l'arbre de Vie

It's interesting for me to see where my impulses lead me from day to day, week to week. I am in an extrodinarily "musical" mode right now. To the right of me is a pile of my favorite recordings: Brahms sonatas, Beethoven Quartets, Saint-Saens concerti, Mozart piano music, and the like. For me listening to these recordings is like dropping in with old friends. So many places and people are associated with these pieces, not to mention the emotions which come back to me. Through it all, I am never surprised at what happens to be when I listen to Bach.

Bach, that grandaddy of us all. For the longest time it was he alone that I thought was worthy to carry the title "composer". His works in the minor key have a certain weightiness and depth to them. If somebody were to ask me what my single favorite piece of music is I would hesitate a bit, then answer: Bach's "Double" violin concerto in d minor BWV 1043, for two violins and orchestra. It's a pretty famous piece in three unique movements of vivace, largo ma non tanto, and allegro. I grew up listening to the now famous Itzhak Perlman and Isaac Stern recording, and in due time I learned the piece myself measure by measure, line by line, movement by movement. Unlike most people I learned the middle movement first, then the third, and finally, the first. I couldn't understand why. The first seemed to be technically the easiest of the three movements. It was mostly in odd positions with that monstrosity near the middle which could only be done in second position. But heck I didn't question. It was a privilege playing that thing and I remember coming home from lessons excited to practice until I was half deaf in my left ear.

In 2007 I was blessed to give a concert of this concerto with one of my friends in three public performances. The experience was cathartic. I had so much energy invested in the concerto that the performances left me really tired. After all, how is one to express one's interest for a piece that has been such an integral part of one's life for so long? How could one do justice to the music of Bach? Somehow we did it. We practiced weekly like crazy, coming up with common fingerings and bowings. The other violinist played the second violin part, which is traditionally known as the test of bow arm agility. I played the first which has been regarded as one of the more challenging pieces in baroque repretoire because of its seemingly mild pyrotechnics which require great precision if the line is to stand out. Somehow we had to bring those two elements together without saying a word to one another.

I remember very clearly our rehearsals. We practiced in the chapel at school. It's a rather large round building with a piano to the left next to the altar. Looking straight ahead we could see just about half of Diamond head through these huge sliding glass doors. We'd agree to meet when I got out of meetings, more or less at 5PM. We'd practice til 9. Those four hours flew by like no other. We played our selves out and disagreed a great deal. The other violinist and I seemed to have fundamental disagreements on the nature of baroque music: she claimed that the line should increase in volume proportionate to higher pitches while I maintained the opposite. She had no problem using vibrato in her solo sections while I decided to be a bit more spare with ornamentation. I began my trills on the note above the written one while she began as written. Most of all we had a different sense of timing. Being the romantic she is she'd slow down at the end of phrases which drove me insane. We sometimes relied on the metronome but that would never work out. It was a fun and frustrating experience. Near the end the discussions were tiring, so I just went along with what she wanted. I didn't care any more. To my surprise she took notice of this, backed down, and was adamant that my viewpoint was the right one. Now that is something I couldn't have planned.

After we worked out our issues I informed the conductor and his assistant that we would be ready to practice with the full orchestra. I suggested that only the principals meet for the first time so there would be greater transparency of thought and playing. He utterly rejected my thesis. That's not the kind of situation you can argue in. So we showed up one night, stood up there between the concertmaster and the conductor and had a go. It was pretty awful. As first violinist I technically had more control over the speed and pacing than the conductor, which in principle was anachronistic to the Bach we were performing. Things weren't working out at all. The concertmaster (my teacher) even went as far as to suggest that he and I write a jazz percussion part out for the concerto. He said it was creative. I knew he knew we had some serious tempo issues as a group.

After a month the whole thing began coming together. We all learned to communicate with one another. The bass lines finally figured out that they were the steam behind this huge locomotive, something which I thought was evident from the very get go. Two weeks before the first performance we gave it a run through. It was pretty damn good if I can say so myself. There were some intonation issues between me and the rest of the first violinists. Later we found out that I sounded a bit sharper when I turned my back to them. It was an illusion of their highly gifted ears. They had to somehow ignore my sound yet be aware of what I was doing. And with that we were ready to hit the road.

As I mentioned, there were three performances. The first was at this retirement home in Punahou. We had played there before. The audience there is always appreciative especially if they know the musician is young. So here it was, my solo debut. No friends were there, neither was my family. It was strangely lonely that night. My mother had called me about a half hour before the concert and began to argue with me over something about my father. I told her that what ever was going on it wasn't my fault and that I can't be the vent for her right now - I'm about to play a freaking solo against an orchestra. She didn't know what that meant and went on anyway. I turned off my phone, threw it in the case, and let go of that. I remember sitting in the musician's area quickly converted from a chapel. For some reason I am beginning to realize I remember what I see at moments like these. But in any case, I could see the side of Maryknoll school. I could see gray lockers and ti leaves and torch gingers. Before I knew it they announced my name. I grabbed my partner by the hand and came out of the door, took a bow, and put the bow to the string. The rest happened so quickly after that. I can hardly remember what it was like. I do remember standing there awkwardly as the second violins began their ascending scale which sounds much like the beginning of that old cartoon "Inspector Gadget". After I began I remember feeling abnormally powerful. I had stepped into the "zone".

The very last few measures of the concerto is this descending scale in thirds down to the D above middle C. We held that note longer than I would've ever dreamed of doing it, but hey, people expect that kind of ending. Somebody presented me with a lei and a bouquet. Instead of walking back through the doors I came from, I walked straight out the doors. Something said to me, "just walk and keep walking." And there I was, out in Honolulu traffic with a plumeria lei, a black aloha shirt and slacks, violin in hand. What the hell was I doing? It beat the shit out of me. A walk around the block was in order. I didn't want anyone to steal my instrument so I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my shirt and slid my instrument in there. I held the bow against the back of my arm. The moon was out that night. I could see Tantalus in the distance bathed with a soft glow. The walk toward Makiki was a bit of a victory lap - again, a lonely one.

Somebody had sent me a youtube clip of the performance the following week. I sent it to my mother so she could see what was going on. We had another performance coming up in a few days. And wouldn't you know it, she and a few family members said they'd be there. This venue was perhaps the most impressive. It is Paliku theatre in Kaneohe. The acoustics there are pretty spectacular. The soloists had their own dressing room. I could see and hear what was going on on the stage via closed circuit TV in my room. At the prearranged time the same process: I took my partner by the hand, bowed, and played. This time I was nervous. I actually knew people there. Two friends had come, one of whom meant a lot to me. Well, they both did but the girl even moreso. And no, it wasn't because she was a girl. My mother, her sister and husband, and another relative came too. I was shocked that they would fly to Oahu just for this.

Halfway through the middle movement I began to lose feeling in my left hand. The fingers kinda flopped there like fish out of water. I was still playing in tune and with good tone but the tactile experience was weird. During my rests I stopped and massaged my hands. The conductor gave me this really concerned look but I smiled. I couldn't figure out what was going on. Fatigue? No way. My hands knew this piece inside and out. Nervousness? I wasn't shaking any more. But as I continued to rub my hands I found that the warmth was helping. Between the second and third movements I whispered to the other violinist, "Is it me or is it super cold in here?" She said she was losing feeling too. Nevertheless we plowed through. What a relief.

And so what's the overarching theme here? I miss the music scene. A prodigy or well known professional I am most definately not. Am I good? Meh. I think I kinda suck. But apparently good enough to others. I miss that rush of performing. I miss putting on concert clothes, getting into my car, and driving to the venue. Most of all, I miss mingling with the audience when its all over. They'll tell you all sorts of stories, what the piece said to them, and sometimes but not very often they'll ask your age and side you a small envelope with a decent amount of cash in it. Gigging life was pretty similar, minus the mingling. We'd play at events and had to provide atmosphere. We were paid with bank checks. And for the polar opposite of these two venues, Mariachi was perhaps the most fun of all. We carried the life of the party, made fools of ourselves, and took requests - all in Spanish. We had to sing although I can't carry a tune if my life depended on it. We did our best and ended quite successfully almost 100% of the time. Oh gosh, except this one gig at a nightclub in Aiea. That was a disaster.

I miss my musician friends. They were neat people with interesting stories. Come to think about it, I miss music, period. Luckily life comes in full circle. Again, though thousands of miles away from my musical community I am brought back to those faces and notes through my recordings. I feel closer to them somehow. It is one big musical communion.

Youtube has an audio-only clip of the concerto I played. It is that recording which I know so well played by Perlman and Stern.

Here is the first movement. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vesrqFeq9rU
Just listen to how heavy that sounds. You can hear the basses bouncing up and down in the foundation. It's just...heavy. I'm not talking about emotionally taxing. I'm talking about the creation of a physical weightiness, like Atlas or seeing a huge machine slowly coming to life. When the solo violins enter they do so in a mock canon fashion. Their melodies interweave creating a tension resolved only at the very end.

Here is the second movement. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axFUvA_he-o
Absolutely stunning. The melodies arch and embrace. At once the voices are separated yet comingled. At any one time one violin tries to move beyond the single line, only to be pulled back by the other. As the movement develops it seems as if the two violins realize that their strength lies in their relation to each other. Out of everything Bach wrote I think this really is the pinnacle of his art. No joke. It is my favorite movement to play, hands down.

And here is the third movement. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6gOeE5QTXk
This one is such a rollercoaster. The two violins chase each other in an almost exact fuge only a half bar long. They never quite catch up to each other except in the final tutti. Of the three movements this is the most difficult to get in sych with the orchestra. The bass is playing this syncopated obbligato and the higher strings' beats fall on those penultimate to mine. There is so much complexity here. I am positive that one could spent at least five years analyzing this one movement.

And there it is. The source and summit of my life in three movements.