Remember when festivals used to be fun?
NewsNow, the big ones are mostly about global politics and box-office worries.
Our string quartet columnist Anthea Kreston has gone back to the fun side:
It’s our second year at the Oregon Old-Time Fiddlers’ Summer Camp, in Pleasant Hills, Oregon. About 200 of us are camped in a flat, hot field abutting a grove of Douglas Firs belonging to the rather down-at-the-heals Emerald Christian Academy. We are fearlessly lead by a motley group of instructors with a median age of somewhere between 75 and 105, judging from the stories of childhoods with no running water, lists of recent health issues combined with forgetting where the double bass is parked.
Students range from 2 years old to 80, coming from a 500 mile radius, in campers, old pickup trucks and SUV’s, carrying banjos, fiddles, basses, ukuleles and guitars. From many walks of life, I have met farmers, retired professionals, and university professors, some wearing home-made clothing, cowboy hats and boots, or cutoffs and Nirvana t-shirts. Green-haired adolescents and mothers with long braids join in ad-hoc circle jams well before and after the sun has gone down. In the evenings, after country dancing in the gym, the kids play outside while parents play their instruments around the campsites, all eventually coming back to sleep when they feel like their day is done.
I had, looking back on it, what I would call a burn-out after graduating from music school. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it any longer. The endless practice, the minutiae, the relentless self-scrutiny. The crushing comparisons to everyone above you, and smug feelings when comparing anyone below you. I was crippled by self-doubt, and I couldn’t even bring myself to practice at school anymore, convinced that there would be someone outside my door wondering how I had gotten into the school, embarrassed on my behalf at my clumsy attempts at improvement. Some of this was imagined, but much was not, as I can attest by my own gleeful feelings when I saw someone playing violin who hadn’t had the exposure to high-level teaching that I had, or who didn’t have the discipline (I thought) to reach a higher level of skill. It’s all kindof baked in, a sick cycle the ensures both self-doubt and feelings of superiority.
We live in an area of the country that understands and appreciates (it seems to me) fiddle music measurably above classical music. Or actually any kind of music besides classical, where most concerts come with spoken explanations between each piece, a light educational feel. And it’s no wonder, in this land of Lewis and Clark, Old European music seems about as relevant and real as a zombie thriller.
It’s this week, here, in this hot dusty place, that I find musical freedom. Not more satisfying than playing with my old quartet in the Concertgebouw, but a full liberated, pure enjoyment of the simplicity of sound. Daily workshops in bluegrass, line dancing, intro to ukulele, and rhythm guitar are punctuated by cookie breaks and freeze tag. I play mandolin, flat-pick guitar, cello and bass, basically anything besides violin, and I travel from room to room, learning a chord progression here, a tune there, and getting to know this group of people who I will never, ever see at a quartet concert. People with joy, with not an iota of self-scrutiny, feeling their way, adding as much or as little into the group (often just sitting out until they get a feel for the tune), experts and novices play together, helping out with a pointer if asked, sharing stories and just being together.
This mix for me is what gives me happiness – I teach at the university, play in a string quartet, and watch my children grow up in a musical environment where they can be free. Last week, a commenter on this site implied that I was not qualified to be talking about classical music, that I was not a high enough level of musician. It is to this person that I write today, not in anger, rather in the hopes that we can all find the effervescent core of music, in whatever form and wherever we desire, without judgement of others or ourselves.
(c) Anthea Kreston
Gosh, how much it sucks that capitalism has eroded human life quality such that you can no longer its side effects on the planet. Oh how worrisome, must be tiring for you pensioners!
I believe the town is Pleasant Hill, not Pleasant Hills.
Thanks for the heads-up. It certainly is beautiful!
“both self-doubt and feelings of superiority”: sums up perfectly the attitudes inculcated at tertiary music institutions. One has to be simultaneously elite, and at the same time self-critical to the point of self-abnegation. Heaven forbid that any musician should actually feel good about playing. There’s always something you can improve…never good enough… Too many teachers still enforcing this ‘learning’ style.
An excellent and well -written article, thank you, Anthea. I played a jazz festival six weeks ago, and the attitudes to performance were refreshingly different: enjoyment was encouraged!
Glad you had a fun jazz festival!
Speaking as a Juilliard graduate and as a (former) professional in opera and symphony orchestras for about a dozen years:
I suppose you can either dig into the rat race that the author describes, or you can somehow learn to be a bigger fish in a smaller pond, or you can relegate music to a different position in your life. I chose not to continue to perform professionally, as I felt the hours and the effort weren’t worth the low remuneration. I find I actually enjoy working on and playing music a lot more for myself, for friends and family, and for enthusiasts. Having done so has also freed me from worrying about the financial aspect of performing for a living, the money long since coming from other, unrelated work. I do not regret my decision at all, but realize that not everyone would want to be in my position.
The unbearable smugness of some mediocre artists or frustrated non-artists is what makes classical music a dark intelectual place to go to. I recommend everyone that asks me to dig into the soundscapes of the greatest composers of each country, but warn them about this tumor that corrodes our beloved music to the youngsters. I’m sure if we had a time machine, and sent a few of those snobs back to the premieres of the greatest masterpieces (specially Beethoven symphonies and piano concertos), they would be baffled to know that the music was not at all better than today. Many could argue that a medium-sized orchestra can make a better sound that a grand one of that time, and since we have much more rehearsals and preparation, the overall sound is more complete. To those that think nothing is enough for them, I say they’re not enough, you either appreciate it, or go chase the “perfect sound” of your head alone, because classical music is about a community experiencing music.
Now this is what truly classical violin music is all about — talented musicians of all ages just fiddling around! I’m sure even Pinky and Yasha would agree! And KLEZMER FOREVER!!!
There are still plenty of local folk festivals throughout America (and the world) where musicians of all levels perform on stage or around a campfire, just to share the joy of music!