There has been a lot of talk and press about the movie adaptation of Suzanne Collins’ “The Hunger Games”, so I think it would be appropriate if I chime in. I first heard about the concept behind the books on a flight to Memphis back in November, and I was instantly intrigued. I read the entire trilogy that weekend, and really felt an attachment to the story. I also watched the movie (twice) and enjoyed the visualization of this story very much. As you may or may not know, “The Hunger Games” takes place in the future after a giant war that has left only the remains of North America. Twelve districts are ruled by a single capitol, and power is sustained by choosing a boy and girl from each district once a year to fight to the death, with only a single victor returning home. Many parallels can be drawn from this idea, but I think it works particularly well within the profession of classical music. 
            After each “tribute” is chosen, they are sent to the capitol to train for the games. I find this similar to music in that it chooses us, in a way. Whether our parents throw us into music lessons at an early age, or we sign up for band in school to keep from taking P.E., music tends to choose us, instead of us choosing it. From there we practice and learn everything we can, all the way through college and graduate school, until we feel we’re ready to compete. In “The Hunger Games”, each tribute gets to demonstrate his/her skills to a panel, earning a score that calculates each participant’s likelihood of winning. Juries, recitals, and other graded performances can be seen as this, in a way. Finally, it is time for battle in the arena. Like the games, an audition is very similar. Many go in, most of which being eliminated early on, until there is only one victor.      
            One part of the story I drew very close to was a conversation between the president of this fictional capitol and the person in charge of managing the games. The president asked, “Why do you think we have a winner?” He said that it was hope – “the only thing greater than fear is hope”. When we go to school and get our various degrees, the biggest thing fueling the flame (for my anyway), is hope. With today’s economy and job market, having the privilege of making a good living by doing exactly what you’ve spend most of your life training to do often seems out of reach, but hope keeps us going. 
            Just in case you’ve decided not to read the books or see the film, I won’t give anything away, but when the victor returns back to his/her respective district, the cheers and pride of the family and friends is so heart warming. Winning the position in Detroit, in itself, was such an accomplishment for me. What I enjoyed even more was being received by all of the family and friends who had the same amount of hope for me. Whenever you’re feeling down, or that your dreams are just beyond your reach, remind yourself of hope. I have lots of it.

          Speaking of Hope, I look forward to going back to Memphis this weekend and playing with the Hope Pres ensemble once again for Easter. If you’re looking for a place to attend services this weekend, Hope Pres is a great place for it. Visit hopepres.com for more info.

          Back in December I took a trip just a few miles south of my home in Memphis and several decades back to visit a few women, named Skeeter, Minnie, and Aibileen, amongst others. I’d heard a lot of press about the book “The Help” and decided that I needed to read it. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and the themes and motifs in this piece of history really struck home in many ways. Not all of us have been maids, or have had a maid, but there are parallels that can be drawn between a person’s profession, passion, and life that will change you if you choose to consider the possibility. 
            Minnie’s character was a maid whose hot-tempered, “tell you how it is” personality often got her in trouble. She was the kind of woman who wasn’t going to take any sh*t from anyone (but she’d give it, for sure), and I was drawn most to her. After being unjustly fired from her job, she found work with a woman who lived alone with her husband way out in the woods, and was described as wearing clothes that were too tight and too bright – typical Tunica County gal (not my personal opinion to anyone from Tunica, I’m just saying what the book said), named Celia. Minnie and Celia went through a lot together and argued frequently (more in the book than the movie), but the biggest problem was that Celia did not want her husband to know that she hired a maid. In light of this, one of her requests was that Minnie burn the chicken a little bit, so that her husband wouldn’t get suspicious over the cooking being a little better all of a sudden. In response, Minnie says “Minnie don’t burn chicken!” 
            That stuck with me a little bit. I often compare music to food, and burning chicken is exactly what musicians try not to do, proverbially. But what if you aren’t in charge of what you get to produce, like Minnie? What if your boss (conductor, teacher, etc.) wants to convince an audience of something that you just don’t agree with? I'm not saying I've dealt with anyone who wants my playing to be worse or a false representation by any means, but being told how to produce is, personally, something I'm touchy about, and like Minnie, Garrett don’t burn chicken either. 
            So often confidence and strong opinions are equated to arrogance and ego, and over the last couple months I’ve really learned this. I live my life with the attitude that as different people we're all entitled to different opinions that are ALL correct, but not everyone feels that way. There’s always someone looking up to you, and I think that being open to more opinions shows that you are flexible, even if you don’t agree. In the rare occasions when we are representing ourselves first, and an organization, school, or teacher second, I think it’s good to go with what you feel most comfortable with, but when is this the case outside of an audition situation? Even then, there's a school or former employee on your resume. So when you’re in someone else’s kitchen you have to be willing to burn the chicken a little bit, if asked. I don’t agree with it, but my most current run-ins have taught me that it’s just easier if you do. I'm not going to let my heart be heavy and stress levels rise over this sort of thing any longer, because at the end of the day if you work hard and do what you're supposed to do (while remaining true to yourself), good things will happen.
            Congratulations to Octavia Spencer who won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress in the movie adaptation of “The Help” – she really made the character come to life for me. As I move away from the Los Angeles freelance scene and to the Detroit Symphony, I’ll try not to be as hot-headed as Minnie, and burn the chicken a little bit, if asked. Hopefully though, I won’t need to follow Minnie’s example of serving pie!

          Yesterday I received the great honor of once again performing with the Southeast Symphony in their 64th annual Black History concert. This orchestra was organized in 1948 as a medium for black classical musicians to perform and learn new works in a culture that, back then, was still very segregated. Today the group is acknowledged as the world’s oldest and (almost) only predominantly black symphony orchestra. Each piece on the program had specific purpose and meaning, and the audience, as well as the performers, seemed to enjoy it thoroughly.
          The concert opened with the Star Spangled Banner, which was beautifully arranged by Dean Dixon. The emotion started for me with this piece, because so often we hear our national anthem botched and “over done” by pop artists, but the way it was played was honorific, humble, and from the heart – as it should be. Following this opening were pieces by black composers, Gary Powell Nash, Adolphus Hailstork, and William Grant Still (the latter two have pieces for solo bassoon), ranging from large and triumphant in how far we’ve come in the fight for Civil Rights, to dissonantly retrospective of the road we had to travel to get here. Ending the first half of the concert was Joseph Schwantner’s “New Morning for the World – Daybreak of Freedom for Narrator and Orchestra”. I’d actually performed this piece with the University of Memphis Wind Ensemble some years back, but this arrangement for orchestra really put the message of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. forward, with narration by William Allen Young (known for his role as “Moesha’s” father).
          After intermission, a new piece was commissioned by the orchestra entitled “Subtle Hues of Blackbirds”, composed by black composer and musician Renee C. Baker. The way she explained the piece really brought light to her ideas of how each of us, as individuals, is different, yet the same. We tend to focus on the subtle hues that divide us and make us different, when at the end of the day we should all walk down the street and live our lives as one people, because we are! The juxtaposition of rhythms and key areas in the piece created a sound that could be considered confusing or chaotic representing the mixing of different people and cultures in this country, but this all came together eventually with a large unison, representing her ideas of the oneness as a human race we all should attach ourselves to. The piece ended, appropriately, with the sounds of birds coming from the flute section.
          Next, three spirituals arranged specifically for the Southeast Symphony and soloists were performed, including “Amazing Grace” (dedicated to Whitney Houston), “A City Called Heaven”, and “His Eye is on the Sparrow”. These songs brought back old church memories for me, and the elegance and power behind those lyrics once gave hope to slaves who had nothing to look forward to but a better life after death. Although American race-based slavery is in our past, these songs can still be applied to whatever we may be dealing with in our lives today. The final number was Carmen Dragon’s famous arrangement of “America the Beautiful”, which reiterated the fact that Black History is indeed American History. An encore was called, and we performed a fast, exciting arrangement of “Wade in the Water”, which is probably one of the most famous spirituals still sung today.
          Black History month is only halfway over, so take the time to read the lyrics to the spirituals mentioned above, and see if you can apply any of them to your life or current situation. As for me, I “let not [my] heart be troubled”, even though sometimes “I just don’t know which way to turn”, because despite the current Civil Rights issue we’re facing in our society today, I know that IT GETS BETTER. Most importantly though, I think we should embrace the subtle hues that make us unique, while remembering that at the end of the day, we are all one people. Black History is American History.

          My graduation will be here (hopefully) before I know it. With the end of my career as a student in the visible distance, I’m filled with mixed emotions and ideas concerning my future – specifically in music. As much as I’ve enjoyed working as a “professional” in the freelance scene in Los Angeles and the Memphis area, I have to decide whether I’m going to continue chasing these pavements or settle down where I’m happy and content. The only thing we have as people to assist in decisions like these is our life experience, and for myself, those experiences themselves are mixed.
        Before moving to Los Angeles, one of my biggest “gigs” was playing with the South Arkansas Symphony, about 4 hours south of Memphis. I enjoyed it very much, from a “gaining experience” point of view, but at the end of the day it was a lot like going to a regular job sometimes. No matter how much you love your work, there are days when you’d just rather be doing something else, and I’m no exception to that. Even though I’m much busier in L.A. than I was in Memphis, I’d consider the American Youth Symphony my main “gig” here. I love the group dearly, don’t think that I don’t, but again – sometimes Saturday mornings would be more enjoyable at a champagne brunch with your husband than at a rehearsal. Occasionally I’ve dealt with musicians in these groups (and others) that I don’t enjoy at all, but the applause from a receptive and thankful audience after a great performance, for me, is the drug that keeps me coming back. That, and the money, of course. Never, though, have I been exposed to the smug, arrogant superiority I saw on a blog of another musician this weekend.
          Some time ago an orchestra in some city had auditions for a position that, apparently didn’t go so well (I’m going to try to remain as anonymous as possible, because I don’t want anyone coming for me, yet). One of the panel members, upon deciding that no one should be chosen, felt it necessary to blog this experience, describing himself and the rest of the panel as being “embarrassed…for the way our instrument was being treated”. I get what he was going for in the article – ‘this is what NOT to do at an audition’, but before I’d spend my time talking about how everyone sucked, I’d think about what I could do better on my end, like the invitation process for the auditions.  This specific orchestra only invites candidates to audition, so clearly there is an issue with this process if you don’t like anyone you chose to come. When I sat on the American Youth Symphony panel for a number of auditions last year, I chose not to disclose my feelings of the auditions publically (and I still won’t), because it would make me look like a pretentious jerk. It’s easy to talk smack from the other side of the curtain, and doing so only adds insult to injury, especially if no one is chosen. That in itself, to me, is laughable. I can hear them now – “It’s too bad that none of the people we invited to this audition are good enough to join us and sit next to me”. It’s really funny.
          Maybe my little rant is uncalled for, but it raises questions about my future when I consider the negative experiences behind being an orchestral musician. Do I want to mix myself up in nonsense like this for the sake of music, or be around people I actually like everyday? How long would I allow myself to sit next to someone I hate, or look at a conductor I think is useless? Is this what I’m looking forward to? All music performance students should consider these questions, because music requires an emotional investment and connection with others, and that’s hard if your cohorts like boosting themselves up by standing on top of other people’s failures. As for me, I’m going to work hard to make sure people don’t think I’m a jerk, because personally, my ego doesn’t require it. :-)

            The Shen Yun Performing Arts Organization is a company of dancers, musicians, and composers who travel the world sharing a tradition of Chinese culture that dates back hundreds of years. It’s built around an age old form of meditation and self-improvement rooted in Buddhism (called Falun Dafa) that was outlaws in mainland China in the early 1990s. The communist fist in that country is described (by these performers) to both heavily censor the arts, as well as to physically punish those who resist their government. Last week I was afforded the honor of being given one of these $200 tickets to see their show at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion in downtown Los Angeles. 
            The show was in a word, breath-taking, and the music and dance intertwined to tell stories from Chinese legend and reality. One of those stories, entitled “The Choice”, told the story of a young student who was saved by the Chinese government from a group of vandals. He joins the group, but is later stuck with the obstacle of punishing one of his long lost friends who is practicing Falun Dafa at her local university. He makes the choice to protect her, instead of going along with the status quo, and the story ends well for them, despite the iron fist the threatens to crush them at any moment. 
            Shen Yun, as well as performing in Los Angeles last week, held auditions for orchestra members, and I decided to participate. The audition was designed (in my opinion) to see what musicians could do “on their feet”, as we were not asked to bring anything prepared to the audition. At our surprise, we were asked to play very specific things once we arrived. Luckily, I’m pretty good at memorization, so I had the Mozart Bassoon Concerto, as well as a number of orchestral excerpts in my back pocket. To my surprise, I was offered a position in the group, and was invited to join the company – immediately. 
            A lot like the young Chinese student, I was stuck with an obstacle. Do I agree to the terms, leaving behind everything I’ve done here (considering that a full-time career in music is hard to come by and that’s what I’m in school for) or decline and finish what I’ve started. The choice was hard to make; I could hardly sleep or think about anything. Upon asking the opinion of friends, the verdict was 50/50, so that didn’t make it any easier for me. I talked with my current teacher (Judith Farmer) and she said, in essence, that “you’ve been successful thus far, and it won’t be your last chance at doing what you want for a living”. 
            So what did I decide? It’s difficult to make it black and white, considering everything that was at stake on both sides. Before moving to Los Angeles, being a graduate student at such a great school was only a pipe dream. I’ve worked hard to establish myself as a freelancer here, and I feel that I would forever regret not completing that dream. Musician’s are typically divorced, on their second spouses, single, or married to other musicians. With Andy being a teacher, being on the road 6 months of each year would be detrimental to our relationship, and I don’t want to be a part of the status quo that hangs over of the head of people in this industry through the former. That “iron fist” of not getting another opportunity like this will always be there, but I think, ultimately, I made the right choice. 
            The student in the story told by the Shen Yun Performing Arts Organization chose people over ideals. Despite what we may fear concerning the future, we all should, I think, be in the habit of putting people first, whether it’s friends you can’t wait to go back home to see, a significant other who you would make great sacrifices for, or your own dreams that you worked so hard for and must be loyal to.

          Lady GaGa has wowed and shocked audiences once again with the release of her newest single from the “Born This Way” album, “Marry the Night”. When the album was to be released, I stayed up until midnight in anticipation to be one of the first to download it from iTunes. I guess I was marrying the night before I even knew it, on this front. “Marry the Night” is the first song on the album, and when I heard it, it instantly became a favorite of mine. The song is typical GaGa, with a heavy dance beat and lyrics that provide ambiguous artistic meaning, but the video that accompanies this song sheds even more light on what Lady GaGa envisioned, and how her thoughts could apply to any musician in our battle towards success.
          In the prelude to this video, GaGa describes how her memories are often romanticized and changed, making them more artistic and, in essence, more pleasurable to recount. I actually had a discussion about this a few months ago on a flight back to Memphis with a neuroscientist, who said that “the purest memories are those you don’t remember”. He went on the describe how the mind, instead of taking memories off a shelf, relearns memories, replacing details constantly, until what you remember is actually far from reality. I’m not sure if I can say that some of my most fond memories (coming to California for the first time, meeting Andy, or even learning my first notes on bassoon) have been skewed, but it is fun to recall things in a more pleasing way.
          The University of Southern California Opera put on their rendition, not too long ago, of Mozart’s “The Magic Flute”, which explores the ideas of being a servant of the night, and the battle between light and dark. The Queen of the Night in the opera has a daughter who, initially, believes her mother is on the side of good, and those seeking the light are evil. Everything is set right by the end of this 3 hour endeavor, but what if being in the darkness is truly the right thing to do? Musicians, for one, marry the night in our careers on a literal level simply because most concerts take place at night. Even those musicians who are not of the classical persuasion marry the night – people don’t go to jazz bars during the day, for instance. On a figurative level, however, there is a lot of night walking involved with being a musician as well, in my opinion. If we think about taking auditions, for example, we are there to win and to beat everyone else there. It would be very “light” oriented to go into the warm-up room wishing to help and coach the other musicians, hoping that they do their best. The dark reality, though, is that if we truly want to win, we want everyone else in that room to fail.
          In an effort to spend as much time in Memphis as possible on my frequent weekend trips, I tend to land in Los Angeles around 1 AM on those dark, miserable Monday mornings. Flying over the city at that hour and seeing the man-made, terrestrial orange lights can be so stressful, and even spooky, because it reminds me of some type of concrete jungle, or a battle. Quite frankly, going through the day to day motions here feels like a battle most times. GaGa’s song, in a way, speaks to me during these times, though, in that she’s telling a story about how she embraced what was scary, stressful, and unknown. When I hop off that plane, I know that I have to “lace up my boots” and know that “I won’t cry anymore”, despite my being outside of the comfort zone I enjoy in Memphis.
          So what’s my point? I think we have to, sometimes, walk on a path that isn’t completely “PC” or “in the light” to find what we’re looking for. Even if we decide to decorate our dark memories to make them more desireable or artistic, recognize that not everything in life is lollie pops and unicorns. Take a stance against a teacher, mentor, or supervisor if you truly feel justified. Don’t be ashamed of your desire to be better than other people in your profession. Marry the night.

          Being really busy is a good problem to have, especially as a musician, but being pulled in so many different directions all the time can potentially cause you (myself included) to pay more attention to the work (or rather, the money) than yourself. Take for example the work day of an average person. He (or she) does not have time to eat a good breakfast anymore; we all do a quick coffee stop on the way to work. Instead of enjoying the beautiful weather by taking a walk during lunch, we typically find something else that needs to be done. By the time we return home at night, it’s too late to pay attention to anything other than your bed, and the process begins again on the next day. We’re in a recession, so I’m not advising anyone to turn down gigs or not work as hard, but a gig I played a few weeks back reminded me that sometimes we need to remind ourselves or ourselves.
          The Southeast Symphony is an orchestra here in Los Angeles that is predominantly black and performs works both traditional and contemporary, many of which by black composers. My experience with this group was outstanding. Being a black “classical” musician means being in a minority whenever you’re on stage, but playing with this group shattered that idea, and it was such an emotional thing for me. In studying the history of African-Americans and the music that surrounds us, one can see that a mix of what is “black” and what is “white” results in something new for us to claim. Take gospel, for instance. The early American slaves had no idea how to speak English, or what Christianity was, but that American influence coupled with traditional African “spirit” was the seed that brought forth gospel music as we know it today. The same applies to food – what the white man tossed aside in the slave days has become a cuisine that people across the country appreciate. At this concert, the mixing of western European constructs for classical music and the “spirit” of black people resulted in a piece called “Out of Kilter” by Marian Harrison.
          At the concert, this composer gave a brief lecture about how this piece was born, and what it meant for her, as well as for black people in general. The work is filled with subtexts for the musicians, including “Get Down with the Get Down” and one that struck me personally, “Sit Quiet, Listen Well……Learn Yourself”. That particular weekend was extra hectic for me (this was the 4th gig I’d played in 2 days), so seeing this instruction while counting my rests moved me. The thought of relaxing was so far from my mind, but this piece provided it for me, if only for 20 or so measures. Getting so caught up with life and the hustle and bustle of just trying to make it keeps you distracted (which can sometimes be good), but if you stop and really think about yourself, I think there will always be something more to learn.
          This week will be relatively easy for me, considering I’m not over booked, so I’m going to see how much more of myself I can learn. Learning yourself, in my opinion, also includes learning more about the people who influence your daily life, so I invite you to do the same. Find time in your chaotic schedule to sit quiet, listen well, and learn yourself.

          Ru Paul has been iconic for years as the world’s queen of drag. There is so much to be learned from her creativity, uniqueness, nerve, and talent, as well as her inspirational club hits that include lyrics like “you’re a champion – greatest of them all” and “gonna love you as you are…you’re a superstar”. One of the greatest things she’s given to the world, in my opinion, is a look at the necessity of being able to pull out a great performance when it really matters!         
          On the hit LOGO television show, “Ru Paul’s Drag Race”, each week of challenges ends with a final runway presentation by the competing drag artists. The bottom two participants, at the end of this presentation, must prove to the panel that they deserve to continue in the competition by performing a “lip-sync for your life” routine. I not only love watching these performances for the creativity these performers bring to the main stage, but also for the “real life” application of this idea. In all professions there comes a time for you to “lip-sync for you life”, and this is an art that we must all master to move forward in our career and life goals.
          In music, the easiest example of this would be an audition. This year I sat on the panel for opening in the American Youth Symphony, and I learned so much from this experience. As someone who auditions, it is easy to think that the panel has it out for you. This is somewhat true, because a jury has to listen very critically in order to accurately distinguish the best player from the pack; however, as a jury member, I wanted everyone to play well. It is so enjoyable to hear the hard work of so many people, and moreover, hear great musical excerpts. When one presents his craft (no matter what it may be) to an audience, it’s important to remember that the audience is interested in great work – not listening to a failure. Whether it’s a job interview, and work presentation, or even a term paper, the people on the other side of the table want to experience something top notch. This idea should be treated as both encouragement and a bar that needs to be met!
          Last night I was a part of a live radio broadcast, which featured the performance of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto with the very famous Midori Goto as soloist. There was added pressure, because this piece contains a very famous bassoon solo excerpt, and there was no telling how large the audience was, simply because of the radio broadcast. It went well, and I’m very happy with my performance, but this is another instance of pulling it out when it really matters. It was a comfort (based on my recent adjudication experience) to know that who ever was listening what looking forward to hearing something great. I can’t stress enough how important that idea is.
          I promise I’ll finish “Memoirs of a Gay-Sha” as soon as possible. I’ve been so swamped with work and school I haven’t had time to do anything, it seems (this is a good problem to have as a musician, so I’m not complaining). The next time you’re on the proverbial “main stage” and have to lip-sync for your life, remember the last words Ru Paul gives all of her girls: “Good luck, and DON’T f*ck it up!”

Pictured below: Me and one of Ru Paul's contestants, Alexis Mateo