The Archivist

I've spent the last couple days on vacation organizing boxes of handwritten music scores and partial manuscripts. In corporate terms, we would call this the management of "Organizational Process Assets": how can we take a look back to see how we did things before? Many of this music and writing date to my middle school years at Saint Thomas Choir School. In contrast to a previous blog post, "Why No Digital Office", I might be considered a convert, since one of my initiatives is to digitalize much of these scores and manuscripts. I also got some ptractice in dating manuscripts based on the quality of handwriting: coarse to fine, and back to coarse- as I gained access to digital music writing software. While cataloging the works was important, one area I did not broach was assigning "opus numbers" to my work. Perhaps the fear of falling short of perfection- to make a mistake in dating works- held me back. In past centuries, these numbers asigned by scholars to composers like Bach and Mozart, were rarely sequential anyway. Yet I put together opus numbers for a couple friends who are no longer writing music- as the third-party observer it was easier to date their body of published works. Music composition may be a hobby and not a career for me, but reviewing the past is useful to predict my future.

In Choir, the Best of Two Worlds

I have been involved in choral music since I was seven. For fifteen years, I have been singing, writing, and collaborating music. My time at the Saint Thomas Choir School in New York, for four years of middle school, was influential in my development as a part-time musician, influenced by classmates, teachers; and choirmasters, who were also mentors and talent-finders. 

Two of Saint Thomas’ legends in liturgical music, Dr. Gerre Hancock and Dr. John Scott, now rest in peace. Gerre Hancock’s departure as Choirmaster in 2004 was planned well in advanced, and I knew that my first year at Saint Thomas would be his last. He would move back to Texas with his wife, Judith, after 34 years with Saint Thomas, and continue teaching music at the University of Texas for seven years.  Dr. John Scott departed his earthly vocation of choirmaster at Saint Thomas suddenly one Wednesday ago, after an acclaimed tour in Europe as a performing organist. What I am writing here is not so much purely a memorial to Dr. Scott, but a recollection from the choir stall of having sung under two choirmasters at St. Thomas. 

In September 2005, the boys of Saint Thomas Choir School rehearsed with John Scott for the first time in his new role as choirmaster at Saint Thomas. He had come from a similar duty at Saint Paul’s Cathedral in London, and we choirboys wondered why a Brit had come across the Atlantic Ocean to rehearse us. He was a bit befuddled about how U.S. Customs treated his century-old piano. Coming from the quintessential formality of English high culture, Dr. Scott took the effort to familiarize himself with American norms. Two centuries of independence from Great Britain gave rise to differences in vocabulary and culture, even hairstyle.  In Britain, punks have short hair, and no choirboy over there would have a buzzcut. He learned quickly that buzzcuts are synonymous with clean-cut here in the States.

What has amazed me is how great institutes of learning retain their prized educators and staff. As Choirmaster of Saint Thomas for his last ten years, his endurance follows in the good tradition of long-tenured choirmasters and headmasters. So has the time passed that life has come full circle. A friend and classmate of mine interviewed with Dr. Scott for one of the men’s voices in the choir this year. The men of the choir, who fill the lower voices, are truly professionals. They find time for rehearsals and choral services at St. Thomas between other prominent gigs in New York City. To get grade-school boys, with mixed levels of experience, but with recognized potential, to sing at such a caliber is a significant accomplishment. Gerre Hancock knew the traditional laid-back American demeanor of childhood. Rehearsals with him had interludes where he would make one of his signature piano improvisations, and a few jokes.  Dr. Hancock used his talent to develop the choir to its full potential. To him, the success of the boys of the choir in mastering challenging works of music was recognition enough for each choirboy. As a bonus, each choirboy got a ‘rank’, which was determined by seniority first, and then individual accomplishment. 

Dr. Scott understood that developing individual talent within the choir is an evolution: a choirboy could achieve full potential in the four or five years that the choirmaster had with him. What Dr. Scott accomplished with choirboys who began under his tenure was incredible, indeed; and the fruits of this effort became evident as members of the eighth-grade Class of 2009 and 2010 achieved distinction in solo and marquee performances throughout New York.  There was a risk that he assumed: attention to top choral achievers could affect the morale of other choirboys. The largest culprit to maximizing the potential of a choirboy is middle-school biology: the awkwardness of voice cracks in seventh and eighth grades. When that happens, the choirboy fades gracefully into the sunset. But for the other average choirboys, would lack of attention cause hard feelings? The answer is that Dr. Scott gave attention to all, even when it was discreet. Reports one member of the Class of 2008, “Dr. Scott really did care about me”. The tangible results of this effort was one-on-one voice lessons for all, and an MVP list to recognize personal accomplishments commensurate with one’s ability.

Faced with a slew of ‘retirements’ forced on by changing voices in the Class of 2007 and 2008, John Scott had other ways to develop the musical talent of students who were once star choirboys. One such way was his keen interest in evaluating, and performing, student compositions of music. This unspoken program had started under Dr. Gerre Hancock, a recognized choral composer who embraced expressionism in his compositions. He was an improvising organist, composer, and choirmaster; who as I recall, in his final year, mentored Hank Rosenthal in music composition. Dr. Scott, who was also a composer in traditional-style choral works, expanded this informal program, and, with the confidence of his expertise, allowed the choir to sing some student compositions.  Among members of the Class of 2005 and later, who had experience with Dr. Scott, there is a disk jockey, several performing musicians and singers, and composers. (Class sizes average seven students per year). As long as you had the courage to embrace your talent, Dr. Scott would be there to point you in the right direction.

Dr. Scott was a man wholly dedicated to his work as a liturgical musician. He was a fan of Dietrich Buxtehude and J.S. Bach, German Baroque organists and composers. He was a renowned organist, and his performances of fanfares and voluntaries would draw a crowd of choirboys to the organ console. He was a composer. He was an ambassador to the best England had to offer, in hors d’oevres and tea. He was, first and foremost, a conductor and choirmaster. In this role, he developed untapped talent from each member of the choir. He was convincing and personable: he was the face of public relations during a campaign to raise funds for the renovation of the century-old Grand Organ at Saint Thomas. His mainstay phrase was: “to the Glory of God”- “Ad Maiorem Dei Gloria”. Dr. John Scott’s legacy lives on with the Saint Thomas Choir of Men and Boys as it moves forward through this challenging time. “Dedication and Professionalism”; “A Great Star”; a “Most Accomplished Musician”. These are words that my friends from Saint Thomas Choir School used to describe Dr. John Scott in the days after he left the world. His legacy lives in the musical performances of Saint Thomas Choir School alumni, in their compositions, and in our memories.

School Concert

A novel concept: the choral and orchestral concerts were combined this season. This was done for a number of reasons: larger audience, less dates on the calendar, etc. I noticed that first point as we circled around the campus to find a parking spot coming in. The two sections were separated by an intermission in which the orchestras prepped up. All the ensembles played well, and the semi-pro Jazz ensemble rocked the house as usual. As a special tribute, the Hearn brothers (with Brendan, the cellist, a graduating Senior) played a virtuoso Irish jig. Although I'm a bit peeved about the refreshments being finished before the end of the orchestral performances, the sum that I did have before playing was gorgeous. It seems to be a great way to close an Alumni weekend.

Tromp d'oeil

The LP record, for some, is the epitome of elegance in recorded music. The precise ebb and flow of sound waves is replicated on the vinyl disk. This infiniteness of possibility of color and tone is somewhat lost in digital recording. The smooth transitions are made into rugged bits and bytes.

The same concept applies to printed music. No detailed music score can truly capture expression and intonation. The precise feeling of the length of a note is subjective; rather than the objectively printed meter. This is left to the artist's interpretation.

I learned this on Sibelius musicwriting software. My rhythms that came to the PC through the midi keyboard were cut and rearranged and approximated into a piece that lacked full expression. Yes, surely, the music score can be improved. But this is a system to which we are familiar.

815 V St NW

"The commissioner has decided there will be no such rock-bop in this town. This so called rock and roll is detrimental to our youth". By Mayor of Camden, NJ, 1952

By today's standards, society complained about the color of the nurse's gown. Today, there was plenty of hip swinging, crow-screeching, and syncopated beats. The first group I saw was, in my opinion, detrimental to youth. Their 'music' sounded like sitting on the Dulles Airport jumbo jet runway with a drowsy sort of side effect from the cough med and a henchman for sadism's sake. If it was artistic at all it was in the sense that it conveyed the sense of angst and pain upon the listener. The lyrics were anti-social when intelligible over the grind; for example, a girl axing her family (that was an euphemism, too). There was rampant head bobbing by the 'musicians' that disregarded anything about cerebral science, and the volume level most likely exceeded OSHA regulations.

Why was I here? My friend and 3-course classmate was performing tonight. And about Kairos? No problem. You'll be back by then. Indeed, Kairos went out with a bang- a great liturgy, incense and all.

The our guys were up. There was a trumpeter (GN), percussionist (LW-M), vocalist (RC), and two guitarists (BH and CH) . "I've been here since 9am,(did they get to go to church today?)and I'm ready to leave!" Then the song starts. I never heard Rob sing in that way; it sounded like it was from the rogue, a sound bursting from the chains of tradition. But it was refreshing; unlike the goth metal band, this music had well-written lyrics, and the format of the music felt like what we learned in music theory class: Rock and Roll = Steady Beat + Chord Progression. It was sort of Elvis-y, tradition rock style that their parents would have played at home. There was, again, that song of leaving. There was one that praised conformism. It was actually sincere. There was a love song, not mushy, though. Names don't matter to me much, but they are ID'ed as KSD. I don't know what that stands for.

When will the CD or MP3 set be cut?

(One to none performed after; anecdotal reports suggest that their drumist is quite talented, if not a Ladies man). 9:30 club, 2/14/10

Fast Snow, Delaware Roads

Somehow, I did not have much homework this weekend. I got just about all of it done yesterday, so that left me with 'nihil faciendum esse', not much requiring to be done. Sort of sad for a three-hour each way trip, but I laid my head down several times. The trip to Pottstown wasn't that bad, except for Delaware, whose government thought that understaffing the I-95 toll booth was A-OK. By the impingement on interstate commerce legal doodah, it's probably illegal and sue-able for the DDOT to do that. Well, we have EZPass, but the Cash people still cause a bottleneck as they groped for the single open Cash lane.

Pottstown diner lived up to the crowd- a large place where the whole town, or so it seems, converges.

As for Bye Bye Birdie at the Hill School, a free extravaganza that the school let the neighborhood in to see. Spectacular and time-expensive props, interesting use of the electronic orchestra. Rosie played her character; Daddy MacAfee played his part much more violently than I thought anyone would allow- lots of slaps between the characters, now I recall. Ma did well over-dramatizing the mother's role, and Al kept the show rolling well. The screaming hoards of teen girls (and boys) were perhaps played by the young faculty kids- an interesting twist that I haven't seen before. Overall, it was worth seeing.

I then handed over the poker set to Little Brother, and took the return trip home to see the big thing on TV.

The Play

Irving Berlin lived to a remarkably old age- 101, as I remember, dying only 20 years ago. Then these arrangers come and arrange some of his music into a chronological from 1910 into the 1950's. I still have not found out when the play was arranged, but probably sometime in his lifetime. Anyway, "He would have been proud of our chorus arrangements" Now, its over, and there's a big hole in my time, that I will fill with HOMEWORK! Yes, we got dressed up, made up, and had fun.

In the Ghetto

The politically incorrect, but strikingly true story of a po' baby born in da' hu', and gets killed. Yes. The broadcast news loves to turn these tragedies into dough, and scare you into turning you into a ten-o-clock news addict. The effect is especially pronounced when the boradcasters do it in Tandem. So as those tragedies unfold on the TV screen, Elvis Presley's offensive song goes well on the computer.

Which reminds me to tell you all: Stayin' Alive, the little disco ditty, is a good song to listen to while performing CPR. It puts you in the right rhythm to do it. Just put in on your MP3 player, it's a cool song anyway.

From the heart

Today, I performed a few cardiac procedures on a sheep heart.
Cardiac bisection, tricuspid valve trisection, cardiac liposuction, and aortic semi-lunar valve replacements were a sample of what invasive procedures we did in our double-period bio class today. Of course, you can call it Dissection. From the hack-surgeon's perspective, leaving the semi-lunar valve intact was the most difficult job.
On the woozy subject of the heart, here is a sappy song from the heart:

It's so hard to part from you,
when we are splitting ways.
As hard as it is for me to say,
we must really go.

We've done so much together,
Been through a lot together,
We have so much in common,
It's hard to let it go.

The train is coming to take me away,
When those cold doors shut,
with tearful eyes we see the last,
it'll be hard to say good-bye.

When will we meet again?
My train has sadly come,
I wish I could never leave you,
but the time has come;

When you're ten miles off,
I'll run to meet you,
We'll promise to never leave again;
I'll carry you through.

With a dreadful heart I know it's a while away,
Thinking of you every second of every day;
I'll text message you, I'll Facebook you;
Please don't drop me as your friend.

I know you won't, I will return,
like a soldier coming back from war;
All the time we have been gone will be forgot,
and we will start anew:

First you'll see my silhouette,
then you'll hear my voice,
then the door will open,
and I'll be with you again!

Atticus Sawatzki ----'-{<