Entry #17 - The Cape Spear Project

Like much of the Sound Symposium, I have heard about the Cape Spear Project but have never attended one, until now. I was looking forward to it with much curiosity and anticipation.

Listening to the radio play "The Call" helped provide some perspective, but I still wasn't really sure what to expect. I don't know Moritz Eggert or his music, so the show was a complete surprise to me.

The opening with the car horns was great ("the Parking Lot Symphony") with the conductor standing in front of the car "ensemble" with his music stand and score. It was like Harbour Symphony meets late night drag race from Rebel Without A Cause.

Speaking of music stands, I felt SO bad for the poor girl in the miniskirt who was running around all night carring Moritz's music stand and keeping his score from blowing away all night. She worked harder than anyone all night, kneeling and squatting to keep her hands on those pages - and it was so windy, especially out on the point in the main bunker. I learned later that she wasn't there for that exact purpose, but happened to be part of the staff working the show. She was grabbed by Moritz to be his score-roadie for the entire night. She couldn't have been comfortable either, doing all that in a mini-skirt, not that I was checking her out. I hope they paid her well.

The way the event was explained, I thought there were different performances happening simultaneously, and all we had to do was go around and check them out at our leisure. So I went up the steps to the lighthouse and came down the other way, wishing to avoid the crowd, as I naturally tend to do anyway. This is where I came upon the Room of Echoes and the Room of Sound. However, when I made it over to the first gun battery, I had just missed the brass band performance. Blast it! This was when I realized that there was actually a linear progression of things, so I decided it would be better to follow the crowd after all. However, for the record, I just hate it when I'm told one thing and then something else entirely comes to pass. I know I'm a bit anal...I'm just sayin'.

The whole thing was pretty cool - I really liked the concept. I enjoyed the brass and percussion bands doing the marching music, and the guys in the gas masks carrying the Republic of Newfoundland flags (and the vuvuzelas - ha!) were a bit surreal (I like that sort of thing, though). The percussion piece and the final piece (this must have been "Breaking the Waves") were terrific, I thought. You could certainly hear the waves in the music. A bit repetitive, but once I realized that the music seemed to be evoking the endless, relentless push and pull of the waves hitting the rocks, again and again, since the beginning of time, then yeah, I was okay with it.

I though of the significance of this music, performed at the World War II bunkers by Newfoundlanders who surely had grandparents and other relatives who participated in the war effort (like mine did), being conducted by a German. I'm not saying this out of prejudice or bias. I just find the idea intriguing. Such a scene certainly would have been unthinkable in 1945. I'm glad we've come that far that we can try these things without opening old wounds or offending anybody (mostly).

Entry #16 - Yael Acher CD: La Belle Ombre

I listened to this album in the car today, driving home to Bay Roberts on a hot, sunny afternoon. I've never bought music like this before, so this was a bit of an experiment for me. I heard her perform the other night, but I wasn't sure if I would like her recording.

Turns out, I did like it, but I think I have to listen to it a couple of times to really "get" it. I found it atmospheric, with a certain coldness yet signs of a current of intense passion running underneath. I'm not sure exactly why I say it like that. Perhaps the electronic effects leave me a bit cold - I hear textures and soundscapes, but not really musical "ideas" (in the classical sense anyway).

I'm glad that Yael started her Wednesday night set with some Bach, then a Debussy piece. This seemed to me a little more "warm-blooded" yet still reflective. Hearing her do that helped put her recording in perspective for me. I'm sure elements of coldness and darkness in music are not lost on her (she titled her album "The Beautiful Shadow," after all). I've never breally been a huge fan of the flute, either. But I do like this disc. Now I'd like to hear her with a fusion band, or at least a rhythm section.

Entry #15 - My Harbour Symphony is performed

Saturday was an exciting day for me - I heard the performance of my Harbour Symphony. This is the first time I have ever heard others perform something I composed!

Delf was very kind to program my piece today. He had mentioned "doubling up" but I think his rationale was the fact that I am doing the 7806 course. That was very kind, and I greatly appreciate it, just as I appreciate the Harbour Symphony CD that he gave me, and was such an inportant source for this blog and my presentation.

So, on the sunniest day we've had all damn week, "Blowin' in the Fog" was heard for the first time. I attended the waterfront rehearsal (I had to, y'know?). Delf asked if the composer wished any special directions to follow - I replied only that it would be nice if part 1 could be highest in pitch, and part 6 the lowest. Otherwise, I was fine with however it came out. Turns out that we had 6 boats, two of them with 2 horns, making 8 horns available, the most we had for any piece all week. As the poet Homer would say, Woo-hoo! I followed Delf over to the southside hills, and joined him near his favourite recording spot, to make my own recording. Here's a little snippet:



A better quality recording, made by Delf, can be found here:

http://www.soundsymposium.com/images/archives/audio/HS-GordonKing_Jul10_0033.mp3

It sounded ABSOLUTELY NOTHING like what I had imagined. How could it, after all? The biggest factor in this was the time delay, which I had forgotten about. The short, quarter note pulses were actually detached (because they were coming from different ends of the harbour) but I liked how it sounded! If I wrote another one, I could use that effect on purpose. I guess experience really is the best teacher.

There it is! My first composition - now receiving comissions!

Seriously, it was a truly great and fun experience. I'd recommend anyone musical to give it a try.

Entry #14 - Daniel Payne workshop

The first thing you notice about Daniel Payne when you see him up close and personal is how friggin' tall he is! It doesn't come across when he's performing onstage, esp. when he spends so much time sitting down to play his fiddle, accordion or wooden flute. But talking to him one on one, I felt like I had to stand up as straight as possible just to look him in the eye. And I'm not exactly short either!

I have heard about this guy for years, and this week was my first encounter with him. Not only is he a terrific performer, and put aside for a moment the fact that he is a walking encyclopedia of not just Newfoundland traditional music, but that of all corners of the world - Daniel Payne is a really nice, sincere, humble, unpretentious guy. Very nice guy. Takes his music and his craft seriously but doesn't take himself too seriously at all. Engaging, accomodating, helpful, only too happy to explain, elaborate, enlighten.



He began with some accordion playing, and spoke a bit about his Castagnari. He described his approach to playing; the fact that he likes to be a bit "more melodic" with his bass buttons intrigued me. I thought of Paul McCartney's bass playing with the Beatles, how that flowing bassline can drive a song forward, or just help it "float" along nicely. I'm glad Daniel didn't hesitate to speak using musician's lingo. Sometimes you have to get a bit technical to be clear. A couple of mods he's added: he had the left thumb button moved to make it more ergonomic, and he removed some reeds to take out the third of the chord in the bass buttons, allowing him to switch from major to minor in the treble without clashing chord tones. Plus, he removed the brass feet because they're "heavy as hell."

Next, he picked up the fiddle, played a tune, and talked about the two years he spent in Ireland, cutting his teeth as a fiddler, playing dances, etc. and just learning all he could. He pointed out that when he came home to Cow Head and played West Coast of Newfoundland tunes, using "Irishisms" as quick little 3 and 5-note runs, they didn't fit the West Coast tunes. This was when he became aware of the stylistic differences between these two schools of playing.

A Rufus Guinchard tune sounds "off" when filled with these little decorations. A big part of a Rufus tune, however, is sitting down and stomping both feet, a tradition that originated from playing for square dancers. Coincidentally, I heard Kelly Russell explain the exact same thing at a concert not even two weeks ago: you had to stomp your feet just to be heard over the dancers. Rufus also liked to end a tune by double-stopping it with the 4th degree of the scale, which sounds cool. Whether he meant to imply a IV chord or just thought it sounded cool, who knows? It sounds like Rufus was the Jeff Beck of the fiddle.



Finally he got to the wooden flute - I'm not normally into flute, but I find the wooden flute intriguing, and I like the sound. Daniel's flute comes from Windward in Nova Scotia, who are Forbes and Yola Christie, a husband-and-wife team of instrument makers. Daniel spoke very highly of their approach, their desire to improve, and their consultation with Daniel and other artists to get things just right. He spoke so sincerely and passionately about his collaboration with the Christies that I decided to check out their website:

http://www.windwardflutes.com/index.html

Daniel concluded with a flute tune, and I went to chat with him a bit after. I mentioned a guy out in my area, Gerry Strong, who is a local musician and folkie, known for his own wooden flute playing. Daniel knew all about him, knew exactly the type of flute, its range and what it could do! This guy knows everybody! As I said, a walking encyclopedia of things traditional and musical. Someone to watch.

Entry #13 - Improv workshop

I was interested to see how this would go today, as I am considering doing my final 7806 paper on something improv-related. In fact, I know I need to do some serious thinking about my topic; improvisation is awfully broad topic, and it can mean different things to many people.

Patrick has said several times that musicians are often reluctant to talk about improvisation. I have found the same thing, but I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's because they don't quite know what to say.

Today was helpful because Patrick presented several concepts that I may be able to use. The "directed" improv (and the hand signals) looks like something I would like to experiment with in my own teaching. Especially valuable of course was the opportunity to try these ideas out with other players (myself and Darryl Cremasco on pianos, Aaron Hodgson on trumpet and Darren McDonald on trombone). I could have stayed playing with these guys for another hour or so to try some things out.

Shortly into some of the two- and three-part improv 20 second "moments" I realized that I'm quite used to improvising ON MY OWN. I have precious little experience when it comes to improvising with other players. How many times have I played a church service or some function, when all of a sudden I'm called upon to fill some space? At the drop of a hat? And I don't mean suddenly launching into "Misty" in E flat - I've actually composed music on the spot...only to forget it completely when it's over.

At one point Patrick mentioned a concept that I caught on to right away: in group improv you are either leading, following or accompanying. I thought about this for a second and realized, that's right. It really is one of those three things that takes place when you play in group improv.

If I decide I have a musical idea and I'm just going to let it out no matter what else it going on, that's leading. If I respond to some kind of motive that another player puts out there (like I was starting to do with Darryl at one point) then that's following.

Accompanying isn't following; to me it's more like putting out a support that doesn't have its own melodic independence (that would be leading) - I have always thought of it as creating a kind of texture, something I've done in my own playing many, many times.

I've been teaching music in schools for almost a decade now. I've seen kids who have become brilliant improvisers on electric guitar, bass and drums (and they didn't need any help from me, I can tell you), yet I'm still waiting to see it happen on saxophone, trumpet, or any of the other string, brass or woodwind instruments. I suspect it may not be this way in the city, but this is how it is around the bay. This question has intrigued me for some time now - what is it that the jammers are doing that the others are not? Besides jamming?

Lately I wonder if the answer is right in front of me.

Entry #12 - Overtone Singing workshop

I knew Tran Quang Hai was a special person from the moment I first saw him downtown at the Harbour Symphony on Tuesday. In the rehearsal he gave the most animated, energetic performance of his part. We were all in stitches...laughing with him, of course. Last night at the LSPU, Frank Pahl described him as "someone who puts every bit of himself into everything he does." So I was very happy to be in attendance at his workshop today.

The thing that made it very cool was his Overtone Analyzer running on his laptop and projecting onto the large screen. Not only could you hear the overtones in the special throat technique that he does, you could see them too. He demonstrated with this big, deep, guttural growl, and then the overtones would appear; you could see them on the screen and hear them, CLEAR AS A BELL. Amazing.

He made shaped on the screen, nice even pyramids as the overtones went up, then down. Then he spelled the word "MINIMUM."

Tran Quang Hai involved everyone present in the activities. He asked us all to sit in the center so everyone could hear each other. He invited each of us, one at a time, to make a pyramid, advising us: "Don't think too much about what you're trying to do...just do it!"

Some got it right away, a few struggled to make their pyramids. Darryl Cremasco made a beautiful, symmetrical pyramid. Mine came out more like a sandcastle that just got washed away by a wave. Frank Pahl made a strong, bright yellow pyramid (meaning he produced a lot of volume). Geoff Panting made an Eiffel Tower.

There is really something to this. I just wish I worked in an environment where it could be useful. I can't see teaching this to my high school choir. Although my first attempts weren't great, I feel I could do it properly, with enough practice. In fact, whenever my turn would come up today, it was hard not to feel self-conscious about trying it, but sometimes you just have to fight through that feeling and give it a chance, right?

It seems that all the clinicians I've heard this week have some sort of tour de force ending to their workshops. For Tran Quang Hai it was his rendition of Beethoven's Ode to Joy in overtones...and he absolutely nailed it.

The best part for me came after the presentation ended. Darryl and I were discussing Jew's Harps with a gentleman (don't know his name) and Tran Quang Hai came over and said "Would you like to see my collection of Jew's Harps?" He had a whole case of the most amazing contraptions, and demonstrated each one for us. A small group gathered around. Some of the small instruments were Chinese, Vietnamese, some were in small fancy cases. One he had even made himself out of a phone card (can you hear me now?) and he played them all with great flair.

Entry #11 - Yael Acher-Modiano

I met Yael Acher downtown on Monday when we played her Harbour Symophony. She is a very warm, friendly person, and I'm glad I got to see her perform last night at the Quidi Vidi Brewing Company. She opened with the first two movements of the 2nd Bach Cello Suite in D minor...this was a real treat for me as I love the cello suites; I've just never heard them rendered on flute before. This was followed by a Debussy piece, which she played back with effects and improvised over what she had previously played.

Her setup was not unlike that of some guitarists: Digitech pedalboard, with a rack of effects off to the side. I heard echoes, delay and a harmonizer, among other things. She played Charles Mingus's "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat," again with the effects, which I thought sounded cool. She told us it was composed by Mingus in memory of a great jazz player who had died at the time, but she's couldn't remember his name. I hope I didn't come across as an ass when I called out "Lester Young!" Just tryin' to help.

Yael closed her brief set by inviting Curtis Andrews and Kurai Mubaiwa to play along with Duke Ellington's "Caravan" (actually composed by Juan Tizol). Kurai took out some shakers and Curtis looked around for a suitable 'instrument.' A few seconds later, he had a Quidi Vidi Brewing Co. crate in his hands, and they started to play. It was great. I had a very nice chat with Yael afterwards; very engaging, friendly, and surprisingly concerned that her Bach and Debussy had gone over okay! Well...duh!

Entry #10 - Frank Pahl automatics

I didn't stay for the entire show tonight, as I had some reading to do for my other course. I popped in late (the ONE time I'm late, and they start on time!) so I entered at the balcony and sat down during Frank Pahl's set. I heard Fender Rhodes keyboard, double bass, toy xylophone and some pre-recorded electronica. Their next number featured an autoharp on top of the Fender, played intermittently by some kind of plectrum attached to an automatic rotating device. Aaah....automatics. The performers played music over this nice, strummy ostinato. They concluded their set with guest vocalist Tran Quang Hai doing some overtone singing.

Entry #9 - Harbour Symphony

I gave my score to Delf, which for me was like the act of 'publishing,' setting my creation free to go out into the world to make its own way. Yes, I realize I'm getting all ridiculous about this. Delf said he would 'double up' on Saturday and get mine in there.

Got to go on one of the Coast Guard vessels today, the Cape Roger. I was paired up with Tara Bryan, a visual artist living in Flatrock who hails originally from East Texas. I am meeting all kinds of cool people this week. We had a grand chat about the state of education today, and the need to get rid of some of the bureaucratic deadwood in government, the kind that serves no purpose but to slow things down, important things such as arts proposals (something Tara knows about all too well).

I got to be a tooter again, and instead of a button, the horn was activated by a rotary dial, which I could only turn to the left. "What happens if I turn it to the right?" I asked. "Will I sink the ship?" Always a fear of mine when I step onto the bridge of one of these floating beasts.

"No," I was told, "but the horn will sound automatically every two minutes, and you can't turn it off."

Right. Question answered. Thanks.

Our piece today was "BRUTO" by Mack Furlong:

Entry #8 - I write my own Harbour Symphony

Delf suggested it to me today, and I took him at his word. I don't even care if it doesn't get played this week. In one of our 7806 course readings on improvisation, the author puts forth that an important part of improvising is the willingness to be changed, to come out on the other end of your experience a different person. This in itself isn't that remarkable a statement: we change a little every day, whether we know it or not. But to be open to the experience; to me, it makes all the difference.

At first I thought I could come up with a crazy-ass title like "Knock Knock, Who's There: Charley Pride" but my humour is pretty cheesy, so the best I could come up with was "Blowin' in the Fog." Hey, it's a start.

I knew a few things at the outset: that horns need a few seconds to get their air back after a long blast of 5 seconds ;or more; that it takes about 7 seconds to achieve silence in the harbour after the echo of the horns dies away that the crowd at the rehearsal enjoys the piece when there's lots of interplay in between the parts; that my concept of how the piece would sound would probably resemble nothing of how it would actually sound played on ship's horns. Armed to the teeth with these ideas, I saw down and composed.

I knew I had no control over pitches, so I treated it more as an exercise in rhythm, i.e., a percussion piece. Began with some long blasts, a few short rhythmic pulses, bits of space here and there (always important), my attempt at a quote from the Ode to Newfoundland, an improv section for EVERYBODY, big finish...and I'm done. Half an hour later, I had all 6 parts written out as well.

It was exciting, just to dare to dream what it might sound like. I had a lot of fun writing "Blowin' in the Fog" - so much in fact that I may even write another one soon, once I think of a snazzier title.

Entry #7 - African Drumming Workshop

Curtis Andrews and Kurai Mubaiwa gave a workshop in the MUN Choral Room today...I was expecting drums and gongs and such, but with Curtis you never really know quite what to expect. As it happen, they both gave a presentation on the mbira, which until now I always knew as a thumb piano. 90 minutes later I had a whole new appreciation of this seemingly simplistic instrument. Curtis explained the technique: the mbira is actually played with the two thumbs and two forefingers. The right hand little finger goes inside the small hole in the soundboard on the right, and the third and fourth RH fingers wrap around the BACK of the board. The left hand doesn't bear the weight of the instrument at all - it just plays. Then Curtis and Kurai gave a short demo: they each picked a mbira and began to play. It was amazing. I had to give a chuckle because they were sitting so still and all this wonderful music was just dancing from these two tiny boxes; the image that came to my mind was of two kids playing Nintendo Game Boys! Of course, I couldn't see how much their fingers and thumbs were working - it all seemed so effortless. That's the magic of performance right there, I guess. The mbira is made by attaching thin metal tabs, often old spoon handles beaten down, and tied to a wooden board. It is often placed inside a large gourd, called a deze, which acts at a resonator. This made the mbira surprisingly loud. They had brought several insruments and gourds for us to play, and the act of putting the mbira in this large bowl (and bracing it with a stick) filled the Choral Room with lots of happy, chimey notes. Someone asked Kurai about the deze. He told us that his own was wooden, but many are now made with fiberglass to withstand knocks and bumps. He said he preferred the sound of the wooden gourd; to him it seemed fuller, more natural (I was not surprised by this).

Some mbiras have bottlecaps attached to create a desirable buzzing sound. I guess it's less expensive than an Electro-Harmonix Big Muff pedal! Mbiras are often tuned differently, to match our modes, so that playing two or more together, as C & K demonstrated, results in very pleasant harmonies.
Time to learn a song! Kurai and Curtis showed us the accompaniment pattern to a song called "Chemutengure" about a cart driver whom everyone despises, yet feels no shame because he knows how important he is to transporting people and goods around town. The pattern had a nice swing feel to it, but was more complicated music than what I would have given a lowly thumb piano credit for (much like the cab driver in the song). Once we all had the pattern mastered, C & K layered it with more elaborate playing, and taught us the harmony parts for the vocal call-and-response.

I really enjoyed this workshop because it opened my eyes to something I had known about but only considered a toy. Yet Wikipedia tells me it is among the most popular instruments in Africa. Imogen Heap plays one, as does Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails, and Maurice White of Earth, Wind & Fire. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get my hands on one - a REAL one.

Entry #6 - Harbour Symphony

Showing up to do the HS is becoming a regular thing for me, and I am becoming accustomed to seeing the same people (mostly, but always with some new faces) show up at the same time to do this really cool thing. I look forward to it, gathering around, waiting for Delf to assign parts, explain how it works, and then my favorite part, the group rehearsal. Delf records each and every vocal rehearsal, along with the actual symphony itself, over on the South Side hills.

This developing feeling of community is something I didn't really expect, but it's a pleasant feeling. I will miss the HS when the Symposium is over. Part of me sort of doesn't want it to be over.

Delf Maria Hohmann is REALLY into the Harbour Symphony. You can tell he has gone to a lot of trouble to make sure, enough players are coming, the harbour people and boat crews have been alerted, and that we all have our orange vests and photo IDs so we can be admitted into the secure area and on the boats. He grimaces when there are a lot of newbies, because it means explaining it again, VERY carefully and thoroughly. He really cares that everything goes okay, and that we are all having a good time doing it.
I don't think it's a stretch to refer to Delf as a Harbour Symphony scholar; he collects them, records them, knows all about them. Which is why I was a bit flattered when he invited me to write one (he knows I'm doing all this for the 7806 course). He gave me not only the Harbour Symphony CD, but also the same info kit that all the Symposium artists receive, complete with the timeline "staff paper" and "full score" sheets.

I'm going to give this a shot. I don't care if it doesn't get played this week. I can't remember the last time I actually sat down and composed music. This will require venturing outside of my comfort zone, which is a good thing, I think.

Here's the Harbour Symphony kit:

Entry #5 - Black Auks, Dance and rockin' Tabla!

The last time I heard the Black Auks perform downtown, Don Wherry was with them...around 1994 I think. The next time I heard them was at Don's funeral in 2001 at Gower Street United. I've never seen them play since then, until tonight. I was surprised to see Mark Latham walk out with them...and then there were five.

Mack Furlong sat down at the drums and announced that this was their first performance at the LSPU in about ten years. Suddenly I felt that this would be a very special performance. Here's why.

One of the things I enjoy about a live performance, improvised or otherwise, is that each one is special. This is not just some trite, sardonic way of suggesting that none of them are special. Even a pain-stakingly well-rehearsed show will always have some little thing that doesn't go according to plan, and it is this little thing that sets it apart from all other performances of the same music by the same artist. Improvised performance reminds me of this. Yet over the last several years, I haven't attended many concerts, period, and none that feature free improvisation, and slowly I have forgotten this fact about live performance.

Somehow Mack's opening remarks brought my mind back to this idea, and I was therefore primed to enjoy something that I knew I would never hear again. The Black Auks played for about half an hour, and I truly enjoyed every minute of it.

The Auks set was followed by a brief dance routine by Louise Moyes, which preceeded traditional Indian tabla playing and vocalizations. Bageshree Vaze (dancing) and Vineet Vyas (tabla) with Adam Duncan on guitar and Bill Brennan on keys performed with lots of energy and virtuosity. I was blown away when they paused occasionally to explain the importance of the syllables, and their meaning. They would follow this with a lightning-fast vocal recitation of these syllables, followed by an accompaning representation of the very same syllables through dance moves and tabla playing.

It's clear to me that Vineet Vyas is the Eddie Van Halen of the tabla, without doubt!

Entry #4 - Harbour Symphony

On Monday I was still in fits of laughter from Sean Panting's "Everybody Else is a Whiner," so much so that I was raving about it to just about anyone who would listen. So when I was assigned a partner to play the Harbour Symphony with a girl I had never met before, and I was going on about the "skeetier" line, and everything else, imagine my surprise when I learned this was Andrea Hann, Sean's wife! Good thing I really liked it - if I had been trashing it, I think it would have been a bit awkward.

Today's Symphony bears what I think is the best title I've heard in a long time: "Knock Knock, Who's There: Charley Pride" by Ed Squires. That's just pure. And you could really hear the Charley Pride influence, especially in the icebreaker part...I thought so anyway.

Andrea, it turns out, had never played the Harbour Symphony before, so naturally I had her toot the horn, just as Darryl allowed me to do last Friday. She's a nice person, we had a very good chat, and it was a good laugh. The crew were very friendly too - we had a good yak with the captain, who seemed rather amused by the whole Harbour Symphony thing.

Entry #3 - Dreamwalker, Complaints Choir and Hurdy Gurdy

Before attending this concert on Sunday night, I don't believe I had set foot in the LSPU Hall since 1994. I like the changes...the renovation has given the venue a fresh new look, while retaining the intimate and home-grown feeling the LSPU has always possessed. This hall is a special place, and lately I wonder why I ever stopped coming.

The show opened with the Dreamwalker Dance Company, comprised of Andrea Nann and Brendan Wyatt, who performed routines to music by Gord Downie. It wasn't Tragically Hip stuff, but a different band altogether. I forget the names of the band - apart from Julie Doiron, I didn't recognize any of them. I liked the music...sounded to me like a cross between the Hip and the Rheostatics.

I'm no dance expert, so my only comment on the dance routines is that if I tried to move my body like that, I would need some serious medical attention. I enjoyed the routines; one seemed to evoke a couple tossing and turning in the dead of a sleepless night. Several times throughout I forgot I was watching professional dancers...by that I mean I was really into the images they evoked.

I loved the Complaints Choir! They had me at hello, as it were, the second I opened the program and read Sean Panting's wicked, wicked lyrics to "Everybody Else is a Whiner." I don't think there was anything left to complain about; Sean managed to address just about everything about which your average townie would throw in his or her two cents. He even mentioned how people use "it's" when what they really mean is the possessive article "its." See? I'm glad someone is addressing these things. Oh what a world!

My favourite rhyming couplet:

"Looks like the South Side Hills were struck by a meteor;
Drugs are getting worse and the skeets are getting skeetier;"

Man, Paul Simon couldn't have written better on the best day he ever had. Well, okay...maybe he could have.

I remained for field (Ben Grossman and Deb Sinha) but I think I had reached my saturation point. I saw CGI visualizations, I heard electro-hurdy gurdy, loops, etc., but my mind was still enjoying all those delicious, clever stanzas of "Whiner."

Sometimes you've just had enough.

Entry #2 - River Connected

River Connected is the percussion duo formed by Dan Morphy of Toronto and Ed Squires of the Goulds...they appeared at PetroCan Hall at the MUN School of Music last Sunday afternoon, July 4. I am glad I was there.

The setup of percussion instruments was symmetrical, with good reason: these are two very capable performers, playing music that demanded precision, sensitivity and panache from both sides equally. If I had been more with it, I would have made sure to get a seat in the middle of the hall.

So the b'ys came out, looking relaxed and casual in jeans, lumberjack shirts, etc. making me feel overdressed in my t-shirt and shorts. I knew should have studied percussion!

Dan and Ed began with "The Unravelling of the Field" by Eric Richards, on vibraphones situated on opposite ends of the hall, in almost complete darkness but for two spotlights set on the performers. The gentle counterpoint and quiet virtuosity, in equal measure for both players, set the tone for the afternoon. This was around the time I realized I could have found a better place to sit.

The crown jewel of the program for me was Greg Hawco's "Independence, Music For Piano and Two Percussion" which featured Darryl Cremasco on piano. This was an inspired rendering of a tour-de-force of everything that is great about percussion; not one instrument was left untouched. I thought Darryl had a nice, tight sense of ensemble with the b'ys, too...good job Darryl!

Jennifer O'Neill's "The Time In Between" for two marimbas came with a touching program note, a portion of which I feel compelled to include here:

"Life is made up of defining moments...we hurry towards or away from them, and yet they pass so quickly. The there are all the times in between...this piece attempts to capture the essence of these times that we frequently take for granted...for in these moments can sometimes be found a stillness or peace, and other times a rhythm. There are moments of pause, hurry, sheer joy and sadness, but there is also the time in between."

Wow...where do you go after that?

The b'ys next served up "Once Removed" by John Fitz Rogers, a cleverly arranged marimba duo that featured phasing of call-and-response parts (facilitated by individual click tracks). I recalled the first time I ever encountered phasing when listening to some Steve Reich recordings, when I wondered how the hell you could perform that sort of thing at a live show. Now I know. Dan and Ed made it look easy. The musician in me knows it wasn't.

The conclusion of the show was the premiere of "Woody Island" by Rob Power, which featured, coincidentally, the marimbas and wood blocks. Rob was always good with those ironic titles!

Entry #1 - Harbour Symphony

Welcome to my Sound Symposium blog, where I discuss my experiences and reflections while taking in the myriad sounds, images and mind-blowing ideas to be encountered during the fifteenth Sound Symposium in St. John's, NL. This will be a day-to-day account of my Symposium experience, an account I write in fulfillment of my requirements for Music 7806.

I knew that Day 1 would be a special day when I was driving into town and heard Bill Gregory mention the Harbour Symphony on 97.5 K-Rock: "Come on down at 12:30 today to St. John's harbour to hear some interesting sounds...that is, apart from all the usual gurgling from the bubble."

Interesting, most definitely! I was actually a bit nervous, knowing I would take part in a harbour symphony, but it turned out to be pretty cool. To play the symphony you have to be either a 'tooter' or a 'timer' - the score is indicated in a timeline with short or long blasts, while the seconds are counted out loud.

After purchasing my $130 Gold Pass at the LSPU, it was time to get ready for the symphony. At 11:30 sharp, a group of us met with Delf Hohmann at the waterfront, where he explained how everything would play out, pardon the pun. After reviewing the score, he assigned us in pairs to our ships, and also gave us harbour passes and orange vests. I paired up with Darryl Cremasco, who was kind enough to call out the time thus allowing me to toot the horn. Thanks Darryl!

Once we boarded our ships, at 12:30 sharp our countdown came through on Channel 11, and the symphony began. It was pretty cool - I played our part as closely as I could...the horn was very responsive, and loud (naturally) but towards the end of the 4'55" piece (titled "Beethoven Was Here" and composed by Delf) our horn stuck and wouldn't stop! A couple of crew members had to go outside and fix it. Both Delf and Kathy Clark commented on the nice "drone effect" towards the end.

Thus ended my first Harbour Symphony as a player. Looking forward to the rest of the week!