I have come to realize that I was so immersed in the aspect of writing about my personal experience in working on Woman of the Drum that I completely forgot to include the actual poem! I have apologized to Rae and he has graciously forgiven me.  Here is the link to The New Quarterly article that Rae wrote that explains his background with the poem, and the poem itself.

The process of rehearsing the piece and introducing it to a group of about 130 people, with some who do not read music, has been a great experience.  They understand the objective and appreciate the methods taken even as it pushed them completely out of their comfort zones.  Much of this is due to the incredible guidance of the director and leader Debbie Lou Ludolph.  Her leadership and gentle steering of this project when it landed on Inshallah has been inspiring to say the least.  If my previous post discussed my journey during the writing stage, it has continued in a similar fashion during the production and rehearsal.  My hat is off to everyone involved: Rae, Debbie Lou, Inshallah, Kelly and Mino Ode Kwewak N'Gamawak. It is going to be a wonderful afternoon of singing and celebrating.

Singing With Our Neighbours, Knox Presbyterian Church, Waterloo ON Sunday, March 24, 3PM entry by donation.

For the past 18 months I have had the great honour of working on a unique piece of music entitled Woman of the Drum. It will see its premiere on March 24, 2019 at Knox Church, Waterloo when it will be  realized by Mino Ode Kwewak N’Gamawak (Mino Ode for short) and Inshallah Singers.  A collaboration with poet Rae Crossman,   it is a tribute to indigenous elder Jeanne Becker.  Rae wrote the poem in honour of Jeanne after she had a serious illness.  Years earlier he had participated in a drum making workshop that was organized by Jeanne and it had a profound affect on him.  He had always felt that the poem would work well set to music and he approached me not long after our earlier project, River Flow, had been finished.  Jeanne was the founder of Mino Ode and Rae wished to involve them.  When he mentioned this fact to me, I took a deep breath, then I said yes, of course.  Why the deep breath? Mino Ode is an indigenous drum group and Indigenous Relations within Canada are at a very interesting time. I am very supportive of indigenous rights and the Truth and Reconciliation Commissions calls to action, but at the same time there are very serious questions being asked in the arts community in regards to appropriation and use of voice.  I took on the project out of my trust in Rae and Kelly Laurila of Mino Ode. This post is about the how this piece came about. Besides being an interesting compositional journey, it has been an interesting journey for me as an artist making choices in the country’s cultural landscape.  Before I talk about the actual process I need to talk about some of my cultural viewpoints.
 
The colonial cultures of North America (now predominantly Canada and the United States, but also including white Latin America) have a long tradition of absorbing indigenous cultures and using their symbols.  This was often an attempt to create a separate identity from the mother countries and a romanticized view of preserving dying nations.  Examples are the use of totem poles throughout the continent when they are specific to the Pacific Northwest, and the rise or Redman Societies – groups of white men from the upper classes who would dress in stereotypical native “garb”.  While in some ways they may have felt they were “honouring” these nations, it was, and is, in fact, turning them into an other, a curiosity, and laying claim to their cultural agency.  While this “red facing” has had a long and slow dying away along with its unseemly brethren black-face and yellow-face, the prejudice in performance and art creation can persist.  
 
The recommendations of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission has had a deep effect on the arts community.  It has exposed long standing situations of cultural appropriation and inspired many non-indigenous artists and arts groups to reach out in an attempt of inclusiveness and cultural support.  While the latter is to be commended and is most often done in a spirit of altruism, it can have the effect of accentuating long standing issues if the artist is not aware of the colonial history involved; it becomes cultural appropriation done in the name of good intentions.  An eagerness to be involved, and to show an alliance with the cause of indigenous rights can strip the group that is being supported of all agency and remove their own voice.  It is the power imbalance in a saviour complex.  The settler has their own way of doing things and control most of the resources.  This can lead to a situation of them speaking on behalf the Indigenous group and explaining how they themselves have been transformed by the process.  It becomes all about the settler’s experience.  The settler’s experience once again.  There is a great forum on the CBC Radio One program Ideas where theatre artist Jani Lauzon, documentary filmmaker James Cullingham, and CBC host and journalism teacher Duncan McCue discuss collaborating with indigenous and non-indigenous teams. What struck me the most -- and has been supported in my experiences from earlier work -- was the cultural differences in how the hierarchies of a team, and the work silos must be approached in a completely different way.  As a composer raised and trained within the European classical tradition, the idea of the great individual artist reigning supreme over their work is firmly ingrained within the culture. In the last fifty years or so this philosophy has formed cracks with the resurfacing of improvised music, aleatoric music and artist collectives; but the individual creator still carries an enormous weight.  The composer decides what is to be done, the performer takes those instructions and produces the art. It is an understood partnership with clearly defined roles.
 
What happens when this system encounters another way of doing things? Especially when it is a culture that has been invisible but in plain sight for centuries; a culture lived by people who we assumed were one of us.  These are not people from the other side of the world.  It can be disorienting.  Mino Ode Kwewak N’Gamawak -- The Good Hearted Women Singers – is a song circle. They formed as a way for indigenous women in the community to gather together, to share songs and to heal. The individuals involved often come from backgrounds where they have experienced racism, trauma and cultural denial.  They sing songs that have been shared with them and they have a distinct way of using the songs for engaging with their traditions and assisting with spiritual healing. In recent years they have taken on a larger community presence that includes engaging with events and being guests at concerts.
 
Talking with Kelly Laurila, the group’s song carrier, I became aware of the community events that were successful and the ones that were not. There were some that were an awful experience for the group. In those cases there were experiences of tokenism and expectations to just fit in with the event with no understanding of how Mino Ode would want to perform or to what requirements they may need.  The organizations inviting Mino Ode expected them be like any other musical guest from a settler tradition.  They were expected to come in and set up, then do their set and go home.  With Mino Ode the songs are approached much differently.  When they sing they use the space in a particular way and it may not conform to a traditional concert.  It can include a smudging ceremony.  Many of these songs have a spiritual significance.  We also cannot ignore the racial situation.  There is an unconscious imbalance of power whenever there is a gathering of white people and indigenous people.  It has been there for hundreds of years whether we like it or not.  This is White Privilege. What is the secret to the successful partnerships? The answer is something as simple as communication.
 
When Kelly, Rae and I were meeting to discuss the work we spent hours just talking about expectation.  For me it was a time of just listening. As I listened, that small unsettled feeling of being pushed into an uncomfortable zone crept up on me. It was coloured a touch by the issue which caused my quick intake of breath I mentioned earlier. How was I going to write a piece for a European choir and a drum circle of the type as Mino Ode without cramming them into a position that denies their agency and the power of what they do?  I also did not want to take their songs and use them for my own purposes like so many other acts of appropriation.  I have sung along with Mido Owe at different events and recognize some of their songs, but I do not know how to use them with the respect they deserve.  It would be with the utmost arrogance to tell them what to sing and how, per my tradition, when they have their own way of using the songs. On the other side of the coin I had a choir that was looking tom me to give them notes and to inform them on how to sing them.  They wanted me to do my job.  Fortunately, I enjoy a creative challenge. 
 
An important historical document informed my creative approach.  It is the Two Row Wampum,
 the first treaty between an indigenous nation in North America and a European nation. The Two Row Wampum was presented to the Dutch settlers of New Amsterdam by the Haudenosaunee in 1613 as an agreement on how to work together.  At its core is the metaphor of two vessels sharing a waterway but not interfering with the steering each other’s vessel.  This treaty has influenced indigenous and settler relations ever since.  Using this image of separate but together helped me over the hurdle of stealing the voice of the drum group.  I decided to just let the drum group do what they do best.  I would not compose for them at all.  This doesn’t let them off the hook entirely because what they choose to do has immense impact of the entire piece.
 
The choir is where I have my comfort zone so I composed only for them, but with a wrinkle.  I did not want the two groups singing completely by themselves as that would not work with the project.  The choir part is scored without rhythm or bar lines, just stemless notes.  While the pitches are in a C major of the page the pitches are to be transposed to whichever key the drum circle’s song is in.  This goes as well for the piece’s rhythm, tempo and general feel.  The choir is required to really listen and pay attention to what and how the members of the drum circle are singing to understand how they are to proceed. Structurally, it is divided between a main choir and a SATB quartet.  The drum circle sings a few rounds of a song, then the choir sings a section.  The drum circle finishes its song and the choir takes over again.  At the end, they all come together to sing a final drum circle song. What is happening is a moment of reconciliation. The choir need to meet the drum circle on the drum circle’s own terms. They must listen to what is being given and incorporate what they have heard into their own decisions.
​
As one can see, the Two Row Wampum metaphor doesn’t completely fit by the end.  Kelly shared an Annishnaabek teaching of the braid.  Simply put, when we all come together we can not be broken.  The braid is stronger than its individual parts.
 
Working on this project has been a very enlightening experience and one that helped answer my own artistic questions in the ongoing debate about what appropriation is and what it is not, and the role and responsibilities of the colonist in modern Canada.  This will be a steady journey of always learning about our relationships by communicating and treating each other with the respect and compassion that we all deserve. 

The following article appeared in the March/April 2017 edition of The Music Times.  While the byline in the paper is my name, the article was written by both myself and Rae Crossman.

“The same man can not step into the same river twice.” This idea, attributed to Heraclitus, serves as the epigraph for the interdisciplinary performance work River Flow: Confluence of Music, Words and Dance that will be premiered in Cambridge on April 1, 2017 at the Cambridge Centre for the Arts.  What is a river? Where does it begin? Does it end? These questions and more have been explored by the writer Rae Crossman, choreographer Michele Hopkins and myself, composer Owen Bloomfield with the generous support of a Waterloo Region Arts Fund grant and the Cambridge Centre for the Arts.
The image and symbol of a river permeate every aspect of the human condition.  Writers and artists have used it since ideas were first recorded.  It courses through our lives both the same and different all at once.  It rages and slows.  It nourishes life and takes it away.  Human existence has relied upon rivers for physical, spiritual and economical sustenance.  Living in the watershed of a Canadian Heritage Waterway, and the ongoing controversies about water resource management, we felt the time was right for an exploration of this kind.
While we originally conceived the piece as an expression of the fluid dynamics of a river, we soon recognized that there were biological, social, and political currents that needed to be voiced as well. As residents of this watershed, we were particularly conscious of the early presence of indigenous people in the region. In addition, we were aware of the political situation with respect to land grants and claims along the river. While River Flow is not specifically about the Grand River and its contentious history, the piece does address differing cultural perspectives in relation to attitudes towards nature and the course of life along rivers shaped by politics.
We have created an aural and visual experience through words, music, and dance movements that will invite the audience to consider their relationship to rivers and the surrounding natural landscape.
            Step into the river                                                                                                                 
            Feel the current flow around you                                                                                            
            Quickening the senses                                                                                                               
            Buoying the spirit                                                                                                                 
           
            Lifts and carries you                                                                                                              
            Sweeps you away                                                                                                               
            River in the blood
 
Collaborative work by its nature can be both challenging and rewarding. River Flow is a true collaborative work with completely original text, music and choreography.  Creative ideas were generated together as a group. Sometimes the text inspired the dance, then an idea for dance inspired the music.  “I have often worked with composers, but this has been my first experience working collaboratively with a choreographer,” states Rae Crossman. “The tri-part creative process has generated ideas that may never have surfaced had we been working independently. This is what we had hoped for, of course, and we’re pleased that the process has been both productive and collegial.” For myself, as a composer, this is the first time I have written music to text still being produced.  The typical process of composing with text is to work from words that have already been set down, often as a poem existing in its own form, separate from music.  In this case the text was being produced while I was composing. A large outline was created by three of us.  Rae would write a section and forward it on to me and I would begin composing the music. I would bring a sample to the group and receive feedback and adjustments would be made.  These conversations would be greatly inspirational and influence later sections mostly due to the element of Michele’s ideas for choreography.  She had to wait for us to finish before she could begin choreography in earnest.  That being said, her visions of how a scene could be realized were inspirational to how my creative process has worked.  This process of free-sharing of ideas has produced a piece that is still changing as it goes into rehearsal and production.  How it will end is still to be determined. This has been a dynamic and extremely fruitful partnership. Creativity in flux, as Heraclitus might observe.
 
The music and speaking parts will be performed by the group SlanT, comprised of Marion Samuel-Stevens, soprano, Tilly Kooyman, bass clarinet, Owen Bloomfield, piano, and Rae Crossman, actor/speaker.  SlanT’s interdisciplinary productions blend chamber music, opera, music theatre and performance art.  We have previously mounted Tilt! an interdisciplinary work created by myself and Yukon writer and artist Lawrie Crawford. In addition, the group has performed Peter Skogaard’s Songs of Skywoman in collaboration with the Good Hearted Women.  For River Flow, SlanT will be joined on stage by two professional dancers and dance students between the ages of nine and nineteen from Michele Hopkin’s Acadamie Ballet Classique. This youthful element is very exciting and we hope that the children involved will be able to take away with them a unique artistic experience and the messages of conservation, humanity and timelessness that are at the core of the work.
River Flow will be performed on April 1, 2017 in the Toyota Room at the Cambridge Centre for the Arts, Dickson Street, Cambridge. Shows at 1pm and 3:30pm.  There will be a question and answer session with the creators following each show. Tickets $20 adult $15 children, cash only.

I only became familiar with Rae Crossman’s writing after I had worked with him as a performer.  He performed the speaking role in Tilt!, written by Lawrie Crawford and for which I wrote the music.  We later worked together on Peter Skoggard’s Songs for Skywoman.  During this time, I discovered that he is a poet and had worked with R. Murray Schafer.  His poems immediately pulled me in.  They have a sense of phrasing and evocativeness that belies a musicality.  It is obvious that the sound of the poem is important.  These works need to be spoken as much as to be read, if not more so.  This, of course, means being sung.  His words flow easily and call for melody.   A distinct feature of Rae’s work is the constant presence of the natural world.  Lakes, streams, the boreal forest, fauna, all play a major role.  The images and themes bring me back to my childhood and youth in Northwestern Ontario.  While I was never the nature child, that world was ever present in how you lived your life.  All activities seemed to take place near the lake and the forest’s edge was always nearby and part of your subconscious being.  We are formed by our geography and these poems spoke deep to that form of my being.
The first poem of Rae’s which I set was When the Ravens Descend for Bohlen-Pierce tuned clarinet duo and soprano.  It describes the last moments of a deer being hunted by a pack of wolves from the deer’s perspective.  The poem is fairly graphic in its description of the deer’s demise and is unflinching in its investigation of the process of death.  While dramatic it is not melodramatic, allowing us to witness a natural act and ponder our own journey towards the inevitable.  Life and death can be ugly.  This uncomfortable scene and topic seemed perfect for the use of the Bohlen-Pierce tuning system, an unfamiliar and eerie sound to the uninitiated.
Still in the Current also dwells upon passing away from life, but in a more peaceful and meditative state.  The narrator is considering his place in the natural order of things and sees his dying as a transfer back into the earthly system.  He asks for his ashes to be floated on the river and to feed it and its living things.  He feels his energy “deep in the pulse” of the waters. “God” is found in nature as the traditional trappings of a funeral (priest, prayers, eulogy and song) are all interpolated into natural symbols.  There is reflection, melancholy but a peacefulness that assures the reader that all is right in the world even when he is gone.  The poem ends with the invocation of what is truly the greatest image of the wild we have, a loon’s call.  There is nothing more haunting, but at the same time more spiritually transporting than the call of the common loon at twilight. 
Rae had told me that the poem has been read a few times at funerals and memorial services.  My first inclination was to write something that would be transmutable and portable.  At one time a solo voice piece and another something accompanied if need be etc.  I ended up setting it for SATB choir for a competition.  At the request of Amanda Brunk, director of the Grand Philharmonic Youth Choir, I wrote in a tenor saxophone part for the logistics of a performance.  This has worked out very well.  It was a challenge at first as how to write a new instrument into a fully composed a cappella piece.  I looked at the idea of river in the text and the saying that you cannot stand in the same river twice.  While the choir is fixed the sax is variable.  It has freely notated sections along with fully composed sections and areas for improvisation.  The choir and sax are the two forms of the river; always the same but always different.
I now have the pleasure of working with Rae in a fully original project where he will be writing original texts directly for my original music.  These pieces will then be danced to with original choreography by Michele Hopkins.  It is a very exciting project.  Stay tuned for Spring of 2017.   

This Saturday, November 2, at the Dunfield Theatre in Cambridge, Ontario  the Cambridge Concert Band directed by Brent Rowan will be premiering my new piece Convergence.  It was written especially for the band and is in commemoration of the fortieth anniversary of the creation of the City of Cambridge.

Celebrations and other commemorative events have been quite muted.  Granted, a fortieth anniversary is not as big a deal as a fiftieth or hundredth but it is usually marked as a special event.  The reason for the lacklustre response to the occasion, in my opinion, is that the amalgamation was a shotgun wedding.  In 1973 the communities of the Village of Hespeler, Town of Preston and City of Galt along with the tiny village of Blair were forced by the Province of Ontario to amalgamate.  There are still very bitter divides.  Long-time residents still hang on to the old jurisdictions and newcomers, like myself, learn very fast in which one they live.  The city bureaucrats try their best to assuage the residents.  This city of around 100,000 people has three downtowns, two Santa Clause parades and two hockey associations all set up on the old geographic boundaries.  How do you acknowledge this while celebrating an important historical event?

For Convergence, I have used a form that has become almost my default.  It is a South Indian reductive form that alternates thematic material in a mathematical way.  While I use it in a Western European context and not in its pure Indian one, the spirit and recognisability of the form is there.  Convergence has three themes, each to ostensibly represent the three main municipalities.  One is a melodic event, one a mostly rhythmic one and the other a large choral sound.  These themes are tossed around each other almost never occurring at the same time.  As the piece progresses, each reiteration of the themes becomes shorter until they collide into what I referred to at a rehearsal as a “soup”.   When the mora (A term for part of the form.   It is analogous to a final cadence or coda but not truly so.) arrives the themes have sorted themselves out of the “soup”.  They are sounding clearly together but still are distinct.  I liken it to the wampum belts used at early treaties.  Two peoples travelling side by side but in each of their own canoes.  I never mention which theme is Galt, which is Preston, or which is Hespeler  because I never decided for myself and I think it is best that way.  I also like to think that the piece can travel beyond this specific idea of locality and be a convergence of many other things; even just a convergence of musical ideas. 

This piece is the most programmatic I have written in a very long time and that includes my stage works like Variations on Gestalt and Tilt! I learned early on in my career how a programme can severely overshadow the music.  That being said, this programme and the form and occasion have come together nicely to give me this opportunity to create something; my comment on coming together.

Tomorrow (Sunday) morning the musicians at the church for which I am music director will present a mass setting I have recently completed.  This is very exciting but also slightly nerve-wracking.  I am very experienced presenting new compositions of mine so why would this be different?  The congregation is very supportive of anything I do and have heard some of my compositions before, but this is different because the texts come are written by me and represent my own personal theology. 

Being the music ministry leader for a fairly progressive Christian congregation can have its challenges.  While we have a great roster of songs and hymns to choose from there are limitations.  St. Matthias does contemporary worship.  We use a digital piano with guitar as our base with violin providing melodic support and djembe, when needed, as a rhythmic one.  The thing is, most music written for this style comes from the evangelical/fundamentalist tradition.  While the music may be fun and uplifting the texts do not fit our congregation’s theology.  There are gems to be found but a lot of searching needs to be done.  The situation is more difficult when looking for settings of the mass.  To be more accurate, the situation is hopeless. 

Being an Anglican congregation, St. Matthias has Eucharist every week.  We have a Sanctus that we have been using for about twelve years.   It is easy and nice to sing.  The text has been altered a number of times to suit our needs and the rest of the setting isn’t even done anymore.  We use many other settings with wonderful modern language but they are not sung and we like to sing.  I have been hunting for texts to set for ages but have come up empty handed.  The reason, I believe, is a modern avoidance of verse.

The traditional settings have a sense of meter even if it is not at first apparent.  I first discovered this when composing a setting of the Beatitudes for my cantata a number of years ago.  I used the revised standard version of the text and what I found was that when I set music to the first section the remaining sections fit the music  with hardly any adjustment on my part.  It was absolutely beautiful.  Modern prayers, collects, statements etc. seem to be obsessed with prose.  While that is fine in and of itself the lack of meter betrays natural rhythms and beat.  This is my problem with setting them.  Modern paraphrases of the Lord’s Prayer for example, while showing a wonderful understanding of the theology read more like a paragraph than a lyric poem.  I love modern poetry but these don’t work for my purposes.  To fulfill my needs, I was left with writing my own texts and baring my private theological musings.

The impetus for completing this came from the decision of the congregation to vacate the building we have been in for about thirty years.  It was to be a fast move and I felt something musical should be done to commemorate this event.  I decided to put my ideas of a modern mass setting into action.  I had been doodling and sketching for quite a while so it wasn’t as dire as it may have looked.  My original plan was to do an evening service before the church was turned over to common use but that was changed due to logistical and preparation issues.  This altered my original outline a tad but probably for the better.

In the setting I use a Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, Benedictus, Lord’s Prayer, something like an Agnus Dei and a Blessing.  The texts are all paraphrases or interpretations of English translations of the ancient ones.  For the most part I hue closely to the meter and phrase structure of the originals.  The Lord’s Prayer is almost a direct mapping. 

Never before have I put my deepest spiritual thoughts on display.  I know many people won’t agree with them, but that is the nature of these things.  Others may appreciate them.  The musicians I work with have been extremely supportive and game for taking this project on with such a short time line.  For that I am truly grateful.

All texts by Owen Bloomfield unless otherwise noted.

Mercy

Let there be mercy.

Let there be mercy upon me

and from me.

Glory

Glory to God

here on Earth!

Let there be peace amongst all people.

We give thanks for the Spirit amongst us

and glorify its presence.

We follow in the path of Jesus

who showed us a better way

to reclaim the light in ourselves.

We give thanks for him in the Glory of God.

Amen

Holy

Holy, holy, holy

the Earth sings of glory

bounding with new life!

Hosanna in the highest!

Blessed is the one

who comes in the name of God!

Hosanna in the highest!

For the Journey(source unknown)

For the journey that life has been.

Amen

For all that life is for us now,

Amen

and for the mystery of life beyond death.

Amen

Prayer

This great Compassion within and without us

is sacred in our world.

A day will come

when the world is one

and peace is shared by all.

Let us be so filled in body and soul

that we may forgive and love ourselves

as well as those who harm us.

Let the wisdom

within us

carry us through our trials

and sustain us to our end.

Go Now in Peace

Go now in peace

Walking in the light of God.

Amen

It has been some time since my last post.  I have had many thoughts to share but never the time to sit down and write.  Now is the time.

Since January I have been to four orchestral concerts by three different groups.  They all have been markedly different.  Interestingly, the difference has been in the moment spent as an audience member in the hall taking it in and what my perceptions and expectations would be and what they were. 

Trish and I have a small subscription to the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony Orchestra.  Earlier in December I heard their performance of Mahler's Fifth Symphony.  It was billed as Edwin and Gustav.  Edwin being Edwin Outwatter the orchestra's amiable young conductor.  We also got to hear the National Arts Centre Orchestra in Ottawa during a vacation to the capital in March.  We heard a Haydn symphony, Shostakovich Cello Concerto and Brahms Fourth Symphony.  We were then back in Kitchener just last Saturday to hear a whole lot of J.S. Bach, Copeland's Music for Theatre and Cameron Carpenter's The Scandal with the composer on organ.  In late February my mother and I attended a concert by the Cambridge Symphony Orchestra.  We heard Sibelius Danse Macabre, Grieg Piano Concerto and Saint-Saens Organ Symphony.

Clearly the KWSO and NACO are in a different league than the CSO.  The CSO is, as far as I know, entirely amateur, but I believe I enjoyed their concert the most.  I am not meaning to sound snobbish in my statement but maybe I am.  Were there mistakes? Absolutey.  Were there tuning issues?  You bet.  Then what was it?

First off, I would like to discuss the two professional orchestras' performances.  I am very much used to the KWSO and the way Maestro Outwatter works.  He is very chatty from the stage and attempts a sense of informality at the concerts.  All in all it works fairly well.  Of the two concerts the second one -- with Cameron Carpenter -- worked a lot better though it may have been less ambitious.  The Bach D Major Orchestral Suite and Ricicarre arranged by Webern sounded wonderful.  The Copeland Music for Theatre was a real treat to hear.  It is essentially a symphony dressed up in a jazz outfit.  Carpenter was fun to watch but his piece was a half hour of well orchestrated trifle.  In the end an entertaining evening easy on the ears and mind.  I had more issues with the Mahler concert.  Firstly, it came across as a concert all about Edwin Outwatter. The poster for the concert had photos of both Mahler and Outwatter.  The way they were positioned it looked like old Gustav peering over the young conductor's shoulder.  After a small piece by Schubert (Entr'act from Rosamund) we had a fifteen minute powerpoint presentation about Outwatter's love affair with the music of Mahler and the thematic elements of the symphony.  Now I am all in favour of educating audiences but I personally do not care about his/her musical fantasies.  Maybe it was the only way he could convince the board of governors to approve of his wish to program the piece.  Now I am sounding a little glum here.  The reason being I went away feeling underwhelmed.  The performance was adequate.  I have heard the KWSO perform Mahler a couple of times now and either I don't think they have what it takes to pull it off or I don't care for Mahler symphonies.  I am beginning to think it is both.  In summary for the KWSO the concerts were good.  It is nice for Trish and I to get out and hear some music.  In June I get to hear Beethoven's second piano concerto and Berlioz's Fantastic Symphony.  I know the Berlioz like the back of my hand.  I will fill you in on how it goes.

Now off to Ottawa.  During the March Break Trish and I headed away together for a few days sans enfants to the nation's capital.  On our last night there we took in the NACO conducted by guest Fabien Gabel with cello soloist Johannes Moser.  This was old-school concert going.  Not a single word from the podium.  The orchestra looking very prim.  Moser had his top button undone in a nod to informal hipness, but the soloist are allowed that concession now.  He has nothing on Carpenter though who sported a Mohawk and wore tight fitting black shimmery pants.  As I told Trish afterwards the image of Cameron Carpenter's tiny and sparkly rear-end mosying off stage after two encores is permanently burned into my mind.  As for the NACO orchestra, their playing was beautiful.  The Shostakovich rocked and the Brahms was sublime.  Southam Hall has very cramped seating compared to Centre in the Square.  But to tell you the truth I missed the stage chatter.  There was something cold and detached about the whole performance.

Which brings me to the Cambridge Symphony Orchestra.  It was in the sanctuary of Central Presbyterian Church.  The audience members in the front row were pretty much reading the music on the stands of the string players.  We were sitting in the balcony above the double basses because there wasn't enough room on the floor.  The concerts are not ticketed.  Admission is pay what you can.  This is not the most ideal situation to be in.  As mentioned earlier, the performance was rough in parts but the quality of the playing has grown exponentially.  So what made it so enjoyable?  The energy in the room and the passion of the players.  I haven't been able to get to many CSO concerts but whenever I do I am always taken by the spirit of the band.  I always try to convey to my students that what matters the most is the conviction you bring to the performance.  Accuracy is very important or course but I prefer to hear a few wrong notes played musically than the exact ones as an after thought.  Another advantage of the Cambridge concert was the intimacy of the performance space.  It was almost like chamber music.  I also cannot take anything away from the fact that this is my city's orchestra.  Colleagues of mine were on stage. 

The lesson I have taken from all of this is to be aware of your biases and perceptions.  It is good to remind oneself to always go in with eyes and ears open.

My father passed away the morning of October 29, 2012.  He had received a diagnosis of lung cancer in early March but had been doing well with it.  His hip, which he had been complaining about for years, finally shattered earlier in his final week and he was being treated for the pain with morphine.  He slowly began to sleep more and more often until finally he stopped breathing.  It was rather sudden and shocking.  As a family we came to terms with it by agreeing that if he had remained alive he would have been in an awful state of pain and psychological discomfort from being bedridden. 

My sister Gwen and I gave a joint eulogy with each of us presenting slightly longer reflections.  My dad's long time friend Wayne McCallum gave his own eulogy and my niece Abigail Bloomfield read a lovely poem she wrote a couple of days before.  Here is my eulogy for my dad.

There are so many memories, thoughts and feelings swirling through my mind that to attempt to catch them like so many fireflies in the night defies any possibilities.  The best thing to do is to grab one, let it glow then release it to the air and then see which one comes around next.

The first one that comes is sharing a laugh with dad.  He had, for me, the most incredible sense of humour.  It is probably the one trait above all that I admired most.  It could be a strange sense of humour, occasionally black and biting, but I found it incredibly amusing.  He wasn’t really a joke teller, but he had an ability to make a sharp comment or off-hand remark that cut to the core of the conversation at hand.  He would then seal it with a certain look on his face followed by his great laugh.  Sometimes it was inappropriate but that just made it even more funny.  What was wonderful to see was my mom’s appreciation of his sense of humour.  She would chuckle or laugh along even if she knew she shouldn’t.  If ever she didn’t like what was said she would scold him with her “Oh, Dennis!” and dad and I would just laugh some more.  At the same time though, dad loved mom’s humour.  Mom has a pretty dry sense of humour too and he was her biggest fan.  I like to think I inherited this trait and many of my friends would probably agree with me.  I also have a suspicion it has been passed on to my own children. 

Dad and I both really enjoyed reading the Far Side cartoons.  We would be reading it and be almost in tears laughing.  My Grandma Cook, who lived with us, couldn’t for the life of her understand what was so funny.  For her it must have been like trying to find a chair funny.  Of course this made us find the situation even more hysterical.   While she didn’t get the jokes in the cartoon she was a great sport about it all.

If there is any one thing I’ll truly miss it will be sitting around my table in Cambridge after dinner with Trish, mom and dad and a rum and coke chatting about daily life and having a good laugh.

Dad wasn’t a church-going person by any stretch of the imagination.  He’d go when duty called and when he wanted to.  But he was a religious person.  Whenever he took to something he did it religiously with a lot of consideration and dedication.  He was religious in his spirituality.  He didn’t talk much about it but it was something I gleaned from him.  I am not bringing this up because it is a religious service we are at in a church but because I think it is integral to who his is and what it influenced in me.  Living away from Dryden like I do has meant that for the last 15 years my visits with my parents have been short and intense.  I feel that I have gotten to know my dad more in these past years than at any other time in my life and  I have learned valuable lessons about life in this span that are practised each and every day.  My dad was a man of simple needs, his only splurging being on cross-country ski equipment and his Jettas.  He lived by a simple code: treat everyone, no matter of their station in life with respect and dignity, and everyday give thanks for your blessings and spare a thought for those with less than you.  These are simple suggestions but hard to carry out.  I have witnessed my dad put them to practical use with humbleness and integrity.  His summation of the Christian faith was “We’re all in the same boat.” Many people talk about the natural world being their church and go out looking for God in the trees and lakes.  For dad this was a reality.  Being on the ski trails with the moose and wolves, watching a mighty Northern river roar down a chasm, feeding his birds and watching them flock together, he wasn’t looking for God he knew he was witnessing and being a part of God. 

While I know he was brought down by his diagnosis as anyone would be, I was moved by his stoicism and the grace with which he carried himself through this time.  There were no heroics and no self-pity or anger.  He knew the end was coming and was happy with the life he had led and the blessings he had received.  For me, he presented a model to strive for in times of personal adversity.  I know it sounds like I am portraying my dad like some sort of saint.  As everyone here knows well he was by no means a saint!  But he is my dad whom I love so dearly and will miss terribly.  I am so proud of whom he was and thankful for the gifts that he gave me that allowed me to become who I am today.  In 2004 at my parent’s 40th wedding anniversary I was moved to write a poem to share at the celebrations which expressed these sentiments.  I would like to share it with you again.

Riches

 

Within a blink of an eye

that lasts a lifetime,

time passes by

the ghosts of the present

in its endless search of those yet to come,

leaving us to collect the riches

left upon our private trail.

 

We journey on,

but never forget our spring.

It will never run dry as it

nourishes the future

with its own mysteries of the past.

 

That is why we all return with

our treasures, which belong to you

even more.

In a flurry of red and gold

we tell you of our love

from four decades of

forging us,

guiding us,

but also letting us

search out our own pathways.

With the air crisp with promise

we head forth once again, and for that

we thank you.

 

With love,

Owen

Prowling through Facebook tonight I discovered the news that Hans Werner Henze has died today.  It always gives me pause when a prestigious composer passes away, especially one whose music has touched you.  To be truthful I don't know a lot of Henze's music.  I know of him more by reputation than anything else.  That being said what music I have heard has stayed with me most of all his opera Venus und Adonis.  Trish and I saw it in 2001 performed by the Canadian Opera Company in Toronto.  It was one of those events that stays with you for the rest of your life.  I couldn't relate the plot to you, but the music, visuals and costumes were astounding.  The actors/dancers on stilts portraying the mating stag and doe are but one example.  While it sounds outlandish in print it was mesmerizing and beautiful to see.  Total theatre.  Trish still talks about the performance to this day.

Trish and I headed out to hear the opening concert of the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony Orchestra back on Saturday, September 22.  It has taken me this long to get to a review because Trish came down with that horrible cold that is making the rounds and working and taking care of two kids keeps one away from these kinds of pursuits.  I hope I recall what I  want to because I came out of the show with some very strong opinions.

The concert was billed as Ode to Joy, Ode to Kitchener in celebration of the city's centennial, and in honour of the region's German heritage a good dose of classic Beethoven was in order.  The Symphony No. 9 was the second half of the bill and the first half was taken up by two recent compositions; Stewart Goodyear's Count Up and John Estacio's Brio.  When I choose which concerts to attend throughout the season I always lean towards the ones that programme some new music.  This concert was unique in that it had two new pieces.  While neither was a premiere, it is a little different to have two on the bill.  While John Estacio is no stranger to K-W audiences, Stewart Goodyear as a composer would be.  He is a well known concert pianist but has just started a composing career.  The rationale for these two pieces being on the programme was their connection to Ontario and John Estacio being a graduate of Wilfrid Laurier's music program.  I found it a bit peculiar that with all the talent in the region that no money was found for a centennial commission from a local composer.

I'll begin with the Beethoven since that is what most of the audience was there to hear.  It was well done but in a typical manner.  The choir was outstanding.  It was a joining of forces from the Menno Singers, Da Capo Chamber Choir and the Grand Philharmonic.  The diction was superb and sound impeccable.  They were the true stars of the night.  I'm not sure what the soloists were up to though.  The gentlemen were ok but the soprano and alto?  I'm not sure what concert they thought they were at.  At times the trio sounded like complete mush.  A great disappointment.  Maestro Outwater's tempo choices at the finale were interesting to say the least.  I got the impression he wanted the concert to be over so as to get the soloists off the stage.  The finale was so rushed I could hardly catch my breath let alone the choir.  Maybe he thinks fast means exciting?  It is interesting to compare this finale to the one he conducted of the Seventh Symphony at the end of last year.  In that performance he rocketed through the finale at break neck speed.  I was wondering if he was trying some one-upmanship with Gustavo Dudamel and his recording with the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela.  Now that's fast but invigorating! (here's a youtube clip of them performing the Allegro of the Shostakovich Tenth)

Goodyear's Count Up! opened the concert.  It was written for an anniversary of the Cleveland Symphony.  The title alludes to the counting ahead of a fireworks display.  It was suitably celebratory in that American orchestral fanfare way: brassy, tonal, lots of percussion with a wink to some abstraction.  All in all not a bad piece but nothing to make me too interested in his compositional career.

Which brings me to John Estacio's Brio.  Estacio is one of Canada's most performed composers.  He leads a successful career and has spent much of the past years working on operas that have had some nice success.  He writes in a very comfortable and populist style and orchestrates very colourfully.  In introducing the piece Maestro Outwater referred to him as "one of Canada's leading composers."  If that is so, this piece is a severs let down.  Now, I've sat through many bad pieces in my lifetime.  As a student you become enured to it. But to hear a piece at this level, by this experienced a composer, be so derivative and cliche ridden it becomes embarrassing.  Estacio has always gone for the emotional jugular, but when he tells you in the program notes that the slow section was written after news of the death of a friend and mentor we know we are walking on suspicious ground.  I don't want to take anything away from his true sentiments, but when you are told what to feel when you hear something your honest reaction to the music is being subverted.  Was it a mournful section? Maybe.  I wonder how many people thought to themselves "This must be the section when his friend died."  Boy that's deep.  The rest of the music telegraphed every phrase turn and section ending so far in advance it became tedious.  From the the swirling strings on the diminished chord leading into the slow section, to the big brassy finish with timpani and triangle (the ringing triangle at the end put the nail in the coffin.) My wife agreed with me that the ending sounded like something written for a community concert band.  I know, I've played in one.  If I sound really spiteful, it is due to the fact that I've never had a reaction like this at a KWS concert before.  I like John Estacio.  I've met him a couple of times and he's a great guy.  I've never been a fan of his music but was not expecting this.  I know he can do better than this and that the KWS can program better than this.