We humans seem to naturally want to mark the passage of time in one-year increments — we celebrate anniversaries of weddings, births, new jobs and other happy occasions. We also mark anniversaries of sad and tragic things — deaths, losses, and shocking events.
For these anniversaries, we remember a variety of details: where we were, what we were doing, how we found out, who we were with. The smells, sounds, and sensations we experienced become part of the tapestry woven into our memories. The promise to remember both happy and horrifying memories is also part of the ritual.
Seventeen years ago today, I was sitting at my desk listening to music and working on Sunday Baroque when I heard the news that changed the world forever. I sat glued to the radio, called my loved ones, cried, and tried to mentally process the inconceivable, shocking reality of that day. And I listened to music. Today I’m hearing about how many friends and colleagues are recalling that day — sharing where they were, what they did, and how they are holding the day and the anniversary in their hearts today.
One thing about marking anniversaries is the shifting perception of the passage of time. In some ways, September 11, 2001 seems like yesterday because those specific memories are still so tangible and vivid, and still as inconceivable and shocking as they were then. How can 17 years have passed? In other ways, so much has changed in our world, so much has happened since, that it seems long ago and distant. Perhaps that paradox is why we mark time in one-year increments — it gives a concrete measuring stick to compare to our fluid perceptions of the passage of time.
Today, on this terrible, somber anniversary, here is something reflective, beautiful, and timeless to use as a palette for your personal memories. Peace.
Everywhere you look lately, there are celebrations of the centennial of Leonard Bernstein. The legendary musician’s work as a conductor, composer and educator left an extraordinary legacy. He would have celebrated his 100th birthday on August 25, 2018.
You may be thinking: What does Leonard Bernstein have to do with Sunday Baroque?
Well, he helped create and nurture generations of music lovers. He presented music and musical concepts using language and descriptions that anyone could understand, and he shared it with infectious passion and enthusiasm. This elite musician and scholar was anything but elitist when it came to his interest in and ability for breaking down barriers to understanding and enjoying classical music. His Young People’s concerts were televised in the 1950s, long before I was even born, but many Sunday Baroque listeners STILL refer back to those broadcasts as pivotal to their personal love of music.
Leonard Bernstein’s daughter, Jamie Bernstein, wrote in an essay about her famous father, something that sums it up elegantly and resonates with me deeply:
People often say that Leonard Bernstein was a born teacher, but actually it’s more accurate to say that he was a born student who just couldn’t wait to share what he learned. In his whole life, he never stopped studying.
Happy centennial, maestro! Thank you for opening up the world of great music to so many people. Thank you for inspiring so many by sharing your own curiosity and enthusiasm. And thank you for helping to create so many music lovers in the world.
Today’s Sunday Baroque show (7/29/18) includes some highlights about summer music festivals. No matter what genre of music you fancy, there is a music festival suited to your tastes. You may be solely a spectator/listener, or an active participant — summer presents so many rich and rewarding opportunities, so many hands-on possibilities.
I have a wealth of great memories of attending summer festivals over the years, sitting on a beach blanket or perched in summer concert venues enjoying world-class musicians. (And not necessarily baroque, or even classical performances!) As an orchestral and chamber musician, I’ve played my share of memorable summer festival performances, too. A number of my friends have attended summer festival camps for accomplished amateurs, or participated in intensive workshops that culminated in a performance at the end. Some of my professional musical colleagues have participated in summer training programs here and abroad. Perhaps it’s the casual summer mindset, but the music seems to take on a different role and meaning at these summer festivals. It has extra sparkle and fun! Even when it’s an educational setting, the tone is simply different in the summer … more luxurious in a way, more convivial, and with more room to take chances musically.
Are you enjoying summer music festivals this season? Have you participated in summer music workshops or classes, recently or in the past? Please share some of your memorable experiences of Summer music!
As much as I love music, I also appreciate silence. Or perhaps I should say I appreciate the absence of what we traditionally define as “music.” It offers a chance to focus on a different, more nuanced layer of sound.
Birds singing, leaves rustling, chipmunks fussing in the yard, rain gently tapping on the house … subtle yet, somehow, profound. Add a layer of neighbors and their children and pets cavorting nearby, even the brief Doppler-ized snippets of music from other people’s passing car radios, and these random sounds combine to create the effect of daily life on “shuffle.” I love it!
John Cage, the 20th century avant garde composer, famously “composed” a piece called 4’33” or Four Minutes and Thirty Three Seconds. He specified it for any instrument or combination of instruments, and the score instructs the performers to NOT to play for 4 minutes and 33 seconds. The music is in the sounds of the environment … people shuffling, coughing, sounds from outside the performance venue. Cage was prescient — he introduced the piece in 1952, long before we had as many sensory and media inputs as we do today. The concept has gained relevance and resonance as our world has become noisier.
There is something comforting and affirming to me in the sounds of nature and the hustle and bustle of life. It feels like home. Those sounds of the world around me also give me another level of appreciation for the music when I turn on the radio again or pop in another CD. What about you? Do you find that silence — or the absence of “music” — enhances your appreciation of the music and the world around you? How you do find a balance that works for you?
The findings resonate because I have long had strong feelings about the connection between musical ability and facility for languages. While it’s only anecdotal, I notice that many people around me with good musical ears also have good ears for language. (and more than a few people around me who lack a musical ear have difficulty with their foreign language pronunciation) For example, I have a beloved older cousin who regularly played piano from the time he was a little boy well into middle age. He also grew up to become fluent in Mandarin, Russian, Hungarian, and German. And I have always credited my own music lessons starting at age 8 for my interest in and ease in pronouncing a variety of languages. That facility has occasionally gotten me into minor trouble, too, because my native-sounding pronunciation far exceeds my limited vocabulary in some languages, creating some awkward exchanges. (That will have to be the topic of a future blog in the category of humor!)
There really is a “music” to spoken language — mastering the articulation, tempo, and rhythm of the words adds another layer of communication and nuance beyond the vocabulary and grammar. I’m reminded of the hilarious scene in the classic 1966 film THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING, THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING, when the stranded Russian submariners try to pass themselves off as New Englanders, walking the streets saying earnestly, “ee-MAIR-gen-cee … everybody to get from street!” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qOZuLD1u_K4
The study in the Time article looked specifically at the connection between children who had piano lessons, while speculating that the music/language connection may well exist for those learning other instruments, too. I will not be at all surprised if/when greater connections are revealed between music and language.
What about you? Did your early musical training help you with language learning? Do you hear the music in language, too? What did you think of the Time article?
Two decades ago, cellist Yo Yo Ma embarked on a new musical journey, forming his Silk Road Ensemble. It’s a multicultural artistic collaboration between musicians from all over the world. They have made recordings, earned a Grammy nomination, commissioned diverse new musical works, created collaborations with students and teachers, and so much more. Silkroad boldly states its mission:
SILKROAD CREATES MUSIC
THAT ENGAGES DIFFERENCE,
SPARKING RADICAL CULTURAL
AND PASSION-DRIVEN LEARNING
TO BUILD A MORE HOPEFUL WORLD.
For those of us who experience music as a powerful emotional force, Silkroad’s mission resonates as much as the ensemble’s performances inspire and entertain.
In case you missed it, there was a terrific documentary made about the Silk Road project: THE MUSIC OF STRANGERS. It’s a behind-the-scenes look at some of the individual musicians, framed in the context of their personal backgrounds and world events. The documentary reminds us that, despite some outward differences, we humans have much more in common with one another than we sometimes acknowledge, and there is big payoff in learning more about our commonality. THE MUSIC OF STRANGERS is joyful, touching, and a powerful example of the transcending power of collaboration. I highly recommend it!
Some of the things I’m most grateful for are things I did not plan for and could not have imagined for myself. For example, as a young musician, I hoped/dreamed/planned to be a full time flutist performing in a significant professional orchestra. Yet, along the way, I stumbled into radio and fell in love with the medium. It changed my perspective and my life for the better in ways too numerous to list. In hindsight, I even question whether I would have been truly happy as a full time orchestral musician, and I deeply appreciate the many “happy accidents” that steered me on such a satisfying path as a broadcaster AND professional musician.
Most of us have had path diversions of some kind, and they are not always “happy” either, or at least they don’t seem so at first. Years ago I interviewed the remarkable pianist Leon Fleisher. He was a child prodigy who grew into an astounding rising young concert pianist, when he lost the use of his right hand due to focal dystonia. As a result, he had to completely rethink his career and forge a new path. He focused on performing the left hand piano repertory and becoming a conductor and esteemed teacher and mentor. He has an extraordinary life and career, and I asked Mr. Fleisher if, in hindsight, he wished he could have done it differently. His telling answer was: no! He embraces the remarkable result of that initially painful change in his plans, hopes and dreams.
I recently spoke with a young musician friend who is at a crossroads right now in his professional and personal life. He is a talented American singer who is enjoying success abroad, albeit not in the quality and quantity he hoped for, nor on the timetable he expected. Like many of us, he internalized the message that if one follows a certain script — “Do A, B and C … and you will achieve X, Y and Z.” — one will achieve the prize. Now he is staring at the reality that things don’t always go according to plan, and don’t necessarily bring the happiness and satisfaction one expected, and he is struggling with those assumptions he made and what to do next.
My advice to him was to be open to opportunities, take some chances, keep doing his homework about his options, think broadly about his many skills and experiences, and eventually … take a leap! I reassured him that many successful people arrive at their success through circuitous paths that were not what they planned or imagined. In fact, I’d guess that is true to some extent for most successful and satisfied people.
What’s your story? Did you have some “happy accidents” that set you on a different path than you’d planned for yourself? How did it work out for you? What pearls of wisdom would you share with a young friend at such a crossroads?
It’s a question I sometimes ask people, an extension of a question I’ve made a habit to ask myself each day.
Sunday Baroque listeners frequently say the music on the program makes them happy and provides mental and emotional nourishment. Recently a listener told me he likes Sunday Baroque, in part, because he can hear the smile in my voice. What a heartwarming compliment! The smile in my voice is my authentic self, because I love my work and I love connecting with listeners. I am also keenly aware and appreciative that I’m naturally hardwired to be a happy and optimistic person. Producing a music program for people who enjoy it gives me great joy and satisfaction, and I nurture my natural inclination to be positive with other activities and personal connections that support and enhance my happiness.
Most of these are the “small picture” things … get some exercise, chat with a friend, listen to music, play my flute, read a good book, play with the cat, try a new recipe, plan or complete a project, watch a silly movie or video that makes me laugh or provides food for thought. These are simple tasks and simple pleasures, and they are things that contribute incrementally to giving me happiness each day and over time. They provide order — and disorder! — that is pleasing and gratifying. They also give me a sense of satisfaction, as well as a sense of some control over my fate. When I look back over days, weeks and months, I see evidence that I can steer the course of some things that are most important to me and I need not settle for having regrets.
There are plenty of studies demonstrating that optimism is good for one’s health. Even people who are not necessarily hardwired for optimism can tweak some of their behaviors and change their internal narratives to see things through a more optimistic lens.
What about you? Is your glass half full or half empty? What do YOU do to make yourself happy?
My earliest Memorial Day memories are connected to my earliest days as a fledgling musician. My hometown Memorial Day parade included most of the local public school bands, and we looked forward to it every year with a sense of excitement and gravity. We prepared extensively, practiced marching along while playing our instruments, and learned the protocols and significance of the reviewing stand and the ceremony at the end of the parade route honoring so many brave souls. This early attempt at multi-tasking was not easy for little kids, but we understood we were part of a larger and more significant tradition, and we threw ourselves into the task. All these decades later, those Memorial Day parades are still deeply imprinted in my mind and soul when this holiday arrives each year.
What are your Memorial Day memories? What traditions do you have for this solemn holiday? How will you find peace and inspiration? Please share your reflections.
When I originated Sunday Baroque as a local public radio program on WSHU in Fairfield, Connecticut nearly 31 years ago, it coincided with WSHU’s move into a little house on the periphery of a small but growing college campus. As Sunday Baroque grew, so did WSHU’s operations, and we quickly outgrew the house. For many years, we have taken great pride in producing amazing radio from such humble studios (not without occasional private grousing about the limitations) but I’m so pleased to report that we just cut the ribbon on a beautiful new facility!
Anthony Moaton, Joelle Schrock, Suzanne Bona, Julie Freddino
Even as dilapidated as it is, the little house has been the site of countless wonderful memories, including the birth of Sunday (Morning) Baroque in 1987 and the launch of the renamed national show, Sunday Baroque, in 1998. Today, Sunday Baroque is broadcast on approximately 200 radio stations nationwide. This remarkable growth has been made possible thanks to generous listener support and advocacy. The Sunday Baroque team — Julie Freddino, Joelle Schrock and Anthony Moaton — is an extraordinary group of capable professionals who have made the program sound terrific from the little house. We all look forward to this exciting new beginning, and we thank you for YOUR support!
Sunday Baroque Blog
Host Suzanne Bona occasionally shares something interesting with you that is too timely or doesn't quite fit on the weekly broadcast. It might be to give you a behind-the-scenes look at the program, tell you about a terrific new recording, share information about a group's concert tour or latest award, or inform you about the passing of an important musician. Sometimes it might be an observation about the musical scene in general, or a reaction to a news item that relates to the world of music or the arts. Check in with Suzanne's blog to see what she has to say and join the conversation.