Kenneth Woods- A View From the Podium

My primary impression of the first part of the concert day is fatigue- mentally and physically, I am acutely aware of the fact that I was on the podium for many, many hours yesterday. I’m not a big fan of afternoon concerts- normally I feel like showtime is on me too quickly. On this occasion, however, the morning and early afternoon grind themselves out at a dirge tempo.Suzanne and I have brunch with my parents around eleven thirty, then I’m back to get concert clothes together and head to the hall. There is, happily, no extra excitement in the hours leading up to the concert. My biggest fear has been the weather- Pendleton is particularly gloomy in the winter, so when beautiful spring days roll around, people tend to forget that they’ve bought concert tickets. T

his is a genuinely beautiful day.At the hall things are quiet and slow- people ask me how I feel and the answer is “tired.” Players and singers appear. I have a quick visit with each or our soloists. I talk to the recording engineer. I say hi to some friends who have come to the show. The vibe among players and choir members alike is much quieter and more sober than the night before- I think I’m not the only one who’s a bit exhausted. The poor brass players are all coping with tired lips from the intense schedule. Speaking of brass players, our colleague is back from his son’s surgery. I’m sure he’s exhausted, but he doesn’t let on, and he played brilliantly in the show. The surgery was successful, but it’s a long road to recovery, so he and his wife will be making the 10 hour drive many more times in the coming months to check on his son.Finally, though, the auditorium opens and slowly fills. In the end the crowd is our best of the season, which is only right, and there is a sense of relief for all of us- you can play your heart out, but if no one comes, it’s hard to call it a success.

We get the orchestra and choir onstage. Mahler famously asked for a five-minute pause after the first movement. I’m not getting out the stop watch, but I am taking the opportunity to re-tune and bring on the soloists at that moment.

There’s a welcome from our board president, who makes a spectacular entrance hauling himself onto the extension from the floor, and then Lisa, our concert master takes the stage and tunes. All day I’ve been expending the least amount of energy I can get away with, and now I take a moment to find the “on” switch and take the stage.

And the concert?

Well, maybe it’s not for the conductor to say how the concert went. I can report that the audience response was nothing short of ecstatic and the mood among listeners at the reception was hugely celebratory. I can also report that both of our soloists sang very beautifully, powerfully and sensitively. After the show I spoke with a few key players who felt that on the whole the concert was more humbling than the dress rehearsal- one said he’d never felt more human. I think one of the curses of being a performer is that once you’ve had a big breakthrough, you hear things in a more critical way, and after the breakthrough in the dress rehearsal, everybody was hearing themselves and the orchestra with even more ruthless clarity. The result is that the recording of the concert has a greater depth of sound, more color and more dynamic range over all, but that the experience is more draining for many of the musicians. The choir is by far the best they’ve ever been- the first “Auferstehen” is genuinely magical, and they find reserves of power at the end we’ve never had in the rehearsals.

Maybe it’s not for the conductor to say how the concert went, but there’s always the recording to listen to, and one can quantify things like ensemble and tuning pretty easily. At the end of the day, I’m not sure how relevant that is- after all, technical standards are always evolving and vary from orchestra to orchestra. This was the Oregon East Symphony’s first performance of a Mahler symphony, and that means that for many of the musicians onstage, it was their first encounter with Mahler technically, stylistically and musically. Clearly, it was the most technically secure and musically polished the orchestra has given, but in two or three years time the orchestra will have grown even farther, and so the lasting meaning of the event is not something that can be measured in technical terms.

What is relevant, in my opinion, is the meaning of the event- the meaning of the music, of the language and of the moment that that group of musicians and listeners came together for this experience. This is what makes live music so indispensable in creating shared transformative moments. I think this was such an experience, and I believe that we were able to bring Mahler’s message to life. There were plenty of tears onstage and in the audience, and maybe that is a better measure than applause, ticket sales, or number of splats.

I guess I think it went pretty well.

STAY TUNED FOR THE FINAL INSTALLMENT OF THE MAHLER JOURNEY, where we look back at what it took to make the concert happen, and what the implications of the project are for the future of the orchestra.

Dress rehearsal finally starts with plain old rehearsing. Humbled by yesterday’s difficulties with the third movement, we start with a few minutes on that first. We spent some considerable time on it in each of the sectionals, but we need to integrate the percussion and put the thing together with some schwung.  

Miles Davis said it best- that “writing about music is like dancing about architecture, and as the Mahler Journey enters its last 24 hours, I find it harder and harder to write anything meaningful.We had only the shortest of breaks between the string sectional and the dress rehearsal, which two days earlier would have seemed like a recipe for disaster, but worked out just fine. Musically, one might think of the rehearsal process as moving from chaos to order- that is when we first read there is a lot of uncertainty and a lot of confusion. People may not have completely mastered their parts, everyone is still figuring out who to listen to, what to look for, where the repeat signs go. As we reach the end of the process, we’ve hopefully removed any uncertainty that leads to insecurity, and left only room for spontaneity and improvisation.

Orchestras not stopping when the conductor has stopped.

Posted at the request of musicians of the Oregon East Symphony

As always, the morning begins with coffee. The Northwest is an area that takes beverages seriously- we have some of the best wine, beer and coffee in the world, and we’re very lucky in Pendleton to have a fantastic local coffee roaster. I’m very lucky that that coffee roaster is next door to the symphony office.
Suzanne and I chat and relax over java, then I head back to the office to look over the score and make some plans for the day’s rehearsals. Today is a long one– three separate sectionals for woodwinds, brass and strings followed by the dress rehearsal in the evening. The main topic of conversation throughout the day seems to be how I am going to cope with conducting four services of Mahler 2 in one day, and, of course, I expect it to be tiring, but I am quite excited about today.
In five years together we’ve come a long way in making the orchestra a more capable organization, and in finding ways to produce a better and better product. Still, there are always going to be two interrelated challenges for us because of the remoteness of our location. These are lack of sufficient rehearsal time and difficulty in finding first-rate musicians willing and able to travel the many hours needed to reach us. Out of town players can only come for a limited time, which means we only have two rehearsals with the full orchestra for most concerts. With that in mind, this day is very special for me- in each of the three sectionals I am working with the strongest group of players we’ve ever had here, and, for once, we have time to work in some detail, to refine, even to repeat things if needed. Throughout the day, the mood is wonderfully collaborative and constructive, and we’re able to not only cover many things that I wanted to look at, but to go over areas of concern to the players themselves. It is tiring, but deeply rewarding. At one point two different violinists bring me coffees within five minutes of each other (apparently the guy at the coffee shop just said to the second person- “my god, how much coffee can this guy drink”). Isolating the sections is not just technically helpful- it can’t help but inspire to see in even closer detail the genius of Mahler’s use of the orchestra.
We finish the string sectional at 6. My parents have just arrived in town for the concert, so we make a quick exit to grab a bite before the dress rehearsal at 7. I’m ready for some food, but quite sad that the long afternoon is over. For me, this day has been the happiest in my tenure with the band.
 

Just getting everyone on this stage is half the battle, it seems, and finally tonight, we have our full compliment of players for the first time, as our last few imports have arrived. Fifteen minutes before the downbeat and it is quite chaotic. Everyone is trying to find a place on stage, new players are completely confused, and I’m being asked about a question a second. While helping guide a wind player to her seat, I notice that our two soloists have arrived and are seated in the house. Run over to say hi, very quickly talk them through their solos and let them know the rehearsal schedule. The plan is to run the Finale all the way through, then back to Urlicht, then, finally, first and third movements. They’re both very charming and easy going, which is a plus in Pendleton since I have so much going on and our stage manager and personnel manager both play in the orchestra. There’s not really anyone available to look after soloists during the rehearsal.  Satisfied that we’re all more or less on the same page, I duck downstairs to see the choir.
For many of our big choral pieces in the past, I’ve done all the main preparation, except in some early rehearsals when I was away. It is a huge, huge relief to be able to entrust notes and warm up to Cyril this week. I just need to be in too many places right now. He and I have a quick look at a few things we noticed last night, and then I leave it to him and head upstairs again.
Ten minutes left to the downbeat. The stage is already full, and we still have perhaps 20 more players and a choir to get on. I’m besieged with people telling me they don’t have a stand. Is this a question Leonard Slatkin or Lorin Maazel get often? I keep hoping that one day we’ll have things running smoothly enough that I can just hide in my dressing room and study until the orchestra tunes.
Tune, they do, and we start the last movement. One of my general impressions from last night had been that, in general, the brass were a bit behind and could play out more. No wonder: we’ve got 6 trumpets onstage, only 2 of whom play with us regularly, we have 11 horns onstage, only 5 of whom have played here before. As soon as we start the Finale, I can tell that they’re starting to get used to each other, to the space and to me, and that we’ve got a the beginnings of a brass section instead of a bunch of brass players. It’s amazing how fast this happens with good musicians.
The Finale is going outrageously well, especially the middle section. The offstage stuff is still problematic, but it starts to come together. The trumpets are having trouble seeing the screen because of where the horns have to stand. That’s something we can solve in sectionals. Choir is miles better with tuning, albeit not perfect yet. It’s great to see the choir members faces light up when Amy starts singing- they thought they had figured out how lucky they were to be singing last night, but the interaction of the choir and the soloists is one of the most special aspects of the piece. Both of them are in fine voice and doing well. Amy’s done a fine job learning the thing in two weeks, but I try to make a note to give her a few extra shots at things with the orchestra since it is her fisrt Mahler 2. Onward to Urlicht, and Angela sounds great- no worries on this one except to find more variety of color in the strings and to keep more intensity in our pianissimo playing.
Break, then first movement. Again, this is new for the brass, and we’re again a little tentative compared to the last movement, but it’s pretty exciting stuff, and comes along fast. When Leonard Slatkin and I talked in March he said the best part about one’s first performance of Mahler 2 was that moment in rehearsal when you realize that it’s going to be fine and you can enjoy it. This could be that moment.
Or maybe not…. With the last fifteen minutes of the evening we have to look at the third movement, and it is very humbling for everyone. Since the first fifty bars are so soloistic, any time that someone has a technical wobble or rhythmic problem, the whole thing becomes annoyingly unstable. It’s been a fun night, but everyone is feeling a bit nervous again as we shut things down and head back to the Rainbow. It’s not a late night for me, though. Tomorrow is a long day.

Late start after long night at the Rainbow on Thurs. Suzanne and I make the trip down to the local coffee shop for much needed caffeine and bagels, before I head into the office.  It is the last weekday of our concert preparation, which means I am greeted by the final update on our flake count for the concert. We have had one young oboist from a nearby college, who fortunately only plays on the last movement, who emailed the office this week to tell us she couldn’t (read that as “wouldn’t”) play because she was too busy with the end of her school year. I would say that any college student with half a brain would be able to predict that they would be busy at the end of the year. We’ve also had one violinist inform us this morning that, while she is sorry to have missed last night, she will be unable to be at the rehearsal tonight or the sectional tomorrow because of religious reasons, but that she is “practicing hard.” Finally, we have had a message passed on to us from another young violinist that he had never, in fact, said that he would play this concert. Funny that- he played the last one and I remember our last conversation. “Thanks for playing- will I see you for Mahler,” I said.  “Of course, wouldn’t miss it for anything,” he answered. Apparently, while he wouldn’t miss it for anything he is able to miss it for nothing, and on 48 hours notice…. 

The common thread of all our flakes is that they are under the age of 25 years old. I can’t help but think that they must not yet realize what a rare, rare privilege it is to play this piece, and that even full-time players in big cities don’t play Mahler every day. I also think they must not have been on the other side of this equation often enough to fully realize how their behavior affects other people. The last thing that either Tiffany or Phyllis need is the stress of looking for replacement players in the waning hours of our concert preparation. Fortunately, we’ve already replaced the oboist, but the violin situation is stickier.  From the office, it’s down to Radio Shack to get some gadgets to repair our video setup for the offstage orchestra. From there to the hall and some trial and error on the system. While working on it, I’m joined by a number of musicians from the brass section who are prowling downtown. We all chat a bit while I finally figure out the last of the configuration problems with the video- finally, we have a working monitor offstage. 

From there, it’s back to the house where most of this group is staying while in town. James has brought the DVD of Bernstein doing the piece with the LSO and Janet Baker. It seems like a good way to gear up for the rehearsal- say what you will about the tempo of the first movement, he had charisma coming out of his charisma and Baker’s Urlicht is beyond wonderful (I must quote James, who said there are two kinds of voices who can sing Urlicht- Janet Baker and not Janet Baker). Suzanne joins us and we watch a condensed version of the piece so I can see a few bits I’m curious about before I head back to the hall for a few last preparations before rehearsal. Walking back, I’m haunted by Baker’s stillness- sometimes the less someone moves, the more there is to see. 

Rehearsal starts with the last movement from the entrance of the chorus. We have the last chord of the off-stage brass and flute, then they’re in. The first section is not yet spectacularly good- at a couple of key moments, the altos are dropping their pitch quite a bit and by the end they’ve pulled the whole thing quite flat. It’s the first thing many of the import players have played, so things aren’t really blending and locking, but the basic sound of the band is very exciting. Run through finished we go back and work through section by section again. Most of it improves very quickly, but a few bits are still shaky for pitch. Musically the ending quickly becomes what it should be, although balance will be a problem.

Since Pendleton is such a small population center, we always have to work to find enough singers for things. Not for us the glories of waiting lists that big-city symphony choirs always seem to have. This unfortunate circumstance means that we really have to work by consensus, because singers vote with their feet around here. Ever since our first read through with the choir, I’ve had a number of regular choral singers complain that they don’t like the idea of only singing at the end of a piece- they think we should only do pieces where the chorus sings in everything. I honestly find this attitude appalling- when a singer walks, he or she is showing the ultimate lack of respect for the people he or she sings with. We always do fine in the end because we have a core of singers who are completely dedicated to what they do, but it bothers me no end that others feed off them like parasites, trying to pick only those projects that suffiently inflame their egos. In any case, I’ve tried repeatedly to answer the specific questions about the Mahler from those who don’t yet know it, quoting Adrian Partington, the wonderful director of the BBC National Chorus of Wales, that Mahler 2 is the “summit of choral singing,” and that they will love it. As we go to break and dismiss the choir, I can see that people finally believe me- the choir is dancing their way off stage. It’s good to see. Still a lot of work for them to do- keeping the pitch up is such an issue in the opening, and they’re farther away from me than they have ever been, which makes the problems of looking up more severe than ever. Projection is also a challenge- there’s a lot of orchestra between them and the audience, and with the strings so far out on the extension, the chorus can’t easily compete with that level of immediacy.

After they leave we work through the finale from the beginning with the orchestra alone. There are so many new musicians onstage that pencils are flying everywhere as they update bowings, mark in details we’ve already worked on and note what I am doing where. There is so much to cover in this movement alone- lots of transitions, lots of textures, lots of notes. The video monitor seatup had failed today- the relay died on us just before the rehearsal started so we had to do the offstage music with the players onstage. Actually, that may have been a good thing, as it meant we could rehearse it a bit without the long delays of communicating back and forth where we are starting and what we need to do differently. The last two offstage sections are, by far, the most problematic places in the piece.

Finally, we spend the last half-hour on the second movement. It’s a beast in many ways, yet it seems that, as with many pieces, it’s the easiest stuff that gives us the most trouble. The first theme is generally accompanied by a little walking bass line, played pizzicato in the lower cellos and basses, and it’s a devil getting the pizz to settle in to the laid-back groove of the main melody. It only takes one player playing too loudly or too far on the front of the beat to destroy the mood, and players that rush tend to be players that play too loudly. The second theme is a pain in another way- I wish Mahler had used a slightly different description than “spring bogen” for the bow stroke. If the players let the bow bounce too far from the string, it can become very percussive and harsh, surely not what he wanted, and our hall tends to exaggerate that kind of issue.. Over and over we keep reminding that even a micro-millimeter off the string counts as off the string. As with the cello/bass pizz, it only takes one player doing the wrong stroke to ruin this bit.

We’re done for the night at 9:35- some of us have been going since the preparatory orchestra left town this morning at 8:30. Nevertheless, duty calls and it’s off to the Rainbow- our legendary rodeo bar- for a quick drink. Once there, everyone seems in high spirits- I’d say the mood is more like a summer festival than a regular gig.

Back around 4 PM to PDT and we’ve had a bit of a problem. Our office coordinator had called a friend of the orchestra who often has to save the day for us and asked him if he could get to the school to pick up the risers. When he arrives they try to give him the wrong risers, standing instead of seated risers, and there are some words between the various parties, as no one seems to understand what’s going on except for the office person, who can’t easily get anyone to listen to her.She and I talk and we decide that since we’re starting with the finale tonight we can go ahead and use our standing risers that we have at the hall and install the platforms the next day. We do still need another truckload of chairs and stands from the high school orchestra, which are easy to get, and we need to unload all the percussion gear, chairs and stands that we took on the school tour. Poor John our saintly stage manager/ principal percussion only has a little break to grab a bite before he’s off to pick things up.For me, I have to get to the hall to install the video monitor for the offstage ensemble. We’ve not had great luck finding someone who’s able to handle technology-related production issues, so it’s one thing I just do myself. After some time I conclude that the video relay is broken, so we’ll have to do the offstage music onstage tonight…One good thing: it turns out that the platforms have been left for us in the freight elevator! Our long-suffering board member saved the day after all. John arrives with a nightmare-ish amount of work to do. We can’t load in the equipment from the school concerts until we’ve emptied the freight elevator, so that means that we’re only just getting the last chairs and stands into the buildings as all the new players are arriving. This is the first rehearsal with the chorus and all the imports, so we’ve got to find room on the stage for everyone. People want to get onstage and warm-up (and stake out their territory) so the stage crew is having to work around them.

One thing that is nice about working in Pendleton is that local organizations help each other out- for instance the schools can borrow our chairs or we can borrow their risers. The bad thing is that sometimes you have two organizations who may talk past each other.We’re using seated risers for the Mahler, which the OES does not own. At the Holiday concert we borrowed a set from the school district, which worked fine. After that, we asked if we could use them again for the Mahler, and then our office called last week to arrange pick up. Several days went by and a number of calls weren’t returned, but that’s okay. In a small town you know that people usually know your timeline and will get back to you just at the last minute. Sure enough, today we had a call first thing from the district. It’s good timing, since tonight is the first rehearsal with the chorale and the orchestra together on stage.Unfortunately, we have to pick them up by 2:30 when the resource center closes. Unfortunate, that is, because we have a tour with the youth orchestra that doesn’t get back until 3:30, and our stage manager needs to be out with the youth orchestra since he is the stage manager for that, and the percussion coach.

Board meeting tonight- an important one as we have a season to announce for next year and a need to agree on a budget. We’re also trying to make a new long-range plan, update our bylaws and we’re looking at making some significant changes in how we staff the office.

Being in a board meeting is just exactly like being in the worst traffic jam of your life, except that everyone who is slowing you down is someone you know…

Of course, it is an absolute certainty that on a big project one will always have things come up: cancellations, crisis and so on. Most of them are the results of either good things that get in the way like Amy’s big break in New York, or flaky behavior, like the horn guy. What is harder to deal with is the logistical problem that is the result of a genuine life emergency. Today was our first, and hopefully last of those.

This evening was the first rehearsal of concert week. Things are looking great, and about 5PM Peter arrives from PDX with our new horn player, one of my old college friends who is a wonderful violinist and my wife, Suzanne, in tow. My lucky wife is spending her vacation from her orchestra in the UK playing in my orchestra in the US. We all grab a very pleasant bite and then I head over to the hall.

About 20 minutes before the rehearsal one of our players arrives. He’s one of my very favorite people and musicians in the orchestra, and we’ve worked together for many years in more than just this group. I’m leaving his name and instrument out of this since what follows involves his family. Instead of his usual greeting, he comes up to me, and after a long, deep breath says “I’ve got a big, big problem, and it’s about to become yours.”It turns out that his son has to have open heart surgery on Friday several hundred miles away. He’ll have to be there for the surgery and the morning after. He and his wife have to come back on Saturday night, so, if we can’t find another player, he could play just the concert, but he can’t be at any more rehearsals. Since he’s a wind player, he’s playing an independent part, which makes the whole thing tougher. Of course, if the surgery goes badly, he won’t be back at all. My first thought is that no parent should ever have to see their child have open heart surgery, least of all him. We can certainly engage another player, but he’s invested a lot of energy and time and ability in the orchestra, and I know he wanted very much to play this piece. The whole thing is awful.

Mom’s pension is safe by noon Monday.    Another early start- this time a radio interview in Hermiston. It’s me and our harpist, who also helps with publicity on the air. Our host is quick to inform me that he prefers Merle Haggard to Mahler, but he’s very gracious and skilled on air. The half hour flies by.   

 Very pleasant breakfast with Joyce afterwards, then back to Pendleton and almost straight to an Artistic Advisory committee meeting. Before I go, though, Phyllis (our office manager) lets me know that she has finally heard from John the Elusive Horn Player. He’s told her that since he never heard from us that he assumed that we didn’t need him, and that he is now otherwise engaged. Yes, he did get the contract, and the music, and the five emails and the three phone messages, but he’d been out of town for a week in March, and rather busy, which counts as not hearing from us. My reaction is a pleasant mix of righteous indignation, smugness at having called this back in January, and relief that we found a better and more professional player to replace him. Also, we can now finally take his name off our list forever.  

  Artistic Advisory- It’s an unfortunate aspect of our setup that we have to finalize the coming season during the week of our final concert, which is usually an ambitious one. It makes for a lot of distractions. However, the meeting goes very smoothly- they’re all very supportive and open-minded people (after all, they let me do Mahler this year!). At this point, we’re all on the same page, so it’s really budget committee people we have to deal with.    Afternoon is mostly logistics and publicity- working with Joyce and Phyllis and Tiffany to make sure the papers have what they need from us, and confirming stage set up issues. I do have a couple of hours in the late afternoon to study, but by that point I am feeling quite spacey, and end up reading a book at dinner instead of studying.   Tonight is my first rehearsal with the chorus since returning to town. For the first time in my tenure we have a chorus master this year who really understands how to prepare a symphonic chorus, so I have not been too stressed out about this. We read through once, then work in detail, easily using the entire two hours. Lots of color issues, lots of releases and final consonants, and balance. A few pitch issues, but not many. Cyril’s done a very good job with them. It is the most amazing choral writing- everything works, everything suits the words so perfectly, but it gets harder for the singers the more they understand the depth of it. By the end I feel much fresher, I’ve got a good second wind, so head back to the office for some late night studying.   

Jetlag- my constant companion….

Though I was completely wiped out after day one of the preparatory orchestra retreat, I find I wake up long, long before my alarm goes off, only to fall in and out of sleep until it finally starts screeching. At this point, I enter a 50-minute standoff with the snooze button, feeling disgruntled and catatonic. They’re already making breakfast downstairs, and they seem to be piping pure bacon fumes through the building’s heating system. This heavenly aroma is the death-knell for my sleep.  Any hope of a last few minutes rest fades as I lay in bed drooling at the thought of a caloric cowboy breakfast.
Breakfast lives up to the nearly intoxicating smells- bacon, eggs, homemade hash browns and fresh biscuits. Cowboy life is looking better all the time- they even have some fresh fruit on offer to assuage my guilt. Tragically, the coffee is perilously weak….

The fourth piece on the concert is Rossini’s La Gazza Ladra Overture. One of my few frustrations of the weekend is that some of the solo wind players have not yet put the work in on their little virtuoso passages that dot the piece. It puts me in the unenviable position of having to drill the thing in rehearsal time—something we did rather extensively on the first day. The bad news is that now those same kids are complaining of swelling, numbness and “funky, weird, tingly feelings in my mouth.” Also, one of the trumpet players is suffering lip fatigue….

As I’m doing my final prep for rehearsal one of the section coaches can be heard complaining “I was sleeping fine until they started pumping pure bacon fumes into my room.” At least I’m not alone…

We start at 9 AM. My main theme on day one had been sound- getting them to listen to all of every note that they played- they can make a beautiful group sound, but sometimes don’t. We made great progress, but there is some backsliding this morning. Normal, as they’re even more tired than I am. After some tweaking and just before lunch we run the Egmont- it’s so good I don’t want to do the concert, as I’m sure it will be an anti-climax. The coda is spectacular. I’m not sure how this particular group of kids is getting this result.

I let them out a little early for lunch, and then nearly an hour early in the afternoon. Since we’re performing this program in the evening, I want to make sure that the “funky, weird, tingly feeling” doesn’t get the best of us. As it turns out, people are all full of speculation- it seems I’ve never let anyone here out early before… There is some question as to whether I’ve ever let anyone anywhere out early before (I have, quite often).

Three-thirty I leave the heavenly confines of the Bar-M and head back to Pendleton at full speed, desperate to find some good coffee before the shop closes in the afternoon. There’s a little time to clear my head and change clothes before the concert.

Concert is much as I expected. We start with the Rossini- they’ve really bought into the rhythmic energy of the piece I’ve been trying so hard to get across in the rehearsals, and they do a great job of keeping the ppp sections soft and contained before the two great crescendos. Sadly, swollen tongues get the best of at least one of the woodwind solos, but that’s life. Bach double is good and the little girls play very well. Egmont, though, is just amazing. Again, these are not technically advanced players, but they each play the piece like it’s their head on the chopping block at the end. West Side Story is fine, but a bit of an anti-climax- it sounds a little light-weight after the Beethoven, which is probably a good sign.

Travis is, of course, there. He’s also conducting the new, junior string ensemble. He’s blown away by the Egmont- neither of us is quite sure how this group pulled that off. He and I, our youth programs coordinator and a couple friends go out after the concert, and I somehow end up singing Karaoke- Jimi Hendrix, no less. How horrifying (I’ve never been talked into it before)- blame it on Egmont. No flip-through of M2 in the cards tonight. Way too tired.

After the second rehearsal I can’t resist a trip to the local cowboy bar with some of my colleagues in the orchestra. While there, Peter, who should already be well on his way back to Portland, very kindly stops in to let me know the other horn player said yes. What a mensch. Fortunately, our personnel manger is there, too, so everyone knows what’s going on, except for whether or not our elusive friend/fifth horn shows.
 
Afterwards, I stay up and do a flip-through of the piece, making some notes of things discovered in the rehearsal. I turn out the light a little after 1 AM, slightly dreading the next morning, as I know it is going to be an early one.
 
In the 2002-3 season, we started a preparatory orchestra under the OES umbrella. It’s quite a thing to start an orchestra from scratch, especially in Eastern Oregon, where there are not huge numbers of young players who are studying intensively. Still, it’s been hugely rewarding- the group is very much a chamber orchestra, but even in the first year they were able to do a very credible Haydn 104 by the end of the year. It’s quite a thing for 40 kids, of whom 35 have never played in an orchestra before, to play that and the first movement of the Unfinished less than four months after their first rehearsal. The next year, they played a fantastic Beethoven 1, and last year ended the season with a sparkling Haydn 101. This year was supposed to be a bit of a bummer- our two very best players graduated after the Beethoven, then our next most two senior string players were taken out of the orchestra by their parents this year, I think for religious reasons (we rehearse regularly on Sundays), but I’m not really sure.
 
Imagine my surprise when this, our youngest group yet by a mile, managed to learn their “Symphony for the Year” (Schubert 3) by early November, and play it very well on our fall concert (and do the Beethoven 2nd Piano Concerto and a world premiere- our first commission for the prep orchestra). Our secret is simple: take the kids away to the middle of nowhere and lock them in a cabin until they learn the music.
 
Seriously, in each of our first three seasons, we had a retreat in April before our final concert, which gave us a huge boost towards finishing the season on good form. This year, we’ve had a weekend retreat in the fall in the beautiful Wallowa Lake region, a day retreat at the very swanky Whitman Hotel in Walla Walla in February, and now, we’re off to our spring home at the Bar-M Ranch in the Blue Mountains. We’ve been there a few times now, and it’s always heaven.
 
I leave Pendleton rather painfully early, quadruple latte in tow, and drive up to the ranch, listening to, of all things, Mahler 2 (funny, that…).  Rehearsal starts at 9:30 AM and, other than meals and breaks, goes until 8 PM. It’s an exhausting day, and these are not experienced or sophisticated players, but they progress like lightning. We’re doing Egmont, that youth orchestra staple, and they are playing with great rhythm and explosive dynamics, thanks in part to the great job my assistant, Travis Sipher, has done with them this last month while I was away. West Side Story is a bit more problematic- we have to do a lot of work on sound and tuning, and especially swing, but it is coming along. We’re doing Bach Double with two girls in the band, ages 10 and 12 respectively. I make the violins and violas stand up and dance, and everyone has to choke up on the bow- after an hour of this I think I should buy Birkenstocks for the kids they sound so Baroque…. 

By the end of the day, I’m shattered (always am at these things), but determined to manage a flip through of M2 before bed. It’s a struggle- I actually wake up twice propped up on my elbow looking at the last movement with no idea how long I was asleep, but finally make it to the double bar around 11.