When we last played at Carnegie Hall, in 2008, Allan Kozinn wrote in the

We return to Carnegie’s Zankel Hall next Monday to present a motley concert highlighting the kaleidoscopic diversity of recent classical music. English composer Thomas Adès takes us to a children’s playground for the high-spirited hijinks of Catch, while Stephen Hartke’s Pulitzer Prize finalist, Meanwhile, evokes the surreal world of an imaginary Asian court theater. Frenchman Pierre Boulez’s Dérive 1 conjures an other-worldly beauty, punctured by countryman Philippe Hurel’s dense, swirling hive of notes, ...à mesure, which challenges even eighth blackbird’s formidable skills.

Music by two New York natives round out the program. Philip Glass’s Music in Similar Motion, with its radically bald, hypnotic repetitions, retains its power to shock and delight, and rising star Missy Mazzoli’s Still Life with Avalanche gives musical form to a torrent of powerful and unexpected emotions.

Visit Carnegie Hall’s website for tickets. As an eighth blackbird fan, you can get a 10% discount if you use the offer code EBB11265.*

When: Monday, January 31, 2011 at 7:30 PM
Where: Zankel Hall, 57th Street and Seventh Avenue, New York, NY

Program:

Missy Mazzoli Still Life with Avalanche (2008)

Pierre Boulez Dérive 1 (1984)

Philip Glass Music in Similar Motion (1969)

Philippe Hurel …à mesure (1996)

Thomas Adès Catch (1991)

Stephen Hartke Meanwhile (2007)

*This discount is valid from 11AM on January 27th through 11:59PM on January 30th.  Limit of eight tickets per purchase. Some limitations may apply. Offer is subject to availability and prior sale, is not valid on prior purchases, and cannot be combined with any other discounts or promotions. Valid by phone, at the Box Office, and/or online. No refunds or exchanges. Internet and phone orders are subject to standard convenience fees.

We came up with this idea a few weeks ago and decided to try it out for the first time here. I began the exercise by asking the assembled Chamber Music Class the above question, called on volunteers (note to self: if you need six violinists out of a large group, and six don’t present themselves, ask instead for anyone there who knows a violinist to point her or him out. It works.), and then went into the experiment, which is described below. Some successful things, some not, but an interesting exercise I thought worth sharing. Let us know what you think.

And before I go any further, a HUGE thank-you to the students who participated in this. You were brave and, as I described this afternoon, much awesomer for doing it. Go Meadows School!

OK, a description of the experiment.

The goal: to prove that knowledge of the score, and specifically written-in cues in a part, greatly helps the rehearsal process for new music, and by extension, all chamber music.

The test: three string quartets were each given the same 2 1/2 minute excerpt from a Jennifer Higdon piece (hi Jennifer!) that they’d never seen before. Each group had 20 minutes to prepare it, and then had to come perform the excerpt in front of their peers. The first group was given just a set of parts, the second a set of parts and four scores, and the third a set of parts with cues already written in them plus four scores.

The outcome: all three quartets were challenged by the piece, which is rhythmically pretty tricky. The second group seemed the most comfortable, having decided to perform from the scores, with the third group being described as “more musical.” The first group took a slower tempo than the others. All three groups relied on downbeat cues, conducting, and other visual tricks to stay together.

Interestingly, the third group did not find the written-in cues helpful: they said given only 20 minutes, they had to concentrate on their own parts and couldn’t look at the other notes as they went by. So we didn’t exactly get the result we were hoping for, that “Aha!” moment of “Wow, cued parts are so much better!”

Problems with our process: twenty minutes was too short to prepare what is a pretty challenging sight-reading excerpt. Impossible to have the exact same level of players on every instrument in each quartet, so there was no control for experience or ability. Writing in the cues for the third group isn’t the same as having the third group write the cues in themselves, which would have connected them to their cues much more. We didn’t standardize whether or not groups could have metronomes or pencils (!), so I think our scientific method was flawed. Not bad for a bunch of musicians, but still.

So what do you think? Interesting exercise, or inherently too complicated to prove anything? If we do this again, what could we do better?

And is our main point, regarding the benefit of writing cues in parts after studying the score (hopefully before the first rehearsal), something you agree or disagree with?

It all starts from mf, so bear with the order here.

mf = full sound. No extra effort, let your instrument sing on its own.
f = loud. Do technically what your instrument requires to play loud — requires effort, in other words.
ff = max intensity. not just loud, make sure your line has intensity from note to note.
(fff = special dynamic on string instruments to indicate an extremely rare and powerful moment, sound quality may be sacrificed for effect.)
mp = held back. make a nice sound, but slightly more air, less focus, more personal, like conversation instead of stage speaking.
p = soft. contained, beautiful sound, intimate but warm.
pp = intensely soft, like a scream from a mile away or a locked room. more intensity to the line while keeping the volume low.
(ppp = as close to inaudible as you can produce. use a sound that’s only 75-80% consistent, dropped notes and quality is OK.)

Here’s an even briefer description:

mf = full
f = loud
ff = max
fff = in your face (some sacrifices in tone)
mp = conversational
p = soft, intimate
pp = covered scream
ppp = almost inaudible (some notes dropped)

What do you think? Seem helpful? Too fussy? Not enough coffee? Too much?

Nonetheless, I’ve somehow found myself in a position where I make decisions that impact eighth blackbird’s life on the road (silly birds).  And so we, in our collective wisdom, wondered if it might not be a bad idea for me to come on the road with them.  To see firsthand the swarms of surly roadies setting up the instruments, to hear the deafening din of the roaring crowd, to assist in the last minute scramble for another score of coke to get Tim Munro through another night, to help pick out which of the eager young woman will accompany an unnamed percussionist back to the hotel, to buy off another photographer whose equipment Nick Photinos’ infamous and increasingly expensive temper has destroyed, to wake in a stranger’s hotel room with nothing but the smell of cheap beer as a blanket. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.  eighth blackbird actually drinks very good beer on the road.

This spring provided a perfect opportunity.  The birds were to fly out to California for a Wednesday performance of Mark DeChiazza’s production of Pierrot Lunaire, oddly paired with the tape-version of Double Sextet, at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), travel a little further north for a recital the next night at California State University Northridge (CSUN), then fly to Minneapolis for a Saturday evening performance of the only moving thing, including an all live version of Double Sextet with the local new music ensemble Zeitgeist at the Walker (Walker). Three completely different programs over four days, involving six other musicians, five additional staff and over two dozen different suitcases all with unique itineraries.  Bring on the glamour.

First, I had a task: chairs.  Mark’s production of Pierrot Lunaire involves the use of several chairs.  They have a specific look, size and sound. Or rather, lack of sound.  We have these chairs and intended to ship them to L.A.  I went to the UPS store, along with a whole different set of equipment to ship to Minneapolis, including 50 pounds of quinoa, the explanation of which I’ll leave to your imagination.  Just getting these oversized boxes from the studio to the store was a task worthy a Greek epic, if the hero of the epic were a 150 pound intellectual with the physical coordination of a turtle.  Luckily I was assisted by our Production Manager, Emily Upson. Who is pregnant.  Come to think of it, it was more like an English farce.  Anyhow, as it turns out, it was going to cost $150 to get the chairs to L.A.  Even more to completely guarantee they arrive on time.  And another $150 to ship them back.  For those of you struggling with the math, that’s at least $300.  For four chairs.  We took the chairs back to the studio, providing some free street theater for passersby, where a little research uncovered the exact same chairs at an Ikea near LACMA, in stock and ready for pickup.  $20 a piece.  I decided to just buy the chairs in L.A. and then donate them to LACMA.  Even wonder why a small arts organization should hire an administrator?  It’s because we’re trained to make tough executive decisions like this.

Emily and Ryan Ingebritsen, our sound engineer, went out to L.A. first to begin setting up for Pierrot.  eighth blackbird is an odd duck (gaggle?) within the music world.  We’re frequently booked for chamber music series, but we’re often booked because we do much more than chamber music.  The problem is that the presenters for such series aren’t really equipped for the ‘more’.  They know eighth blackbird performs Pierrot Lunaire from memory, and they’re excited by the idea that the group moves around on stage, but when we show up with sound reinforcement, hanging light bulbs, an umbrella, dancer, etc., they can get a little nervous.  There’s an old story that the indigenous peoples literally couldn’t see the boats of the first American settlers.  Because they had no framework, no concept, for such massive ships, they would be so anomalous as to become invisible (perceptual blindness).  I’m pretty confident that specific story is bullshit, but the basic idea holds. If presenters have only ever seen chamber music groups show up with their instruments and play, no amount of advance paperwork ever really prepares them for eighth blackbird. Sending out our tech crew in advance is therefore essential for a production like Pierrot.

Ryan and Emily were followed a day later by the ensemble, and then myself with Mark, dancer Elyssa Dole and special guest soprano, the incomparable Lucy Shelton. Our car ride included a very serious conversation between Mark and Lucy about the nuances of very specific hand gestures.  Mark is one of those rare directors, nay, rare people, who puts thought into every detail of a performance.  His production is so saturated with intention that he earns your trust quickly, allowing you to relax into the experience.  It’s an odd bit of alchemy.  (Read more about the production here.) LACMA, an art museum, booked eighth blackbird as part of their Art & Music Series, American Stories.  How does Pierrot Lunaire fit into American Stories?  I have no idea, but the crowd loved it, so who’s to argue with what works?  Even more exciting, some of Herr Schoenberg’s family, including his son, were present for the performance and chatted approvingly with the musicians afterwards.

When traveling, the group is often responsible for booking their own lodging. For most of their 14 years on the road, this has meant a lot of cheap motels and even the occasional outbreak of bed bugs (Matt Albert recently attained an advanced degree in Priceline bidding, so the situation has improved a bit).  Other times, presenters provide lodging. This has, no kidding, sometime meant the musicians end up in the guest rooms of a friend or donor of the presenter. Lucky for us, LACMA has a relationship with the Sofitel, so we were housed in unusual comfort.  LACMA Music Director Mitch Glickman, along with a few local friends, composers and musicians, met at the hotel afterwards for drinks.  We were to leave early the next morning, so one by one the crowd thinned out until was just me, Ryan and our particularly gregarious waitress, who was campaigning to become Miss California.  This was my first encounter with a true California girl, and I have to confess that I’m always a little comforted by having my stereotypes reinforced.  When I finally left at 2:00 a.m., I turned the corner only to find Matthew Duvall still chatting away with an old friend, another in an endless parade of fascinating composers, musicians, thinkers, writers, artists and Obies I was to encounter over the next few days.  After having left my own home in Chicago about 20 hours earlier, I finally retired to my room for a four hour nap.  I think Matthew might still be in the bar talking.

The next morning, Emily and Ryan flew on to Minneapolis to prep for The Only Moving Thing at the Walker, while the group and I drove up to Northridge for an acoustic performance that evening.  I was quickly learning the basic formula that has probably existed since the time of Homeric bards with only minor variations: rise early, travel, load in, rehearse, residency activity, rehearse, perform, socialize, drink, sleep, repeat.  The residency activity for CSUN was an open rehearsal and Q&A with a composition class.  eighth blackbird seems particularly well suited to engaging with students.  I don’t know if it’s because they’re still relatively young, that they’ve pioneered their own unique path, or simply their personalities, but they connect with aspiring musicians and composers in a truly remarkable way.  A few stilted, generic questions elicit disarmingly honest answers and soon it’s just a conversation between peers about what composers should expect from their musicians, and vice versa, the realities of life on the road, the mechanics of an effective rehearsal, the process of commissioning, etc.

One of the advantages of late-season bookings of the acoustic program is the group’s familiarity with the rep.  By spring, they’ve performed these pieces a dozen times and perform them with greater confidence and ease.  They play, in the wonderful multiple meanings of the word. There was a good crowd that evening, and the birds soaked up the love and threw it right back.  The highlight of the acoustic program is Stephen Hartke’s Meanwhile, which in addition to being fully memorized and staged, is one of the few pieces unequivocally beloved by all six musicians. Stephen was in the audience that evening, perhaps adding even further incentive to let loose.  This was also right about the time my last blog post was accumulating spirited comments and sparking several other online conversations, so Stephen and I had the chance to discuss our occasionally divergent perspectives in person.  Much like his music, Stephen is beguiling mix of academic intelligence, quirky wit and playfulness.

There was another early flight the next morning, so rather than hang around Northridge, we traveled back to L.A. to stay at a hotel next to the airport.  I had been hearing stories about In-N-Out burgers, so Michael Maccaferri was kind enough to take me to one on his way to pick up a barely used iPad from a local contact (yes, that does sound sketchy).  Mythical burger, fries and shake in hand, grateful for late night HBO, I finally retired to my room for another four hour nap.

On the way to the airport early the next morning, I began questioning my decision to tag along on this particular trip.  We were only halfway done and I was already growing to resent the intrusive quality of daylight.  We flew to Denver, then on to Minneapolis, then drove straight to the Walker for an interview with Fred Childs for the nationally syndicated Performance Today.  The group was exhausted and hungry and it began to show in the interview.  It wasn’t anything anyone else would notice, but like a play you’ve seen enough times to spot subtle differences in an actor’s performance, or more like a family dinner where you’re attuned to the loaded raise of an eyebrow, I could hear the the rough edges of normally smooth replies.  The group then went right into rehearsal for Double Sextet, which they were to perform live with local new music ensemble Zeitgeist.  At 9:00 that evening, they then began a tech run though of the other half of The Only Moving Thing program, singing in the dead of night (by Bang on a Can with choreography by Susan Marshall).

What’s truly remarkable is that once on the stage, all those rough edges instantly disappeared.  All six of the musicians in eighth blackbird are tremendously capable people, whatever they do they do very well, so much so that I sometimes forget that they are, in fact, musicians first and foremost.  There is a strength, grace and playfulness to their collective personality on stage that is magnetic, a presence that draws you in and holds you tight.  Over the course of those few days, I witnessed one quality, which above all others I believe constitutes the essential structure of such presence: an unrelenting work ethic.  They just don’t ever stop.  No section is ever good enough.  There’s always time for one more pass.  The two expressions I may have heard most were, “Stop, I fucked up,” and “Let’s try that one more time.”  And what happens in those few rare hours when they’re not on stage rehearsing together? They go off and practice individually.  This, of course, is the great open secret to success, but to see it in action first hand . . . well, it’s inspiring, and that’s not a word I use lightly.

Like Cinderella at the ball, though, even eighth blackbird gets a few hours to look pretty and kick up their glass slippers.  That night we hooked up with some old Oberlin friends, who are to be found wherever eighth blackbird goes, and some other musicians in town for the 2010 International Marimba Festival.  We drank and talked deep into the night, much of it involving Steve Reich, the one common musical factor.  I had slept about 12 hours over the last four days, but the conversation got my blood pumping, so I decided 1:00 a.m. was the perfect time to really get to know downtown Minneapolis.  And as I’ve learned, every hotel’s overnight staff knows where to find a good late night pizza joint.  I wandered off into an astonishingly active downtown where I quickly learned that Minneapolis’ denizens make up for a long winter’s worth of hiding flesh by exposing as much of it as possible in the few months of warmth.  My stomach and eyes happily sated, I returned to the hotel for another four hour nap.

Technically, we had the morning off, but as it happens, our friend/mentor Tom Morris was in town, and when you have a chance to be in Tom’s presence, you take it.  Tom, Lisa, Matthew and I met for breakfast, talked big hairy audacious goals and stuffed ourselves with eggs, pancakes coffee and ideas.  Then it was back to the Walker for another full day of rehearsals.

eighth blackbird performed that evening.  It went very well.  We love the Walker.  There was an after party.  There were drinks.  Then pie.  At some point we returned to the hotel.  I convinced Matt Albert to venture out into the night again for pizza and sights.  A few hours later we were on another plane, finally returning to Chicago.  I felt a year older.  Which, if my math is right (and it never is), the birds must each feel about 942.

I don’t know about the others, but I like to begin and end journeys with a shower.  In my delirious state, I saw a profound encapsulation of life on the road embedded like a secret code in the shampoo bottle instructions:  ”Rinse. Repeat.”

Coming Next: An Education – Part 2: The Currency of Conversation (A New Music Listening Guide)

I was in eighth blackbird’s studio when  Jennifer Higdon’s concerto came in the mail. I have witnessed this piece’s growth from its infancy to its world premiere in Atlanta with Robert Spano and the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. Jennifer came to the studio for rehearsal and I was surprised at how smart, kind, and genuine she truly is. “On A Wire” is an exceptionally difficult and colorful concerto that features solos from all the members of eighth blackbird. Upon looking at the score for the first time, the only thing I could think was: I have never seen so many notes! The package arrived with Jennifer’s piano bows made of fishing line. From Lisa Kaplan’s first note on prepared piano, I was hooked. The music was hypnotic and the difficulty level couldn’t be higher. After a number of rehearsals, the ensemble started to truly “play” this piece and “On A Wire” was on its way to becoming a masterpiece.

One issue that eighth blackbird had early on was the prepared piano sections. It was then assigned to me to procure/create a piano bow that was easily playable and also produced a lush, full, and vibrant sound. After many hours of fiddling with many materials including weed-wacker thread and orange flagging tape, I had a couple of solutions that I presented to the blackbirds. We decided the best sound and most playable was a “bow” made from interwoven synthetic bow hair. Jennifer came to the studio just after receiving her Pulitzer Prize and Grammy and the bow debacle was discussed. She was very intuitive and was adamant about the sound she wanted (as a Pulitzer Prize winning composer should be). Drawing extended techniques from a previous piece that Higdon composed for eighth blackbird, “Zaka,” she employed a large array of extended techniques. Some of these techniques are amazingly colorful when the entire sextet is doing them simultaneously. From using a guitar pick inside the piano and muted piano harmonics to Tim Munro’s very loud and definitive tongue ram on flute, this piece has everything a listener can ask for.

The ensemble took all of her words of criticism to heart and began to rehearse with a new energy. This piece was on the way to becoming a living and breathing thing except something was missing…..the orchestra. The ensemble had been listening to the MIDI recording of the piece since its arrival but I had not heard it and was unaware of how it would really sound. I know this concerto very well but I only know the sextet’s concerto, not the sextet + orchestra concerto, BIG DIFFERENCE.

When I heard that the ensemble planned on memorizing this piece, I wasn’t surprised. I have no idea how much each player practiced but with a piece of this size and difficulty, it must have been a true challenge and commitment. One of eighth blackbird’s signatures is performing new music from memory and true to their word, they did.

One “fear” everyone had expressed is they had no idea what “On A Wire” would actually sound like with the orchestra. A common discussion during rehearsal was how to blend and perform with the orchestra while still being heard and remaining musical. Blackbird would rehearse sections repeatedly with small (but important) changes each time and discuss what sound would be best. Sitting in front of the ensemble with the score in hand, I have heard this piece performed a thousand different ways. I can say that eighth blackbird has a truly great taste for making the music shine as well as themselves. They can add the right color and energy to a small section that can make the piece go from good to great. The week before leaving for Robert Spano and the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra was full of nervous excitement and the ensemble couldn’t wait any longer. The nervous smiles on all of their faces led me to believe that the premiere of this concerto was going to be amazing and truly special.

So with all this context established, let’s talk about the premiere. Wow. I was a ball of nerves leading up to Lisa’s very first bowed note and when she started, a huge sigh of relief rushed over me. When the orchestra entered for the first time my face was frozen and my jaw was on the floor. Jennifer truly outdid herself and lived up to her recent Grammy and Pulitzer Prize. Watching eighth blackbird’s faces of frustration from early rehearsals to seeing them smile and adding a jovial wink during the performance showed that this piece had truly come to fruition. The audience was enthralled and captivated and nearing the end of the piece, I heard the sextet’s ending section and braced myself for a roaring finale. Needless to say, standing ovation.

“On A Wire” has been a journey of true musicianship and dedication. Who knows what this piece will be like with the next orchestra…and the next….and the next…

-Brian Malnassy

It’s a beautifully sunny day in downtown Los Angeles.  The birds are singing, a cool breeze blows through my window as I sip my morning coffee (Peet’s, to be sure) and gaze out from the penthouse guest suites at the Colburn School at the resplendent Disney Concert Hall. In a few minutes, I’ll head down to the seemingly unlimited supply of acoustically pure practice rooms (open 24 hours a day!) to do my warm-ups and some memory work on the Adès and Hartke in preparation for our show in La Jolla tomorrow. On the way I might pick up a healthy snack at the Colburn Café which is a far cry from any campus dining hall I’ve ever been to.  A great selection from carb-conscious nibbles to indulgent sweets.

This state of the art facility is home to 110 or so of today’s brightest upcoming young performers who have come to hone their skill, expand their range and hopefully open their minds to consider new and different ways of expression.  For the next week, 8bb will make our home here as we collaborate and cross-pollinate with several of the top students here.  On Sunday April 26 at 3pm we will present a program where we’ve split the group down the middle and filled in the gaps with young players to perform Stephen Hartke’s Meanwhile, the seminal Pierrot Lunaire of Arnold Schoenberg starring the inimitable Lucy Shelton, and Steve Reich’s Double Sextet.

Yesterday we held our second rehearsal for Meanwhile which is getting some extra attention this week since we’ve asked the students to memorize the score and learn our choreography for the piece.  The group as it appears below in the gorgeous Olive St. rehearsal room is 50% Aussie and 50% American.  Tim now has a chance to speak his native tongue in rehearsals, excusing himself to the dunny, correcting someone’s unevenly executed, semi-quavers and planning for a bloody bonzer arvo trip to Amoeba Records.

Did I mention the students are good?  Bloody good. Well prepared, musically sensitive and all around fun folks.  I’m sure more documents of this exciting project will come out over the next week so keep a look-out.  I’ve got to get to the practice room!

Sorry, Mr. Superintendent.

Thanks to Annie, the other faculty, and the extremely enthusiastic students of the UW music department — you really made us feel appreciated and welcome. And you provided Michael with the opportunity for yet another brilliant one-liner in a master class, which I think might be his new specialty. Told to an undergraduate clarinetist whose breath support he found less than ideal:

“You just opened up your mouth and some air fell in.”

While at O’Hare this morning, a curiously typical financial transaction occurred.

[Nick throws a dollar bill in my lap]

Michael: “What’s this for?”
Nick: “You gave me a dollar for the vending machine last night.”
Michael: “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

[Michael hands the dollar bill to Tim]

Tim: “What’s this for?”
Michael: “I owe you some money for the cab driver’s tip.”
Tim: “Oh whatever.  No big deal.”

[Tim hands the dollar bill to Nick]

Nick: “Why are you giving this to me?”
Tim: “I owed you change from dinner in Kennesaw.”

[Nick puts the dollar back in his wallet]

Oh, and if anyone knows the wonderful woman who coined the title phrase, please let me know — I’d love to give her proper attribution.

There was one particularly unspectacular point in the evening. During one of the climactically crashing tutti entrances in the Wolfe, rather than enter with a perfectly in-tune A-C# double stop as was my intention, I decided it would be a great time to drop my bow. I was so flustered that I couldn’t remember any of the rest of the passage and it took me about 90 seconds to snap back into it. (Sidenote: I missed giving Tim a cue during that time, and he didn’t talk to me after the concert, I wonder if those two facts are related….) Anyway, the saddest part about all of this is that I was able to utilize a skill that I’d perfectly honed in the past, namely, the ability to catch my bow in mid-air right after dropping it, because I’VE DONE THIS BEFORE. From the eighth blackbird archives, I give you this tidbit from Norfolk 2001:

Click here to view the embedded video.

When in doubt, bend your knees and play louder….

Last week we (well, most of us (Lisa was traipsing around the country playing Varese. Always a good thing to do with your time off)) were home in Chicago, where we rehearsed, voted, answered emails, ate/slept/showered, crammed a couple month’s worth of social life into eight days — basically we did everything except perform. That was the first week since September without a performance, and unusually for us, those previous four weeks featured four different programs. Our first week was spent in Chicago at the beginning of October, during which we prepared a program of Benjamin, Boulez, Messiaen, Ptaszynska, Levinson, and Takemitsu for University of Chicago Presents’ Messiaen Festival. Second week was in Richmond, preparing for and recording a disc of works by Benjamin Broening, one of our colleagues on faculty at the University of Richmond. Week three was spent going to and from Australia to play The Only Moving Thing, and week four we played our new program Meanwhile (works of Adès, Agócs, DeSantis, Donatoni, Etezady, Hartke, and Rzewski) in Arizona and Colorado. Then last week was off (see first sentence of this paragraph), so that makes this current week number six, and we’re back in Richmond preparing for the Third Practice Festival, where we’ll perform together and separately in works by Balter, Broening (a repeat from week two!), Chandler, Hird, Maltis, Mok, Saariaho, Stebbins, and Tulev (a world premiere) . Next week (seven), we go to Oberlin and New York to do our American Mavericks program for the first time (repeat Reich from week three and Rzewski from four, but collaborate with live musicians (current Oberlin students) on the Reich Double Sextet for the first time and add a world premiere by Rzewski to the mix), and then travel to Vermont to do Meanwhile. The following week (eight, if you’re still keeping count) we go back home to do our first Harris program of the season, our collaboration with Glenn Kotche (in addition to his music, we’re playing Rzewski (again!) and Andriessen (first time!)), and then we fly to Europe to play The Only Moving Thing in Liverpool and Rotterdam.

And then, believe it or not, we’re taking off the week of Thanksgiving.

So that’s seven different programs in eight weeks: Messiaen festival, Broening disc, The Only Moving Thing, Meanwhile, Third Practice, American Mavericks, and Kotche. Yes, there’s some overlap, but you get the idea. Don’t get me wrong, we LOVE being busy and playing concerts, but we’ve never had to do this many different concerts in such a short period before. It’s definitely not as easy as it used to be, with the travel and logistics not seeming to get any easier the more years (working on thirteen of those, BTW) we’ve spent on the road. On the other hand, that’s a lot of cities and schools that want to present us, and people all over the world who want to come to those concerts. Much of this rep is among the best that we’ve ever played: I’m particularly fond of the Adès, Hartke, Benjamin, and Andriessen. Doing a tour in which you get to play with a younger generation of students from your alma mater on one program and a member of Wilco on another isn’t too shabby. And if you’ve gotta fly thousands of miles, Australia and Europe are pretty cool destinations, after all.

So forgive us if we’re not blogging too much. There’s lots going on, and we’re trying to give great performances everywhere we go. We promise we’ll tell you all about them. Later.

Oh, and yeah: we’re all now premier members of United’s Mileage Plus program. Booyah.

(Nick adds: even the cello is a premier member. Yeah, you heard right.)