forget about the mediocre celebrities, the greedy politicians, the evil dictators, and remember the humanity, kindness, commitment and devotion that both Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and Glenn Herbert Gould brought to the world.

Glenn Gould, as a young boy

Mohandas Gandhi, as a young boy

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Twitter

2010-11-17T17:23:00.000-08:00

So, after a decade of procrastination, I'm finally on Twitter @animaltalkies

Freedom in Music, freedom in life.

2010-10-01T06:41:00.000-07:00

What did Beethoven, Helen Keller, Albert Schweitzer, Buddha all have in common?

Warning: The following paragraphs contain subject matter that might be described as "deep" and "meaningful" by some and "dreary" and "boring" by others. If prone to headaches, insomnia or mild depression, please do not read on.

I have been so far away (literally and figuratively) for over a year from my "old" life as a full-time musician/teacher/examiner/workaholic that I have finally had the chance to make some discoveries about life itself. Someone recently said to me that what I was experiencing was important, challenging and life-changing all at once, because most of us are so busy living life and going through the motions (work, home, shopping, friends, buy things, babies, qualifications) that we barely scratch the surface of life itself. I began questioning things about eighteen months ago, and I remember writing about that experience on this blog (though I could be wrong - sometimes I think I have written something and typed it up for the blog, but it remains in my notebook, far from cyberspace). It was painful to question everything that you have been conditioned to believe from your teenage years. Some would say, conditioning begins when you're still a kid, but in my case, I think I was a pretty strange sort of kid, who lived in a strange way, on my own terms, until I reached the age of 16 or 17.

~CONDITIONING~

Not all "conditioning" is a bad thing, but I'll come back to that point in a bit. What is bad is just how strong and potent this conditioning can be and how it can influence the decisions we make as adults. In India, when I was growing up as a teenager, the conditioning was all about topping school exams to get into good colleges and fill your mind with knowledge while creating the best possible employment opportunities for yourself. In India today, a lot of teenagers are conditioned to think that the money making opportunities that exist in call center jobs will guarantee them a good life, certainly better than the life of a teacher or nurse. Parents who really should not be parents project their own unfulfilled ambitions, repressed desires and deepest disappointments on to their children, expecting them to live the picture perfect lives that they themselves aspired to when they were young.
Freedom of thought is encouraged on a superficial level i.e. "yes, do go to university" or "yes, do get a qualification to show how clever, talented, brilliant you are" but never at a deeper level i.e. "why are we on this earth" or "what is the difference between love, desire, fulfillment and bliss". All that stuff is buried, never addressed, because it is just not important, or too complicated. As a result, whether you're Indian, American or Irish, middle class or super rich, you go through the motions of life, with its twists and turns without really delving deeper to understand the mind, body or soul.

The biggest disappointment for me, personally, when I finally gained a level of professional accomplishment in my career as a pianist/music educator was that I was essentially living in a bubble like existance which did stimulate my mind, sure, but only on that same superficial level. I mean, the beggar on the street in Poona, India doesn't really care if I play a concert in front of a thousand people, or does he give a damn about Bach or Rachmaninov. I realized that applause, the heady high of a recital, the buzz that came from planning and preparing and rehearsing was superficial, because at night, after it was all over, I would rest my head in bed and realize that the problems of the world are not miraculously over because I played a concert! Or got a standing ovation! I also realized that everyone from concert promoter to audience member, from page turner to musician was just doing a job. Yes, a more exciting job when compared to answering phones or stacking shelves, but a job all the same. I remember the Head of an Irish music college's Keyboard Department saying to me once "I would be reluctant to send some of my pupils to play at your concert because you allow absolutely anyone to play, not just conservatory students". I thought to myself "yes, because you're just irritated that this is just one way I can somehow turn this JOB of being a musician into serving members of my community, by allowing people who would normally be excluded from participating." Of course, colleges, conservatories would never understand that, because they too are trying to maintain the air of importance while conforming to a conditioning of their own.

I resisted the urge to question for a long time, for questioning leads to all sorts of upset, all sorts of heartache and regret - if only I had done this, if only I hadn't done that, if only, if only. But questioning also leads to a feeling of inner calm and paves the way to freedom. Not because you suddenly have all the answers - because you realize you are no longer running away, or blindly following the herd. It has never been easy being poor and yet pursuing a profession/career i.e. classical music that has NEVER been easy for someone with little money. So leaving it, or walking away from it, and all that goes with it has brought with it another sort of freedom. I no longer feel like I need the validation of other people (music critics, parents of students) to make me feel a success or failure. Dr Albert Schweitzer didn't say " oh, I'm now a great organist, a foremost interpreter of Bach, I'm going to do nothing else in my life but play concerts". He studied medicine, wrote books on theology and philosophy, worked as a humanitarian and doctor in Africa and championed the cause for animals. ALL IN THE COURSE OF ONE LIFE TIME!

Helen Keller summed it up perfectly when she wrote "..in college there is no time to commune with one's thoughts. One goes to college to learn, it seems, not to think. When one enters the portals of learning, one leaves the dearest pleasures - solitude, books and imagination - outside with the whispering pines. I suppose I ought to find some comfort in the thought that I am laying up treasures for future enjoyment, but I am improvident enough to prefer present joy to hoarding riches against a rainy day."

As for money - I believe that MUSIC and MONEY are such polar opposites that it is a relief to not have to depend on my love and ability to make music to pay the bills. Want money - get a job. As for teaching, I would teach a deserving, talented student for free - it always bothered me that I had to spend hours and hours teaching very wealthy kids with no talent. Teaching is a great, great gift, one that must NEVER be wasted on ungrateful pupils or arrogant human beings. Speaking of Helen Keller - just think, what life would Keller have had if it wasn't for teacher and human being extraordinaire, Anne Sullivan?

Beethoven

Another absolutely superb learning experience for me, has been to discover freedom in music. Leaving the whole "business" of music behind has resulted in me actually playing and making music with a sense of let go, I suppose it is because there cannot be any ego anymore. Even though I spend less time at the piano now than ever before, I am actually able to learn more music than ever before because my mind is free to absorb every note, every phrase without the subconcious feeling that I have to perform the work for an audience in 2 weeks time, or play it a certain way. With freedom comes a deeper understanding of the composer's intentions, but also a natural desire to improvise, and to make the actual experience of playing the piece a deeply personal, spiritual experience where the emotional high is far greater than the applause of a couple of hundred people in a concert hall. And concert opportunities, or "performance opportunities" can exist anywhere and everywhere, from a nursing home or hospital to a church hall or street corner; just think of Moondog, truly a "God" amongst composers, and one who would give Bach a run for his money when it came to writing profoundly beautiful counterpoint - he is one of my heroes.

Now remember when I wrote that not all conditioning is a bad thing? Sometimes, many positive thoughts, ideas and feelings can be transferred from parent to child, teacher to pupil, television to human being (!). I know now that some of my strongest values are ones that were passed on to me by my grand-parents, parents or teachers - be it a love and reverance for animals and nature, marriage, parenting, whatever the case may be. There have been times when I have deliberately or subconsciously gone against this conditioning, and nearly always experienced much pain and upset as a result. But by and large, I am learning, albeit slowly that questioning everything and delving a little deeper is not a bad thing. To live and exist in society you do need to conform to an extent, otherwise you will simply not be able to sustain a reasonable way of life amongst other people - of course if you are willing to live like a Buddha or Moondog, then it is possible, but for most of us that is too difficult and unreasonable. Still, there is a freedom in living life on your own terms, and finding contentment (happiness is a word that is overrated, overused and misunderstood) in what you do and who you are. The brilliant Vedanta teacher Swami Parthasarathy describes so beautifully and eloquently that "YOU are the creator of your destiny. There is no extraneous power controlling your life. No God shaping your destiny. God has nothing to do with the type of thought, desire and action emanating from you. He does not determine their nature. No doubt God is the supreme power which enables you to think, desire and act. But the quality of your activities is entirely your making. You are the architect of your life. You are responsible for its positive or negative character. You make or mar yourself."

For many years I have ignored this most logical explanation to the events in my life. It is liberating when you know that nobody else, no teacher, no boss, no critic, no friend can influence the way your destiny maps out. Imagine it this way - if Bach had known, when he was writing the Goldberg Variations, that his music would be ignored for nearly 200 years after his death OR if he had known that in 1955 a young Canadian pianist would make this work stand out the coolest piece of music in the classical repertory, would it have altered the way Bach lived his life? No!! Of course not! Bach simply did what he loved to do - write music, play music, teach music, make love to his beautiful young wife, without thinking too much about his destiny and what would happen if he wrote this work and that work! Beethoven famously clenched his fist at *fate* or *destiny* as if to say, "God - whatever or whoever you are, you may have caused me to go deaf, but you aren't going to make me stop writing music" - he took something so negative and transformed it into something positive thereby MAKING himself, not destroying himself.

Back to the words of the great Miss Keller - "Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content."

Here ends today's stream of consciousness.

Happy Birthday Glenn Herbert Gould!

2010-09-25T11:57:00.000-07:00

Listening to Gould's Radio Documentaries and remembering him in my own special way. Went into an empty Anglican church where an old, old Cramer piano (not unlike that Chickering) stood in a corner. Played some Bach and Gibbons. I wonder if more people will visit Mount Pleasant Cemetary today or in a couple of weeks time - it was so, so empty and quiet when I was there a long time ago. Very cold, stark, solitary - I think he might have approved, actually. Today a woman who read my blog about the orangutans said she bought Gould's CDs in a fit of inspiration.

And a lovely lady from Chennai who listened to the Zakir Hussain radio show and last week's Bollywood program and had never heard of Gould until a few days ago is completely overcome by his playing and has downloaded his music through iTunes, discovering Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and much more in the process. On the downside, remembering Gould by listening to his recordings all day means that tomorrow, when I go to the Cat Shelter, I'll be singing the Goldbergs to the poor cats! Crazy cat lady who sings and talks to the kitties - as if the shelter staff don't think I'm batty enough.

Happy Birthday Glenn - and thank you!

PS: Tonight, on Offbeat, I'll be sharing Gould's recording of Bach's D Minor Concerto with Leonard Bernstein and the Columbia Symphony Orchestra, the piece that got me hooked on Bach. And on Gould.

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Jaishree Misra - Books, Bollywood, Charity and Life

2010-08-28T12:45:00.000-07:00

UPDATED: Listen to Jaishree Misra on Offbeat, as she discusses her books, life, and selects her favourite songs for the Bollywood Music Special on the show.

I rarely send emails to people out of the blue. Well, the only time I do that is if I am passionate about something someone does and I want to invite them to be a part of OFFBEAT. So this usually involves musicians, because I prefer to write to someone that I admire directly, rather than getting someone else to send a generic "radio interview request" email. I have never ever emailed a writer before - at least I can't remember ever doing so - until about a month ago, when I stumbled upon the books of Indian born writer Jaishree Misra at the Poona Club Library about 2 months ago.

I read her latest book first, and enjoyed it so much, that I went back to the library to track down her other books! They were all out - the Poona Club Library does not have more than one copy of any one book - at least not fiction! So I went to the large bookshop in the city centre, and managed to find four more books by the same author - and I worked my way backwards, as in, with the most recent first, and then the previous one and so on. So I read her first book only a couple of weeks ago!

Indian writers are extremely gifted to begin with (no, I'm not biased) - just think of Salman Rushdie, Rohinton Mistry, Arundhati Roy or Jhumpa Lahiri. But I have not felt this surge of excitement for a writer in years! Jaishree's books encompass all genres - the more recent ones are "commercial fiction", before that Jaishree wrote in a more literary, semi-autobiographical style, and she even tackled historical fiction by writing a book about the Rani of Jhansi, one of the most fascinating women in Indian history. Plus, she writes in a style so unique and authentic, and without any pretense - as a result, the characters are colourful and like most human beings in the real world tend to be - multifaceted. There is also a genuine warmth that jumps out from the printed page and remains with the reader for a long time, and I suspect this has something to do with the fact that Jaishree is an incredibly warm, passionate, authentic woman who has had more than her fair share of challenges. Apart from being a writer, she is also devoted to her family, particularly to the care of her daughter Rohini, now in her mid-twenties, who was born with a severe learning disability. I was also touched and amazed to read about Jaishree's move from the UK back to India, to set up a center for people with learning disabilities in Delhi. I have written about my experiences with disabled children and adults in India, and several concerts that I did for Sarabande in Dublin were to benefit, in some small way, similar projects and centers such as the School for the Blind in Poona. I remember telling anyone who would listen that even a profit of 300 euros would go so, so far when converted into Indian Ruppees. No surprise then that I was even more excited by Jaishree's project and brave life changing relocation back to Delhi.

I was delighted and honoured in equal measure when this talented writer, wife and mother wrote back and agreed to be a part of an upcoming OFFBEAT show! Many, many listeners wrote back after the Bollywood music special aired in Season 1, asking if I would do another Bollywood show! And every time I interviewed someone that was well known within Asian community in Europe, such as Zakir Hussain or more recently, Salman Ahmad of Junoon, I always received many encouraging emails from people of Indian origin who also love western classical music! So the answer to the question about having a Bollywood music follow up program is a resounding YES! Thanks to Jaishree - not only will she talk to me about her writing, her books, her daughter and life in Delhi, we will also get a chance to listen to Bollywood's greatest hits, old and new as picked by this vibrant woman.

I thought it was only fair to ask one of India's most talented writers who even delves into the world of Bollywood in her latest book "Secrets and Sins" to share her favourite Indian film songs on the program. So, OFFBEAT listeners who already have to contend with ONE animated, excitable musician talk to them each Saturday night will now have the chance to hear two women talk excitedly about the music you hear on the show. So we'll depart from Bach, Schubert, Shostakovich & co for one Saturday night and take a trip to India, with some of the most memorable music from Bombay's answer to Tinsletown. And for once, I won't be alone in the studio, rambling on about concertos and sonatas! For that, I have Jaishree Misra to thank, many, many times over.

FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT OFFBEAT, on 103.2 DUBLIN CITY FM visit www.changingtherecord.com and www.dublincityfm.ie

Email the program - offbeat AT dublincityfm DOT ie

Visit Jaishree Misra's Website here or visit the Amazon.co.uk website to find out more about any of her books.

UPDATED: Listen to Jaishree Misra on Offbeat, as she discusses her books, life, and selects her favourite songs for the Bollywood Music Special on the show.

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A special appeal for Ebenezer

2010-08-23T14:50:00.000-07:00

http://www.catsaid.org/main_page_notices/2010_ebenezer_appeal.html

This was just sent to my from my friends at Cats Aid, Dublin. This poor cat has given his whole life to his human companian only to find his circumstances change so drastically through no fault of his own.

From Cats Aid, Dublin

This is a sad story but we dare to hope that some caring person will give it a happy ending!

Ebenezer is a smallish, chunky, 15 year old tabby cat. For the past ten years he lived a happy, uneventful life, loved and cared for - a contented cat.

And then his life changed dramatically. His human companion underwent serious spinal surgery and felt unable to care for him.
After trying unsuccessfully to find him a suitable home it was thought that euthanasia was the kindest option.

A friend contacted Cats Aid and on hearing that his appointment with death was in one hours time a decision was made instantly - cancel that appointment! There was huge relief all round.

Ebenezer is now in our care but, as you can imagine, he is quite depressed at the turn his life has taken, through no fault of his own. He is quiet and well behaved but desperately in need of a home of his own with plenty of TLC. We are looking for an adult home with experienced owners who will understand that he needs time to settle in a new environment - time to allow his personality to shine through.

There should not be any other animals as he is used to being an only cat. An indoor home or one with access to a secure garden after the settling period would be suitable. He is very healthy, neutered with up to date vaccinations.
If you feel you can give Ebenezer a loving home in which to spend his autumn/winter years please contact us on (01) 6683529.

If Ebenezer could talk he would add his voice to ours - please give Ebenezer a home!!!!

The Virgin and the Vulture - Shadaan Felfeli

2010-08-13T10:12:00.000-07:00

My brother, the actor Shadaan Felfeli, is putting up another two performances of his one man show "The Virgin and the Vulture" - see below for details. Please do support it if it is something that intrigues you - I have rambled on about my childhood in India and my thoughts on spirituality many times on Offbeat, so maybe you might enjoy watching something that takes you to another time and place through words, story telling and movement. - KF

4 Performances

Monday 23 August

Tuesday 24 August

6 p.m. and 8 p.m.

27 Pearse Street, D 2
(beside Trinity Capitol Hotel)

TICKETS: €10

(concessions €8)

To reserve tickets, email virginandvulture@gmail.com stating date and time of performance. Limited number of tickets at the door.

Each performance is 90 mins without an interval.

Press Release

Written and performed by actor Shadaan Felfeli; 'The Virgin and the Vulture' tells the tale of a Zoroastrian Parsi storyteller who finds it difficult to get out of bed one sunny Indian afternoon.

Shadaan Felfeli is a member of the Parsi* community whose numbers are fast dwindling. His play is the mode for the playwright to give back to the community that nurtured him and at the same time abdicating the inherited burden of 3000 years of history and culture. The play straddles an acute sense of obligation to the past and an urgent awareness of the here-and-now. It is a deeply personal journey of an individual discovering himself at a time when his community is on the verge of being forgotten forever.

The play uses the English language as inherited by a Parsi actor to reimagine the journey of ancestors, describe a personal spiritual odyssey and confront fears about the future. It uses words to document facts, transpose realities, imagine utopias, seek solidarity, to educate, share, entertain and inspire. The writing is at times deliberately structured in strict verse to make it worthy of both the ancestral and posterity, to describe spiritual journeys and nightmares. At other times it resorts to evocative and sensual prose to articulate various rituals and realities.

About the writer/performer

Shadaan Felfeli was born in Pune (erstwhile Poona), India into a Parsi family which comprised of two highly educated parents; a very liberal mother Parichehr and a cinema-obsessed father Hormuzdyaar, and a talented sister; the pianist/broadcaster Karishemeh Felfeli.
He studied at the St. Cecilia’s School of Music; run by an Australian missionary and under the tutelage of Ferieda Postwalla achieved distinction results in various grade examinations with Trinity College London, culminating in a Performer’s Certificate in 2003. He graduated from the Gaiety School of Acting’s Full-Time Programme in 2006. Since then he has appeared on the Irish stage in Titus Andronicus (Directed by Selina Cartmell), The Miser (Wonderland Theatre) and The Unfortunate Machine-Gunning of Anwar Sadaat (Directed by David Horan), a performance for which he was praised in The Irish Times as “the excellent Shadaan Felfeli”. He has appeared on television in ‘Fair City’ (RTÉ), ‘The Take’ (Sky), ‘Father and Son’ (ITV) and in feature films ‘The Fading Light’ (Park Films/I.F.B.) and Sensation (Blinder Films/ I.F.B.)
The Times of India said of his performance as Don Quixote/Cervantes in ‘The Man of La Mancha’ (Dir:Janine Misquitta,Pune, 2003) “A hidden talent and 17-year-old genius, a single actor who can hold an audience captive, even if everything around him were to fail. Complete in his role as a frail, eccentric man, from captivity to freedom of thought, Shadaan as the ever-optimistic Quixote is brilliant.”

* The Parsis are a community whose ancestors inhabited the Zoroastrian Empire of ancient Persia until the Islamic conquest of Iran 10 centuries ago, at which point they fled to India to escape religious persecution, to preserve their liberty of conscience and their ancient faith. They were given refuge by the Hindu Raja of Gujarat, located on the western shores of India, on condition that they would never marry outside their own community or convert the local population. The Parsis further pledged to adopt the local language, dress and customs, in return for which they were guaranteed freedom of worship. With the arrival of the British in India the fortunes of the Parsis took a quantum leap and by the 19th century they had emerged as the foremost people in India in matters educational, industrial, and social. They came in the vanguard of progress, amassed vast fortunes, and munificently gave away large sums in charity (Dhalla, 1948). The fondness of the Parsis for the British was never at the expense of their loyalty to India. This contradiction was exemplified by Dadabhai Naoroji who in 1892 became the first Asian to be elected to the House of Commons in London, seven years after he helped found the Indian National Congress which would go on to spearhead the struggle for Indian independence. He wrote the book 'Poverty and Un-British Rule in India' which brought attention to the draining of India's wealth into Britain and strongly advocated for Irish Home Rule. Although he promised that his first duty would be to his constituents in Finsbury Central, he made no secret of the fact that he would also be representing 250 million of his fellow subjects in India.
He declared "Whether I am a Hindu, a Mohammedan, a Parsi, a Christian, or of any other creed, I am above all an Indian. Our country is India; our nationality is Indian."
His protégé Mahatma Gandhi said of the Parsis "I am proud of my country, India, for having preserved the splendid Zoroastrian stock, in numbers beneath contempt, but in charity and philanthropy perhaps unequalled and certainly unsurpassed".
The considerable impact of the miniscule Parsi community on the development of India is remarkable. In no city is this more visible than in Mumbai (erstwhile Bombay), a city strongly associated with Parsis. Even today Parsi charitable trusts in the city run leading public hospitals, schools for the disabled, asylums, animal rescues and venues for the arts. The pioneer first-families of Indian industry the Tatas, Petits, Godrejs, Wadias and Mehtas, all Parsi, thrive to this day. Every Parsi will remind you that the Mr. Faredoun Bulsara (a.k.a. Freddie Mercury from Queen) was Parsi, thank-you-very-much. As is the conductor Zubin Mehta and the writers Bapsi Sidhwa and Rohinton Mistry. As is the only man in independent India's history to achieve the rank of Field-Marshall, Sam Maneckshaw. He is credited with winning the 1971 Indo-Pak War, fought on two fronts, which resulted in the independence of Bangladesh. It is said that when then Indian Prime Minister Mrs. Indira Gandhi phoned him on the eve of the war to ask, "Are you ready?", he replied "Sweetie, I'm always ready". Interestingly the Gandhi in the Nehru-Gandhi political dynasty, derives from Feroze Gandhi, Indira Gandhi neé Nehru's Parsi husband and is no relation whatsoever to the Mahatma. Finally in a recent development a Parsi, Pallonji Mistry, is now ranked third in the list of the richest men in Ireland.

However the true battle for the Parsis, a fight for survival, is one that they seem perilously close to losing. Low birth-rates, high rates of emigration (principally to Canada, Australia, the U.S. and the U.K) and an unhealthy birth-to-death ratio (200 births a year to 1,000 deaths) indicate that by 2020 the Parsis will number a mere 23,000 or 0.002% of the population of India, a country which ironically is experiencing a catastrophic population explosion. The predicament is compounded by the non-proselytizing aspect of Zoroastrianism i.e. only children born to Parsi parents can be baptized into the faith.
The Parsis leave their dead in 'Tower's of Silence' to be consumed by vultures, so as not to defile the sacred elements of earth, fire and water. With the drastic urbanization of Indian cities the population of vultures has declined sharply to the point where they are now listed as an endangered species. It closely mirrors the fate of their Parsi benefactors and together they sit braced for extinction.

Copyright Shadaan Felfeli 2010.

Pete Quaife - In memory.

2010-06-30T12:57:00.000-07:00

Peter Alexander Greenlaw "Pete" Quaife

Born: 31 December 1943

Left this earth: 23 June 2010

One of the founding members of The Kinks along with Dave Davies and Ray Davies, Pete's unmistakable bass playing gave the band their distinctive sound. I cannot describe how sad I felt when I read the news about Pete's passing, even though death is certainly not the end. I suppose I feel extremely sad for those that knew and loved Pete, including Dave, who describes his disbelief and pain at this news on his website. Yet Pete has been part of a musical legacy that will never be forgotten, and in this way he will always remain immortal. I'll find a way to remember Pete, but for now I simply pray for his soul and for his family and friends in this time of personal loss and sadness. - KF

Read Dave Davies' beautiful tribute to his friend, brother, bandmate for MOJO here.

Ruthie the orangutan, Glenn Gould and animals

2010-06-18T11:13:00.000-07:00

"I'd be delighted to have you make use of the Bach C Major Prelude and Fugue in your film. As it happens, animal welfare is one of the great passions of my life, and if you'd asked to use my entire recorded output in support of such a cause, I couldn't possibly have refused."

- Glenn Gould

This is Ruthie. Ruthie is an orangutan I adopted a couple of weeks ago from the Borneo Orangutan Survival Foundation. You might have noticed that I haven't written anything in the last three weeks. That is because as with everything in life, when things start to go wrong, they go wrong all at once! As Pete Campbell says in Mad Men, "why don't all the good things happen to me at once" - that's never the case, Pete! Anyway, so the last few weeks have been something out of a bad movie...or as someone I know observed, more like a horror movie. There was a moment where I felt like I was stuck in some sort of strange time warp, and then along came Ruthie. The older I get, the less time and energy I seem to have for people, but I've already written about that before. This May, my faith in human nature hit an all time low (yes - again) and I felt so upset and infuriated that I had wasted so many years on people who have so little class or courtesy. But we are all human - as a human being I've done things I'm not proud of, so I guess I must accept that everyone is capable of behaving in a certain way, irrespective of what that means for the people around them.

I've felt for a long time, that as much as I adore music, and have given my all as a teacher (particularly when it came to teaching amateur/adult students), I have never done anything that is of any direct use to those that need it the most. Lets face it - teaching classical music to people who are well off and lacking in very little is not exactly changing the world or making a difference, is it? It's hardly saving the planet, or helping endangered species or even giving a poor person the chance of some soul enrichment. I am not teaching poor blind children how to play a piece by Mozart, nor am I a music therapist who brings some fun and respite to those that need it. In piano recitals and concerts, I was giving my positivity, musical knowledge and boundless energy to people that needed it the least!! So stepping away from all of that has been difficult but quite a good thing in itself, because I now know that I was wasting all those years over the wrong people, and in totally the wrong place. So finally, I had enough of all the endless nonsense, and have made up my mind to not spend a single second, or a single cent on someone who is not worth it. Instead, I have immersed myself into my other passions - spirituality, mental and physical well being, nature and animals.

So, say hello to Ruthie...

I came across Ruthie's story in the BBC documentary Orangutan Diary and always meant to do something to help the orangutans, but never got around to it (too expensive, no credit card, will do so next week blah blah blah). Then finally, a couple of weeks ago after reading and watching even more about the wonderful Borneo Orangutan Survival Foundation which was created by ONE WOMAN - Lone Drøscher Nielsen, and watching these beautiful creatures, so intelligent, so "human" in every way, I decided enough was enough. For the cost of one Sunday paper a week, I could help in some small way, so that these poor orangutans are not totally destroyed by our greed for Palm Oil. For the first time in months, I felt I had actually made the decision to do something that was totally beneficial in some small way for someone who needed it the most. If you are reading this blog, if you have ever listened to any of my radio programs or come to a concert, or if you have about 2 pounds a month to spare (think about giving up one pointless, useless, self-indulgent purchase a week) - then please help out by adopting an orangutan or making a donation. I never ask people to do anything, and I absolutely dislike *gifts* of any sort, but it would make me so, so, happy to know that something I have written here has had some small impact on someone else. It breaks my heart to see the little orphan orangutans, who have witnessed their own mothers being shot. Look at their eyes and faces, they are just like little human babies.

Orangutans need to be with their mothers for EIGHT YEARS of their life - some of the orphan orangutans are so young, so traumatized by witnessing their mothers being killed in front of their eyes. Some have been captured and kept in tiny little boxes as pets, to be sold to wealthy families. I just feel so sick when I look at these adorable creatures, who have the capacity to feel, to understand, to remember just as we do and realize how much pain they have been through. To think that they are on the brink of extinction because we have an insatiable appetite for Palm Oil (which is in nearly everything that we use in the west - Dove soap: yep. Danish pastry: yep).

Ruthie's story: Ruthie is definitely an Orangutan with issues - not an orangutan to be messed with. She was expelled from Forest School when she started biting her classmates, and she hasn’t got much time for the babysitters either.
“The funny thing is,” says Lone, “that when she first came in she was so social and she loved absolutelyeverybody. Then there is a little orangutan called Loo. He is one of those that if anyone gets too close, he will bite. Somehow he took onto Ruthie and kept on holding on, and every time someone got close to him or Ruthie, he would bite. But he didn’t bite the person …… Now she’s all stressed out and has got all these bites everywhere.” Because Ruthie is so aggressive she’s missing out on the best medicine there is … a little laughter. “Poor Ruthie,” says Lone. “She looks too tough to admit it, but all she needs is a little love. She can’t go back to school and get a chance of being released into the wild like this.”
Ruthie doesn’t only bite other orangutans, she also harms herself, but she can hardly be blamed for this. After her mother was killed, Ruthie was ill-treated as a pet, which left her physically and mentally scarred.

We human beings are greedy, greedy, greedy....
Orangutans are a very important part of the world we share - which means they’re an important part of our lives too. They live in the tropical rainforests on an island called Borneo which is in Indonesia, where they use their long arms and strong toes to swing from branch to branch. Their food is the fruit that grows in these forests, and each night they make a cosy nest for themselves from leaves and branches high in the canopies of the rainforest. Sadly, though, the forests where these orangutans live are being cut down to make way for people to plant trees called oil palms. This is because people can sell the fruit from these oil palms to put into things like ice cream, chocolate, crisps and pizza - as well as things like soap. They don’t have to use this oil - there are other things they could use - but this oil doesn’t cost as much money as the other things, so they choose to use it instead. When the rainforests are cut down, the orangutans are left with nowhere to live, and nothing to eat, and if we don’t help them, there will soon be no more of them left in the world.

One day when I have enough money to do so, I will go and volunteer my time at the BOS. Even in India, I always prefer to help animals in a more hands on way - helping the local vet with neutering stray dogs and cats, or trying to educate the street kids who stone dogs or treat puppies as toys as to why it is so wrong. I distinctly remember about 10 years ago, when I saw an Indian man in army uniform beating a large, beautiful alsatian with a belt, in broad daylight. I was so overcome with rage, but I knew that shouting at him was not the solution as he'd only tell me to bugger off. So I begged my friend to pull over her two wheeler Vespa to one side, and I asked if I could be of some help in training the dog. I explained in my dodgy Marathi that the animal had feelings, and that if he wasn't following instructions there was a reason for it. I also slipped in a line about me being a volunteer for the Blue Cross Society of Poona that take cruelty cases VERY seriously, and somehow convinced this mean looking tall man with a moustache that I, a puny 5 foot nothing teenager could actually get him in trouble, because I had his house address and number. The vital thing was to get him to realize that what he was doing was wrong, not to shout and scream and get defensive. Point is, of course I would much rather go and help with the orangutans in Borneo than simply via a donation to adopt Ruthie. However, I also believe that the way to help and change things is by contributing SOMETHING - time, money, awareness, anything. In my case, and in the case of most people, giving up a tenner a month is not a big deal - but when you realize just how valuable that contribution is, and how absolutely vital, then you know you just have to do it. Even if you have no real interest or love for animals, it's important to know how much they have contributed to our planet, to our world. Once they are gone, extinct, forgotten, our planet will be that much worse off - children will never be able to appreciate or understand nature in the same way. It isn't even about being a passionate, obsessive eco warrior or animal lover - it's about understanding that if we are to enjoy all the things nature gives us in abundance for years to come, we HAVE to take responsibility and do our bit. And of course, as human beings, it is up to us to stand up for defenceless creatures...because we CAN differentiate right from wrong. So what if you didn't shoot an animal yourself - at some point you did contribute in its death. And even if you have NEVER bought anything with Palm Oil (impossible - trust me), you can still do your bit, be the bigger person. Think of it as good karma - positivity and happiness will flow in your direction, in your life.

Maybe it is time to make the Glenn Gould Project even more about helping animals and creating awareness than it is now. Did you know that when Gould was about eleven years old, he composed the libretto to an opera in which the entire human race was wiped out and replaced by animals. He even wrote a chorus for frogs in the key of E major - I wonder what would have happened if he actually had to stage this opera! As Brigitte Jorgensen writes when talking about Gould's love for animals - "The intense aversion to cruelty that made Gould a virulent anti-hunter and anti-fisherman (frustrated locals glared at him over their limp fishing lines as he habitually sped his motorboat around Lake Simcoe to scare away the day's catch) also compelled him to refuse to work on the soundtrack of the movie The Wars until he was satisfied that no horses had been hurt during the production. For fellow animal lovers, these and other stories (about, for example, stray dogs he rescued from the streets around the old CBC broadcasting studios in downtown Toronto) stand in counterpoint to Gould's rather unfairly rendered reputation as an eccentric."

I have no doubt that if Glenn Gould knew the plight of the orangutans in Borneo, he too would be devastated at the desperate situation these gorgeous creatures find themselves in. So if you want to know more about the Borneo Orangutan Survival Foundation and about how you can make a small difference, then read more about the Foundation, the Nyaru Menteng Sanctuary and how desperate things really are here. And of course if you do adopt an orangutan, please let me know - I would love to hear from anyone who has any interest in helping these lovely creatures. Thank you. - KF

MusiCounts and the case for an inclusive system of music education

2010-06-05T11:52:00.000-07:00

Learning a musical instrument in the western classical style has traditionally been a pastime or hobby for middle class or upper middle class children. Going way back to the classical era of Haydn and Mozart, right through the 19th Century, playing the piano, violin or even studying voice was something most parents encouraged their children to do whether they had the aptitude and talent for it or not. As a result, there were plenty of employment opportunities for trained and gifted musicians, because suddenly it seemed as though every moderately well off household had a piano, and the sale of sheet music composed and written for children and amateurs also thrived.

In one sense, not much has changed since the 18th Century - even today, the poorest families in western countries are not going to be able to send their children to private cello lessons, or ballet or piano classes. Most parents who are struggling to pay the rent or mortgage every month certainly don't have any money to spend on hiring or purchasing an instrument for their child, let alone £20-£60 an hour for private music tuition. Does this mean that only children from middle class or upper class families can benefit from top notch music tuition? What if the next "Menuhin" or "Gould" happened to be a four year old whose parents were struggling to keep up with the cost of sending him to school, or from a single parent home? Clearly he would not even stand a chance - for even if he did show incredible talent and promise, who was going to be in a position to nurture this by giving him the chance to study with a good teacher? And how would his musical talent be discovered in the first place? I'm not even talking about children from crime ridden areas in larger cities, who have to struggle extremely hard to not end up in a gang, because there is no other alternative or social outlet. That is an entirely different problem altogether.

This is why it is so, so important that every child is exposed to music in primary and secondary school.

Forget private, fee-paying schools for a minute - I'm talking about government schools, where kids from all walks of life spend six to eight hours a day. If they are taught a musical instrument within the school curriculum, or even given the chance to pick up an instrument for fun, chances are that they will thrive both in school and outside it. In North America, most schools have "band" class. So we're talking brass instruments, percussion and music that is arranged and composed for the same. Unfortunately even this gets a bit of a bad name at times, for "band" kids are perceived as a bit square, a bit geeky, and the music itself can be quite restrictive. But at least it is something, and at least kids can get their hands on trombones, trumpets, horns, drums and learn the basics of making music, and interacting positively with one another. In an ideal world, kids in any and every school would be able to participate in choir, band, and even get their hands on instruments of the orchestra such as violins, cellos, violas, oboes, flutes and bassoons. A kid who shows an interest in playing the piano would be given the opportunity to stay back after school and take a half hour lesson on the school piano, and even if his mother is surviving on food stamps, he can learn a skill that keeps him out of trouble!

This is all very idealistic of me - I know! As a former school music teacher, I know that most music departments (again, not talking about fee-paying schools) are totally cash-strapped. Most of the time there is a brutally battered old piano with keys missing and sticking stuck in a room somewhere, broken instruments that have not been played or repaired in years, and a few percussion instruments in a cupboard. There is simply NO money to buy new instruments, or even repair the old ones. As a result, the music teacher has no choice but to teach recorder, or get a keyboard and teach choir, and that is pretty much it. In Ireland, I have come across hundreds of students who have an irrational hatred for the recorder, because all they ever do when they choose music in school, is play the recorder.Some of you might remember the radio feature I did for my Dublin City FM program Offbeat, where I spoke to three students studying music in secondary school in Dublin, all talking about why the system needs revamping and why they don't enjoy it at all.They were so passionate and articulate about the difficulties they faced on a day to day basis, and it was extremely frustrating for me to listen to them speak without being able to offer any solution or alternative.

As a result, children from low income families who don't have the option of pursuing music outside of school, or privately develop a dislike for "classical" music, music theory, instrumental music, and choose to abandon it completely. Here is where a music education charity is of immense value, to state schools, to children from poor families, to music teachers (there is nothing worse than teaching a class full of fed-up, annoyed children who hate playing broken instruments) and to society in general. I was very lucky to spend some time in Toronto quite some time back, working for a charity called MusiCounts. EVERY COUNTRY NEEDS A "MUSICOUNTS"!!! I'll tell you why. One of the things MusiCounts does is give money to schools across Canada, to purchase new musical instruments for the school music program. Even a school which does not have a music program, or one where the music program has been dormant for many years can qualify for MusiCounts funding. Of course, the grants provided for musical instruments are NEED based, which means that the more hard up the school, the more socially worse-off and deprived the students, the greater the chance of getting $5,000 or $10,000 in funding. I was not even there to witness the applications as they came in, but I did read plenty of applications from previous years, and some were truly astonishing. Schools in areas of very high crime, or schools in the middle of nowhere, where children had very little stimulation particularly where the arts were concerned all wrote about their need for a decent music program, with instruments that children would get excited to play. Music teachers wrote their own personal statements describing the state of some of the instruments they were forced to use, and the challenge that they faced teaching children who were disruptive and difficult, simply because they were bored, or irritated playing broken and out of tune instruments. Some schools sent pictures of the instruments, while others used more creative ways to get the attention of the powers that be at MusiCounts - I remember Mike, who was the Senior Coordinator showing me a violin that a school sent in with their application. I have never seen an instrument in such poor condition, and I have seen some pretty brutal instruments in my time! One of the best things about working with MusiCounts was hearing back from music teachers once they received word that their applications had been successful, or reading emails and letters describing the difference that these new instruments had made to the lives of students.

Imagine what a brand new guitar can do to a teenage boy who is going home to a difficult, disturbed home environment. Suddenly, the guitar that he would never be able to pay for becomes a source of comfort, solace and mental stimulation. The positive effect that learning an instrument has on a child's academic abilities has been studied and proven, so this is just another reason why a charity like MusiCounts should exist in every country in the world. Dr Jose Antonio Abreu's *El Sistema" program of instrumental teaching has become something of an inspiration worldwide, but in many ways, the work of a charity such as MusiCounts cannot be underestimated. The greatest thing about it is that there is no bias, no favouritism and absolutely NO gimmick to it, the bottom line is all about providing opportunities to children that may or may not be able to avail of them outside the school. And even if a child COULD afford piano lessons after school, playing and practising an instrument is such a lonely, isolated pastime (I know that I would have gladly swapped my 4 hours a day piano practice schedule as a child for one hour of playing the piano in school, with friends and classmates) - it is vital to have a more inclusive, collaborative music making activity, and no better place to do it than school!

When I was an examiner for the Royal Irish Academy of Music (Canada has its own equivalent, the Royal Conservatory of Music's Grade exams), it struck me that I rarely examined children from certain areas in the country, and nearly all children were from middle class or upper class families. I always felt this was so sad, and such a shame, because not only did it mean that thousands of children were not even exposed to instruments and playing music, but that this was unlikely to change for a long,long time. Maybe if the Arts Council, Music Network or any of the funding organisations spoke to children and parents from all walks of life, they would realize that rather than offering funding to already well-off artists for their second concert grand piano, or funding lavish concert series featuring celebrities, far more could be done for the musical life of this small country by following the example of MusiCounts (which is NOT funded by the Government, by the way - all the more impressive). And maybe, just maybe, children and teenagers from ALL walks of life, all social and economic backgrounds will be able to avail of instrumental music that does not just include playing a broken, out of tune recorder day in and day out for a year! As Shinichi Suzuki, the great Japanese violinist and teacher summed up so beautifully when asked about the point of music education: "Teaching music is not my main purpose. I want to make good citizens. If children hear fine music from the day of their birth and learn to play it, they develop sensitivity, discipline and endurance. And, they get a beautiful heart."

Find out more about MusiCounts

Visit " Offbeat with Karishmeh" (Dublin City FM) Radio program website

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A chat with Dave Davies

2010-05-14T02:49:00.000-07:00

One year ago, I was working pretty much flat out, playing and presenting concerts, teaching and examining/adjudicating as and when the opportunities arose. Then something happened, then *life* happened, and another health scare later, I was in a far away place, with little or no trace of my previous life in Ireland. Last week, I had the opportunity to speak to one of the most wonderful human beings I have ever come across, for my radio program or for anything. See - here's the thing. It's weird interviewing "legendary" musicians. They say, you should never meet your heroes, as it's always a disappointment or anti-climax.

I had time to think about this when I began my new life as it were, last year. The only time I was seriously disappointed was when I realized that one of the musicians I admired was extremely unfriendly towards young music students, and was far too greedy for his/her (!) own good!But nothing could prepare me for the wonderfully stimulating and thought-provoking, yet unpretentious conversation I was to have with one of the legends of rock and roll: Dave Davies.

Now, speaking of The Kinks - I adore Ray's songs - who doesn't? Just as Lennon/McCartney were the backbone of The Beatles, Ray's beautifully crafted, lyrically superb songs for The Kinks were the reason The Kinks remained in my top three favourite pop/rock groups of all time (the Beatles & Creedence being the other two). But right now, I'm not even talking about music. I'm talking about Dave Davies - how on earth can a person be so talented, intelligent, down to earth and generous and yet not get their dues? How many people can name ten Dave Davies songs - how many know that he is extremely knowledgeable about a lot of things - from metaphysics, eastern philosophies and astrology to classical music including Schubert and Beethoven? There is nothing worse, in my mind, than someone who bathes in past glory, revelling in the genius that they showed in youth, and making absolutely no effort to move past that and on to other things. Of course I don't mean a musician should stop touring, or performing the great hit songs when they reach a certain age. What I mean is that I love discovering that a great musician is also an avid reader, with thoughts and opinions on a certain author, or that a great pianist is equally obsessive about films. I often find that actors, musicians, painters - any of the so called creative professions are so all-consuming that it is very easy to get stuck in some sort of artistic bubble, with little ability to absorb anything else. One of the things I love about doing my radio programs, especially when it comes to interviews/conversations with other musicians, is asking them questions that have little or no connection to music! If I want to know about Leon Fleisher's right hand, I can read about it in every single newspaper article or interview. I love the fact that Naida Cole was brave enough to embrace a completely new profession, career, educational field. So when I stumbled upon the film that Dave Davies put together on spirituality (not ONLY spirituality, it even has some brilliant Kinks footage) I was hooked. I wanted to know more about Dave's music, of course I was familiar with the songs he wrote when he was in The Kinks, but not his later stuff as much. But it was the fact that he had other interests, passions and was so eager to share those that stimulated my interest in his work.

I found it fascinating to read the two autobiographies last year - Ray's X Ray (published in the mid nineties, 1994 I think) and Dave's Kink (published a year later). Ray's reads like a clever memoir with a twist, Dave's reads like one long stream of consciousness. I have a great admiration for people who bare their souls (well, as much as one can bare without causing pain to any other person) and Dave is one of these people. I struggle to make small talk with people who are so full of themselves that they often have very little to say. One of the most excruciating nights of my life was a dinner party where people were quoting Dickens and name dropping - I honestly felt that if I could survive that, I could survive anything. In contrast, having a conversation with Dave Davies for my second radio special on this wonderful person and musician felt like the most natural thing in the world. See, here's where I think fame, money, status, celebrity, it's all nonsense. Someone who has been in one of the greatest rock bands ever is easier to talk to than some half wit "star" soprano who has sung the lead in one opera and is basking in the glory of one season. And it's not as if I don't get nervous - I am a nervous person by nature. I believe that even as a child, I was not really suited to the very high pressure environment of the classical concert stage unless I can do my own thing and break the mould a little bit. So yes, I do get nervous when I have to interview someone who I hold in high regard. It does not, I repeat NOT get more intimidating than when one has to speak to a legendary guitarist with an obsessive interest in eastern philosophy. It does and doesn't help that I am from India - shouldn't I know all about Vivekananda, Kundalini, Hatha Yoga, Ramakrishna already? Well, yes - a lot of this I still remember from school.

Here's where speaking to Dave Davies as part of the second program was such a revelation.It soon became obvious that this was not going to be an interview - that we were questioning, answering, agreeing, laughing (okay, this sounds lame but you get my drift) without any pretense whatsoever. What a pleasure. I have NEVER had anyone apologise to me about keeping me far too long. And I have NEVER had anyone that I have interviewed actually go out of their way to ask me anything about myself. What a lovely person, so free of all the character traits that ruin most talented people. Now, I have to admit, this is literally from our conversation and from contact before and after it. We all have our weaknesses and flaws that are revealed only to our nearest and dearest, most often just one other person who you decide to go on life's bizarre journey with. Point is, in a world that is filled with awful people, ignorance and negativity, I love it when someone comes along to totally restore my faith in humanity. There is also nothing better than getting inspired by someone/something - I received some very encouraging emails from a fairly new listener who also presents/produces a program on 103.2 Dublin City FM (not sure if he wants his name revealed on my crazy blog). The fact that people take the trouble to write their thoughts and feelings down is something I take very seriously, and as a result, even though I only check emails once or twice a week, I do my best to reply properly to anyone who takes the time to write in. But speaking of being inspired - listen to the song Love Gets You by Dave Davies when the program is aired on Saturday night (and podcast on Sunday morning). How is this song not as well known as some of the 1394830492134067234 other pop songs that form a large part of our psyche?

Anyway, I will end this by paying tribute to Dave Davies in the only way I know best, over the airwaves. If you haven't heard the first program I did, then you can listen to it here, otherwise, tune in to 103.2 Dublin City FM on Saturday Night 15 May at 9.00 p.m. or visit www.changingtherecord.com on Sunday morning and listen to the latest program on this legendary musician. It features music & my conversation with Dave. If you have something to say - then email me at offbeat AT dublincityfm DOT ie (sorry spammers!!).

Truth is like good music - it stays with us forever.
Dave Davies

Radio as Music - the case for independent radio in the 21st Century

2010-04-23T04:27:00.000-07:00

All musicians in the past, starting with the middle ages were interested in popular music. (...) Bela Bartok's music is made entirely of sources from Hungarian folk music. And Igor Stravinsky, although he lied about it, used all kinds of Russian sources for his early ballets. Kurt Weill's great masterpiece Dreigrochenoper is using the cabaret-style of the Weimar Republic that's why it is such a masterpiece. Only artificial division between popular an classical music happened unfortunately through the blindness of Arnold Schoenberg and his followers to create an artificial wall, which never existed before him. In my generation we tore the wall down and now we are back to the normal situation, for example if Brian Eno or David Bowie come to me, and if popular musicians remix my music like The Orb or DJ Spooky it is a good thing. This is a natural normal regular historical way. - STEVE REICH

Three weeks ago, I came down with the flu. Whatever the cause, I had no choice but to spend six days in bed. Since I don't have Internet access at home, or even cable satellite T.V., the only two ways to pass the time were the two Rs. Reading and Radio! Now reading for twelve to fourteen hours at a time is all very well if one is in great health, lying on a beach in Goa (yes, this IS my favourite pastime - maybe I should have pursued a career as a proof reader!). But when I had the flu, my head refused to stop pounding and my cold ensured that my eyes kept watering non stop. Plus, I did not fancy covering all the lovely library books with my germs, so that some poor unfortunate soul comes down with the flu as well. As much as I dislike humans, I'm not actively out to make them all sick!

So, the other "R" came to the rescue! Radio 24/7, from around the world. One of the things I do when I go to the library or to an Internet cafe is download as many radio program Podcasts as I can from mainstream and independent radio stations in India, England, Ireland, America and Canada. I save these to my ancient MP3 player (which has lasted a long, long, time, so I've never needed to replace it with an iPod or iPad or iRobot) and listen to a random selection of programs whenever I feel like it. What really astonished me when I listened to four or five days of non-stop radio, was that the quality of mainstream radio was just shocking at times. Given the fact that taxpayers keep these radio presenters and producers in their very cushy jobs and fund their very generous salaries, there seems to be little or no regard for quality anymore. By that, I don't mean the quality of equipment used or the overall sound. That is the sort of stuff money CAN buy. So where is all that money actually going with mainstream radio stations? And this justification that footballers and cricketers are overpaid, so why not radio and television presenters/producers is just plain ridiculous. Yes, sport stars are overpaid, but at least they show some talent, some promise. They practise, there is some skill involved. I've freelanced for these mainstream radio stations including the ones I mentioned above, and I know how little effort actually goes into some of the most popular radio programs we hear, even the so called "cutting-edge" ones! Lets focus on arts programs, for a moment.

Whatever happened to authenticity of content, rather than a toss up between sensationalist programming and hack-job journalism? Every story, every music feature does not have to have a gimmicky "angle" to it. Some of the best, most interesting programs on radio feature conversations, discussions or storytelling. Some of the best music programs are simple presenter-introducing-music-that-he/she-loves if that's what the program calls for. The obsession with making radio programs like they are prime time TV shows is just idiotic. I cannot fathom why anyone would take an interesting idea or subject and then clutter it with stupid sound effects, excessive cliches and stereotypical scripted commentary. Perhaps it is because unlike the pioneers of radio in the first half of the 20th Century, today's radio producers are overpaid media puppets obsessed with turning everything into a bland, generic prototype.

No wonder then that when I was listening to a completely random selection of programs, I didn't know the difference between a program on, say, RTE Lyric FM (actually, I lie...I DID know most of the Lyric FM shows - Marty Whelan, take a bow. *Shudder*) and Classic FM (but that's because Lyric is a poor imitation of Classic FM. One has a former pop-idol wannabe/reality show winner, the other has a former Rose of Tralee presenter/game show presenter. Again, *shudder*).

I've confused myself with all the parenthesis filled sentences. But even a classic rock radio station in Canada had the same dull as dishwater style - zero research, zero knowledge, zero variety of music on offer. There's only so many times I can listen to "Stairway to Heaven" followed by "You shook me all night long" in a day. I did listen to some very good programs, that managed to stay true to the "radio as music" ethic, and I'll be adding links to these programs on to the Offbeat website and page, if anyone cares to know what they are!

If Glenn Gould were alive today, there is no way the CBC or any other mainstream radio station would let him make the kind of programs he did in the sixties and seventies. Sure, you can have all the state of the art equipment, "tweet" while you're live on air and what not, but without substance, passion and research, you have a poor, mediocre program. Speaking of research - I was mortified at some of the basic mistakes that overpaid presenters thought it okay to make (this applies to TV as well....remember when Pat Kenny introduced Jerry Sienfeld as Jerry Sien-FIELD? ). Is there anyone who goes on a radio program when there is NOTHING to promote? Or are all radio programs supposed to cater to the needs of people who want to plug their latest event, book, CD, cat, wedding, you catch my drift. When I interview people for Offbeat, it is because I genuinely want to talk to such and such a person on the program, not because they have a concert or CD launch coming up. I remember when I interviewed Leon Fleisher, it was just because I WANTED to interview him, after speaking to his student Louis Lortie and reading about him in one of Gould's letters - last week, he played a concert in Ireland, his first time ever, a year after our original interview aired! Yes, I know, my "awesomeness" is infuriating, so I'll stop. I actually remember the Fleisher interview, because three of my transition year students helped me research that program.

So while there have been two or three happy coincidences where promoting an upcoming concert or CD has been possible, that has NEVER been a priority for me. You can't wait for the right subject matter for your show. Nor can you expect that the right subject matter is enough! Without basic reading and research, without a level of sincerity and genuine interest there is no radio. There is only noise.

Upon recovering from the flu, I was appreciative of a few things.1) Having the ability and facility to listen to some wonderful radio programs from around the world, made by radio enthusiasts and people who cared enough about the medium to be themselves rather than watered down, generic dullards. 2) I also had a new found appreciation for independent radio stations that allow the kind of programming that commercial radio turns a blind eye to. Even taxpayer/government funded radio stations compensate for what they lack in new ideas and quality by treating everything as if it were just "business" - hours of bland, generic, diluted programs. I guess it boils down to the same basic principles - you can pay a presenter or producer a high salary, but if they are lacking in passion and creativity, no high tech special effects will substitute for that. I actually really enjoyed listening to a top forty type radio program in England, not because of the music, but because of the natural, enthusiastic presenter who was just brimming with life. And it wasn't the cliched fake bubbliness either, she was completely at ease on air, and amazingly, it made the chart music bearable (except for that awful song by Lady Ga Ga and Beyonce which sounds so overproduced it made me reach for the sick bucket, only kidding).

For me, the radio is many things at once - it is music, speech, technology, art, intimacy and education. Every radio program I put together, whether it's just a general "Offbeat" show or a special feature on a certain musician/composer/book has several life forms. The solitary, visual-free environment of a radio studio appeals to me immensely. I write random thoughts and ideas for music to play on the show much like I do in my blog, except that they are written down in my notebook first. In that sense, even a simple little hour long radio program is my own creation, something that I regard as a piece of music in itself. I hate reading scripted notes unless it's a feature documentary that has a different format (again, freelancing for mainstream radio stations, I figured out how to get reasonably good at this, but it's not my favourite thing in the world). Even then, I prefer to just allow my thoughts and feelings to flow, even in conversations with musicians, sometimes with bizarre results! I also think that ANYONE presenting a program, whether it's on radio or TV should not be afraid to let their own personality come through. Except if you're Jonathan Ross or Gerry Ryan. Then, I don't want to know you. At all. Ever. But seriously, the reason Ryan Tubridy (I left Ireland after it was announced that he was presenting the LLS - no joke!) is utterly hopeless at what he does is because he is afraid to reveal any part of himself on air, or in front of the camera. You can't expect other people to open up to you if you maintain an air of indifference or display a personality lacking in warmth. Whether a program attracts two listeners (like my programs or Alan Partridge's - actually I get more listeners than Alan, but that's because there are more people in Pune than in Norwich ha!) or two million, the same rules apply. I suppose you can't function the same way when you have smarmy executives breathing down your neck and all everyone cares about is ratings and money. This is one of the reasons why I turned down a job at a mainstream classical music radio station in Canada (Toronto's answer to Classic FM I suppose) and also why I will never touch a station like Lyric FM. Money does NOT make my world go round, though I probably could have used the money to save a few more strays!

So I suspect that I have found my soul mate when it comes to Dublin City FM. And because it is such a joy and privilege to be involved in such a stimulating process, I don't care that I don't get a cent for it (FYI mainstream radio stations worldwide pay freelancers a pittance and most of the time your original idea and hard work is ruined by endless dilutions, you wonder if it is worth anyones while to bother). It helps that the people at this particular radio station are some of the most down to earth, sincere, decent human beings I have ever known. I am very doubtful if any other station would let me make radio programs from anywhere in the world, on any subject and musical composer of my choice. Speaking of radio programs, I'll be adding podcasts for the last two programs of The Jazz Scene (which I present/produce on Saturday Nights while Mick Murray, the program's creator and presenter is still recovering) early next week. Offbeat will also feature an extensive two hour special on Armenian musicians and composers which will air at the end of May. The phenomenally talented David Rees Williams, founder and pianist with the David Rees Williams Trio will be featured in conversation with me, and I'm also working on introducing the radio play form to Offbeat in coming months. So it's all good, I guess! Let me sum up by quoting that madman Howard Stern who says "If you're going to be strong on the radio, you got to let it all out, even the ugly stuff. And you can't apologize for it."

For more, visit the Offbeat Website/Blog at www.changingtherecord.com

You can also get in touch by sending an email to offbeat AT dublincityfm DOT ie

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Minimalism and me

2010-04-15T01:15:00.000-07:00

When I first came across the word "minimalism" it was in relation to the music of the brilliant Eric Satie (who has already been discussed on OFFBEAT a couple of years ago), and I was still a child - too young to understand the same term being used in any other context. Minimalism in music does not deal with Satie's own compositions, as such. Instead - it is used to define the music Terry Riley, Steve Reich, Philip Glass and La Monte Young. However, all these composers have spoken about Satie's profound influence on their own work.

Anyway - I am not writing about minimalist music right now - thats for another day, another Offbeat program. I started thinking about minimalism as a lifestyle (even though that sounds utterly pretentious, bah) when I had to embrace it twice, in the last year. The first time, I had no choice, and I've written about this in an earlier rambling when talking about possessions. However, more recently, I've embraced it in a way I would have never thought possible even three or four months ago.

This time I'm not just talking about having to "up and leave" due to a health crisis, or something like that. This has nothing to do with "de-cluttering" one's life, or becoming a self-sacrificing "sadhu". This is something completely new, a desire to be free from material possessions, however precious and enriching, if they are a burden in any way or form. Let me explain without revealing too much of my soul: remember, the last time I wrote about having to reduce all the "stuff" I owned, including my piano, books, CDs (thankfully no furniture or heavy electronic equipment) , I said I had managed it somehow. What I failed to add was that I had reduced, yes, from say a house full of "stuff" (seriously, boxes, bin bags, crates, a whole van load) to maybe four boxes, and two suitcases worth of actual, material possessions. What was left over was stored for safe keeping with people. Since I had no roof over my head that I could call my own (but look on the bright side, no crippling rent every month), nor did I have any real idea of what I was going to do next, it seemed like the most viable option. The contents of these four boxes: mainly music books that I just could not part with, including nearly all my Bach concerti scores, my music teacher's copy of the Schnabel edition of Beethoven sonatas, my Bach/Gould/Bernstein LP, my Adrian Mole books, stuffed toys from my childhood, my first saree, and some CDs/photo albums. Now here's the bizarre thing: as the days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months...(yeah yeah get to the point my impatient subconscious says) and I was living literally, out of a small backpack, I realized that I was actually able to survive without all those things. Not just survive, but stay content. Needless to say, I spent alot of time in the library, but things were okay. And because I didn't have any great need to buy more things, I was focussed on trying to get better health wise (as in recover completely, not just deal with symptoms) without thinking about where next month's rent was going to come from - I admit, not having the option of social welfare is actually no bad thing, especially when it comes to being frugal/minimalist. So on one hand: hardly any money. On the other hand: even very little money goes a long way when one has no place to put "stuff" that one buys. And if you're a freak who has a third hand: it is possible to make music without money/stuff.

Only after the last tree has been cut down
Only after the last river has been poisoned
Only after the last fish has been caught
Only then will you find you cannot eat money
-- Cree prophecy

I've seen how people live, particularly in the West. It's getting like that in cities in India too, and of course China has already succumbed to the greed that has the West ruined. The quest for a big house, and then beautiful, expensive furniture to put in the big house, and then a beautiful, expensive extension or fancy garden to add to the big house, and then the big car, and then the other big car to park next to the first big car. Now that's very well if you're truly happy with the big everything - but with all this comes the obsession to keep everything in immaculate condition. The worry that if the big house was broken into, or if a cat pees on your big, expensive sofa that your whole house and life is ruined. All you end up having is a big house with many, many things. Just like every other house on the street with the big houses. Buying, buying, buying, filling, accumulating - honestly, what is the point? The irony is that most houses of this sort LOOK minimalist - there is never any "obvious" clutter that's visible. Like if you do a search on google images for "minimalist living" those picture perfect living rooms come up!

In my case, I actually stopped enjoying all my music books once I owned so many that I could hardly keep track of which student had which book, or the time to sit down and read every book I ever owned. As someone who never even had a piano when growing up to be a concert pianist, I don't know when or how I too got sucked into collecting so much stuff. And I don't mean it in the same way as someone who is genuinely passionate about something and simply through their own interest or passion ends up owning quite a lot of say records, or DVDs or paintings. If you can get enjoyment from every single CD or DVD, or gaze for hours at the beautiful picture on your wall then fantastic! This is why there are some things I wont get rid of, because I use them constantly, and derive much pleasure from them.

So back to minimalism as a lifestyle choice. I hate these stupid generic words so much, I don't know why I even bother using them. Anyway - after much pondering (deep, deep, pondering, about the true meaning of life, just like all those pseudo-Buddhists!) I realized that I could be content with the same things in my one bag/backpack for the rest of my life. I hardly have any clothes or shoes, so it's not hard to fit everything you really, really want/need/care about into one bag. So by default, I am now a minimalist! The same things that appealed to me about going on trekking/hiking trips in India and Nepal as a teenager appeal to me now. I used to record my thoughts and impressions into a cheap little tape recorder and through my notebooks and diaries then, I do the same now (thank you, Dublin City FM for letting me do this no matter where I am in the world!!). I sleep in a sleeping bag a couple of nights a week, when I'm travelling. I do not really care about looking a certain way, or buying the 1203872543 things that will help me maintain a certain look or lifestyle. As for my records/CDs/books - for all the cribbing we (yes, I'm guilty of this too) do about how evil MP3s are as compared to vinyl, tapes, CDs - I'm beginning to realize that there are some advantages. The records I really, really cannot part with (1 LP and about 200 CDs, ha) fit into my backpack courtesy of a really big CD holder wallet. Anyway, I'm not about to start lecturing on Zen living (too late, too late, my subconscious says) - point is, you have to decide for yourself how you want to live each day. Freedom means different things to different people - for one person freedom may mean never having to work a 9 to 5 job again (not me). For another, it may mean being a bachelor for life (not me). For a third, it may mean a round the world trip - forever (sure). I don't know what freedom means to me (all this freedom stuff is making me think of that song from Team America - Freedom isn't free).

I'm not free yet, but at least I don't have to EVER pay for excess baggage again. There is something draining about physically carrying all the stuff you own - I ended up giving away even more things after I had to lug them around indefinitely! It weighs you down physically (especially if you're 5'2 and a half and 7 stone) but it's a different sort of weight - one that I don't want to carry for the rest of my life. Every member of my own immediate family lives this way - like most family members they are screwed up in their own way, as am I (who isn't) - I'm actually the one with the most baggage (and I don't just mean worldly possessions). Maybe it's because even my grandparents faced persecution, having to "flee" at short notice, and my dad still recalls the '79 revolution. Maybe it's because we've always had to "move" at short notice - I don't know. I used to hate it, when compared to - say the very settled people I knew. Now I think it has its advantages - and I'm not even talking about the larger scale effects like reducing waste, adding to capitalism and greed by WANTING more, etc. I'm not saying everyone has to own just one pair of shoes and eat nothing but boiled rice and sit and stare at a wall for 10 hours because you've given away all your worldly possessions and set fire to all the old utility bills without which you can't get a library ID card. It's just that for all of us, the things we REALLY NEED are few, and don't cost much.

Look at it this way - now, I use the library to type all my psychobabble that is written in my notebooks on to the blog. That way more people can read my crazy rants, ramblings and ponderous thoughts (and learn about Glenn Gould, music, helping animals etc). Now if I can just get back to the Nepal Himalayas, I'd embrace my vagrant status with renewed enthusiasm. One lives in hope.......!

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Classical Music Competitions: Pointless, cruel, spiritually defunct.

2010-04-09T01:34:00.000-07:00

“The menace of competitive idea is that through its emphasis upon consensus, it extracts the mean, indisputable, readily certifiable core of competence and leaves its eager, ill advised suppliants forever stunted - victims of a spiritual lobotomy." - Glenn Gould, on the subject of music competitions.

An annual music festival or competition is only relevant if you are a music student who rarely gets the opportunity to "perform" - in front of anyone. For if you did have plenty of opportunities to make music in concerts and recitals, you would never subject yourself to a dreary "feis" or competition where a "qualified adjudicator" (nearly always an Englishman, no matter where in the world you may be) decides which performance of a classical sonata was best from the 12 Moonlights, 10 Mozart k330s, or 8 Pathetiques. Not to mention that you pay a ridiculous fee for this privilege. Is it any wonder that the majority of classical music students who excel in such competitions rarely seem to require the exposure in the first place? They are equally capable of playing in a concert hall, or at a recital in front of an audience - situations which are far more integral and rewarding for a musician rather than a competition.

Unfortunately, music competitions, especially the non-professional ones (i.e. not the Leeds, or Van Cliburns etc) have a two fold purpose. 1) To establish that to "win" you have the play the same repertoire as everyone else, note perfect and with as little individuality as you can muster. 2) To show off the large number of conservatoire guinea pig students aged 8 to 24 who must subject themselves to this pointless fiasco so that they gain a bit of confidence and self esteem about their playing. See here's the thing; I would not have a problem with all this if there was some element of sincerity and warmth about the whole thing - like the little music festivals that include all genres of music and where there is no requirement to play "set" repertoire. There is a feel good factor, a sort of "everyone is welcome to play music" attitude. If a student plays Bach particularly well, it's not because Bach's Preludes and Fugues are a requirement one year, the French Suites the following year. It's because he or she wants to play a piece by Bach, and loves sharing this with the audience.

As much as I adore Bach's keyboard music, I developed an irrational dislike for his English Suites eight years ago, after being forced to sit through 26 pianists (not including me) perform these (the 3rd was the most popular suite, which meant that over half the pianists played it, repeats and all). As it turned out, exactly one year later, I found out that I was going to be playing in a masterclass with the adjudicator of the music competition from the year before - a professor at the Royal Academy of Music in London. A few months later, I actually had the chance to ask him about his "Irish Feis experience" and he was most forthcoming - well, as forthcoming as an Englishman can be! He confessed that while the standard was incredibly high, it is excruciatingly difficult to distinguish from one well-oiled rendition of the same work after another. He also admitted that the fee was so lucrative that all in all it was a good experience, if a very tiring one. Needless to say, he is much in demand as an adjudicator of music festivals and competitions all over the world. As for me, it took me some time before I was able to play or listen to an English Suite without getting restless - sad, because this is gorgeous music!

Now, Glenn Gould said this about twenty years before I was born, when asked about music competitions, even at a local level:

" There is...a minor-league festival tradition, one which is concerned not with the do or die fortunes of budding professionals, but with an annual series of adjudications for students, presided over by superannuated British academicians. At these events, such is their aura of charity and good fellowship - a mark of 80 is automatically accorded a contestant merely for showing up (79 is considered a stain upon the family order and is reserved for platform indiscretions of a most grievous order such as playing one's test piece caution-to-the-winds and with a most un-British brio). So it comes to pass that in a day and age that is filled with so many opportunities and possibilities, classical music students are still in the dark ages. Adjudicators tend to be capable and respected...musicians whose own careers have attracted heretofore something less than universal renown. And it is...characteristic of musicians thwarted in their aspirations for international acclaim to decry the unaccountable mysteries of personality, to downgrade those virtues of temperamental independence which signal genuine recreative fire. Prodigality may indeed be courted in the competitive quest, but originality must, at all costs, be discouraged. "

So, to simplify what Gould talks about, with his typical wit and humour, but with an incredibly accurate insight - music competitions are a breeding ground for mediocrity, and adjudicators are hardly in a position to decide who is best and who is not. The very same characteristics that distinguish us as human beings, as musicians, are frowned upon on the competitive stage. In nearly all cases, competition winners tend to be the most note-perfect, lease individual & original performances.

I find it sad that in a day and age that is filled with so many opportunities and possibilities, classical music students are still in the dark ages. Why else would anyone, teacher or pupil take part in a system that is fundamentally backward - Glenn Gould describes the competitions/music festivals of his youth, and fifty years on, nothing has changed at all! Backward because most "feis" style competitions have the same "committee members" - well off, retired or semi-retired individuals, a couple of token music college faculty members, who love the bit of importance and have zero administrative or leadership skills! Apart from one or two bursaries, the prize money at these competitions is hardly worth the boredom and tediousness involved! And music - music that came from the great composers like Bach, Mozart, Chopin, Rachmaninov - music that comforts and excites us like nothing else can, was NEVER meant to be regurgitated in this abysmal fashion - Bach would probably never have written the 48 Preludes & Fugues if he knew that they were being subjected to an onslaught of "next candidate please" performances in a dreary, cold auditorium with an adjudicator and a handful of others. Beethoven whose piano sonatas represent a pinnacle in the history of piano music previously unseen would probably be horrified to know that his masterpieces are being tossed off one after another in the most hackneyed, idiotic manner (one movement only for the first round, whole sonata in the final....!). Talk about hack-job treatment! It is utterly senseless - the only purpose I can see being derived from this pointless arena sport is for teachers to smile smugly if a student wins, and for students and parents to bask in their own importance - after all, THAT is the point of all those hours of practice, isn't it?

About seven years ago, one of my former piano pupils won the prize in her category over sixty others (all playing the same two set pieces). Shortly after winning, she became so infuriatingly arrogant and smug; I wondered whether I had made a big mistake in sending her up for the competition. After my worst fears were confirmed, I made the decision to only send my students into music festivals that included other genres, so they were not going to go on an ego trip, aged nine! And while some may say "competitions" at this level are vital to give students performance practice, my response is that at 50 or 60 dollars/euro/pounds entry fee PER category, the student can easily book a venue or room with a grand piano, invite friends and family and gain much more valuable experience. As Geoffrey Payzant sums up, “music must be separated from cruelty, from performers competing against other performers.” Competition, even at a local level, is not a law of civilized life, particularly where music is concerned.

In a society that is even more obsessed with status, fame and money it is no surprise that even those with half a brain and musical talent get sucked into this pointless, cruel, spiritually defunct world of music competitions. When I interviewed competitors for the AXA Dublin International competition (I admit, that's not the kind of competition I refer to in the above paragraphs), one thing struck me more than anything else. They all admitted, once I had switched off the microphone, and poured a cup of tea, that competitions were hard work - draining and discouraging, and that given the choice they would rather have a life of just playing music, of playing concerts. All the more reason that at a more local level, young people stay away from this idiotic competitive circle. The benefits are few, and unless you're someone with little or no imagination, who craves approval from our stereotypical adjudicator and a few mediocre fools, you will find little pleasure or satisfaction in this pursuit. A prize-winner or runner up in a music competition is not going to be remembered in 200 years time - nor is the adjudicator, for that matter. So save the time and money, put it to better use, and immerse yourself in music for music's own sake. In the words of Johann Sebastian Bach, "the aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul". You may or may not care about the "God" bit in that statement, but if it's refreshment of the soul you're after, listen to a great piece of music, whether it’s Brahms or Simon and Garfunkel. Write a song, play a Chopin Nocturne. Enough said.

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All I am saying, is give cats a chance!

2010-03-29T03:18:00.000-07:00

There are two means of refuge from the misery of life - music and cats.

- Albert Schweitzer

Think about the most stereotypical image the term "cat lover" conjures up. Female? Spinster/old maid? Piano teacher? Tea drinker with a penchant for brandy? Smells of fish and/or Yardley Rose Talc. Possibly a bit, if not completely unhinged? Sleeps with cat in bed, calling it "my baby" even if it is seventeen years old and a scowling, raggedy ball of fur?

I beg to differ. Actually, I don't BEG, because that is something a dog does. I differ!

Dogs are adorable, loyal, sincere, noble, silly, and I for one absolutely love them. Same applies to nearly all animals except snakes (I have a completely irrational phobia of them since I was two or three, and saw some locals burn a poisonous snake, thereby killing it). But cats - they ARE a higher power. A superior species - yes, even the humble feral stray tabby that hovers around your back garden. I wonder why cats don't get better representation in mainstream Hollywood films. I mean, there was "Marley and Me" but I guarantee that my life story and rollercoaster experiences with any of my cats (Piki and Me, or Bucky and Me, etc etc) would melt even the stoniest heart. And all those films, those romantic comedies where Meg Ryan and some token leading guy fall in love while walking their dogs in the park, or finding a dog somewhere or signing up to an online chat room for dog lovers (U've got dog?). Of course, one of the reasons for the lack of felines in films is that you can't take a cat to the park for a walk. If it rains, your wet, rain drenched ginger cat is NOT going to sit politely under a tree while you smooch the handsome man in the rain (the closest possible scenario was somehow managed by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's, as shown in the photo below - though I bet my life the poor orange cat was drugged up to his eyeballs on catnip or valium).

Cats are a lot more difficult to train (and rightly so) than dogs, even though they communicate with and understand humans much better than most dogs do - provided the human is of the same elevated mental capacity as they are. How infuriating then, that two of the most well known "cat in a movie" instances result in the cat causing trouble or the death of others! In "Whitnail & I", Uncle Monty says of his cat "once again that oaf has destroyed my day." while "Jonesy", Sigourney Weaver's cat in Alien invariably causes the death of the other team members as they are trying to save him from the Alien.

I have always been obsessed with animals from the time I was about four years old. My mother and maternal grandfather have also been mad about animals their whole life - rescuing cats, dogs and any creature that has needed care. As a result, my earliest childhood memories involve my grandfather's dogs, or our cats and even a little baby sparrow. By the time I was eight years old, we had over twelve dogs (all mongrels, of course) and six cats - of course they were all neutered and in great health once we took them in. But amongst the various animals that I have been lucky enough to have in my life, cats have always had a special spot....no, no, not SPOT, because even that conjures up dog thoughts! I have always had a special bond with cats! That's better.

When I was eleven years old, four stray kittens that I had taken in, all died, slowly, one by one, from some virus (which I now know, was probably the fatal strain of cat flu). The pain I felt those few days, holding each little kitten until it breathed its last, and not being able to help it get better has been as great as when anybody has died, or when I have "lost" anything. I distinctly recall having to go in for a singing lesson later that afternoon after the last kitten, a little tortoiseshell coloured one that I was sure would survive, died in my lap. I began singing a little song by Max Reger, and could barely produce any sound, as I was completely choked up with pain. All I felt was sadness and pain in my heart at those four tiny little mites who had been through such suffering and who would not see another day.

As I grew older, I began getting more involved in helping my mum and grandfather at the local vets when it came to neutering stray cats, or getting them treated. Of course, dogs were always around, even to this day, the first ritual every morning is for us to go for a two hour walk feeding stray dogs biscuits, bread and milk. Still, it was cats that got my undivided attention. As they lived and died, I understood more about life and its challenges. You have something one day; you lose it the next day. I also learnt a lot about independence (I love that about cats) and solitude. The happiest memories of my time in Ireland are linked in some way to cats - and I even managed to convert a self confessed dog lover into a cat mad person, as I am! Actually, I didn't - the cats themselves did! Piki and Bucky, take a bow!! Even in the past year, when things have been difficult, frightening and uncertain, I have been so lucky to always be in the company of my feline friends - eccentric, insanely idiotic and as affectionate as them Labradors! Now, back to some silliness after all the seriousness:

Ten things I love about cats:

Purrrrrrrrrrability - sheer music!

The fact that they aren't as needy as people

They double up as hot water bottles and are much nicer to snug up to

Stroking a cat is better than any prescribed anti-depressant - trust me!

Their ability to meditate anywhere and everywhere

Their insane personalities (Bucky would turn up at my front door every night at 7 p.m. and knock on it with his front paw. Think I'm joking - ask my former student who had a lesson at 7 p.m.)

Their love for personal hygiene

Watching them stalk things, people, objects.

Their ability to listen to my ravings, without demanding endless cups of tea or coffee.

How they entertain themselves for hours with the simplest things - paper bags, boxes, scrunched up balls of paper.

Coming back to Dr Schweitzer's original quote - here you go: music AND cats, all on one radio show. Last week's Offbeat program featured the works of great musicians and composers - Maurice Ravel, Ralph Vaughan Williams, John Lennon, Queen, Alexander Borodin and Domenico Scarlatti. They all have one thing in common - like me, they were also cat mad - actually, nearly all of them were infinitely worse than I am, but to find out more you have to listen to the program which you can download here.

The truth about Piano Teachers

2010-03-26T10:09:00.000-07:00

I have had exactly eight teachers since I first set eyes on a piano at the age of four. I am not counting the "one off" lessons, or masterclass tutors that I have played for when I was a student. These eight teachers have hailed from five countries and have come from totally different "schools" of piano playing and teaching. One of these eight is one of the greatest living pianists in the world; another is one who has probably been on an airplane just once in her whole life. While being a great teacher is not something a celebrated concert pianist needs to worry about, it always astonishes me when I come across piano "teachers" or worse still, piano "professors" who have not got the faintest idea about teaching or performance! These are the few who have managed to cover up their below-par playing skills or lack of rudimentary piano teaching knowledge by getting academic music qualifications and adding these letters to their names. As a result, they manage to obtain positions of power in music schools or colleges, but end up lacking two basic things: 1) The ability to share their knowledge of piano playing to a student, irrespective of the student's musical background. 2) Problem solving skills and the ability to do the "donkey work" with a student at teach lesson.

I have received many, many emails over the years, especially when I owned and updated www.pianolessonsdublin.com - most of these were from parents and prospective students who described their experiences with teachers. The end response or comment usually was “but he was a student at so and so conservatory" or "she said she was experienced and qualified". Some people wrote about the fact that their teacher was reluctant to explain a simple musical concept or demonstrate it slowly, at the lesson. Others spoke about the fact that their teachers hardly ever played pieces for them, allowing them to know new repertoire - even exam pieces were chosen by the teacher without ever asking the student for his/her opinion. Now I know why, when I was a music examiner, twelve students sent up by the same teacher would all play the same three pieces in a given grade. Even more disturbingly, having experienced some of this first hand, as a student, and later as a masterclass tutor, I know that these are not fabricated stories!

My very first piano teachers were Enid Roberts and Veera Pooniwala, at the St Cecelia's School of Music that Roberts ran out of her tiny cottage in Pune, India. Both these women demonstrated the qualities a music teacher should have. They never spent lesson after lesson on technique, yet I developed a fairly secure technique by the time I was twelve years old. They never forced any repertoire down my throat, simply because those were "competition" pieces or "Feis Ceoil" worthy (as is the case with many teachers in Ireland). As a result, I developed an understanding of a wide variety of piano and vocal music. Sight-reading was always as important as playing virtuoso music by memory, and I was always encouraged to accompany instrumentalists, the choir and other singing students. They were never embarrassed about explaining one bar of music, or helping me read through a new piece, slowly because THAT is what a piano teacher has to do! If you're a piano teacher, you're there to help the student, selflessly and without any ego, not demand that they learn the notes of a piece for the next lesson, and then and only then can you teach them. While neither Miss Roberts nor "Aunty" Veera claimed to be the world's best concert pianist, both of them could always demonstrate a piece at the piano, make a few mistakes if it was an unfamiliar work, but share their love and enthusiasm for what they were teaching. A love and enthusiasm for music. This is important. Hence, when I learnt a piece of music, even if it was a grade exam piece, I first grew to love it for what it was: beautiful music, a dizzying, fun piece that I could play in front of others, or a serene nocturne that I could play at home, by myself. The first concerto I learnt was one I performed for a concert which also included vocal music, guitars, choirs - not for a concerto competition!

Later, when I saw what life was like as a performance student in a music conservatoire, I realized that being a great piano teacher was not something that can be learnt by going to the best music college in the world. It was something innate, the desire to devote hours and hours of one's time, sacrifice one's own playing and practice time, simply so that a nine year old student could learn the left hand of a Bach invention! It was something that one chose to do not because he or she was trying to earn a quick buck on the side, or pay off a mortgage! Most importantly, it was not a second-rate vocation for failed performance graduates, or those who could not cut it on the concert stage. Ironically, two of the worst teachers I have ever encountered have been in two different music conservatoires. One, a former "Head of Piano Department" and the other, a senior professor of the piano faculty. Neither had ever played in a concert, nor had they taught "ordinary" students (i.e. not just extremely competent conservatory students from Russia or the Far East). Neither teacher had any ability to engage with the student (me, and several others of all ages) and if the students managed to do well, it was not because of their teaching but despite it! A few years ago, I interviewed past and present students of the aforementioned "piano professors" as part of an article I was writing for Pianist Magazine. Once they knew they didn't have to disclose their names, the revelations began: the average lesson mainly consisted of a few generic comments and lots of unnecessary lecturing and gossip. Most of what these students learned was in masterclasses with visiting musicians. No surprise then that nearly all these students (who were, at the time in full-time Undergraduate or Post Graduate performance degrees) never kept up their piano playing upon graduation. I'm talking about extremely talented, gifted people here. One former competition winner went on to pursue accounting, another returned to college to do an MBA, while another is a part-time piano teacher who, in her own words "can't stand children!"

Obviously, I'm not saying that a pianist with a B.Mus degree is going to make a bad piano teacher - that's not the case! I'm just saying that an academic qualification or ANY qualification is no way to discern if someone can actually play the piano, or teach instrumental music. In the past, diplomas were considered the be all and end all - in actual fact, a diploma simply means that one has prepared four or five pieces to a very high standard and performed them. I taught adult, amateur students who, despite no previous knowledge, were able to play advanced level repertoire in two or three years - does this mean they are able to teach? Of course not! While any and every piano teacher should do what they can to constantly better themselves, add to their musical knowledge and education, the priority should be to obtain a thorough understanding of the art of teaching. That is something that takes years of patience, practice and a genuine love of teaching itself.

As a teacher, I instinctively know if a student I am teaching will one day become a teacher - irrespective of age or background. I also know that some of my best students may not necessarily have any flair or aptitude for teaching. Nowadays, anyone who does a couple of piano exams starts teaching, often charging top dollar, irrespective of whether they know anything about what it involves. So I am always overjoyed when I know a student will make that most wonderful transition from talented piano student to instinctive, hard-working, passionate piano teacher. A rare, selfless individual who has no desire to be rich or famous, just to share her love and knowledge of this great art form to her next student!

Happy Nowruz to one and all!

2010-03-20T14:41:00.000-07:00

Nowruz (new day/daylight)  is the traditional Iranian festival of spring which starts at the  exact moment of the spring equinox, and heralds the start of spring.  It is considered as the start of the New Year among Iranians.This year, Nowruz took place at 12.32 p.m. GMT (at the time when the Sun entered Aries). 

As a child growing up in a Zoroastrian family in India, Nowruz signified many things - my brother's Birthday party (his birthday being the 19th of March, and Nowruz normally being the 20th or 21st of March), visiting grandparents and relatives, having lots of "Gaz" (no wonder my teeth were in such a bad state before I turned ten), splashing tons of rose water (to date the only "beauty product" I use) and painting funny faces on to an egg which was then placed on the Nowruz table (  Haft Seen ). Dried fruits, pomegranate, sweets, rice, custard, sprouted wheat, and a large mirror... so many strange and intruiging foods were laid out on everyone's Nowruz tables in every household. 

Unfortunately, I also remember Nowruz coinciding with school exams, so I could never really enjoy the spirit of the New Year, because I always had to cram and bury my head in school work. Plus, my mother would always insist on a major "spring clean" a few days before Nowruz, every single year, so I would end up misplacing or losing things just before school exams. Still, when Nowruz dawns every year, I am always filled with renewed hope and optimism - there's something really wonderful about celebrating the change of seasons, of remembering that if you do good, say good things, think good thoughts, your entire year will go well, and if you cause pain and hurt around Nowruz, the year will be traumatic and difficult! Ironically, as the years passed, many loved ones passed away around Nowruz, so in recent years it has been a time of celebration but also of quite contemplation and reflection. My paternal grand father, our beloved Pandit (a Maharashtrian man who worked for my maternal grandfather), my cousin who tragically passed away in his early twenties, my mum's cousin, my two dear friends who died when they were both only fourteen years old, my great grandmother - the list is quite long.

The last message I wrote was about my brother Shadaan's one man play entitled "The Virgin and the Vulture" - I know he chose the date 21st March to coincide with Nowruz. I guess he thought there was something auspicious about the day itself, and the fact that the souls (Asho Ravans) of all our loved ones are always with us. As someone who is not religious, I do not really obsess about the staunch, fanatical aspects of any religion. Instead, I love celebrating the positive aspects of the ancient faith that I was born into, and all the other cultures and religions that I have discovered. Having said that, for many years I was reluctant to talk about the fact that I was born into a Zoroastrian family, and as the years passed, I was advised to simply say I was "Irish" and "Christian" - both by employers, by concert promoters, and by a parent of a student who admitted that I would get more students if I didn't flaunt my "foreign" background. Ridiculous as that sounds.Anyway, that's all in the past. For now, I'm happy to spread the basic principle of this ancient faith - Turn yourself not away from three best things: Good Thought, Good Word, and Good Deed!

Happy Nowruz to everyone!

Shadaan Felfeli - The Virgin and the Vulture

2010-03-18T03:05:00.001-07:00

I have one brother. His name is Shadaan Felfeli, and as a teacher  of mine said many, many years ago after she heard him sing and act when  he was only 10 years old "Karishmeh, you are nothing compared to your  talented brother". I was twelve years old, and as sensitive a kid as  they come - not to mention that she was my singing teacher and I  idolized her! So of course I burst into tears afterwards and was very  upset. As the years passed, I realized she was completely right - as far  as creativity and talent goes, Shadaan is miles ahead.

Even though that  woman was a moron for saying something so ignorant, ha! So - on that  note, if you happen to be in Dublin on Sunday 21st March (more  about the significance of this date later on), go along to:

THE VIRGIN AND THE VULTURE
Written and performed by actor Shadaan Felfeli, it tells the tale of a Parsi storyteller who finds it hard to get out bed one sunny, Indian afternoon.

WHEN: Sunday 21st March, 2.30 p.m. and 6.00 p.m.
WHERE: The Pearse Center, 27 Pearse Street (near the Trinity Capitol Hotel), Dublin 2
ADMISSION: Free, but email virginandvulture AT gmail DOT com to reserve tickets!