Two recitals, one week

Last weekend was, perhaps, the busiest of all thus far. With two full-length recitals on tap, I barely had time to think about anything but harp (and various academic demands from Emma).

Now that I have the weekend off from Emma and pre-college, I'm taking the time to think about what went well and what could have gone better in both recitals.

Surprisingly enough, I've never had a solo recital before this year, which made learning how to sustain myself throughout a 40 minute program somewhat difficult. When playing in studio recitals or assemblies, one simply has to get through five to ten minutes of music on average. But in a solo recital a musician has to play many pieces with few breaks and building anxiety. Learning how to overcome that anxiety, or how to move on after making a mistake, was perhaps the most difficult for me to learn, but I was ultimately pretty successful in terms of not letting myself be weighted down by big mistakes.

Though in both recitals (at Juilliard and at Emma), the majority of my program went quite well, both had moments of, shall we say, "tiny catastrophe." The mistakes weren't horrible or glaring, but at the very moment of said mistake, it almost felt like the piece was crashing down. On Saturday, one of the pedals popped up from sharp to natural unexpectedly, completely changing the key. On Sunday, I had a brief memory slip (which tends to happen when one memorizes forty minutes of music). In the grander scheme of things, these two slip-ups weren't a huge deal. What was a bigger deal is how I was able to use the skills I've been working on this year to move on when things got a bit rough. Rather than freezing on the spot when things don't go well (which, admittedly, happened during a pre-college harp class performance one morning), I've learned to quickly get back on the horse, and just keep going. I count the development of this skill as a success in terms of my growth as a musician and especially as a performer.

Another aspect of my recitals that went well was the increasing musicality of the performances. My teacher is always telling me to "be a diva," which, for those who know me, is quite hard; I prefer to avoid the dramatic, instead opting for a focus on the technical aspect of playing. Maybe it was just the feeling of nervous excitement on stage or the fancy dress, but I finally understood what she meant by being "a diva." It's not necessarily the addition of weirdly dramatic flair (like the odd facial expressions some people like to make). It's an understanding of the music and what it requires. Sometimes it calls for a longer pause, no pause, or just a little more oomph. Whatever it was, I understood more clearly how to give the music what it needed.

Overall, I feel that the recital was a nice culmination of my musical career thus far. I performed pieces I truly enjoy without cracking beneath the pressure of a solo recital, and I was able to do so with a musicality I hadn't seen in myself before. It was quite a nice end to the year and all of the hard work I've put in. To see the fruits of one's labor is perhaps more thrilling than anything else can be.

Jazz Harp

As I said in my latest post, the harp is capable of so much more than people think. It seems that, often, we transfer our perception of the harp's romantic appearance to our expectations of its capabilities. Popular culture, too, has not helped the harp's image as anything other than an angelic instrument.
Nevertheless, I cherish moments when the harp transcends such perceptions and makes some differently fantastic music.

This is why I love jazz harp.

Upright bass, piano, and sax are all expected. But jazz harp is something I never would have imagined (and most people don't either). But man, it's gorgeous.

A few years ago, I discovered that Jakez Francois, the head of Camac harps, is a talented jazz harpist.  I'd come across his videos on the internet and was blown away. I had never heard such a sound coming from the instrument I had come to know for so many years. It was wonderfully captivating and jazzy, with colors I hadn't really heard before on the harp. He took some of the greatest jazz compositions (from Thelonious Monk, Hoagy Carmichael, and Paul Desmond) and gave them a new sound on the harp.

Now, I invite you to enjoy this miraculous combination: harp and jazz (Plus, who doesn't enjoy a blue harp? You don't see that every day.)

Here, you can listen to Jakez Francois play Hoagy Carmichael's Georgia on My Mind on the jazz harp.

Here, he plays a jazz version of a well-known harp piece, The Minstrel's Adieu to his Native Land. This is actually a piece I know well, as I have played it before. It's quite interesting to listen to a piece I thought I knew so well, then to hear something completely different! It is, without a doubt, my favorite of all of his performances.

Falling in love with a piece

As a growing musician, I'm often required to play pieces that simply teach me something. Perhaps I'll learn to press into the string more using an étude full of luscious chords. Or, perhaps, I'll discover the practicality of certain fingerings for arpeggios. In fact, the last two pieces I have played were didactic in nature. And, while they taught me important concepts, I never really loved them.
But every once in a while, I find a piece that truly captures my attention. A piece that makes me rush to the harp as soon as I get home and makes me practice until my fingers blister, then callus, then blister again. And, though I don't find them often, finding one is like having my own little treasure...
Because there's nothing more exciting in music than truly falling in love with a piece.
One of the more recent pieces I have truly loved is Marcel Tournier's Étude de Concert: Au Matin, which I performed for the assembly yesterday. Between its sweeping romanticism and beautiful impressionism characteristic of Tournier (au matin translates to "the morning"), I always truly enjoy myself when I sit down to play it. And, unlike other songs past, it always seems to come back into my fingers without much work. That's the beauty of these pieces; you never forget them easily.
As of late, I've found my newest piece to cherish, Saint-Saens' Fantaisie for Solo Harp. It is, for lack of a better word, beautiful. Characteristic of a fantasy, it has alternating sections of nimble, rapid passages and slower, melodic passages. This is something I love about the piece; every section has its own tone, or character if you will, and I feel responsible for making each color come out in the music. Some are bold, some delicate. Some quick, some slow. But they're all equally beautiful (well, I'll admit I'm partial to a few).
It's pieces like this that remind me what I love about the harp. It's an instrument with the capability of making so many different sounds. People often see the harp as a strictly romantic instrument, but I believe it is so much more than that. I only hope that others will see the same.


Links: Score for Fantaisie for Solo Harp, Recording of Fantaisie for Solo Harp