I guess I've really been on an early music kick lately. I really got into the Renaissance music survey over the summer, and especially the late-Renaissance English stuff. Partially inspired by that, though also partially inspired by how badly rehearsals were run in the choir I was in last year, I auditioned for the early music choir (Pro Arte) and just found out today that I got in! That's very exciting, and I can't wait to start. First, it's probably going to be the best choir (talent-wise) I'll ever be in. But more than that, the repertoire is incredible: our concert plans so far are 1. music by Henry Purcell, 2. music of Mexican and Spanish composers of the Colonial period (tends toward intensity of expression), 3. the annual big oratorio (last year was Haydn's The Seasons), performed both here and in Chicago, and 4. some other piece with orchestra. So that's very cool. And I just noticed that there's an early music group giving a master class here on Sunday, and I've been having lots of fun listening to their sample recordings on their website: http://www.liberunusualis.com/cds.html. (Try listening to the Sanctus under the "Flyleaves" CD: it's pretty wild. Also, members of my family may wish to listen to Gabriel fram heven-king, because it's basically a piece we sing at St. Paul's some Christmasses.)

AT&T really knows how to rub me the wrong way. They recently bought out SBC, which had been my internet service provider. I'd had the phenomenal discounted rate of 12.99 a month on my DSL bill (which had, I guess unsurprisingly, "crept" up throughout the year to 14.99, something I was willing to accept). I called on July to renew service and see if I could keep this rate. I got an electronic voice, which misunderstood not only my voice but also my button-pressing enough times that eventually I was forwarded to a human. (The machine was very polite, too: "I'm sorry I'm having so much trouble understanding you. My fault.")
Once I got to human #1, the procedure was as follows:
1. I confirm name, phone number, and last four digits of SSN for security reasons.
2. I explain that I want to renew service
3. I am listed the options, which include simply continuing with my promotional pricing: I ask to continue with promotional pricing
4. It is pointed out that for simply X number of dollars a month, I could get another option: I turn down several such offers
5. I am offered cell phone service: I turn it down, and they get nosy as to why
6. I am asked if human # 1 has done everything possible to make my customer experience as good as possible today.
7. I am forwarded to someone who can take my order

So I get to human #2. The procedure is familiar, with only steps 2 and 3 missing:
1. I confirm name, phone number, and last four digits of SSN for security reasons.
2. I ask to continue with promotional pricing.
3. It is pointed out that for simply X number of dollars a month, I could get another option: I turn down several such offers
4. I am offered cell phone service: I turn it down, and they get nosy as to why
5. I am asked if human # 1 has done everything possible to make my customer experience as good as possible today.
6. I am forwarded to someone who can take my order

So I get to human #3, who is very talkative and chummy. However, there is a strange sense of deja vu hovering over our conversation:
1. I confirm name, phone number, and last four digits of SSN for security reasons. (I assume because by now I've been on hold enough that maybe someone's clubbed me unconscious and has seized the phone in a desperate attempt to sign me up for unwanted services)
2. I ask to continue with promotional pricing.
3. It is pointed out that for simply X number of dollars a month, I could get another option: I turn down several such offers
4. I am offered cell phone service: I turn it down, and they get nosy as to why, and offer to pay my old cell phone bills if I switch to their provider
5. I am asked if I am sure I don't want any upgrades
6. I set up my contract and confirm the price.
7. I am asked if human # 1 has done everything possible to make my customer experience as good as possible today.

Well, an hour well spent, I thought.
Fast forward to my most recent bill, and the first on my new billing cycle. I'm charged more than what I expect. So today I called AT&T, and reach human #4 (for continuity's sake):
1. I confirm name, phone number, and last four digits off SSN for security reasons.
2. I ask about my bill. Human #4 says, "just a moment." Silence for about two minutes, punctuated with the occasional, "Just a moment."
3. It turns out that they haven't upgraded me. I was just billed for slightly over a month. However, the rate has, indeed, gone up by several dollars. Three dollars is not a big deal... unless you spent a frustrating hour of your time a few weeks ago confirming a different price. I explain what I had expected to be charged.
4. Human #4 apologizes for the inconvenience and explains that my promotional pricing had expired, and that they only had the packages (which, of course, I had been offered).
5. I explain that I confirmed the promotional pricing with three different people, and that I thought I'd set up a contract to that effect.
6. Repeat steps 4 and 5 several times with slightly different wording. Ending with "I'm sorry, I can only offer you the new price," and "Well, is there anyone who can offer me the old price?"
7. Human #6 gets fed up, apologizes for the inconvenience, and forwards me to her manager.

Manager:
1. Manager opens with a simple, "Hello." You may be thinking, what about security concerns? My number? SSN? But clearly, by this point I am not a valued customer in need of protection but a customer simply intent on making trouble for an innocent corporation.
2. I explain the situation.
3. Manager pulls up my record. "They offered you the 14.99 price," she explains. "I don't see any record of acceptance. It's kind of hard to give you a price if you don't accept it, now isn't it?" She sounds like she's explaining something to a dummy.
4. I explain that not only did I accept it, I accepted it three times.
5. She explains that the rate (which I confirmed three times) may not have been available to me without upgraded services, and says she'll have to check on that. She explains that she'll get back to me "by Wednesday."

I feel like I should put some sort of final, exasperated statement at the end here to summarize, but I think this sequence speaks for itself. It is absolutely ludicrous. But at least it's also humorous.

A new student today asked me if I was related to Stephen Chenette. Sometimes I forget how far back the "family business" goes! (And of course it goes further than that.)

My choral audition yesterday was surprisingly fun. First, I went into the non-voice-major room and sang for a couple of people I didn't know who looked like they were willing and ready to hate everyone who came in. I had prepared nothing to sing for them, so the accompanist was like, "So, you just wanna do something like Amazing Grace or My Country Tis of Thee? Something easy?" A few measures in - slightly less than four, I think - they stopped me and sent me over to the majors room because they were behind and supposedly they couldn't place me into the choir I wanted to get into (Pro Arte, the early music group). (I suppose they let me start singing for them because they assumed my expectations were unrealistic - surely a theory major wouldn't actually have an okay voice!)
So I went over to the majors room. To my delight, of the five choral conducting majors that were helping with the auditions, I knew four of them. I'd sung for two in my summer ensemble, one of which I'd become friends with in a class, I'd sung for one in Contemporary Vocal Ensemble (CVE) and a friend's recital, and I'd sung for the other in an extremely difficult composition recital. I also knew the department head, who'd led the summer ensemble and, because I could actually sing audibly and was male (still am, don't worry), had excused several absences for dubious reasons. Anyway, it was a really good audition. My voice was feeling very free and clear, much more than usual. (Amazing what a 10-minute warm-up will do.) The guy who I think runs the choir I want to get into was looking at me with keen interest and asking a lot of questions, which I think is a good sign.
Okay, so I guess that's all not that interesting. But it's funny what sorts of experiences turn into highlights of a day when you're around a lot of people you know and performing well.
Other recent highlights include:
Making pad thai, the shopping for ingredients for which took half a day (two trips to the tiny International Market for sauces, some nice cilantro, and Chantaboon rice noodles, one to Sahara Mart for tofu, and one to Marsh for bean sprouts, shrimp, eggs and a lime).
Buying the shrimp for the pad thai, when the slightly high-voiced and very rotund man behind the counter told me in his Southern accent about the lady who comes in every Friday and buys one shrimp for her "enemy." ("I'm not sure how she pronounced it," he explained. "It's not a fish, but it's kind of..." "An anemone?" I asked. "Yeah, one of those!")
Dressing up in slacks, a belt, and a nice shirt for the exam (for people wishing to skip the course I teach - I felt very professional) I gave the other day and, on my way out, encountering one of my students for the summer: in fact, if I'm not mistaken, the one who wrote on his evaluation, "Should wear pants more often. Less t-shirts. Hair was distracting." (Incidentally, my hair has also been cut since then.) He looked moderately amused.

Well, it was really great to be home last week, and I'm already missing it. Though of course it was fun to help Dr. Hook do sight-singing exams. (By "fun," I should mention, I mean "not fun.") I think it's tougher in some ways to be on that side of the exam than to take it. Everyone who does badly seems so vulnerable, I suppose partially because they're singing and not playing and partially because it's one-on-one. It's also a bit depressing to have people come in and say something like, "Well, I'm not making any promises - I honestly haven't done this in a long time!" As if musicians didn't read music on a daily basis...
In any case, I have absolutely no obligations for today. Highlights are likely to include reading through various pieces for long periods of time (I did this last night and really had a good time), an exciting trip to one of the two international markets down the street in search of Chinese candies, and perhaps an extremely hot game of tennis.
One more picture of our trip to Otter Creek marsh in Iowa, because this is a rare picture that actually might do a particular sunset justice:

Some highlights of being home so far:
The Iowa State Fair (My lunch was fried cheese curds and a Giant Sausage on a Stick)
Canoeing on Otter Creek Marsh (see picture below)
Going through and organizing my whole hard drive
Playing games
Butchering Haydn Symphonies in four-hand arrangement with Claire
Butchering Schubert lieder to a slightly lesser extent with various members of the family, though especially Claire
Butchering choral pieces by Josquin and other Renaissance composers with the whole family


(yes, we're standing on the canoe - you can't see the water)

Sorry - I didn't realize that previously only registered members could post on this blog. I've changed that.
Anyway, I'm home and really enjoying the relaxing that I'm able to do!

Things I learned from watching The Red Violin:
1. Music history started around 1650.
2. Music history skipped the twentieth century.
3. Music from various periods within these boundaries can be played interchangeably.
4. All such music regardless of period should be played in best Romantic style.
5. Ideally, this should be accomplished through one person pretending to play while a famous graduate of Indiana University plays the actual sound.
6. If you're truly inspired, you can have sex, compose, and play the violin simultaneously.
7. The best way to initiate said activity is to say to your loved one, "I feel a composition coming on."
8. The best way to respond to said initiation is, "I do too."
9. Communist China = very, very bad.

Another excellent weekend! I worked pretty hard last week to get as much work done as possible beforehand. Sherry got in on Friday, and we went immediately from the airport to Grandma and Grandpa Chenette's house, where we had an excellent dinner, perused the handmade harpsichord, went sailing, and finally went fishing. I caught five, one of which was huge! Sherry and Grandma each caught two. Grandpa caught none. At the end of the trip, he asked us, "Have you ever seen a grown man cry?" It was a tragic sight to see. Finally, Grandpa and I played through two duets before Sherry and I headed to Bloomington for a brief party at Sarah's house and finally some much needed rest. Here's sailing:




Saturday, we went to the Lilly Rare Books Library and checked out some just incredible exhibits on books that conjure up fantasy lands, some of the world's tinest books, game books, and finally the best puzzle collection in the world. This was my favorite activity of the weekend. After a soup lunch, we went to the IU Art Museum's Horses In Classical Art and Art of Asia and the Ancient Western World exhibits. I'd have some pictures, but Blogger is being a jerk about that. That night, we went to an excellent performance of the Mikado.
On Sunday, we played an early morning game of tennis, made bread, went to the Contemporary Vocal Ensemble concert (very striking: music of James Macmillan and Gyorgy Ligeti), made dinner, and watched some Chaplin short films.
All in all, an excellent weekend! Today I gave a presentation on English music theory c. 1600 (see below for delicious example - blogger was nice about this one picture), which went really well, and found out that I don't have to stick around on Friday to grade tests. Instead, I'll do so on Saturday and email in the results. This means that I get home earlier, which is nice! In Renaissance, our professor is ready enough to go home, and, apparently, impressed enough with our work ethic as students, that she isn't going to grade the final: rather, we get 100 points for showing up the last day and simply do a collective listening exam. Not bad...
So a good final stretch after all!

My whole family (but me) is going to be home tonight, and I'm so jealous! I talked to Nate and Claire on the phone last night, and it sounds like they've had a great time in NYC and Philadelphia (even if they did go to somewhat of a freak show...), and tomorrow they'll presumably be doing puzzles, listening to Mom and Dad's CDs, and enjoying wonderful Iowa meals. Meanwhile, I will be working harder than normal to get as much as I can done before this weekend, so I don't have to be working the whole time Sherry is here.
Now, of course, the extremely positive side is that Sherry's coming this weekend. That'll be awesome: the plan right now is that we'll be spending an evening with Grandma and Grandpa Chenette, going to The Mikado and the Contemporary Vocal Ensemble, as well as the Art Museum's exhibit on Horses in Classical Art and the Lilly Rare Books Library's exhibits on books about fantasy worlds and mechanical puzzles, checking out and watching The Pinker Panther (I've never seen the original!), and sharing some of a bottle of extremely Tokaji (thanks Nate!) wine. Well, okay, that's maybe a bit much for just over 2 days, but we'll see!
And then the not so positive side is that there's still a week of class, with its concomitant finals and grading. This week, I've felt that my breaks (this weekend, sort of, and the 10 days in between the summer session and next semester when I'll be home) can't come quickly enough; I can only imagine what next week will feel like.
Ah well, it's the home stretch. I'll make it.

Well, I must say I've been having a very nice time at the Underwood/Anderson wedding. (Darn those 3-syllable last names: I've mixed them up into "Underson" at least once. I'd say one or two syllables per last name is about right.) The drive was uneventful, if long and at times (read: in going through downtown Chicago) annoying. The wedding itself was also very nice, and it's great to see some Kenyon friends again. Notably, Alaina and Mike (that is, Alaina's Mike, if you know what I mean) are here, as are Rachel and Uri, Becky and her brother Ben Pogany, Robbie Ketcham, Ginger Baran and Sean Lyons, and, most surprisingly of all, Jen Underwood. There have also been some highlights, such as when I came to the church early to practice before the wedding, and a lady was staring at me as I came in:

Lady. Oh! I thought you were Orlando Bloom.
Me. Oh! Nope, I'm just a friend of Jen's from college.
Lady. Do people tell you often that you look like him?
Me. No, not very much.
Lady. Well, you look exactly like him.
Me. Well, you know, I figured I'd drop in on my old friend Jen.

I was not only mistaken for movie stars, but also for a hired professional pianist:

Other lady (to Jen). It's nice that you had the pianist at the reception. He seems to get along with your friends well.

Anyway, a very good time so far. I'll be doing some homework and going briefly to Jen's open house today before heading back to Indiana - hopefully on emptier roads! And then I'll be looking forward even more to the next two weekends!

Ugh - what a night! I was awake for significant portions of it. I think I must have been stressed out, not only on my own account, but also about how Sherry is doing right now (though her troubles didn't show up in my dreams). I got in bed shortly before midnight, having worked on an assignment until then (unusual for me). Around 1, I suddenly inexplicably remembered that leftovers from dinner were still on the stove, and, without thinking much, staggered into the kitchen, scraped it into an old yogurt container (and the floor), and put it in the fridge. Then the sort-of-sleep-defined part of the night started, but it was largely engaged with this horrible dream that I was teaching Messiaen and Boulez (that's what I'm teaching Monday) to a class of not only my current students but several others I've taught before. Unfortunately, I had to do this in a hall slightly like Philomathesian at Kenyon, except with worse acoustics, so I had to absolutely shout to be heard at all. (To make matters worse, some Korean people outside were shouting their national anthem.) I think I'd prepared pretty badly for the class, and everything was going really slowly. Finally our class took our usual scheduled break. When I came back, it turned out that the class was being observed (and I was being evaluated) by Dr. Jan Harrington of the choral department (he's currently teaching the conductors who are conducting my ensemble). This is absolutely hilarious if you know him. Meanwhile, I had just gotten to modes of limited transposition when, thank goodness, I woke up to my alarm, extremely bleary-eyed. I never got to Boulez. I'm feeling better now, but phew - it's good to be back to reality.

I'll post more, I'm sure, when I get back from Chicago. Here's hoping for safe (and expedient, though I actually have to drive right through Chicago) travels!

If you'll excuse me a minute, I'd like to briefly complain about my Renaissance class. It's not so horrible, usually (though it has its low moments...), but today there was a student presentation. This was the first non-music theorist to present. All the other presentations have been largely structural. However, this presentation - written out in paper form! - described some guy's presentation of the self-other dichotomy and how that played out in Western history, then the Cathar movement, and then suddenly, as he ran out of time, talked briefly about Susan McClary's view of this piece. Essentially what he said was this:

0. The ideas in this presentation were largely from a guy who thinks that Christianity arose out of ideological conflicts about the self-other dichotomy in Judaism.
1. Nobody had a sense of self in the Dark Ages. When anyone did, they were considered crazy or demonic and were crushed by a Da Vinci Code-ish hegemonic "Church."
2. A sense of self began to develop during the Renaissance, and this piece, like many others, are (Da Vinci Code-ish) coded ways of expressing this idea to avoid the "Church." There's no evidence for this, but it's probably true anyway.
3. Susan McClary thinks the ionian diatessaron (he asked, "is that well-known theory talk?" to which a theorist replied, "Yeah, but, uh, we usually just say perfect fourth") that starts the piece and sets off a point of imitation at the end is a symbol for the human orgasm. There's no evidence for this, but it must be true. (It's worth noting that the text unequivocally has hidden references to sex, but these are common conventions.)
4. Arcadelt (the composer) was using this hidden references to sex to refer to religious ecstasy in a way that wouldn't get him murdered by the Da Vinci Code-ish "Church." There's no evidence for this or this kind of ideology in Arcadelt, but after all, this is the period in which this kind of thing was happening.

To be accurate, he never actually referenced the Da Vinci Code. But I had to include it in my rant anyway.

Meanwhile, I'm having a bunch of theorists over to my place for dinner tonight, so I'd better get my apartment clean so we can talk ionian diatessarons and urlinie (and the Da Vinci Code?) without distractions.

Nate really hit the nail on the head about Betty and her funeral last weekend. Check out the link to his blog on the right. To what he says, I'll just add that the look on Bill's face when he saw Nate and I had made it was worth a lot more than the plane ticket's price and hassle.

I apologize for not having any pictures of anything to post up here: not a whole lot exciting is going on around here. I have a "normal" weekend this weekend (actually, at this point, sticking around for a weekend with no plans is definitely not normal). The next weekend I play for Jen's wedding, then the weekend following Sherry visits, and finally on the 11th or 12th of August I head home. Other than all that, there's very little going one (outside the ordinary). In big projects, I'm hoping to work with someone at UPenn on a performance of a cantata by Georg Benda that I edited last year, and perhaps to get that in publishable condition. (Though unfortunately that may not be possible, depending on Prof. Sanders' usage agreement about the microfilm I used.) I also really need to get the course packet for the course I'm teaching in the fall finished and ordered, and to start looking at the curriculum. Finally, I'm really looking forward to spending some time with our Rare Books Collection's copy of Thomas Morley's 1597 Plaine and Easie Introduction to Practicall Musicke, which I'm hoping to get some insight out of.

Betty McKibben, a wonderful friend of my whole family, passed away late last week, so I went home for the funeral on Saturday. It was a wonderful service, and it was nice to see the community again. Anyway, I'll post more later, but I'm pretty tired and busy right now.

Wow! I just came from a performance of Shostakovich's 5th Symphony by the IU Festival Orchestra. It was terrific! Shostakovich is definitely rock music for classical lovers. It was one of those occasions that makes me very proud to attend this school. I was particularly proud because I saw in the orchestra four current students (violin 2, viola, trombone, and french horn - solo!), two former students (viola and bassoon), two colleague/friends (piccolo and cello), and two classmate/acquaintances (percussion and trumpet).

For what it's worth, from last semester, here's a recording of me (and some other people...) trying to sing some music in just intonation. The composer (Eric Knechtes, friend and colleague) claims that it has some "11-limit" chords in it, and that it's "cheesy and sentimental," but anyway it's really fun to listen to. We're out of tune sometimes (I mean, out of just tune... well, and out of equal temperament too, for that matter) but parts sounds great - I especially love the bass and soprano sounds (thank you Paul Pisano and Arwen Myers - the latter an aural skills student of mine, thank you very much), and there are parts where you'd think it's more than 12 singers. Anyway, enjoy.
(Oh, and sorry it's on Myspace... not my fault!)

link

I forgot to mention! Today my Renaissance class went to the IU Lilly Library of Rare Books. It was extremely cool. They have a Gutenberg Bible on permanent display there. But the presentation by the curator was even neater: he showed us not only music manuscripts and prints (the highlight was a 2.5 foot tall choirbook with illuminations) but Andreas Vesalius' anatomy book, The Courtier (I forget the exact title and author), an original printing Book of Common Prayer, and an original King James Bible, many of which I got to touch and hold. There was also a lavishly illuminated Book of Hours which he explained probably was worth about the same, adjusting for inflation, both when it was sold and today (about $150,000). All of these were of course on sheep's skin or calf's skin parchment, paper being the "cheap" alternative (which didn't survive as consistently). Which in turn was sobering: it must have taken at least 100 animals to make that choirbook! Anyway, this was very special.
Then just now I heard a great concert. It was a nice change - most of the summer concerts are Summer Festival concerts, which I'd have to pay for, and which are fewer and farther between than during the year (which, of course, isn't saying much). But I saw this doctoral piano recital advertised and noticed that she was playing Berg's Op. 1 (Sonata), which I'm trying to work up, and decided to go. It was terrific. The Berg was excellently played (though I noticed some mistakes! But somehow I don't think too many other people picked up on them...), followed by a wonderful Beethoven Variations and Fugue, and then a really neat piece Claude Baker, who's on the faculty here, that quoted Ives and Messiaen, and finally Schumann's Symphonic Etudes. (Which reminds me, I really need to get a recording of Schumann's Symphonies.) A really fun concert.

BERRY-PICKING II: REVENGE OF THE HUCKLEBERRY
I've been quite busy lately! This past weekend I went to Indianapolis to visit Grandma and Grandpa Chenette and to relax. It was great: I did very little work. I did, however, make bread, which was well-received. We went fishing and had a dinner of freshly-caught croppie and bass (especially good!). And we went swimming:


I came home on Monday for one class, which was especially excruciating because no one wanted to be there during this otherwise 4-day-weekend. (It would have been another thing altogether if this was a particularly enjoyable class.)
On the 4th, I went berry-picking. I biked out to Griffy Lake under threatening clouds and hiked along Huckleberry Ridge - only to find not one single huckleberry within sight of the trail! You can imagine my disappointment. So I biked back into town and went on with plan B: mulberries. I checked out the trees by the music school first, which were both high and relatively dried up. So finally I came back and picked two cups' worth within one block of my apartment. As I've mentioned to several people, I'm sure there's some moral here about how far one needs to go simply to realize what one already had, but I'll leave that one to the philosophers. I am not a philosopher, but I am fortunately a chef and a baker. Thus, rather than morals, I made mulberry cobbler:

Mm. I'm off to have a bit of that and enjoy the gorgeous weather.

I neglected to mention in my last post that Sherry and I also ate lunch with Mike and Willow while we were in NYC, which was nice. And Mike Ludders' reference to "one of Mozart's Requiems" (of which, I assure you, there are as many as 1 - almost), along with the fact that my ensemble has been reading through said Requiem, brought to mind something that occurred to me long ago.

First, for those of you who don't know it (shame on you!) here's the Rex Tremendae movement's opening:

Orchestra: YOM bom. BOM! Yadum badum badum badum badum badum YOM dum YOM dum YOM dum YOM YOM bum.

Choir: REX!

Orchestra: yadum badum badum badum badum badum BOM.

Choir: REX!

Orchestra: yadum badum badum badum...

...and so on in this vein.
So my question about this is - as much as I try to avoid the "intentional fallacy" - does anyone think this sounds like Mozart shouting at his dog?