London Viola Player, Violinist & Arranger For Hire

Off the road

Amidst all the Old Testament prophet-related excitement, I didn’t get round to posting about an event of more long-term significance: I’m finally living somewhere I can call my own (well, rented to me anyway) rather than touring spare beds! Admittedly I haven’t managed to get about half of my possessions over here to join me, but it’s still quite a big step.

I haven’t lived on the hoof, necessarily minimally, for quite a while now. One of the big things I realised even unpacking the first tranch of stuff is I have (and didn’t chuck out before moving out!) quite a bit of stuff that I really don’t need, even don’t miss when I don’t have access them so maybe don’t really want. I’m seriously considering giving away most of the books and CDs/records that are still in crates in a friend’s cupboard, maybe even some of the instruments (gasp!) – though realistically I probably won’t do much about it.

We always mess up our priorities I think. It turns out a second music stand, or an instrument that can play chords, or even a stereo, are much less necessary to my ongoing existence (as a musician, remember!) than printer paper.

From the sacred to the –

– also sacred, with varying admixtures of the, if not profane, certainly secular. Last night: Mendelssohn’s Elijah, an oratorio, performed as a music event with no religious pretensions in a deconsecrated church. My chief impressions: a powerful piece, cramming in a surprising amount of the memorable plot elements from the relevant chunks of Scripture and with some genuinely powerful dramatic moments. However, a long slog for the strings, with some impossibly squiggly figures at breakneck speed even in the viola part and very little time off. Holding the instrument up and against my neck / shoulder was actually painful by a few numbers before the end. From the back of the violas (so far back in the odd layout chosen that I was between the tuba and the timpani!), there was something odd and hard to follow about a convention which seemed to leave the strings unanimously working a breath behind the conductor in recitatives on down-beats, and sometimes elsewhere. Since the point of recitative is that it is almost completely rhythmically flexible, this is bewildering on one rehearsal! Also St John’s Smith Square, despite being a Georgian (I would guess) cavern of a building with a huge amount of empty space, managed to be a positive sauna for the entire performance – I was so glad to be in shirtsleeves as it was an all-black dress code, black or white tie would have been insufferable!

This afternoon (I need to leave for it rather shortly), harvest festival service of my church in the back room of a pub by the river. Few impressions yet as, er, the event is still in the future, but it will undoubtedly involve beer, prayers, small children, and singing mostly well-worn harvest hymns. I may or may not be playing, due to a collection of available musicians that is a bit hard to form into a workable group (without someone going off and writing string arrangements anyway. Maybe another time.).

Yesterday’s programme included a note of every orchestral player’s conservatoire provenance, since the orchestra had been billed as consisting of Philharmonia principals and conservatoire students. They appeared to have managed to fulfill that with the inclusion of some fairly recent alumni – except for the violas. My name the one blank in the whole list for a conservatoire acronym.

Thus saith the Lord …

… go ye unto London, to the house of God called St John’s in Smith Square nigh unto Westminster, and there play ye Mendelssohn’s Elijah on one rehearsal at 48 hours’ notice.

Well, in fairness I did apply to play. But having been put on the reserve list and then told in a round-robin that it didn’t look like us reservists would be needed, it was quite a surprise to get re-hired by text message on Thursday evening. As a result of apparently not being needed, I hadn’t prepared (there were lots of other things around to take up my attention, of which more anon) and so there will definitely be sight-reading going on tomorrow. Possibly, since I’m not sure we have enough rehearsal time to play everything even once, sight-reading in the concert. Well, with life like that to keep my heart rate up, who needs caffeine? … ?

So if you’re near central London Saturday evening, come along! There’ll be a chorus of up to 270 and professional soloists and section leaders from the Philharmonia and it’s raising money for the Three Choirs Festival and everything. And amidst 300+ musicians I don’t think you’ll be able to notice my mistakes from the very back of the violas. I’m very good at only making them in the loud bits now. … …

And there slew they the goats.

In which humans are like two-way radios

I’m just slightly too old to be a digital native. I remember when ordinary people didn’t have mobile phones; I remember having to have the concept of a Blackberry (as in, a phone with emails on it) explained to me as a student; I was in my second year of university when Facebook landed in the UK and we didn’t have a word for social networks; I can just about remember when webmail was barely a thing.

One of the things that has definitely changed with the digital revolution (and this is by no means a new observation) is that we are all transmitters now. We can all publish text and images, in a fairly meaningful sense, rather than that power being restricted to people that a fairly small number of companies think will sell enough copies to make a profit on a full-scale printing run. We can put recordings up online where anyone with a web connection can access them, and we can even produce CDs that look fairly professional from home. Vinyl obviously required a record label, and duplicating tapes required doing each one individually on a twin cassette machine. Remember this?

As a result, we all (and particularly, dare I say it, those who haven’t lived with anything else) have become habitual transmitters of content. We don’t just read magazines, we comment on them, share articles selectively, even effectively write our own articles. We don’t just listen to music, we edit it, upload it to Youtube with new videos of our own devising, remix it, record our own tracks and release them. And so on.

Now I’m not going to claim that people’s time is a zero-sum game – digitisation and always-on technology do at least apparently decrease the amount of unused time in our lives, if we use them that way. But I’m fairly convinced that there is a limit on an individual’s effort and concentration capacity.

Do you remember all that ‘come in … over … over and out’ business on old war films? The reason for that is those old radio sets couldn’t effectively send and receive at the same time, so if you spoke at the same time, even properly tuned in, you wouldn’t manage to communicate with each other.

I think this happens with people. If we’re always busy transmitting, we don’t receive. So people talking to each other are fairly oblivious to their surroundings beyond the conversation; which came into my head as I sat on a late coach last night with exactly two people on the top deck talking to each other – while everyone else at least apparently tried to sleep.

It’s fairly antisocial with people, but a lot more directly problematic for musicians that want to do anything not literally solo.

There are a lot of musicians whose background is essentially learning in lessons or from books and videos etc., playing by themselves at home and perhaps doing the odd open mike or similar slot. There’s nothing wrong with that, but if you take someone from there and bring them into a band, or even a jam, then it really shows. Because those people – and some other musicians sadly – however technically able they may be, play as if there was nothing around them whether there are other people playing/singing or not. They do what they’ve learned beforehand, or have convinced themselves is right, and keep going with it even if any experienced group player can easily hear that they’re at odds with the group – usually most audibly when they take an extra bar or two to realise everyone else has stopped.

Slightly counter-intuitively, good jam session people probably spend less time playing, at least to start with. Once you’ve heard a chord progression once or twice then you stand more chance of fitting with it thereafter rather than clashing after a few bars. And the musically experienced know that the one thing that never clashes with anything is silence!

So if you want to contribute better, or perhaps effectively at all, spend less time on transmit and more on receive. Trust me. And be counter-cultural.

Insider speak

The mother of my current host family to her youngest daughter, aged five: ‘Your marbles are going to overflow soon, I think it’s going to be ukulele time.’

This did make perfect sense to Olive, though I don’t think I’ve disentangled quite what it signified myself. Like a lot of young family conversations, it relies heavily on insider knowledge of both situation and terminology.

And essentially the same applies to spheres and bands, and in general to freelancers’ employers. You don’t notice it as an employee because you’re only exposed to one and you acclimatise over time; as a free lance of any kind you deal with a handful on a regular basis, as a musician probably most weeks. Your inboxes deal with them much more frequently! And you just have to learn that the same terms mean different things in different groups. (With my publishing hat on, for instance, ‘production editor’, which is my job title, describes significantly different jobs even within the publishers I work for, never mind any others.) You also have to try and keep the right tone, whether it’s for young-ish classical organisers, even younger slightly geeky singer-songwriters, middle-aged working band ringers or part-time lecturers. And so on.

It’s being a chameleon. And particularly as a musician, where you really do different things for different people. I swap gypsy-rock high twiddling for Irishy folk fiddle for para-classical technical control on a regular basis, and in a couple of weeks I’ll need to get my bluegrass chugging and train whistle slides out for an audition. You can’t afford to restrictively specialise as a beginner jobbing string player; there simply isn’t the work. So you fit in in musically, and try to pick up the language as you go.

And the fewer feathers (of any kind) that get ruffled, the more likely you are to get pay out of it eventually.

Earfuls

I find that my move into looking for payment has involved a move both into and away from the classical sphere in one sense. This is the sense in which classical = played as it’s written on the page. A bad definition but a strong association, particularly I think for non-classical players and writers.

On the way in, dep jobs, if I get them, require learning music which may not be recorded anywhere in the form to be played, from music, by yourself, quickly – so as to be ready to perform after one fairly short rehearsal (well, short compared to the length of the gig anyway). I haven’t done much of this for a while and I’m more or less new to it on viola (with its different clef to violin or anything else I previously played!), so it’s a bit of a step up compared to either more flexible self-written gigging band parts or scored music with much longer rehearsal times and recycling of material between performances.

But moving into the money world also involves learning songs from demos in advance of practices, because rehearsal time is precious and you don’t want to spend it repeating chord progressions to each other. That’s even in originals bands, where as a fiddle player I generally have the luxury of making up my own parts and so only needing to grasp the bare bones of a song. Head over to the (on average) rather more lucrative world of function/cover bands, and you’re in a different world. Here you can get sent a Youtube link and asked to learn the song – implicitly including at least fairly accurately fiddle lines if there are any and breaks/solos if they’re quite melodic and integral to the song, as they often are in folk – in order, again, to practise it from a prepared place. In other words, it involves what I think is the real meaning of the often loosely used phrase ‘playing by ear’. If you’re looking at function gigs and also doing a couple of projects (even if you think they may not all work out), you can also need such a repertoire in such a time period that the learning speed needs to be not that different to that for written classical parts (even if the technical standard is usually less demanding).

I’ve thought of myself (with others’ general agreement) as a good sight-reader for a long while. But until fairly recently I would have said that I didn’t do playing by ear at all – from memory yes, from chords yes (including playing follow the rhythm guitarist’s left hand), writing my own parts yes, improvising yes, but relying seeing or being told the musical structure somewhere near the start of the process.

Well, I suppose you learn to do what you need to do. (Provided you have quite a ‘young’ brain that’s still used to learning anyway.) There are shortcuts such as chords to practically every song imaginable sitting around the web, and databases of traditional tunes – but either may be in the wrong key, or inaccurate, or the version to be covered may diverge from them in one way or another, particularly with rocked-up folk songs. Also if there’s a violin / instrumental line that isn’t a traditional tune, you can pretty much guarantee there’s no transcription for free, if anyone’s done one at all.

So I’ve been learning from recordings (well, mostly Youtube actually, unless it’s other people’s originals in which case they may use Soundcloud for demos), and getting there. Even getting gradually quicker (practice, as always, may not make perfect but certainly makes plenty better). Bizarrely the biggest hurdle is still often working out what key something’s in (capo guitarist songwriters can come up with strange ones, Amy MacDonald’s This is the Life is in C sharp minor) – pinning down lead licks can be relatively straightforward if you get your head into the right set of melodic habits.

Which all goes to show the challenges aren’t necessarily the expected ones. I’d have been unlikely to get taught, or practise, learning songs from recordings alone as a skill to get paying work. But I’d be fairly screwed if I hadn’t been able to develop that ability now I need it.

Grass always greener

In my current spare room stay, I’m sharing the place with a cat, a kitten, two guinea-pigs and three chickens. There are usually a couple and three primary school-aged girls as well, but they’re all away for the weekend and I’m holding the fort with the animals. Most of them don’t need much looking after in about 48 hours, but the cats do of course need feeding. And the kitten is of course a total wildcard.

Earlier today I fed Myrtle (kitten) – she’s supposed to get three meals a day, and she’s usually always hungry. However, when I put her food down, she more or less ignored it. While this might be to do with whatever it was she’d been trying to lick off my dressing gown earlier in the morning, I soon discovered it was more that she was more interesting in nabbing leftovers from Dibble’s (grown-up cat) breakfast – Dibble only gets two meals a day, and what was left was considerably less in quantity and interest than Myrtle’s supposed lunch. But the thrill of theft (or something) overcame that.

Music is a rather individualist business. It’s all too envy to see everyone as a rival or a competitor, and to be always making comparisons with their previous bands, jobs, pay, achievements, etc. And of course it always seems to someone starting out that you’d trade what you’ve got for what anyone else has. But it can be just as delusory as the Myrtle food preference. And anyway, unlike her I don’t get to try stealing someone else’s, even at the risk of being batted by someone twice my size and legitimately angry.

When is an audition an audition?

(if you misread, or thought I mistyped, the title, think again … )

Well, generally when it’s not your first practice with the band.

Let me explain. Two days back I showed up to meet a Swindon-based function-Celtic-Americana band, having thought I would be auditioning or at least trying out. Turned out I was actually having my first practice with a half-established group. (Similar thing happened with Filthy Spectacula, though one prospective member did pull out after that session.) Conversely, I’ve been intermittently in touch with a London Americana/Cajun/etc. originals band who considered asking me to cover a gig at short notice but are now holding auditions with at least three fiddle players including me, even if they’re doing them all on the same night. It might be more.

Now, this isn’t a complaint and I’m sure it reflects the number of apparently plausible people wanting to be in those groups. But a function-ish mostly covers band are likely to be bringing in more cash than an originals band anyway, and given the latter has roughly twice as many members there’s also going to be much smaller shares.

To many southwesterners, I suspect the need to go to Swindon would seem enough to put anyone off anything, but I doubt it’s really that either. And it might be that all the fiddle players without high-paying gigs already but with the skills to join gigging bands are more interested in artistic integrity than financial return (and therefore refuse to cover Wagon Wheel and Galway Girl).

But I suspect it really just illustrates that music isn’t a dependable and predictable industry. It basically, in Chuck Berry’s words, goes to show you never can tell.

If variety is the spice of life

Then mine is currently probably a tandoori.

Today, I carried out the second-to-last move of my protracted housing saga – from the second to the third (and final) of my stays with church friends. I know this to be the final one because I have finally signed a rental agreement for a room, but can’t move in for a week and a half; but I can stay where I am for that long, having finally moved ahead of the apparent wave of spare rooms getting taken up that’s been chasing me.

Due to legitimate but perhaps over worried-about concerns from one of my bandleaders yesterday, I mapped out several aspects of my likely weekly routine from shortly. Here, in somewhat more full, are my conclusions:

Sunday: church (Anglican fresh expression community) late afternoon; otherwise free for practice and trying to rest
Monday: daytime free for practice and admin, and preferably a nap. Evening Filthy Spectacula practice (steampunk/goth/gypsy/dark cabaret band) – in Uxbridge so a late night (hence the nap)
Tuesday: daytime in desk job. Therapy at lunchtime. Evening String Project practice (classical/folk/trip-hop fusion band)
Wednesday: daytime free for practice and admin. Evening possibly Celtic function band practice (depending on how tonight’s try-out goes)
Thursday: daytime in desk job. Evening free for practice and admin
Friday, Saturday: free-ish for practice, admin and running the rest of my life

So, nice and homogeneous and consistent then. But at least boredom is unlikely, to go back to where I started.

People power?

I realised today that I’ve become utterly cynical about peaceful mass street protests. I haven’t given up on direct democracy yet – I think elected powerholders can be swayed noticeably, at least sometimes, by so many people contacting them that they get really afraid of losing enough votes to effectively lose their job. Ironically though, I think it might actually work a little bit more often on companies (provided they have retail business to lose) – apparently money is power appealing, or at least scarier to lose, than power.

But people marching through the streets in their thousands, tens and hundreds of thousands, millions – they attract some media attention, usually. Mostly currently directed either to police tactics or the violent handful (if there is one and they are only a handful) in the UK at least. They make people feel good about themselves and that their cause is achieving something. And then generally the politicians targeted don’t really do anything in response (except perhaps close the windows and hire some musicians to compete with the noise). Street protests, I now bitterly feel, lead to action usually only when they turn ugly; when people are dragged out of tents or tear-gassed or start lobbing stones and Molotov cocktails.

Does this have anything to do with music? I’m not sure. But it does suggest that people are not straightforwardly powerful – that even in a highly demotic, head-counting society like mine at the moment, they may set out to do something in massive numbers and not achieve it if they went about it the wrong way.

It’s all very well networking furiously and attracting attention with eye-catching activities like, er, blogging daily. But it only actually helps with old-fashioned hard cash (and sadly my food isn’t payable in WordPress followers!) when you can get those contacts to do something that helps you get to paid activities of whatever sort. And that something probably isn’t marching on Westminster to demand government arts funding for blues violists …