This post is best begun with a quotation from violinist Alyssa Saint:  ”[I'm] at the point where observing different musicians, rehearsals, etc. is much more beneficial than a million hours in the practice room.  I am constantly fascinated.” I begin this way simply because Alyssa has hit on a very important point: watching those who excel in their field can provide a massive amount of insight into how one could do the same.  This is in contrast to isolating oneself, struggling to understand your craft without any external influence or stimulus.  This deceptively profound observation could not have come at a better time, preceding a residency with the St. Lawrence String Quartet (SLSQ) at Arizona State University, as well as a completely unrelated residency with composer Jonathan Newman.

The SLSQ had done a residency with us earlier this year and will do yet another in early April.  This group of musicians holds a unique position in the musical world in that its members do not focus solely on performance of “new” music, much like the Kronos Quartet, nor do they inundate their audiences with record-perfect performances of standard Haydn string quartets, like the Tokyo String Quartet et al.  What makes them unique is, while they have their fingers firmly in the realm of contemporary music, as demonstrated by their lecture demo, they simultaneously excel at the re-interpretation of older pieces.  Composers like Haydn, Beethoven, Brahms, Mendelssohn, etc. all have a myriad of works for the ensemble, many of which are considered standards, regularly performed by students and professionals alike across the globe.  The difference between those performances and the ones put on by the SLSQ is that, while Beethoven died in 1827 and his last string quartet was written in 1826, it sounds as though it were written yesterday.  The ensemble’s energy and enthusiasm for performing all types of music is infectious and does not stop at recreating a familiar work, but likewise brings pieces off the beaten path into the light and reveals them as the masterpieces they truly are.

A very blurry picture of one of the most talented and approachable professional quartets in the country.

This second residency lecture demonstration was focused on John Adams’ String Quartet, a work written specifically for this unique collection of performers.  An hour with them on this piece consisted of listening to them play excerpts followed by a discussion regarding rehearsal techniques, Adams’ influences, and the formal progression of the work as a whole.  The remarkable part of this demo was talking about how the piece evolved as the two parties worked together.  They played through original forms of the work and several of the changes that both the performers and composer suggested.  I was blown away by the sound worlds that we were taken to, by how something that sounded remarkable before could become astonishingly unbelievable after.  Observing this process – or, rather, a demonstration of this process – guided me to a train of thought I would never have even been able to imagine were it just explained or had I merely read about it.  Again, it became acutely obvious that “[O]bserving different musicians [. . .] is much more beneficial than a million hours in a practice room.”

Additionally, this week I had the pleasure of talking to visiting composer Jonathan Newman, who was in town to work with soon-to-be Dr. Stuart Sims on his lecture recital for his doctoral studies entitled “The 21st Century Symphony.”  Initially, Newman was scheduled to present only for the undergraduate composition class – which many grad students decided to crash – where he would present a collection of his works, talk about how they were written, who they were written for, and why he wrote what he wrote.  In the waning minutes of his presentation, he began to talk about surviving as a full-time composer.  ”You are a business that has a product that people will pay for,” he said.  “Make it clear that you get paid to do what you do, and do not apologize for it.”

This discussion was cut short, as people started to file out of the room, but I was able to chat with him a little bit more and invite him out for a beer later that night at Four Peaks Brewery.

There, in the midst of this warehouse-like restaurant, my colleague, Jeremy Bell, and I had the opportunity to pick Newman’s brain on how he wrote, how he promoted himself, and how he kept going.  The unfiltered honesty that he exhibited was refreshing.  He discussed the decade after his graduate studies, which he spent as a freelance copyist working for composers and publishers until he decided that he just wanted to write.  He was open about the hardship of the inconsistent income from his commissions, performances, and residencies, alluded to travels where he met amazing people as well as places he hoped never to return to again, and when asked why he never pursued the teaching path, he simply said, “I have no interest in competing with 500 of my closest friends to end up in a location I don’t really want to be.”  All the while displaying his quirky sense of humor and good-natured persona, and the fact that he is “awesome” (to quote Dr. Etezady), Newman offered hope, insight, and honesty about the road many of us choose to travel, giving an education that otherwise may have taken years to absorb, whether I was doing it by myself or learning about the concepts in school.

To come back to Alyssa’s statement, while many of us may still need those million hours in the practice room to learn and discover for ourselves, take a moment to observe what is going on around you.  You would be surprised at how much more you can learn in a shorter time period by watching what others do.

I give much thanks to the St. Lawrence String Quartet, Jonathan Newman, and Alyssa Saint for their inspiration.  The time spent with them has been more enlightening than they know.