I had the great good fortune to be staying right off Brunswick Street in Fitzroy for the two days/nights we were in Melbourne. Brunswick Street is a wonderful place to hide, as it is far too busy and important and excited about itself to notice the weird starey kid sipping the decaf latte and taking photos of the street art on her phone like a dork. Geez, Karen, have you never seen Spongebob wearing a balaclava before?
On the first morning in Melbourne, really FAR FAR too early to be doing anything useful let alone singing depressing music which sits in the bass clef, Julie, Zoe and I gave a lecture to composition students at the VCA High School on Jeremy Beck’s music, obviously highlighting Black Water and the 3rd Cello Sonata. That was actually fun. Julie did a really marvelous job of introducing and breaking down the music, and we all performed some excerpts. I got overexcited about having a chance to warp impressionable minds and started ranting about the duty of the composer to use music to communicate that which words alone cannot.
Both Julie and I struggled not to swear, in a painfully transparent fashion, whilst describing our oft-hilarious rehearsal experiences with the piece. “…at which point I just about lost my….stuff.”
At the end of it, I pointed out to Julie that there was at least one kid in the back row who seemed so hopelessly stoned it wouldn’t have mattered if we’d sworn, or danced the Fandango. “But then again, if there isn’t at least ONE adolescent male in a composition class who is stoned out of his mind then something’s not right, right?” Having said that, that night there was a small group of students from the class who turned up for the performance, and that warmed my heart.
“I believe that children are our future….” Sorry. Too soon?
On the first morning in Melbourne, really FAR FAR too early to be doing anything useful let alone singing depressing music which sits in the bass clef, Julie, Zoe and I gave a lecture to composition students at the VCA High School on Jeremy Beck’s music, obviously highlighting Black Water and the 3rd Cello Sonata. That was actually fun. Julie did a really marvelous job of introducing and breaking down the music, and we all performed some excerpts. I got overexcited about having a chance to warp impressionable minds and started ranting about the duty of the composer to use music to communicate that which words alone cannot.
Both Julie and I struggled not to swear, in a painfully transparent fashion, whilst describing our oft-hilarious rehearsal experiences with the piece. “…at which point I just about lost my….stuff.”
At the end of it, I pointed out to Julie that there was at least one kid in the back row who seemed so hopelessly stoned it wouldn’t have mattered if we’d sworn, or danced the Fandango. “But then again, if there isn’t at least ONE adolescent male in a composition class who is stoned out of his mind then something’s not right, right?” Having said that, that night there was a small group of students from the class who turned up for the performance, and that warmed my heart.
“I believe that children are our future….” Sorry. Too soon?