Clarinetfest 2012

"Let the clarinet games begin!"

Over the week of August 1-5, I attended the International Clarinet Association's 2012 Clarinetfest in Lincoln, Nebraska.  Clarinetfest is the annual gathering of clarinet professionals, teachers, amateurs and enthusiasts.  It moves around the globe (as it is an international organization); held at different locations each summer.  The Lincoln Clarinetfest was my second one; I'd attended the one in Kansas City, MO about four years ago.

This year's festival was wonderfully diverse and had a good range of lectures and recitals to attend.  The evening concerts alone are worth price of admission, featuring many world-renown clarinetting artists, including bass clarinettist and electronica genius Michael Lowenstern, Klezmer artists Corrado Giuffredi and David Krakauer, and jazz clarinettist Allan Vache, to name a few.

Attendees could attend lectures, demonstrations, and masterclasses, or simply listen to new music from attending recitalists.  I attended a lecture about teaching young beginners music (beyond the clarinet, but also how to integrate it), a masterclass led by Fred Ormand, a couple of Klezmer/Jewish clarinet workshops, and several pedagogy lectures (how to teach, or different traditions and methods of teaching).  The theme of the convention was "Heritage to Horizon", which meant a bit of looking back to several influential teachers within the discipline of clarinet playing and a look forward to what clarinet playing can become, and what the clarinet can do.  With regards to the heritage aspect, some legendary teachers were discussed, including Daniel Bonade, Robert Marcellus, and Kalmen Opperman. 

A panel on the teaching methods and contributions of Robert Marcellus.

Tim Puwalski, demonstrating Klezmer music.  He taught us a tune, by ear, and eventually we were marching around the room, Pied Piper-style, playing a tune.

Allan Vache and his band.  An outstanding evening of jazz music.

It was a great week, overall.  I picked up some new ideas, met up with some old friends and teachers, and have a stack of music and information to start sifting through.  A terrific way to recharge the clarinet batteries!  Now, I must go practice!

Anyone can improvise

Last weekend I attended the 2-day Jamey Aebersold Jazz Improvisation Workshop held at the University of Louisville in Kentucky.  This workshop is taught by Jamey Aebersold himself, which I think is great.  If you've ever used any of his play-along CDs (or LPs, if you've used them for a very long time) you've heard his voice, counting off the tempo.

I must say, he's a monster of a musician, demonstrating his points beautifully on both piano and saxophone.  The first morning session didn't have much in the way of theoretical information, but it did serve to get everyone into the "be creative" mindset.  As a teacher, I was interested in ways of introducing improvisation to some of my students, and the first day afternoon session gave me some helpful tips.  For example, instead of having the student try to solo over a progression, have them try over just two or three chords, using only two or three scales.  This keeps the amount of intimidating choices down to a manageable number and allows the player to experiment with actually trying to make up a melody on the spot.

Day 2 dealt more with some theoretical aspects of jazz music, like ii-V7-I progressions, scale usage, and ear training.

He did address the interesting question of whether or not analyzing or talking about jazz diminishes its spontaneity.  To paraphrase Aebersold: The greats may have not known whether or not they were playing diminished scales or tritone substitutions, or even if they played them intentionally (some did, Coltrane and Miles Davis were known to use modes and scales in experimental ways) but that's what they were doing.  And it's interesting how much you can learn about soloing by analyzing a solo from one of the great players.  We looked at couple of transcriptions, one from a Jimmy Forrest solo and one from Sonny Stitt.  By comparing note choices to the chord symbols, it's possible to see how they followed the progression.  It's really illuminating to see how a great soloist builds their melodies.

Some other interesting points: 

• Rhythm is at least as important as the correct notes.
• Imagination provides FREEDOM.  Develop your creativity.
• Music doesn't care who plays it.
• TV kills imagination. 
• LISTEN! All of the answers are in the recordings.
• Charlie Parker practiced 11-15 hours every day for 3-4 years.
• Get some music in your head (and in your fingers).  Don't rely too heavily on books and written music.
• Use your ears and memory.
• Try first improvising by singing.  Your voice can go places you may not be able to easily find with your instrument, and it helps to get ideas moving.

Also, Jamey can circular breathe.  It didn't hit me right away, at first I only noticed that he never stopped to take a breath when he played his saxophone.  Circular breathing is a technique where the player breathes in through the nose while exhaling into the instrument.  It requires practice; few people can do it naturally. 

Overall, it was a useful two days.  I picked up some new ideas to try with my students and new ways of practicing and developing my own playing.  Maybe in a year or two I can return for one of the week-long sessions to learn more.

After the final session, Jamey was so kind as to autograph my book!

Learn the clarinet, play music

One of my favourite quotes comes from a famous clarinet performer and teacher: 

"Everyone discovers their own way of destroying themselves, and some people choose the clarinet.” 

That quote comes from Kalmen Opperman (1919-2010).  Opperman started playing the clarinet at age 10 and by the time he was a teenager, he was studying with Simeon Bellison (principal of the New York Philharmonic).  After a time in the Army West Point Band and continued study with Ralph McLane, Opperman enjoyed a 50 year long career playing in Broadway orchestras, radio and TV commercials, and was principal clarinetist for the American Ballet Theatre, Ballet de Paris, and the Ukranian Folk Ballet. 


I know about him because he was my teacher's teacher (that makes me a grand-student of Opperman, right?), and I was therefore introduced to Opperman's method books. To my non-clarinet-obsessed readers, these are great books.  Not too frightening, but just difficult enough to keep me engaged.  They spend a good deal of time noodling around in the low range (the development of the low range is crucial for creating a good high range), but transition seamlessly into the altissimo, forcing the player to get really comfortable over the entire (very large) range of the clarinet.  And the etudes that appear "easy" have just enough traps to keep the player from becoming complacent.  Each etude focuses on one concept to be ironed out through concentrated, methodical practice.  And once you get the etudes worked out, you then need to try to play them up to the marked tempos.


Opperman's philosophy of practice and music is inspiring.  He had a clear idea of what he expected from his students and himself, which show through in his etudes.  He wanted his students (and all students of the clarinet) to have a solid technical foundation.  Why?  In his own words: "You can't teach music.  You can teach the instrument.  The basic premise that I work on is that you master the clarinet.  You play music."


That's worth thinking about.

The Zombie post

I like zombies.  I like watching movies about them.  I like reading about them.  I like playing video games about plants fighting off zombies.  They are funny to me.  On one occasion, I watched a zombie movie before bedtime and had zombie-filled dreams.  Anyway.

The reason I bring this up is because I use zombies in my teaching.

The zombies come in when we are playing along in a duet or the student is playing something out of their lesson book or an etude.  Because we are all fallible human people, with not-so-perfect brains (braaaaaaains!) a student will sometimes play in a rest. 

My high school band director had a habit of telling us to "not step in a hole", by which he meant: don't play in the rest (a 'rest' is the musical symbol that means "don't make sound here").  I tell my students the same thing, but add that there are zombies living (un-living?) in the rests and by stepping in them, they will have their brains eaten out. 

This silliness does a couple of things. First, it keeps the lesson from becoming too dreary or serious and (usually) makes the student smile or laugh.  Second, it makes their braaaaaaaaains associate the rests with something novel and unique.  Something that they need to remember to do. 

My zombie trick seems to work for me, and now I just need to say "zombie" to a knowing student who accidentally plays in a rest and they know exactly what happened and how they can fix the mistake.  Pavlovian zombies?