There were some classes I've taken in college for which the homework was like chopping overripe tomatoes: I knew as I was doing it I was doing a piss-poor job of it, and that I wasn't really retaining most of the information but I was finishing it to finish it so I could just toss it into the pot, completed, and no longer responsible for it, and firmly believing that once it was out of my hands I wouldn't have to look at it again, hopefully ever.
I did this with my music theory courses , only with slightly more passion because I knew it was vaguely related to something that I loved, and today it was like someone pulled the mushed tomato bits out of the pot and asked me to serve them...or eat them. Okay, shitty analogy, but my point is that I'm now deeply regretting having not taken the music theory courses from the introductory level on, rather than jumping into the middle of the curriculum. I was meeting with Andy and after we'd discussed possible college options and non-college options, we were working through a Bach chorale. Thankfully it was a familiar one, that has since been turned into the hymn "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God", so I knew the tune, but was not used to all of Bach's flourishes which the Protestants must have left out. Anyhow, Andy was asking pretty complex questions about augmentations and leading tones in the piece, and I finally had to admit to him that I was lost and could he please slow down or let me work through it at the piano for a day, the result being that he's asked me to do a harmonic analysis of the chorale for homework this week in addition to a few other assignment. I'm sitting here in my bed surrounded by notes and previous assignments and two textbooks. If I could have a tutor nest to me right now, I would. I've actually had to dig through old notes from all three intense theory classes that I had hoped never to sift through again! What's most maddening is that my notes don't start from Music Theory 101 because I had wanted to fast-track myself when I entered Tufts, believing that I was above such rudimentary nonsense (snarf). The notes from the class I entered begin with harmonic voice leading and second species counterpoint. Yes, what? I don't know. I'll look it up.
I've been thumbing through one of these (which thankfully has provided some clarity) and my old notes (which do not) and have clumsily completed a musical analysis that isn't entirely pathetic if I may say so. My sketch is missing a little bit of secondary dominance action which I can HEAR happening but can't actually figure out where and how to notate it, but otherwise I'd be happy to hand it into Andy because it's kind of the best I can do. Right now.
I really, really, really should've been humble enough to take that beginning class. I don't know how I thought I could get into conducting and not be able to do a chordal analysis of a Bach Chorale without plunking away on my little roll-out keyboard and counting up the arpeggio to unravel the inversions. Really. I must have thought that I'd always have an accompanist with me or that I wouldn't have to bother with such menial tasks as analysis. Or that it would somehow unfold itself to me in a dream. I'm not sure what I told myself to justify me brushing this part of my musical education under the rug, but I guarantee it has something to do with my ego.
There are probably some classes I should audit...maybe sometime when I'm not so busy.
Changing gears now, onto the children's choir adventure this afternoon...
The Concert Choir kids were massive pains today. I can completely understand how at the end of a full day of school and a two hour rehearsal they're absolutely not interested in listening to some lady lecture them on music theory, but today they were more boisterous than I'd ever had them be. We were doing dictation and I was getting increasingly frustrated because they were talking over my clapping, over each other's questions, over each other's side conversation...it's 47 very loud and very tired kids who are all very musically bright but must be tired and bored, and me being frazzled and trying to clap out a rhythm in 2/4 so they'll write what they hear on their little measure lines. In looking over their work after they passed them in I was excited to see a few who were with me, a few who were close, and most that were not even in the ballpark. One girl turned in an empty sheet that just said across the top "I don't get it." Kinda broke my heart. I don't have time to work with each individually, and I just can't seem to get them all quiet for long enough to get through a single exercise. It's come to a point where I'm actually less worried about my ego and whether they like me (thank god) and am more concerned with whether or not they're absorbing the material, and my fear is that they're not. Actually my bigger fear is that the artistic director and the team that hired me will find out that they're not absorbing the material, but second to that is their understanding. Ho hum...I need some new ideas. I'm teaching the Lyric tomorrow, and they're between the ages of 5 and 9, so I have to compile a whole new lesson plan for them, but at least they're obedient and still think I know everything. Even music theory.
After rehearsal tonight I met up for dinner with with Emma and Andrew at a Vietnamese place in Harvard square. Andrew's friend of mine from Chamber singers last year who's one of those people about whom I have no judgements because he's so similar to me: he's pompous, he's picky about food, he's very snobby about the kind of people he likes, he's wicked with puns, and he's a great musician. He graduated last year with the rest of the seniors and on a trip through Bangkok with friends this summer he snagged presents for each of his fellow seniors, and he gave me mine tonight. It's a fish wind chime. I know it sounds cheesy, but I so enjoyed that someone with no romantic inclinations towards me whatsoever would think of me when I'm not around. I'm always so hung up on the wanting to be remembered, wanting to be through of, wanting to be important or central to somebody, and so my old behavior was to attempt to perpetuate this by seeking attention so that I couldn't possibly be forgotten (often that just cultivated a crush which always went badly) but I'd never done that with Andrew, and look, he remembered me anyway. I was just touched by the gesture, knowing it didn't mean anything else. It felt good to know that.
In searching through my bag just now I found the very last mint from my most recent escapade to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse with Clint. I could SO use a bench and some rain right about now...
I'm off to brush my teeth and huddle down into bed.
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