Thoughts on awesome William Kincaid

Non-flutist readers are allowed to skip this.

Last week I read Kincaidiana, which I found to be rather...lovey. And adoring. And...eh.

However, this week I read his "Notes on Flute Performance", which I'm going to keep forever and ever, because it was so blunt and declarative, and like, "now you know how to play the flute. You're welcome."

Some of the bits clearly reminded me of my own teacher's style. In fact, at my DePauw audition, she taught me some phrasing suggestions that have stuck with me ever since, and it turns out they're straight from Kincaid. It's rather hard to explain in the blogosphere, but it involves starting phrases with the second note in a measure instead of the first note. It moves the phrase along better. Another example is slapping the G key while a low note is articulated to make the note speak better.

It's actually kind of hard to blog about this essay (or whatever), because it was so filled with all these little tricks and suggestions--inaudibly practicing low attacks in orchestra before your entrance, alternate fingerings, and taking dynamic liberties in baroque pieces.

Anyway, I understand why someone would write an adoring book about the techniques of Kincaid, because they're awesome. But they're also matter-of-fact and there is no sense of pride in his teachings--it's just an instruction manual. And it's awesome.

Listening to Okkervil River: "John Allyn Smith Sails" from The Stage Names

Log du jour.

11 minutes of long tones/melodies (something off was going on with my tone today...we'll see...), 19 minutes of Maquarre (getting better, I found a new little thing in the pattern that's helping me out with the memorization), 20 minutes of the first Damase etude (a little crazy but not much more difficult than the Andersen Artistic Etudes), and 10 minutes of Sancan (I had a lesson on it today, which kind of destroyed the honeymoon phase I was in with it.

Happy Monday!

I'm exhausted but quite happy. Had the most relaxing weekend. Does playing drums on The Beatles Rock Band count as practicing? It should.

I eased back into the week today. 12 minutes of long tones, etc (my tone was kind of thin today, but it improved as the day went on). 25 of Maquarre (we're fighting right now), and 27 of Sancan (I'm having an affair with it).

We're playing Shostakovich's 5th Symphony today. I'm playing first, which is fun because there are some very quirky and vaguely demonic solos. Unfortunately, my high school wind ensemble played a transcription of the fourth movement, so that's sort of been ruined for me for all eternity. Still, I'm cool with most of the symphony.

There's a William Bennett masterclass coming up in Indianapolis, and I think I'm going to throw a CD together using tracks I already have on my computer. I don't want to actually make a new recording, since I just did that. What are the odds I've improved that much over 4 days? I'll risk it.

Nap.

Listening to Heloise and the Savoir Faire: "Disco Heaven" off Trash, Rats and Microphones

Log du jour.

Mmm, practicing first thing in the morning. Short, but it still counts.

Paul Edmund Davies exercises--12 minutes. Liebermann (FUN!)--30 minutes exactly.

Off to New Carlisle in mere hours!


Listening to Silver Jews track "What Is Not But Could Be If" off the album Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea.

"The main thing in life is not to be afraid to be human."

-Pablo Casals

Isn't that lovely? I found it on a fashion website, of all places, but when I saw it was a Casals quote I had to post it to this blog.

Practicing today was 13 minutes of melodies, 11 of La Montaine, 8 of C.P.E. Bach and 13 of Sancan's Sonatine, with which I am completely in love. It's so fun to play! My accompanist is a little worried about notes, but I feel like my practicing on it so far has been quite productive, actually.

I made my recording for the CFC Solo Artist competition today. It was remarkably frustrating; I had to do eight takes of the C.P.E. Bach Allegro to get a presentable recording, but actually I think I'm happy with how it came out. But with each take, my hands and chin kept getting sweatier and sweatier. Eventually I had to let my mind wander a little bit while I played, just so I wouldn't psych myself out, and I found that actually helped a lot. In my first-year music seminar, the professor who taught the course (this was "Mind and Body Wellness for Musicians", just to complete the irony of what I'm about to relate) told us that any time we caught our minds wandering, we should stop playing and start over. Can you imagine? That's anything but a "wellness"-oriented attitude in my opinion.

Anyway, people think I'm weird for this, but I can't stand recorded auditions; I think there's too much pressure there. The judges (who are super faceless in this context) expect perfection, since you theoretically have an infinite number of chances to get it just right. Of course, some of us are flighty and have an extraordinarily finite (like, say eight) number of chances to get it right before we want to throw a total fit (there was some jumping up and down and swearing today; I think I scared the recording technician). Likewise, I'd rather have a face-to-face live audition rather than a screened audition. I only did one of those; it was at Interlochen when I was fourteen and it freaked me the fuck out. I really think face-to-face live is the best for everyone: I see the just-one-chance aspect as less pressure, and I also like to be able to make an impression by being punctual, smiling, and dressing appropriately (but oh-so-fiercely).

So, we're starting to study jazz in 20th-Century Musical Literature. The professor is very fidgety about it. When I write this blog and discuss popular music (well-executed pop music hugely emotionally and musically important to me), I often catch myself wanting to call it "secular music". Freudian slip, much? Anyway, it's an exciting topic for me, especially the blues--Dylan lover that I am. In that class I often find myself squirming around and desperately wanting to pipe up with my own opinions about all that stuff. That's what happens when you read the textbook for fun a year ago.

"At the beginning of the twenty-first century, the impulse to pit classical music against pop culture no longer makes intellectual or emotional sense. Young composers have grown up with pop music ringing in their ears, and they can make use of it or ignore it as the occasion demands. They are seeking middle ground between the life of the mind and the noise of the street. Likewise, some of the liveliest reactions to twentieth-century and contemporary classical music have come from the pop arena, roughly defined. The microtonal tunings of Sonic Youth, the opulent harmonic designs of Radiohead, the fractured, fasth-shifting time signatures of math rock and intelligent dance music, the elegiac orchestral arrangements that underpin songs by Sufjan Stevens and Joanna Newsom: all these carry on the long-running conversation between classical and popular traditions."

-Alex Ross, epilogue to The Rest Is Noise

...And I just got a great idea for a next post, but you, my two or three faithful readers, will just have to be surprised. I might be scarce this weekend, as I feel I need a break from campus and the boyfriend has offered to whisk me away to his family's house in New Carlisle, IN. Excited for a weekend of no parties or cable TV (I really am a fun person)!

I've decided to add a "what I'm listening to" tag at the end of my entries, just because I want to show off how well-rounded I am :-)

Right now, it's "Slow With Horns/Run For Your Life" by Dan Deacon, off his relatively recent album, Bromst. The dashing composer is pictured below.

Quick! Top Model is on!

12 minutes of long tones/melodies, 16 of Maquarre, 18 of Daphnis et Chloe, and 30 minutes reading Sancan. It's awesome!

I promise to blog longer blogs soon! I have a novella to read...and I'm very tempted by the series premier of The Beautiful Life--oh, fashion! My illicit paramour!

Brief...

Only was able to squeeze in about half an hour of practice today, but I had a very fulfilling lesson and flute choir was fun. The half hour was spent entirely on Daphnis, which is coming along for me personally, but I'm dreading playing it in orchestra tomorrow; I know it'll be all stop-and-go which can drive me crazy.

I'm feeling much more optimistic about things this week; looking forward to doing some more work. Ciao!

Apres moi, le deluge. Of vomit.

I just took a shower and spent the whole time saying "13, 22, 17, 19, 16!" because I took my practice notes on my hand with a blue ballpoint pen.

Sad face.

So today it was 13 minutes of P.E.D. warmups, 22 of Maquarre (oh, Maquarre. Up to Ab now, I kind of forgot it existed for most of this week.), 17 of La Montaine (keeping up the tempo is the big issue right now but I have faith), 19 of the 2 movements of C.P.E. Bach (butter) and 16 minutes reading the Liebermann concerto.

I didn't practice yesterday due to post-festivity vomit and a visit from the boyfriend. The occasion? Our university orchestra concert, which went amazingly well (the vom subsided for good about two hours pre-performance, but I think this weekend still warrants a drinking break). My parents were even able to hear it in New Hampshire over the internet, which was the best part.

Speaking of orchestra, we just started working on Ravel's Daphnis et Chloe. It reminds me of my days in the Boston Youth Symphony; the part is written just like Debussy's La Mer. DPU has spoiled me...Daphnis is pretty hard to read, but I have faith in myself. Of course, I was hoping for the first part (I'm going to need to record the famous solo for an audition this winter), but I was assigned the second. It's fine, especially since I don't have an assistant who will double me at inappropriate times, but there was this totally weird tension in the flute section that's never occurred before while we waited to hear our parts. No drama, please. I'm excited to have orchestra music I actually need to practice, and I figure just being around the piece so much will help me do well on that audition.

That's the next thing: new projects! Since I submit the CFC CD this Friday, I need to start working on my big three for this year: my Aspen audition, my concerto for this year's competition, and my junior recital. Since Aspen asks for a Conservatoire piece, I'm thinking of learning Pierre Sancan's sonata for both Aspen and the recital instead of reviving the Prokofiev Sonata as I originally planned for this year. It's a hard enough piece that working on it for that long shouldn't be too boring. I think with Assobio a Jato and Romance, the Sancan will give me my full half-hour for my recital, or very close.

For the concerto, I'm leaning toward the third movement of the Liebermann, though still wavering between that and the first movement. I'll have to give it a listen a few more times before I make my decision. The Rodrigo is going on the shelf for now. It was fun to challenge myself, but I have decided that it's ugly. Much better than saying that it's too hard for me. :)

Who's the worst practice logger ever?

That's totally me. Right here. Give me a minute to raise my hands in the air like I just don't care.

But I'm a pretty decent practicer, considering how my week went personally. I practiced about 45 minutes yesterday--15 minutes of P.E.D. and a quick run-through of La Montaine and C.P.E. Bach. Today, I did around 90 minutes (this is why the logging is bad), but I forgot my phone and iPod and I wasn't wearing a watch. So I don't know how long I practiced each thing, but I'm going to guess 15 minutes of P.E.D. melodies, 25 of Maquarre (I have up to Eb solidly memorized and am working on Ab), then some woodshedding on the pieces for the CFC competition next week...first La Montaine, then C.P.E. Bach (I think that's how I'm going to record it, too. Playing the slow movement in the middle is pretty smart...I get the minimum amount of fatigue from that). Then worked on the 2 Saint-Saens pieces for 20 minutes tops.

Woo hoo! Practicing on the weekend!

I drove 30 miles to get to Barnes and Noble today because I watch too much TV and I need a new book to read (I bought A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace). While I was in the car I put my iPod on shuffle and I was really proud of how awesome my taste in music is. Here's what came up: X-Ray Spex, Dvorak, Berlioz, Pavement, the Beach Boys, Okkervil River, the Shins, Passion Pit, Guster, John Lennon, Berio, Morton Feldman, the Beatles, Crystal Antlers, Wire, The Who, and Bob Dylan.

Told you. Awesome. Well-rounded and awesome. Though I only listed Pavement once up there, my iPod played 3 Pavement songs on shuffle during 60 minues of driving. I think it knows that they got back together and is celebrating! (Go to Pitchfork in the blogroll for more info)

I'm so getting my period.

Guess what. I practiced.

More like played.

I'm afraid today's playing was unloggable, since it was more about getting me to remember why I want to do this instead of nitpicking. My teacher (and only reader--hi Anne!) is having our whole studio do practice logs, and I HATE doing them (sorry Anne!). I'm too neurotic for that and they make me cry. Anyway, after having a long, weepy chat with my equally tortured filmmaker boyfriend, a nap and two episodes of Gossip Girl, I realized that I'd feel like a huge loser if I didn't play today.

So I played and I'm so glad I did. Only slow things. My P.E.D. melodic exercises, The Swan, Romance, the first movement of the C.P.E. Bach sonata...and best of all, the solo from Daphnis and Chloe and Dance of the Blessed Spirits. I also needed to practice in a hall (I was kind of trancey. I just kind of floated into the hall. No white cells for me today.), which really helps me and I think I should try to do it regularly. Not every day, lest I grow complacent about my sound, but once or twice a week. Something about the still air of an empty auditorium, the dimmed lights in the audience, and the echoes of my footsteps on the hardwood just does wonders for my motivation and there's no place I'd rather be. I also love having space to walk slowly while I play sometimes.

Anyway, the whole incident was a total flashback to my last night at Interlochen in 2005, when me and my then-boyfriend stayed up, snuck out of our cabins, and played in Kresge, the biggest auditorium on campus (also the biggest auditorium on my college campus! Coincidence?) with the moon casting this magical aura over everything. I remembered. Sooooo worth it.

Do I deserve this underwear?

I should like to talk to you today about my favorite pair of underwear, which I happen to be wearing today.

It says "imagine", "create", "love" and "inspire" all over it in lettering that looks like thick, sloppy brushstrokes in primary colors. I bought this pair of underwear because I'm "artsy". It's just who I am and who I always have been. I'm "creative". I love art and music and dressing up. Every day I try to make a statement to the world about who I am.

Sometimes I feel like the "creative" label I've always worn proudly is starting to be kinda bullshit. I feel like as a creative person, I should never struggle with wanting to practice. I should just feel like doing it every single day.

But I just got out of my fiction workshop, where I did some thinking about why I sometimes feel that way. I got to thinking that the problem might not be me, it might just be the discipline of music--particularly classical music (it's such a fucking pain in the ass these days, isn't it?). In a writing workshop, we interact with each other. We laugh and fuck around and let ideas just spill out of our mouths and pencils and if they suck we get on with our lives. It's a light thing, it's a fun thing, it's an active and reactive and interactive thing. I also noticed this last night when I was modeling: artists in a figure drawing session are able to get together, talk to each other, talk to me, listen to kick-ass indie rock and dash off sketches of me that look better than the actual me!

I'm not saying art should be easy. I know that it takes practiced skill to be able to draw or write just like it takes practiced skill to be a good musician. But, going back to my underwear--those big, sloppy dashes of primary colors; that joy. Where is it in classical music? In concert and and in group rehearsal--for a visual artist, this could be the equivalent of a gallery opening. The difference is, the visual artist has a larger amount of joy in the process of developing that gallery opening. The visual artist doesn't spend sunny afternoons alone in a silent, windowless cell. She doesn't have to walk three blocks to practice her drawing, since her drawing won't drive people nuts if they hear it.

The obvious question in response to this post will be, "Why do you do it if you don't love it?" Believe it or not, I do love it--I love music, I love being onstage, I love the sound of the flute (also, I honestly hope that by the time someone gets to music school, they've been through enough of the music-world bullshit to know whether or not they can actually stomach a lifetime of this). Nobody can take that away, and that's what makes this argument with myself so hard. I did them all when I was young: ballet, drawing, sculpture, but music is the only one that has stuck with me ever since my first piano lesson with Mrs. Van Kalken in the second grade (I love writing too, but it's a totally different love. Music's the #1).

There's a movie coming out, a remake of the musical Fame. There's one preview with a girl and her father, a square type who tells her, "You are a classical pianist!" She responds, "I want to do something different." He says, "Something different was never part of the plan." Obviously this is meant to imply that this girl is breaking out of the fucking square and black-and-white and boring world of "classical" (we need to find a better label for it, for one thing) music into a funkified world of collaborative R&B where everyone rocks out and gets to wear awesome sneakers instead of concert black. And can we blame her for wanting that?

There are some things that are just so flawed with the "classical" system. I wish that practicing didn't necessarly mean entombing myself in a lightless, soundless, airless room every day (some days, it's all I want to do, but those days are rare). I miss the flute so much when I don't play--I develop a physical ache sometimes; that's how strong the desire is. I just wish all of this other baggage--the tedium, the image--had nothing to do with it.

If I practice today, I'll write another blog reflecting. But I'm obviously having kind of a crisis, so we'll see.

Is it Friday yet?

I missed America's Next Top Model tonight because I was modeling. And I don't want to talk about it. But it ruined my night that I missed it. Of course that all stems from my being upset that I didn't make America's Next Top Model this season...but this is my flute blog. So. That's all I'll tell you.

Practiced today. For the first time in...six days? I am a winner. 12 minutes of Paul Edmund Davies warmups, 27 minutes desperately trying to work Maquarre with eh amounts of success, The Swan by Saint-Saens for 25 minutes, and Romance for 15, plus 30 minutes of coaching and 90 minutes of orchestra. About 200 minutes of playing all together.

I didn't sound incredible today but I was happy to be playing again (yesterday I didn't play because my body decided to feign aneurysm). Nariaki, my accompanist listened to me play The Swan and Romance with him, and he said that it's not my phrasing which is the problem, it's that I play all my intervals the same way. So...I sound flat. Not low flat, just flat flat. I thought that was an interesting idea. He mentioned that The Swan is quite hard for cellists, since the intervals are kind of strange and the cellist has to slide down the strings quite a bit, which totally affects the overall sound of the piece. He's a sharp one. And an amazing pianist.

Also, the third movement of Borodin's 2nd symphony is beautiful...bordering on Beethoven 7 beautiful, in my opinion. So y'all folks should check it out, and if you are in the Greencastle, IN area, come see our orchestra play it at 3 PM this Sunday!

And finally. My 20th Century Music Lit professor misspells something every class. "Pointilism". "Pierre Lunaire". Or she switches things up just enough to annoy me. Like saying Oedipus killed his mother. No. He did not. Elektra didn't kill her father. And so that's not what Strauss's Elektra is about.

Honest mistakes, I'm sure, but gaaaaaaahhhhhhhhd.

Fertile Sloth...how timely!

I'll preface this by saying that right now I'm listening to a recording of Philippe Bernold playing the Saint-Saens (which is still insanely gorgeous, though it seems I may have been taking it a little too slowly), and that is the closest I've come to practicing since the day of my last post (Thursday?). Today, while reading along in the score of The Rite of Spring, I was pleased to be feeling a little wistful, wishing I had time to practice today--I had to read three novellas, plus grapple with an ever-mounting pile of laundry. I'm glad to be having some feelings of practice withdrawal, however slight; it's probably more in my favor to be a workaholic right now.

But then I re-read "Fertile Sloth" by Michel Debost, which recommends work detox:

"The gaps in practicing caused by travel, vacation, family events or small injuries [!] are...quite necessary...[S]tore events and places in your imagination for future reference. A pristine lake, a great painting, a new friend, an enchanted party, beautiful love affairs (or failed ones), all will be part of you forever. Memories and thoughts are just as important as your...daily practice. Don't let the great American guilt machine ruin your free time."

Sigh. It makes me want to make a daisy chain or something.

When assigning this essay, my teacher pre-warned me that it was the total opposite of the American/Asian practice ethics in classical music, and of course she's right. Frankly, while I'm still feeling guilty about not having practiced in four days, the article is still a relief to read, and I have to give a little fist pump for it. As a person pursuing degrees in both flute and writing, I'm always excited whenever anyone says "Dummies! You can't make great art if you're always isolated." In fact, in so many words, that's what my degree-plan mission statement says down at the dean's office.

Yes, technicality is important if you're going to be a virtuoso (as Tromlitz told us all too well in last week's assignment...aaaaaaaagh!), but if you don't leave time in your life for love or sex or good food or calling your parents or partying or doing shit that makes you laugh, my hypothesis is that your art will be boring. Corny example: if the Mona Lisa didn't have that mystery smile, would we still love her so much?

Quick as a bunny...

...because I'm tired and cranky and I want to watch Gossip Girl.

Eleven minutes of Paul Edmund-Davies's warm-ups. 17 minutes successfully (lots of double letters in that word) memorizing Maquarre No. 3 in Bb. 25 of La Montaine (accents, with a metronome). 10 minutes of C.P.E. Bach, and 13 minutes checking my intonation on Saint-Saens. 76 minutes.

You know you love me.

xoxo,

Productivity feels good!

Practicing today was more like it: 14 minutes of P.E-D.'s warm-up, 18 minutes memorizing F Major Maquarre (WITH SUCCESS!), 15 minutes working on accents in La Montaine, 18 minutes on orchestra music, 28 minutes working on phrasing and technique in Saint-Saens and 27 minutes doing a Trevor Wye trill exercise to help with that piece. So two hours of practicing, PLUS a half-hour coaching PLUS 90 minutes of orchestra. Four hours of playing today, woohoo!!!

THEN, thanks to a large caramel vanilla latte at 1:30, I went running. And I ran SO FAST! And didn't get tired! It was a miracle. I felt so good. I love sweating! I wish I sweat as much when I played flute as I do when I run ("be careful what you wish for?"), because sweating just makes me feel so productive. It's a physical manifestation, just like the number of calories burnt that comes up on the treadmill when you're done working out. There's none of that in flute. And perhaps that's why writing's easier for me, too...because lots words on a page look pretty to me, even if they don't necessarily read so prettily.

Ended the day at a great concert by Eric Edberg (see blogroll!), my very talented accompanist Nariaki Sugiura and his very talented girlfriend and cellist Yeon-Ji. The program was ever-unique Menotti, too-long-for-comfort Brahms and an absolutely brilliant Kabalevsky concerto! Dr. Edberg was experimenting with having the audience clap between movements. It started out a great idea; his seminar class had made signs and jumped up and yelled and waved them--it was like a rock concert and added some spirit. However, I suspect that some people forced applause, which, after certain largo or adagio movements, sounded rather stilted and inappropriate.

Also reading some very angry Tromlitz, more on him later. For now, BED. And listening to the Coathangers. I love all music so.

Crepes sound good right now.

Warmed up on Paul Edmund-Davies' melodic transposition exercise for twenty minutes today, followed by ten of Maquarre No. 3--trying to memorize it in F Major now, which, as far as the second line goes, may have temporarily put me back at square one--then half an hour of the second movement of La Montaine, really working on differentiating between staccatos and accents. So pretty much exactly an hour today, plus an hour lesson and an hour of flute choir.

My lesson today was really kind of invigorating and good. Anne loved the Saint-Saens and we've decided I should play it at my recital (picking out repertoire for that is also killing me a little bit; there's just too much good music out there--plus, I do already have Assobio a Jato with Kara, my cellist friend, which will kick ass). It probably helped that I was playing in a recital hall with a beautiful flute sound. I played the Brahms No. 1 solo and it was incredible. I sounded so loud! My old headjoint sounded fine, but I never felt like I could play loudly. It's a pretty fucking awesome feeling. Sigh. New love.

I need to read a Flute Talk column by Michel Debost for my next lesson, "Fertile Sloth". I suspected it, but I just confirmed that I read it when it first came out in Summer 2007. It's probably not the best thing for me to read right now, since I'm trying to be industrious (that was another thing, Anne and the whole "creative habit" Twyla Tharp business kind of spoke to me today about making yourself practice even when you don't necessarily want to). But...otherwise the ol' OCD will kick in. And that won't be good for anyone. So reread it I shall! And, if I listen well enough, perhaps get some pleasure reading in along with it....

Slacking much?

FRIDAY, practiced very little: just half an hour to warm up the Saint-Saens for my coaching. Saturday and Sunday I was out of town in Bloomington and Indianapolis, so I didn't get a chance to practice either. Today I did about 90 minutes total in the afternoon. Did about 15 minutes of tone exercises, worked on memorizing Maquarre for another fifteen (with SUCCESS! for the pattern anyway), and divided the hour pretty much evenly between the Saint-Saens and C.P.E. Bach. Yes, I've been slacking, but at least this afternoon was productive.

I had to read the first chapter of Twyla Tharp's The Creative Habit for my lesson tomorrow, and I read it this afternoon while I was working out. I was disappointed. It made me feel bad about myself. Not that this is Ms. Tharp's fault; I guess I'm always hoping for some kind of eureka moment every time I read something like this, and every time the answer always seems to be that being a successful artist is something I'll never have the time or energy or willpower to do. Actually, the time excuse is starting to be pretty bogus, and it's definitely more of an energy/willpower thing. One thing Tharp did bring up, that I thought was a good comparison, was how writers write every day--they do, or at least they're encouraged to. I do. I wonder why it's so much easier for me to spend time writing than it is to spend time practicing? My guess is that writing is about interacting with the outside world, whereas practicing an instrument is traditionally associated with closing oneself off. That's also probably why I prefer performing to practicing. Oh well, I shan't let this bring me down! It's only Monday...

But before I let my brief lines of optimism get the better of me, I also have to rant about others' attitudes in my music school. I was exhausted this afternoon as I was leaving my 20th Century Musical Literature class, and as I exited the room with a violinist friend, I said, "Should I nap or practice between now and orchestra?" Without missing a beat, a soprano walking behind us said, in a really chipper voice, "Nap. Practicing is never the answer." I have a sense of humor, but what the hell?! I felt really resentful. First of all, singers are only supposed to practice for, what, up to an hour a day? How are instrumentalists supposed to feel when one says something like that?

...Which brings up the whole "efficient practice" vs. "practice at least three hours a day" business that torments me so and has become the essence of this blog as of late...

...it's monday...

Slightly better today.

Practiced about an hour and forty minutes today, plus and hour and a half of orchestra. Just over two hours, if I calculate properly. Which I probably don't, because I am exhausted and feel kind of gross. I intended to practice at least two hours today, but I had to stop after forty minutes tonight because my back is killing me. Maybe I shouldn't practice immediately after I run. I felt a little better when I did some yoga, but the pain came back as soon as I put my flute back up. Usually if I get pain, I get it in my left shoulder; this is the first time it's spread to any of my lower back. So I'm going to guess the running did it.

I'm supposed to be studying lyrical pieces to adjust to my headjoint, so the bulk of my practicing today was solos from Brahms No. 1 and Carmen, Moyse's 24 Little Melodic Studies, and I also picked up Saint-Saens's Romance. It's just delightful! I'm gonna take it to my accompanist tomorrow.

I can't blog anymore. My back. Is killing me.

Naahhhht an awesome day.

Practiced one hour today, plus an hour-long flute lesson and an hour of flute choir. So total three hours of playing. I know, not enough.

My headjoint and I are beyond our honeymoon phase. We're fighting. Or at least it's fighting me. It's in this awful stage where I (temporarily, I hope) can't play the way I have the past six years or so. The hole, instead of making everything brilliant, is making everything sound screwed up. Perhaps that's thinking about it the wrong way. It makes everything sound very raw. And I have to cut it. Like a geode. My ideal sound is the shiny part in the middle.

Exercises--working on No. 3 from Maquarre's Daily Exercises for the Flute. One good thing about Maquarre is that if you're going to memorize it, you absolutely have to tap into theory. If you don't understand I-vi-VI-ii-V/iii-iii-III-I, it's absolutely impossible and makes more sense. The last two bars, with the weird chromatic thirds, still doesn't really make sense. But I'll have to deal.

The Rodrigo Concerto Pastorale is hopeless right now, partly because of that but mostly because it's just impossible. When I took it to Gary Schocker, he immediately expressed distaste for the piece (he had performed it a few years ago with some orchestra), not because it's so difficult, but because he found it difficult for very little reward. He said that it didn't even sound beautiful if played perfectly. To me that seemed like a cop-out attitude at the time, but now I'm not so sure. I'd love to have it under my belt, but as far as the concerto competition goes, I'm now getting a little more interested in the Liebermann--that's a more standard piece, anyway.

Excited for the CFC competition and my recital. Feeling good about those, anyway.

I know everyone struggles with this (people who say they don't are full of shit), but sometimes I'll be practicing, and an hour or ninety minutes has gone by and I'll feel like I've done everything I can do. Clearly that's not the case, but sometimes it really does feel that way. And I have to go and chew on something or do downward dog for a few minutes, and then it will usually go away. But sometimes it doesn't. Today was one of the days when it didn't. Perhaps just exhaustion? I went back to my room, did reading for computer science and then fell asleep without realizing I'd fallen asleep. So maybe that was it. Or maybe it's because I didn't go running today.

Tomorrow's another day. That's got to be, what, at least the third cliche in this entry?