posted on Tuesday, June 28th, 2011
 Well hello there! And welcome back to a current blog post!
As those of you who have stumbled upon this blog occasionally in the past know well, whenever I’ve let a really long stretch of time go by in-between posts I usually start off with some sort of awkward apology for my lack of dedication to throwing words aimlessly into the void (you know, “blogging”).
Not so this time! There’s been much afoot in the last few months — and much . . . um . . . “footing” (?) on the horizon — so I’ll just get right down to updates:
First, as some of you know, I’ve finally finished school (hence the pic, above, with me in the funny hat). This means I’m now officially a doctor — which is to say “doctor” as in PhD, as in doctor in a non-pharmaceutical sense (and I think we all know this is ultimately for the best, no?).
In any case, the upshot of this for you, as a flamenco blog/Ravenna Flamenco reader, is that now, instead of being permanently buried in the post-post-modern ramifications of twenty-first century technoculture and global economy, I can go back to obsessing over music — and getting back to work on the dozen or so article ideas I’ve been “to-do” listing since January.
Though let’s be clear: I have done more in the last six months than just finish the 29th grade. Anyone remember the zombie movie I was in from last October? I recently went into the studio to record some tracks for production:
.
 .
The recording date: Friday, the 13th of May. I was a tad concerned about this detail at first, but Kevin (Traywick, the director) promptly reminded me that it is a zombie film.
And as it turned out, the only bizarre/macabre/unholy detail of the session was that the recording engineer, Charlie, looks startlingly like a younger version my dissertation director, Brian Reed (or what I imagine Brian Reed would look like if he had hair):
.
.
Fortunately for all involved, Charlie is as generally awesome as Brian, so I expect this will all ultimately turn out well. Perhaps I’ll post some audio of that session (and additional details) in a future entry (I’ll need to check that out with the director first, I suppose).
Otherwise, I’ve been taking advantage in this little lull between the end of school and the beginning of . . . whatever-comes-after-that . . . to reconnect with my playing. As I negotiated a decidedly vertiginous winter these last six months and got closer to finishing and eventually defending my dissertation, my daily playing had dropped off considerably.
This little lacuna is something I’m not honestly all that worried about, though. In what amounts to 22 years of playing guitar — with the last ten of those focused primarily on flamenco — there have certainly been ups and downs, periods of intense activity and periods of searching for a new spark. This strikes me as natural. As I may have mentioned in the past, I don’t think of music, much less flamenco, as something to “get,” but rather as something to “pursue.” And I suppose the pursuit is where I find the intrigue in all this.
Well, stay tuned: there is surely more intrigue to follow.
And until then: You! Go play! It’s good for you!
(I’m a doctor; I know these things.)
~A
posted on Thursday, December 23rd, 2010
My, but isn’t that an ominous title for a blog post, no? Alas, I have many ominous things to share: some of them ominously good, some totally WTF. So settle in — this could get lengthy. (Alternate blog post title: “The Post of the Apocalypse.” Read on. )
Fiesta Navideña 2010
 2010, now in its waning days, marks my third year with La Peña Flamenca de Seattle. It also marks my last. Yep: this was my last show. Now calm down: there was nothing ominous in my decision to step down — no on-stage deaths by tiger-mauling or binding extradition orders back to Singapore (I swear I don’t know how that baboon got in my carry-on!).
Nope, nothing sinister: I simply decided, after long consideration, that I want to spend more time honing the nuance of my playing, working on more delicate questions of melody and tone than playing for dancers allows.
I had chatted with Rubina, the peña’s artistic director, several months before the show so that she knew where I was at and so that there wouldn’t be any unpleasant surprises on that count. As I expected, she was very gracious and understanding and respected my decision entirely. (In case I haven’t mentioned it enough, Rubina is a paragon of good leadership — our community is incredibly lucky to have both her and Marcos.)
As for the show itself, I couldn’t have asked for a better one with which to end. There were of course the sundry technical problems (this was “The Year of the Recalcitrant Monitor,” evidently), but even these were no match for the enthusiasm of our dancers and singers and of my fellow musicians. And I don’t think any of this went unnoticed by the audience — if they were nonplussed by anything we did, you certainly wouldn’t have known it from the applause.
But enough with the words. Let’s have some pics. (Many thanks to Bernard del Valle for sharing these!):
    
And of Course, Every Good Show Needs a Good Juerga
If the show was excellent (and it was), then the only thing that could possible follow it would be an excellent after-party. Fortunately for us, this is exactly what happened. We used to have our after-parties at the College Inn, near the theater where we perform. I happen to like the College Inn (it is the very definition of dank), but many of my peña coevals are decidedly not of the same opinion (cf. earlier note on “dankness”).
As a result, a few shows ago, various cast members started hosting after-parties in their homes. This has turned out, in general, to be a brilliant idea. This year’s party, for instance, was hosted by singer Stephanie Hughes and it was absolutely perfect. Food, wine, good people, and a great, warm space for digging back into the flamenco groove “after hours,” as it were.
Again, I suspect some pictures are called for (these thanks to Andrea del Valle):
 Markus Kolb, warming up the festivities. .
 Janette, Marcos & Rubina Carmona (playing cajon & singing, respectively), & Madeleine Sosin. .
 Markus playing for Rubina; yours truly, rocking the palmas. .
 Marcos giving us a much-needed bout of buleria. .
The pictures tell a good part of the story here, but not quite all. After everyone had begun to get sufficiently fed and wined, Markus brought out his guitar and gave us all a bit of buleria for starters. Rubina soon joined in with cante, Marcos filling out the mix on cajón. Another five or six of us made up an impromptu palmas section. Rubina and Stephanie traded coplas, and we all reveled in a bit of bulerias, some tangos, and some alegrias.
After a few songs, Markus passed the guitar to Marcos, who played some solo guitar and then fired up some additional accompaniment for Rubina’s cante. Watching Marcos and Markus accompany cante gives a whole new appreciation of the subtlety and communication that goes into playing for a singer — definitely one of the things that makes evenings like these so memorable.
As Marcos passed the guitar back to Markus, a first round of revelers had started to make their way out the door. Markus passed the guitar on to me (it’s a guitar he built himself, by the way — and it’s beautiful). As people were filing out and bidding their adieus I started playing around with a bit of tangos, a bit of guajira. Markus gave me some rhythm on cajón, but I was really just playing for myself, noodling, not really playing.
Markus kept after me on the cajón, though, and as the exit ruckus started to die down, I wandered my way into a buleria. At first, the folks that were still around kept talking, carrying on as party-goers do. But as I kept playing the room started to get quiet. Palmas started in. Mine wasn’t a beautiful buleria, or even especially well played, but I was now actually playing it and my flamenco peers noticed and tuned in. I finished out the song, as far as I could take it, and passed the guitar back to Markus. I think there might even have been an “olé” from Marcos.
It was an excellent finish.
.
Meanwhile, back at the farm . . .
And here’s where things turn WTF. I hesitate to share this here, in this space, publicly, as it were. But there is something about this pursuit, of searching for meaning, for something true, in music, in art, that resists subterfuge, demands to be expressed. There is more to playing and being than the notes and the rests. To actually play music — not just notes — one must feel.
I’ve been doing a lot of feeling, lately:
Meanwhile, back at the farm . . . it turns out that my wife has, on short notice — and for reasons I won’t pretend to fully understand — decided that she’s had enough of marriage. And has walked out.
No kidding. Not making that up. Would that I were.
I’ll spare you the details — and really don’t care to spend much time on it (not why you come to Toque, I’m sure) — but suffice it to say that I’ve known greater depths of betrayal in the last few weeks than I had ever imagined possible before.
So what does this have to do with music? Well, for starters, one develops a whole new appreciation for soleá. And petenera.
But one also develops an appreciation for music in general, for art. One begins to fully appreciate that words, at a point — and much sooner than one would have hoped — become insufficient to express pain. To express loss. To express betrayal.
As many of you know (or might guess), I live by words. But I find now, time and again, that words come up short. Are insufficient. I can hate, sure, but anger is a hatchet, a crude tool for dirty work.
To really feel, to own, the pain of real deceit, one seeks a finer instrument, to tease out the raw ends of injury and know their breadth and depth. I don’t know how else to live. One could close down, shut out the world, turn to stone, but this is surely not living.
And I have yet some living to do.
.
So.
Where do you go from there? I, for one, have plans. I may have bid my fond farewells to Peña, but I’m nowhere near turning away from music. And I still have plans a-plenty for Ravenna Flamenco — as well as some new ideas for SeattleFlamenco.org and for my performance page.
I’ll keep you abreast of all of these goings-on here, of course.
Now. You. Dammit, go play. My scotch glass is empty, and, by god, I’m going to go refill it.
~A
posted on Monday, November 1st, 2010
Ho boy! Have I been bad about site and blog updates. I know it — and I feel the guilt pangs over it nightly — but have I ever got a good excuse for my web-negligence this time around: I’m in a movie!
 Shooting on the Manchego! set. Well, a short film, anyway — but it will be a brilliant and post-apocalyptically hilarious one all the same. It’s called Manchego! and it’s a zombie romance. And I play — you guessed it — a zombie flamenco guitar player.
Brief synopsis: The film is set in the aftermath of the zombie apocalypse (i.e. next Tuesday) and starts off with zombie wrangler Rigby Dangler heading out to catch the most notorious zombie of the land: Manchego.
Manchego is a special prize because of his peculiarity: he doesn’t go after brains (as we all know that good zombies do); he goes after hearts — lady hearts.
And Rigby Dangler has brought his lovelorn wife along . . . as bait.
I think we can all see where this is going — it is a zombie romance, after all. But let’s get to the important stuff: Manchego works his zombie-seduction magic with the help of an accomplice: his cousin, Valdeon — who is played by yours truly.
“Valdeon,” FYI, is a kind of Spanish blue cheese. Hence, a blue zombie:
Here’s a still from the actual film footage:
As you’ve probably noticed, I’m playing here with a heavy layer of blue on my hands. This is a good argument for having a second, “travel” guitar that you don’t mind getting a bit mussed (or blued) up.
What you don’t see from this shot is that it was also brutally cold out — and raining about half the time. In addition to another reason for an “abusable” guitar, this is an excellent reason for what Carter is holding in his right hand below: hand warmers!
 Patti (Kate Kraay), Manchego (Carter Rodriquez) & Valdeon (Andy Fitzgerald) I eventually got my mitts on two of these chemical “Instant Hot” hand warmers and they became my best friends on the set between shots. The next time I play somewhere chilly — or somewhere where I’m going to need to sit around in the cold a lot between playing — I’m definitely bringing some of these along (in addition to the infamous fingerless gloves, of course).
The actual filming, of course, was only a fraction of what was involved with this project. There was also a lot of arranging, setting, and choreographing prior to the shoot. There is a section in the film where Patti and Manchego do a flamenco dance and all of this had to be prepared, blocked out, and rehearsed.
Patti (Kate Kraay) had danced some flamenco before, but Manchego (Carter Rodriguez) was completely new to it. This posed a bit of a challenge in getting the dance to look “right” — preferably without spending hours and hours and hours on the choreography.
The music I could take care of (I suggested — and was taken up on — a minor key sevillanas), but working out the dance was a job for reinforcements — in this case dancer Daniela Serrano (with whom I’ve had the pleasure to work with a number of times in the past):
 Dani & Andy As you might imagine, working with people who are new to — but need to look good at — flamenco dance adds a whole new element to accompaniment. Here, even more than in working with experienced dancers, a strong, clear, regular rhythm was perhaps the most important (and helpful) thing I could provide. My sevillana playing style is a bit more modern than the most basic examples of the form, but even this was able to work as long as my time was spot on.
I also found that it was helpful for the actors/dancers to be able to explain to them the structure of the sevillana as well as explain where the beats fall and where their cues are. One doesn’t necessarily need this information to play the music well, but knowing why you’re doing what you’re doing when you do it — and being able to explain that to others — definitely opens up the possibility of what one can do with the flamenco guitar.
And now here’s a completely unrelated picture of me fanning my hands with abandon. This is evidently what I do when I’ve been painted blue:
Now you: put away the body paint and go play!
~A
posted on Sunday, September 26th, 2010
 Andy, at practice. If you think at all like me, you’re probably interested in making the most of your practice time, i.e. making sure that the time you have to spend playing guitar actually goes to making you better at playing. Different goals call for different practice strategies, of course — maybe you want to write new tunes, or learn new songs. At a certain point, however — the point at which I find myself at the moment, in fact — one just wants to learn to play better, to polish.
So what’s the best way to accomplish this? I won’t venture to say that I have the answer (or even that a million other people before me haven’t already thought of what I’m going to tell you), but what I do know is that just sitting down and running through my repertoire at each session didn’t feel like a good use of time.
But let me set the stage a bit: I recently played a two hour reception gig for the Sherry Council of America. I had put together a program of 20 pieces of music. Some of these a can play with my eyes closed and half asleep. Others are a major challenge to get out expressively and in time (and without any major train wrecks). And then there’s all the stuff in the middle: things I play well, but that I don’t want to back-burner for so long that they start getting messy.
My “default” mode of practicing had been (i.e. prior to the Sherry Council gig) to play through everything and just spend more time on the difficult stuff. This turned out to be a lot of music, though, so I split it into two parts (as I would do for the performance): I practiced one half of my repertoire one day, the other half the next.
This too, however, meant that I was playing every song two or three times a week. What I needed was to be playing my easy material enough for maintenance and my difficult repertoire much more often.
This seemed easy enough in theory, but when I tried to just “wing it,” I found that the results were less than satisfactory. My difficult repertoire wasn’t getting hit the way it needed to and I was running out of time (and steam) before I made sure that I had the easy stuff run through at a bare minimum. And the temptation to noodle around with “less important” stuff ran high (e.g. “I wonder ‘Smoke on the Water’ por buleria would sound like?”).
So I did what I usually do in situations like this: I applied some nerdery. Here’s what I came up with:
- I made a list of my entire repertoire and ranked it from easiest to most difficult (or in need of most work).
- I figured out how many hours I had per week after drills and stretching. I generally practice two hours a day M-F and spend the first half hour on drills and stretching, so this works out to 7.5 hours on repertoire, or 450 minutes per week.
- I decided that for any given song, ten minutes would give me the time to run through it entirely, and then pick out one or two trouble spots and spend a few minutes polishing them up. If I work in ten minute blocks, that means that, in a given week, I have 45 “song blocks” that I can allocate according to how much work a piece needs.
- Now back to the song ranking: the easiest four songs I only need to play once a week. The next easiest group of songs (nine of them) I feel comfortable playing only twice a week. For the more difficult material (in my case, five pieces), three repetitions a week lets me keep them up and smooth out any rough spots that come up. And finally, my two most difficult pieces I want to play at least four times a week.
- The last step is to plug song titles into a weekly calendar (I just use a table in MS Word) with the appropriate number of repetitions.
Thus nerdified, my practice schedule looks like this:
My Granainas, for instance, I’m pretty comfortable with. So I only play it once a week. The same goes for both of my Sevillanas sets and my Petenera. My Soleá on CI, however, is a beast — so I hit it four times a week. Likewise my Alegria por médio. Everything else falls, according to ranking, somewhere in-between. I vary the order of songs by day so that I’m not always playing them in the same series, or always first or last.
This might seem like a lot of organizational work — perhaps even work that could be better spent playing. In the couple months that I’ve been using this kind of schedule, however, I’ve noticed a couple things:
First, I never have to rack my brain for what to play next — or think if there’s anything that I haven’t played in too long. Each day is laid out: when I’m playing, I can just think about playing well, not about the logistics of practice.
Second, it seems to eliminate (or at least minimize) the problem of diminishing returns: i.e. that the longer you puzzle over a problem passage in a single sitting, the less relative progress you make. Though I won’t offer this as a universal principle, I do find that it applies in music — and it’s also good training: when you perform, you want to get your music right the first time, not after five or six attempts.
This scheme might look to be dangerously inflexible. What if, for instance, you need more time on a particular piece? (I.e. more than ten minutes.) Well, you’re getting more than ten minutes — if you take into account your total practice time over the week. Ten minute blocks (for me, anyway) allow me to work through kinks and also help keep me focused: if I know I only have five or six minutes left to work out a tricky passage, I will use that time well (instead of dinking around with less important sections).
Other schemas will, of course, be more appropriate for different goals (like composing, or learning technique basics). If you feel like you’re having a hard time getting your head (and hands) around polishing music you already know, though, this might well be worth a shot.
And now, nerdily (nerdaciously? nerdiferously?) or not: You! Go play!
~A
posted on Wednesday, September 8th, 2010
 Hel-looooo! Has it been six months (and change) already? (That’s an honest question — my math skills are iffy . . . . ) Well, if it has, I declare it high-time this hiatus be over!
Before you ask, no, I haven’t finished my doctorate yet (see previous post for details). I have, however, finished a complete draft of my dissertation and, while I still have revisions (and an eventual dissertation defense) to tackle, I’m okay with classifying this as enough of a hurdle passed to get back to Ravenna Flamenco.
But enough about degrees — let’s talk about music! As I mentioned in my previous post, while I had stepped down from playing dance classes and from full involvement in La Peña Flamenca, my goal was to keep up my repertoire and to stay open to playing any really interesting opportunities that might come up over the summer.
So, as a way of getting back into the swing of things, here’s a brief rundown of some of the more eventful musical pursuits of my summer.
La Peña Flamenca de Seattle
The peña summer show was one of the “maybes” on my list of doctoral hiatus time sacrifices. Obviously the “maybe” evolved into a “yes.” It went well, playing-wise; I always feel better about (and have more fun at) a show when I’ve been assiduous about rehearsals, but — thanks in no small part to the acumen of my fellow peña guitarist, Markus — I was able to get through the show with no catastrophic stumbles.
I can’t say as much, however, for the house sound-system. The theater was warm. This wasn’t the warmest summer we’ve ever had here in Seattle (and hardly “warm” at all by the standards of most of the country), but it was, clearly, too warm for the PA. About half-way through the show it started to “warble.” I don’t know how else to describe it: the sound sort of peaked and then dropped off, rhythmically. It did this for about a minute or so before someone in the sound booth killed the master volume.
The effect on stage was a bit surreal (in all senses of the word). This sonic oddity was actually in compás for a moment, which made the whole thing fleetingly transcendental. Of course, it quickly fell out of compás (there’s only so much one can expect out of an overheating sound board), at which point we just shrugged and played through it.
The sound did eventually come back on and behave, but between warble and recovery there was about five minutes of no sound support at all — just guitars, cante, and dancers. This was actually pretty cool. The theater seats 150+, so I don’t know how well people were able to hear, but the change in atmosphere was palpable — in a good way.
Christine & Jared Janowiak’s Wedding
For this gig I used my own sound system — which behaved like a proper, civilized amplifier. And that was a good thing: Coconut and Jared’s ceremony was ridiculously beautiful — warbling would definitely not have fit in.
This was the fourth or fifth wedding I’ve played — and the first for which I’ve played flamenco for close friends. I feel like I’m getting to the point with most events where I don’t really stress out about the music. With weddings, however, there is one exception: the processional.
Now I know everyone is looking at the bride, but there’s nothing else to listen to but the music. There’s something about that “she’ll-only-walk-down-the-aisle-once-in-her-life” moment that makes me feel like if I were to mess up the music, it would be a personal affront to morality, humanity, and the universe as a whole.
My solution to this is to suggest ridiculously easy selections for the processional — something along the lines of “How would you like a quarter note arpeggiation of Dsus2add6add11?* I think that would be beautiful!” I haven’t had any takers on that yet, but I did manage to get away with accompanying Coconut down the aisle with an alegrias escobilla (which I believe I actually have played in my sleep (and which, IMHO, sounded great)).
That said, I don’t mind also saying that I also took advantage of their kick-ass location for some photo ops:
Look! I can be “cleaned up”! (It’s amazing what a tie can do — and who it can fool into thinking I don’t spend most of my time sitting at a keyboard in flannel pants.) In any case, the wedding was good fun and it was particularly nice to be involved in such good friends’ “big day” in an expressive way.
The International Food Blogger’s Convention
This gig came my way via a colleague referral (which was great) and what seemed like at least a half-dozen other “agents” and intermediaries (which was . . . odd . . . more on this in a later post). The gig itself was for the Sherry Council of America (!!), who hired me to play for a two-hour wine tasting & tapas reception.
In other “to-be-covered-in-later-posts” topics, I’ll definitely give some attention to preparing two hours worth of solo flamenco guitar music. This was the first time I had played a stretch that long without dancers, singers, or other accompanists. It turned out well — everyone (including she who paid the bills) was happy with the music — but preparing the program definitely called for a different approach than preparing for other kinds of gigs.
There were a couple things, however, that did catch me off guard. One was the number of times I had my picture taken. I suppose I should have figured there would be a lot of cameras there (these are food bloggers, after all — hundreds of them — and they photo and note documented the hell out of everything) but I don’t think I’ve been photographed that much since my wedding (and I’m pretty sure that was only because I was standing next to the pretty lady in the white dress).
 Nemesis The other surprise was a general and widespread lack of spatial awareness among the attendees. For the most part, this wasn’t a problem, but there was one particular trio — led by a woman that looked exactly like Courtney Cox — who, despite the fact that they didn’t seem to be listening to the music (at least not in a way that did anything to impinge on their very lively conversation) set themselves on a glacial-speed impact trajectory toward yours truly.
I noticed the approach when they were still a comfortable distance away. I also noticed the vector. Courtney was steering a collision course, a Titanic to my iceberg. Of course, I figured that no sane human being (or even blogger) would actually meander into me while I was playing.
Wrong. Mid-farruca, very slowly and very obliviously, in comes Courtney with a nudge to my headstock, just forceful enough to throw off my rhythm. I actually had to point out the fact that she was leaning into my guitar (does Courtney have some sort of nerve damage to her backside that prevents her from telling when she is leaning on things/people?). She was apologetic, which was nice, but I did have to explain that it’s easier for me to do my job when folks aren’t leaning up against me. She was shocked.
I eventually convinced Courtney & Co. that farther into the room would be a better place to stand (i.e. better than standing on my toes). Perhaps next time I can bring some traffic cones. Or one of those little kiddie-fences (do they make those in an “electrified” version?).
Anyway, Moving On . . . .
Now that I’m “back,” I’ve been giving some thought to what’s up next for Ravenna Flamenco. The blog, of course, demands more catching up. I’ve also promised a Facebook follower that I would finally finish the Soleá dance accompaniment article (I should finish this whole series, in fact — such a slacker I am!). And of course I’ve picked up a lot of new music that’s just begging to be tabbed out.
Otherwise, I’ve got a few big changes coming down the proverbial “pike” — and if all goes well, you’ll see these sooner rather than later.
In the mean time (as always): go play!
~A
* Dsus2add6add11 = all open strings
posted on Sunday, February 28th, 2010
 One of the more frequent comments I get from people who write to me here at Ravenna Flamenco goes along the lines of, “Oh, how I wish I had more time to play guitar.” Believe me–this is one lament I couldn’t empathize with more.
Granted, for most of us, finding “practice time” comes down to a question of priorities. How much time do we spend watching TV? (a worthless pursuit–we all know it)–or sleeping? (c’mon, people–that’s what espresso is for!).
I don’t mean to suggest that eking and extra hour or two out of the day to play guitar is easy. But it is often possible. Sometimes, however, the “priorities” question can be sticky. This is the situation in which I find myself now.
As some of you know, in addition to playing guitar, I’m also a PhD student in English Language and Literature. On the surface, I know this sounds like all fun and games (humor me here), but amidst all the hang gliding and hot-tub parties there is a point where pen must hit paper in a serious way: this is called the doctoral dissertation . . . and at present I’m right smack in the middle of it.
And what does one do in such a position, when the number of hours that need to be spent writing exceed the number of hours available in the day? Enter prioritization. Now I know what you’re probably thinking: “So you’re saying you’re going to stop playing guitar while you write your dissertation?” Well hold on–this would make me a crazy person, no? Of the many things I am, “crazy” is not one (at least I don’t think so . . . ).
Since, however, I’m already exceeding the recommended daily dosage of caffeine for humans (by a factor of roughly twelve), I must identify some other place to free up time. As I did for my PhD qualifying exams (in Oct. 08), one source of freeing up practice time will come in the form of taking a hiatus from actively adding to Ravenna Flamenco for a while. As you may have noticed (and as was the case just before that earlier leave of absence), there’s been a flurry of activity around here the last month or two: new articles, new video posts, a new metronome website, new blog entries. (Think of this as an appeasement to you all in advance for my pending scarcity.)
Of course, just scaling back my web-writing doesn’t yield quite the diss writing time I need. And here’s where the priorities really get prickly: I’ve also decided to temporarily withdraw from playing for flamenco dance classes and for La Peña Flamenca de Seattle. This last withdrawal was probably the most difficult to make, but it ultimately came down to this question: do I want continue playing for a group and just “get by,” or is it better to spend my limited time honing my skills at my own pace, and then move back into wider pursuits when it better suits my art?
Put like this, the decision got a lot easier: after all, I got into flamenco to begin with for my own personal fulfillment. Playing for others (or for money) has been a bonus, but that has never changed my original motivation. I am, of course, all in favor of being a “working artist,” but–for me at least–that has to happen on my own terms (after all, if it doesn’t, then I’m just “working,” no?).
Which isn’t to say that I won’t continue to “work” when it suits me over the summer. I may play the odd wedding. There’s also been talk of–if the writing proceeds apace–coming back for part of the Peña show in June. The most important thing for me, however, is that even with this unholy amount of writing yet to do, I’m still building time into my days to play guitar in the way that best suits me as a musician.
This said, I know from my last hiatus that you likely still have a couple of questions:
- “Will you actually come back to Ravenna Flamenco, or is this a sneaky way of throwing in the website towel?”
Well, my crystal ball is in the shop at the moment, but I don’t mind pointing out that I’ve taken just such a break before and got right back at it when my latest hurdle to über nerd-dom had been cleared.
- “What sort of stuff are you planning on doing with Ravenna Flamenco when you get back?”
Good question! Some of this will have to do with you all. Over the last month or two I’ve been focusing mostly on making the metronomes more accessible. When I get back I would like to spend more time developing guitar tabs. I’m also thinking about putting up a discussion forum, or maybe hosting a public Ravenna Flamenco “Wave.” And there are of course a couple dozen article ideas kicking around in my head. But this is where you all come in: What do you want to see more of on Ravenna Flamenco? Let me know–either in a comment on the site, or in response to this blog post (which would conveniently keep the suggestions all in one place).
- “So,” you ask, in an offhand sort of way, “what’s your dissertation about, anyway?”
Here I must demur. You really don’t want to know. It’s nerdy. If you must press, look at my University of Washington website–but don’t come complaining back to me saying that you weren’t properly warned!
And there you have it. I shall write to you all again sometime next fall (whereupon, if you wish, you can call me “Doctor Andy”–though keep in mind that no amount of kind words will get you complimentary prescriptions for anything fun from me–alas, I’m not going to be that kind of doctor).
And now: You! Go play!
I’m going to go write . . . then play . . . and then write some more . . . .
~A
posted on Tuesday, February 16th, 2010
 I suspect that many of you think that I don’t listen to your comments and suggestions, that I just putter along in my utter obliviousness over here behind my keyboard. Boy have I got news for you! In response to an overwhelming number of requests, I’ve decided to make the flamenco metronomes here on Ravenna Flamenco downloadable.
As we all know, there are already a number of free-standing and PC/Mac software-based flamenco-specific metronomes. And, of course, the Solo Compás CD series is an excellent resource for audio compás accompaniment. It strikes me, however, that a growing number of people have personal media players (iPods, Zunes, smartphones, etc) and that with a bit of effort these could be made into quite serviceable (and uber-portable) flamenco compás metronomes. This, in any case, is the niche FlamencoMetronome.com seeks to fill.
Don’t have a clue what I’m talking about? Here, check this out:
Hopefully that makes a bit more sense (though take note, the mustache is still in beta testing–we here at andy-labs aren’t sure if that project is going to make it . . . ).
Anyway, for the full skinny, head over to www.FlamencoMetronome.com and check things out: download a metronome, leave a comment (I’d love to hear what you think), “fan” me on Facebook (should you feel so inclined). There’s also a YouTube channel and a Twitter feed (for those web-nerds among us that just don’t know when to stop networking).
This tool isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, I know, but if it’s useful to you, have at it. Flamenco compás can be tricky (especially if you don’t have access to a good teacher or a supportive community); sometimes it’s the little things that can make a bit difference.
Anyway, there you are. Update concluded. Now go play!
~A
posted on Tuesday, December 22nd, 2009
 You have perhaps heard the rumors.
The subterranean mumblings, hoarse whispers from dark corners.
A flash impression! Now here–now gone.
And all the while, the wheels keep turning–could it be? Dare you believe?
Yes, dear reader–dare: it’s true! All true! After the Snowpocalypse of 2009 . . . La Peña Flamenca de Seattle . . . has returned! For another winter show!!
And–actually–it was a lot of fun! But, unfortunately, I don’t have any pics or videos yet. Sorry.
Instead of a long ramble, however, about this that and the other thing (as is, we all know, my bent), I thought instead I might share with you some heretofore unpublished (well, unpublished here at least) pics and videos of Peña goings-on this year.
The Peña, of course, is the amateur performance group made up of Rubina and Marcos Carmona’s advanced students. Capricious meteorological conditions permitting, we generally put on two major shows per year (i.e. one in the winter and one in the summer). I suspect that pics of the most recent winter show may turn up in a month or two, but in the meantime, here’s a “potpourri” of stuff from Winterfest and from the 2009 summer show.
First off, a video (since it has been soooo long since I’ve posted one of these). This is Markus, Steve and I with an arrangement of Paco de Lucia’s canonical rumba flamenca, “Rio Ancho”:
This is from a DV Cam in the audience, so the audio levels are a bit low, but you get the idea. This is actually the first “solo” number that the three of us have noodled through, so all in all I think it came off well enough. I had mentioned in a previous post that right up until the opening bars I was unsure as to what degree my peripheral nervous system might abandon me, but cold fingers aside, nervousness turned out not to be a major issue.
Of course, there’s a difference between “getting through” a piece and really inflecting it musically–which for my part I’d like to do a bit better–but it is in doing (and performing) that these things improve, no? In any case, it was fun to be “on the spot” for this one (instead of hiding behind the dancers–which is what we usually get to do).
And speaking of dancers, here are some Seattle Winterfest pics (taken by Jal):
And there you have the update–photo, video, and otherwise. And I plan to make good on that promise not to ramble . . . by stopping here.
Think of it as my leaving you a bit of extra time in which, instead of reading my ramblings, you can go play!
~A
posted on Sunday, December 6th, 2009
 So I’m coming up on three years playing with La Peña Flamenca de Seattle this year and I can’t help but notice that there have been certain regular markers of the passage of time along the way. One of these is the Seattle Center Winterfest show–which just happens to have taken place last weekend. In looking back over my archives, it appears I didn’t write a blog post about it last year (probably because of my PhD exams), but I did write up a blurb about it for the year before (2007).
Here’s a bit of what was on my mind post-show two years ago:
I’m not particularly afraid about getting up in front of people, but my nervous system gets weirded out by public appearances. Tragically, this is what connects my brain to my hands. For this show, at least, “the claw” (my fellow guitar player Markus’s moniker for an oh-so worthless set of panic-frozen fingers) didn’t keep me from getting the job done–most of my job was chording, really. In any case it’s a condition I wouldn’t at all mind getting over.
Being an irremediable nerd at heart, I take no small pleasure in documenting the sundry vagaries of performance, anxiety, and the link between the two. As such, I was curious about how things would turn out in a similar performance situation two years later. The reason is this: The question I really wanted an answer to in 2007 was, “is this the kind of thing that gets better, or am I stuck with anarchic limb syndrome forever?”
Well, I can’t speak for every performance occasion–I would imagine bigger or more complicated shows to be a different ball game–but as for the Winterfest show (for which we played for a couple hundred people, all the same) the news is good: I didn’t feel even so much as an elevated pulse, let alone full on nervous system rebellion.
Granted, my hands were cold through nearly the entire 45 minute set, but this is something I can live with. It is irritating, yes, but not debilitating. Having played a number of full length shows with my little flamenco cuadro, I’ve actually come to expect that my hands won’t warm up for at least three or four songs. Again, a drag, but not fatal.
The subtext here is that in between the 2007 Winterfest show and last weekend, I’ve played “out” a lot more than once or twice a year. There have been better and worse shows, of course, but so far I’ve yet to see any catastrophic relapse into neurological mayhem for the kind of performance situations I commonly see.
Of course, this is just me–results may vary, see your doctor, etc.–but for anyone out there who wonders why his or her hands won’t cooperate when they’re needed the most, and, more importantly, if it ever gets better, here’s a vote for “yes, it does get better.”
And here’s the moral of this story: Get out! Play!
(Which is what I’m going to do right now)
~A
posted on Wednesday, November 18th, 2009
 That’s right, the Zamani Flamenco autumnal hiatus has officially come to a close: this last weekend found us back at our regular performance spot–Kristos Eastlake in Seattle.
Though the venue was familiar to us, night was new: instead of Sunday evening as we had been doing, the show this time around was on a Saturday. This had a couple of implications for us: first is that most people didn’t have to be up early (and sober) for “the man” the following day–which meant that we could start (and go) a bit later. The second implication is that whereas on Sundays most of the folks at the show have been people who had come explicitly to see us, for the Saturday show there was also a healthy mix of Kristos regulars and random weekend revelers. Which meant that we got to reach out to (and see the reactions of) folks who had no idea what they were in for.
All of which, finally, turned out to be full of pleasant surprises. An example: Kristos has a loft dining area that looks out over the main restaurant (and our performance space) below. A group of about twenty had reserved this space for their own event, not connected to our show. It didn’t look to me like they were there to practice transcendental meditation or anything, so even if they weren’t interested in what was going on below, I didn’t imagine they would be at all bothered. This was my line of thinking. It was quite a nice surprise, then, to look up toward the loft during the second or third song of the set and see them all lined up along the railing looking on and then cheering when we were done. New flamenco converts? Well, that I don’t know–but I am pretty sure they were pleasantly surprised and enjoying the show.
But wait, you ask–what about the “beverages” mention in the title . . . and what on earth is that monstrosity pictured above? I’ll answer the second question first: that is a picture of what is easily the most brilliant espresso machine design to date: the Saeco Etienne Luis. I hear it makes mediocre espresso and that you could probably by an Archdukeship in Latvia for what it costs, but still . . . just look at it!
Okay, great, you say, but what does this have to do with flamenco? Which brings us back to the first question: beverages. As some of you (i.e. those of you who read this blog semi-regularly) know, I’ve been experimenting with the calming/debilitating effects of various beverages before a performance: The whiskey flask, in general, lives in my guitar case. I’ve also tried the odd glass of wine or a pint of dark liquid goodness before a show. There seems to be strong anecdotal evidence here (real or imagined) for some mild calming effect. If nothing else, these things provide a tasty and welcome diversion.
I have noticed, however, that when I practice at home in the morning over coffee my dexterity, attack, and speed tend to hit a peak right around my third cup. So what about coffee? (Hence the glorious spiky espresso sphere above, natch.) The risk of this, of course, is widespread caffeine-fueled peripheral nervous system revolt–which on some levels might sound wildly imprudent. The final result on the night of the show? It was actually pretty mild: my fingers felt strong and coordinated, and, while perhaps a bit cold (which is pretty much always the case), they were definitely not “stupid.”
As for definitive conclusions of this scientifically rigorous inquiry into the influence of pre-show adult beverages? Honestly (as a scientist), I’ve got to say that the decrease in nervous system rebellion is probably more attributable to the cumulative experience of performing than it is to my consumption habits. I’m sure there are things that can mess one up before a show (i.e. 5 minutes to curtain is probably not a good time to experiment with Spicy Chicken Vindaloo), but as for sure-fire calmers? Though I can’t help but be tempted by the possibilities of an “Irish-Coffee-Car-Bomb,” for the moment a skeptic I remain.
Now you, good scientist: go play!
~A
|
In flamenco the
word "Toque" is an all- encompassing term meaning "all flamenco played on the guitar." This blog is a running account of my pursuit of toque in the Pacific Northwest.
|
.
Recent Comments