the long way home

– PART two

I had never been to Germany before. In fact, there are many places in Europe that I have never been despite being half-European. Driving into Würzburg my sleepy eyes and mind thought that I had returned to the lush landscape of Elmsted, instead now castles had replaced cows. The magnolia trees were in at the Hauptbahnhof. I adore the pale colour of the giant flowers heavy on their leafless branches.

Würzburg is a quaint city in Bavaria. A city of wine, wine and beer drinkers at all hours of the day, nature and culture. It is also home to Germany’s best music research centre at the Hochschule für Musik. To my excitement, I also was informed that the X-ray were invented there. It’s always fun to learn about ubiquitous things that were invented in somewhat obscured places. Each place has their own piece(s) of pride I suppose!

Würzburg am Main

Würzburg, waking and working

My time in Würzburg was limited. I gave myself four weeks to find a place of my own and options for employment and potentially further study. I spent my first weeks in Würzburg basking in nature, bike rides (and injuries), Bavarian food and stress. The feeling of waiting can often eat away at my mind and causes me to be quite unsettled. I am a patient person however being in institutions and living life by a schedule has structured the way I live each day. I am quite restless when I have no outstanding tasks to do and I find it difficult to embrace free-time, relaxation and holidays. It seems that I perceive my waking hours as working hours. So I spent my time in Würzburg a little disorientated by my lack of structure, and newfound freedoms. I had sent applications for several orchestras in Germany with vacancies, for several festivals in Europe, applied for a casual job and emailed many people regarding subletting a room for the next couple of months. Waiting is difficult, you have to think about various outcomes, and when you do receive news and it is favourable, action must be taken. You have to get working on those excerpts, that concerto, be ready to pack your bags to move and be ready by the given date. It’s a feeling that is simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting. In addition to the applications and searching I received news that my flute, Lentil, was in quite a bad state and in need of repairs and an eventual overhaul. The six months of drilling technique at the flute studio had worn my flute out as well! I was directed to Herr Abe, a flute technician in Stuttgart who previously worked for Yamaha. He now works from his studio with two dogs who ‘sing’ when they hear the flute.

I decided that I needed to move to a city in Germany that had more to offer for music and the arts. All signs and people seemed to be pointing in the direction of Berlin. This seemed a good option for me with reasonable rent, concerts every day and a healthy classical and experimental scene. It seemed to offer good ground for exploring. The only real downside was that I knew that my progress in learning German would suffer slightly in Berlin. Many people speak English. If you are to buy a coffee, you may be greeted and asked what you want all in English depending on where you are in Berlin. It can be quite disorientating. However, I still persevere with speaking German where I can.

A Botanical Berlin

A piece of the East Side Gallery, Berlin

I surprised myself by having found a place to live for the next two months fairly quickly, having only spent less than three weeks in Germany. Situated near the Botanic Gardens in Lichterfeld, a particularly peaceful area of Berlin, I was to be living with two ladies around my age, Doro and Mathilde. Doro is German and studying Veterinary science, she also is a wonderful photographer (I’ll be using some of her photos as I begin to update my website), and Mathilde from Yverdon, Switzerland who is studying political Geography and is a leader in the climate movement (Jeunes Verts). I was very excited to be moving into such a vibrant and lively household.

Whilst I was preparing to move I also had to prepare for my very first professional orchestral audition. Having spent several years of my studies practicing and learning orchestral excerpts and standard flute repertoire and taking ‘mock orchestral auditions’ I decided it was time to apply this hard work to a real experience.I received a lot of encouragement from Trevor and my colleagues at the studio to apply for auditions. Of course, when you ‘apply’ for an audition you may not always get invited to do a live audition merely on the basis of your experience and your CV. Germany has many orchestras, sometimes a couple for each city and one for each town, and because of this mild abundance vacancies do come up periodically. But of course winning a job is tough, especially with the amount of applicants and competition to secure an orchestral job. You hear plenty of stories of people who have taken dozens of auditions, those who didn’t pass a trial and those who leave orchestras due to conflict.
Of course, many positive stories also exist.

I was simultaneously excited and nervous when I received an email from one of the orchestras I had applied for inviting me to participate in a live audition. This was to be my very first audition for an orchestral job and I was eager to find out what this would be like. Back in my undergraduate we had mock auditions which were incredibly helpful and mostly conducted behind a screen but all the other auditions I previously had done for youth orchestras and the university orchestra were never behind a screen. Unsure of how German auditions are generally conducted, I had some questions. “Would it be conducted behind a screen?” “Would I need to speak German fluently?” “Would I need an accompanist?” I knew that the answers to most of my questions would be revealed on the day and so I eased some of the lingering curiosities in my distant scenery in my mind. However, I found this article quite helpful and enlightening when I started preparing for auditions in Germany.

I was only to spend about a week and a half in Berlin before I had to leave to go to my audition. I had been practicing at the flat and was initially quite conscious about breaking my practice into several chunks to give the ears of my housemates a bit of a rest. However, after my first practice session at the flat I came out of my room to find all the doors completely open and my housemates sitting peacefully in their rooms. I was so shocked that the doors weren’t closed, especially after practicing some scales and repetitions but they told me how much they enjoyed hearing the music. I felt a welcome warmth in this quirky and special household.

Berlin family: Mathilde, Myself and Doro (from left to right).

spa symphony

Hermeto Pascoal – Música da Lagoa
Pehaps what I imagined when I titled this segment ‘Spa Symphony’

The town of my audition was situated about an hour away from Würzburg, my first German home prior to Berlin. The ‘Deutsche Bahn’ system can be rather deceptive and there are several ways to travel around Germany with the main trains being the ICE and the RE. It is always helpful to know some German as on these trains they don’t always announce the important information in English such as transfers, changes to services or trains splitting in half. But one does learn very quickly once one has experienced getting lost in translation. The first time this happened to me was when I was travelling to my audition. I was well aware of my transfers and made sure to always listen very carefully to announcements being made but somehow I managed to miss that my final transfer would be the trickiest. Having travelled for over three hours my brain managed to miss the warning that the Deutsche Bahn ticket checker had given me and also the poster in capitals with five exclamation marks telling me that the train would split into two each going to separate destinations. Usually there is a speaker announcement at stations that specifies this strange splitting but at this very tiny station there was only a flimsy piece of paper in a most inconspicuous place. This 50/50 chance of getting on the right train was unbeknownst to me and I got on the wrong train.

“Your ticket please.” The ticket officer asked.

I showed him my ticket. His eyes squinted slightly.

“You’re on the wrong train! You are meant to be in the one in front but it has already left.”

I panicked slightly, my brain translating his relentlessly fast German into some sort of understanding. My train had already left.

Another man joined in and frantically pointed at the door.

I needed to get off or I’d end up lost in Bavaria!

As it turned out I wasn’t the only one who had hopped onto the wrong train. A backpacker also had unknowingly wandered onto the train believing that the whole vehicle went to the town.

We looked at each other and hurried off the train that was ready to depart.

The backpacker looked at me. My exhausted face managed a smile. We both went over to sit under the shelter, there we could also look at the timetable. Her name was Sandra. She asked me if I wanted to go and sit outside the station with her. I nodded. More to look at I supposed.

Our train wasn’t due for another hour. We sat and spoke about Germany, identity, home. Sandra was living in the town I was to have my audition in.

“Do you like it there?”

“It’s nice. The scenery is beautiful with mountains and greenery. But after a while it gets boring for the young mind!”

Between drags at her cigarette Sandra said she wished to move to a bigger location in Bavaria, perhaps Würzburg or Schweinfurt. I recommended Würzburg highly to her but also expressed why I felt it wasn’t for me. She had lived in Berlin once too.

Time elapsed, few cars passed, even fewer people passed, our surrounding never really changing. The station was made up of two platforms and a quaint antique shop only open twice a week. No coffee, no food, not even bathrooms. It was an inevitable mediation of sorts.

The hour elapsed and we made our way back to the platform. This time, with the small piece of paper in sight loud in its punctuation, we would get on the correct train.

And we did.

As promised the town was robed in mountains and greenery and an air of calm. Sandra accompanied me to my lodging for the night. She lived in that direction also. She wished me the best of luck and we parted.

I was greeted by two cats before I saw the concierge. She gave me my keys and showed me on a map where I could find the concert hall where I was to have my audition. I thanked her and the cats and went to my room to study my scores and before I slept.

The town was beautiful. The city centre was comfortably small but still equipped with food markets, restaurants and other shops. I made my way to the concert hall to discover that there were two concert halls. In one of the halls there was a concert in progress, in the other a swarm of flutes was to be found. The sound of thirty flutes playing ‘Voliere’ over and over is quite an overwhelming experience. A swarm of birds indeed it is, perhaps an experience more reminiscent of Hitchcock rather than Saint-Saens. I began to warm up on my flute and piccolo. I had thought that my given time of twelve o’clock was my individual audition time. Thoughts travelled around my head. Perhaps they would get us up one by one in front of each other to play our concertos and excerpts in front of everyone. There was no screen to be seen on the stage either. It would be an open show. I went up to the piano to test the pitch. It was a little lower than expected.

The hall was beautifully ornate with gold filigree sprawled across the ceiling and chandeliers that hung like grapes. Decadent details for a small town dedicated to spa tourism and relaxation. The jury started to trickle in. It was obvious that those who were not holding flutes were on the panel for the audition. A representative stood up to make opening remarks. It was in these opening words that many of my curiosities were answered.

“Welcome flutists! As there are many of you we have decided to have two rounds. In the first round you have the choice to perform with or without accompaniment. And in second round we will choose ten of you. Please wait outside until you are called.”

There were about thirty flute players and many of them had already had generous orchestral experience and experience with taking auditions. This was my first audition for a professional orchestra ever and I was feeling determined. When it was my time to go and play I felt the usual feeling of knowing I could’ve played better. My sound was a bit off in the space. I was truly prepared to go and eat some lunch but the orchestral manager was to announce the second round. My name was called and my stomach had to wait. A banana or two would do for now.

In the second round all repertoire was accompanied by piano. I had never had the chance to play the required repertoire with piano before, so there was an element of excitement and an even more heightened sense of concentration. I would play so that it would never cross their minds that I had never played the pieces with piano before. I gave the accompanist my tempos and explained my repetitions. After playing I was invited to come down to speak to the jury. They asked me some questions which I managed to understand and answer in my basic German:

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” I chuckled slightly. I had come across this question a lot in my Bachelor’s degree.

“I love playing all music, from early music to modern music. I particularly enjoy playing in Chamber ensembles and creating and continuing to develop my own projects. And of course, I see myself teaching new generations of flute players and using music to influence positivity and communicate important messages and values.” *

“Thank you. Have you obtained your B1 Certificate in German?” They asked.

“No. Not yet. I am studying and will take my test as soon as possible.”

“Good, because in order to start here you will need it.” I nodded. I knew this wouldn’t be the first time I would need this certification.

“Thank you for your time. We will call you soon with the results.”

I left the hall with my head swirling. Had I heard everything correctly? Were there details I had missed out on telling them? I decided to catch the train home and said goodbye and good luck to the remaining flute players.

Whilst I did not get the job on this occasion, I am certainly glad that I decided to apply for this audition. Being an orchestral musician is not the job of my dreams but it is an opportunity that I do wish to have, even whilst opportunities in this field are rare. There’s nothing quite like the incredible wash of sound you get when sitting in an orchestra. It’s uplifting and makes you want to lift the audience up also. I also had a surprising amount of fun taking this audition. Enjoyment seemed to override any anxieties I may have had as soon as I began to play. I met flutists’ from all around the world, I got to play some great repertoire with piano and did I mention that I also got to drink copious amounts of soda water? Well, I made sure to drink this only after the audition as to avoid any possible accidental extended vocal (belching) techniques! Although it may have been a rather surprising twist on classic repertoire.

* On a side but very alarmingly real note, it is hard to envision the next five years when we face a climate crisis. David Gilmour, who just auctioned his valuable collection of guitars raising $21.5 million for the non-profit environmental law group, ClientEarth, said: “”The global climate crisis is the greatest challenge that humanity will ever face, and we are within a few years of the effects of global warming being irreversible… We need a civilised world that goes on for all our grandchildren and beyond in which these guitars [and all instruments] can be played and songs can be sung.” More on this a in my next post.

Never static, never silent

I mentioned in my last post that I would talk a more about my encounters with dance. At times I feel that my experiences with things are by no means accidental and are linked to an experience or experiences that will occur in the future. I’ve been fascinated by the human body and gesture for a long time. Personally I feel it is quite unnatural to not ‘move’ with music and simultaneously be moved by it also. But this is again up for debate. Trevor often told us that it didn’t matter how much we moved, if our music didn’t have vitality and the ability to dance on it’s own then our bodily movements would be for nought. On audio recordings you can’t hear the person’s bodily movement, unless of course they are being deliberately percussive. But if movement helps to heighten one’s sense of musical phrasing and musicality then one should do what they feel can help them communicate best. I love movement. I’ve come to understand it as music itself, a graphic score of sorts.

I was invited to do a performance for an arts exhibition opening at the Alte Munze in Berlin with dancers. It was an opportunity I received after attending an improvisation workshop with Chie Mukai, a musician and improviser from Osaka. This workshop brought together artists from many disciplines, from film, installation art and performance art. It was such a refreshing environment to improvise in and there were many breathtaking outcomes. I can say that I’ve had some really spectacular and wonderfully creative improvisations with those who aren’t necessarily trained musicians. In fact the theme of Mukai’s workshop was about freedom and eroding barriers, there should be nothing stopping us from innate human creative expression. And so we tore down any hesitations and let ourselves speak. It was in this workshop that I met many wonderful creatives active in Berlin. One of the artists, Yaqin Si, invited me to perform with dancers in the opening of an exhibition she was part of.

I had never really worked with professional dancers before. My set was to be the last of three-episodes, a solo flute performance to counter the heightened activity and rush of drums and electronics in Fumihiro Ono’s performances before. I had the pleasure of working with a chorus of innately creative dancers including Angelica Blalock, Veronica Parlagreco, Margherita MattiaKatja-Maria TaavitsanenEva Kaak and Emma Bäcklund who provided a vision behind the performance and loosely choreographed the dancing. Our performance was intended to bring the night to a close and draw the audience outwards. The room was busy with artwork and people and required some conscious manoeuvring. In the centre a ‘battle ring’ had been set up with monitors surrounding reminiscent of a boxing ring. I requested for the lights to be turned off so that the only light would be from the city glow outside and the monitors. The performance was an ethereal moment of intimacy and in some ways transcendence. The dancers were in close contact moving across the space as one entity of movement. I responded to their movements through sound and bodily movement myself and in turn they responded to my music. For this performance I chose to begin on the alto flute, which has undoubtedly become my favourite flute over the years. I adore the organic tone, the richness of harmonics in the middle and upper registers and the simultaneous airy rawness. It reminds me of the smell of earth after rain. I moved around the space with the alto with the plan to transition to my concert flute at some point. As we moved out of the space the audience seemed to move with us, out through the entrance and up the stairs. It was a pied-piper moment. I will be sure to share the footage of the performance on my website and Instagram when I receive it.

I loved every moment of working with the dancers. It was a symbiotic performance whereby the movement of my sound and their movement of the body informed each other and coalesced. Collaborating across the arts is truly special and I feel that other art forms and disciplines can infuse and augment creative delivery, as a matrimony of creative languages that converses with each of our senses differently.

The third episode of ‘the long way home’, part three will tell of some of the fascinating concerts I’ve been to whilst here in Germany, transforming uncertainty to action in light of recent events, powerful projects from back home and upcoming performances and festivals. Stay tuned (not always in equal temperament) and sweet sonic journeys until then!

reflections through the curtain of haze; England emerges into salience

The first leg of my journey is done. This morning I arrived at Kuala Lumpur airport looking quite large with clothing– not ideal for this 26 degree, 6 am weather. Of course, I am preparing myself for a chilly London evening (always in relativity to Brisbane weather). As I was sitting here writing this, waiting for my gate to open, I cast my gaze outside to watch the sun rise through the haze of pollution which I know all too well from visiting Chinese cities. I believe my last post was written post-Nief-Norf, when I was in Knoxville Tennessee which was only around four months ago. It’s not that the time between then an now was too mundane to write about, I was just incredibly inundated with preparing for my final recital and addressing my other university and musical commitments. This post will be a series of reflections on my last few months in Brisbane and the wonderful opportunities and people who made my time there so unforgettable.

gallerie: a graduating recital

 

 

Behold! My ultimate concentration face. Well, for a recital requiring 40 minutes of playing it was a festival of concentration of all mental, spiritual and physical energies–but a feeling of triumphant cathartic release. It was my most honest performance to myself and my audience that I had played in my three years of my degree. In front of an audience of friends, family, teachers and colleagues what more could one ask for?

a little bit of context for those who could not be there and those wishing to know more…

I had my final recital on the 26th of September. This was my last recital in the Bachelor of Music course at Queensland Conservatorium and I was ready to make it more than just an examination. With the guidance of my teacher, Virginia Taylor, I put together my dream program of pieces that complemented each other and created a ‘gallerie’ of colours and narratives when programmed together. I began first with Female Nude (1993) by English-born Australian composer, broadcaster and writer. Apart from the fascinating and quite sensual title I was intrigued to discover the sound world Ford was exploring in this piece. Female Nude is written for solo alto flute (also for alto flute and wooden percussion) and is the third movement from his work Mondrian for flute/s and percussion. The work draws its inspiration from the the Dutch painter Piet Mondrain and his prolific work. Female Nude spells out the word Mondrian (whilst omitting the d) in fragmented utterances from the performer. These syllabic gasps are interjected between quartertonal pitch variants of A (E concert)– A quarter flat, A natural, A quarter sharp. For those who are not musicians, wind players or flute players this technique is achieved through particular fingerings, or/and a physical action such as ‘bending’ the pitch through the mouth. This piece is ornate with nuanced techniques that intrigue not only the player but the audience also. From flutter tonguing, tongue rams, simultaneous singing and playing, each technique adds to the macro-image and idea of the work rather than what can sometimes be a case ambitious overwriting of “extended techniques.” I had the pleasure of playing this again the day after in Gatton at the ‘New Music at the Old Butter Factory’ concert.

The next piece in the program was Michel Blavet’s Sonata No. 4 ‘La Lumagne’. This piece, commonly misspelt as ‘La Lumague’ became a favourite of mine as I gradually realised just how much could be continuously invented when presented with Blavet’s ideas. Blavet himself was a flute virtuoso alongside his career as a composer and I think this shows in the fundamentally simple beauty of his writing. I think that what Blavet offers is a set of collaborations in his sonatas, between what is written and what the performer can further contribute. Of course, this is a evident feature of Baroque ornamentation which was often improvised by performers to portray a heightened sense of virtuosity. These something special about the written characters that Blavet presents. The most particular example that comes to mind is his final movement in the fourth sonata titled ‘Le Lutin’, the hobgoblin. Blavet’s muscial depiction of the hobgoblin is one of mischief and buoyancy. Two light accented crotchets accentuate the opening, a motif that embellishes the whole work and brings to mind the how a Hobgoblin might walk. Whilst I did not do all the written repeats in my recital (due to time constraints), however I am sure that I will be revisiting this work in the future.

Twentieth century French art is so very colourful and is particularly evident in the music of composers and performers during that time. During the 20th century much Flute repertory flourished and we were gifted numerous works which contained then progressive approaches to pitch, rhythm, extended techniques, instrumentation and structures. Whilst the Sonatine for flute and piano by Pierre Sancan is not a ‘radical’ work it is one that has been embraced by many flute players as a popular staple since its publication in 1946, and is his most widely-known work. French music of this period has particular difficulties. Like many French flute pieces the Sancan requires the lyricism of liquid phrases despite widely written intervals punctuated with more rapid statements. There is evident duality in the music, between the cantabile lines and the rapid punctuations that give it a sense of constant movement and colour changes. One particular section, the Andante expressivo, of which I termed the ‘heart throb’ section became a musical outlet for my deeper emotions. There is a very small list of works from the distant past that I have felt a genuine connection to, however I felt that I was able to emotionally synthesise with the Sancan in a way that I could express my underlying emotions. The andante expressivo occurs after a short piano cadenza which paves the way for this more reflective and still movement with leading to a more tumultuous current of release. I found myself on the edge of tears on the day of my recital as I dug into the emotions I had been feeling about leaving Brisbane, a place that had been such a incredible home with genuine people. Of course whilst I knew I would only be away for around six months, I felt that I was leaving somewhere that had become a bit of a haven and a most definite home. I felt like this section of Sancan gave me the means to express this.

My last piece is a piece most dear to me, and an Australian premiere– Kaija Saariaho’s Terrestre (2002) which is a reworking of the second movement of her flute concerto Aile du songe dedicated to flutist Camilla Hoitenga.  WIf you’ve been an avid reader of my posts then you may be familiar with the name of this piece as I played in during the Nief-Norf Summer Music Festival. This was the first time I had performed any of Saariaho’s music and I was so stoked that Terrestre was my introduction into her musical language. Upon coming back to Australia, I began putting together my recital program and was determined that this would be my closing piece. All I had to do was put together an ensemble, and I think I found a dream team. I felt so incredibly privileged to have an ensemble of talented members on board, with the multi-talented flutist and composer Hannah Reardon-Smith conducting the work, Flora Wong conjuring sonic sensations from her violin, Oliver Scott with the meditative sounds of his violoncello, Loni Fitzpatrick spiralling through each movement in circular motion and Joyce To leaping from percussion instrument to instrument. Whilst I love this piece it was also the hardest piece to put together as an ensemble. It demands high concentration throughout frequent metre changes, technique changes and rapid gestures. The flute part in itself contains a feast of gestures, tone colours and most notably combines characterised spoken interjections from Oiseaux, a collection of poems by Saint-John Perse. The first movement, Oiseau dansant refers to an aboriginal tale in which a virtuosic dancing bird teaches the whole village how to dance. The second and closing section, L’oiseau, un satellite infime, is a synthesis of the previous parts of the concerto and floats away like the bird, a small satellite in a universal orbit. Who would’ve known that contemporary music would be at the book ends of my recital? Well, I suspect most people! 😉

I will be uploading a video of my recital unto my Youtube in the next week, so click here to subscribe and be notified first!

Again, thank you to my wonderful family and friends who made the room overflow with love and support. You are the dream audience and I’m so grateful that you all came to hear my last recital at the con for a while!

flooding the old butter factory with new sounds

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I had been invited to perform in a very special event the very next day after my recital. Two of my dear friends and colleagues– composer, performer, improviser Jasmin Leung and percussionist and improviser Tim Green had put together a very rare opportunity in the food bowl of Queensland, the beautiful Lockyer Valley. Michael Louttit, Elizabeth Jigalin and myself were invited as guest performers to showcase some of our own work. Over the past week they had been working with children on their holidays to construct a concert of wonderful sounds. I thought to myself that never before had I seen children engaging with experimental sounds and ideas, but this thought was quickly negated as in youth experimentation is what helps us learn. Some absolutely incredible pieces were written by the children, including a piece titled unique rhythms, crazy sounds which was essentially a groovy drum circle and a duo who called themselves the Alfoil Girls who stunned the audience with dozens of ways to make sounds with alfoil in their piece Shimmer. The most astounding idea was wrapping alfoil on a small microphone and running it against the wall. Another piece, Twenty Two Screaming Bowls, written by four of the children involved singing bowls, bows and small objects. I was amazed at how these boys who I had seen running around with uncontrollable energy earlier could create something so utterly meditative. I felt quite inadequate with the sounds I was presenting, especially since I was playing the oldest piece, Female Nude written in 1993! Usually this is still called new music, but an ongoing question I have is when does new music stop being termed “new.” The works composed for the concert were so new, written within the week and some were even improvisations. Jasmin had written a structured improvisation As Close as Lips and Teeth for the whirly tubes swung by the children, vocalisations and me on flute. Jasmin was so eager to have this event the rural town of Grantham as many of the residents had never before heard experimental music let alone a live concert. It was a truly special event and I could see how it touched the lives of the children, their families and the community. It is so wonderful to see experimental music being introduced to children. I believe I wrote about this in one of my other posts regarding Norf-Speak. But this event was different because the children were given the opportunity to make experimental sounds and consequently they composed some of the greatest works I have ever heard. Children have a unique musical perspective and I think much more of this should be heard in ways such Jasmin and Tim’s program.

climbing the stairs to Treehouses

I find myself often working without music. My whole day is spent focusing on intentions of sound that sometimes it can be fatiguing to listen to music for pleasure. Other than instrumental music and concerts I have rarely found myself at ‘band’ shows. This was a bit different. My friend Tim Mead is a vocalist in Treehousesa Perth-based group drawing on folk and spoken ideas. Currently the band are supporting listener, a US based spoken word rock band on their Australian tour. I’m vibing pretty hard to their music currently, especially after hearing them at Blackbear Lodge. Their new track Old Friends is seriously infectious with an absolutely scintillating synth line and fresh vocals and spoken/screamed lines. Non-instrumental music is not my usual subject to write about but I’m liking what I hear and feel that I should do an investigation into more local Aussie bands, especially during my time away. So please comment some suggestions of bands/songs that I should have a listen to. Meanwhile you should all go and give Treehouses some loving on Spotify!

Elim Chan and the New World

This title is pretty multi-faceted. Firstly, it most obviously refers to Dvořák’s Symphony No. 9 in E minor “For the New World” Op. 95 which was performed by the Queensland Conservatorium Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Hong-Kong born conductor Elim Chan last Friday night. Secondly, it eludes to this new world we are entering i music regarding representation of gender, musical ideas, culture and politics. Lastly and on a more personal level, it relates to the new world I am travelling to.

This concert was so incredibly special for a number of reasons. The program was absolutely blockbuster, consisting of Strauss’ Till Eulenspeigel’s Merry Pranks, to Tchaikovsky’s Rococo Variations played by the incomparable Meta Weiss to the momentous New World Symphony. Elim Chan mounted her podium with presence, intent, her arms outstretched and coursing energy into the veins of the orchestra. I have never before witnessed a conductor with such deliberate intentions, ideas and the technique to coax out world-class playing. The Strauss was taken at a bright tempo, light and drenched in character. Perhaps it was where I was sitting, however I was frequently aware of the rich curtain of sound produced by the strings, often more present that the winds. Motif were dextrously passed around sections of the orchestra with solos sounding incredibly polished. The Rococo Variations seemed a lot more textually balanced. With her cello, Meta Weiss made her first statement of the theme with poise and buoyancy. In my proximity to the stage I was able to witness the detail in her fingering and bowing that conjured incredibly moving phrases. As a flute player I may be biased, but there are a few particular sections in this work that I adore. Without a doubt the dialogue between the flute (principal played by Kyla-Rae Ashworth) with the theme and the cello is a personal favourite. Then of course the theme in the relative minor and the final variation. The incredible thing is that Tchaikovsky plays by some of the most standard ways of musical variation, but the work itself never fails to get audiences excited. The final work in the program was the New World Symphony a work that always is an audience favourite. I like to endearingly call this symphony the symphony of seconds as Dvořák introduces and passes his themes and motifs around second positions of the orchestra (ie. second flute, second violins). The work itself is a narrative of triumph, nostalgia an energy and I can confirm Elim brought out all these qualities. It would have been incredible to have the opportunity to work with her for this project but unfortunately I was engaged with preparations with my departure. Instead I had the opportunity to listen and be an audience, a position that is important to the learning and growing mind of a musician.

London landing

Well, I’m finishing the last few lines of my blog on a lounge in London. I arrived at Heathrow around 16:00 this afternoon after over 22 hours of combined flying. At the airport I met fellow flutist Lindsay Bryden who has been living in London and is also doing the Trevor Wye Flute Studio for six months. For those who don’t know why I’m now in England, I’ll do some explaining! Earlier in the year I applied and auditioned for The Flute Studio under the tutelage of Trevor Wye, a renowned flutist, pedagogue and author of several best-selling books. I found out a few months ago that I had been accepted into the course which has recently received confirmed support by the Australian Council for the Arts and The David Cubbin Memorial Fund. The studio has been operating for over 27 years and has welcomed students from over 19 countries. The primary focus of The Flute Studio is to achieve flute performance to a very high level through a meticulous focus on flute technique, method, tone, repertoire, history and performance. The course prepares individuals for the rigorous and highly competitive nature of a professional career as a musician. Whilst I delve through various ‘corridors’ of repertoire, genres, expressions and settings, having technical autonomy is imperative to greater nuances in expression and communication. I am confident that The Flute Studio is an important next step in my professional and musical development.

Tomorrow, Lindsay and I will be travelling to the Elmstead Court Farm where we will live for the next six months whilst perfecting flute technique with four other wonderful flutists from Lithuania, Korea, the U.S. and another from Australia. I’ll be sure to keep this blog healthy and regularly fed with fresh content so be sure to subscribe to be notified of new posts and activities.

If you are interested in financially supporting my on-going project and production costs (such as food and public transport to and from concerts and masterclasses) then you can do so via my Australian Cultural Fund project page here. All donations over $2 are tax deductible and are meaningful no matter the amount! Thank you for your ongoing support!

To all my family and friends~ I already miss you and Brisbane town and I’ll see you next year!!! 👋🏼 I can’t wait to share all my adventure with you!