Last year was a good year for continuo playing. This year promises to be even better. "Getting in the groove" is a concept that goes back to the beginning of musical time. Whether it's a bunch of guys in animal skins banging rocks together or a modern jazz trio or a guy scratching on a turntable or tuxedo clad musicians playing Bach it doesn't matter. We're all doing the same thing - keeping time. It doesn't have to be a march time beat. It can ebb and flow. The groove is round like a record or it's a line from here to infinity or it's the path of a snake in the sand. The main thing is - we're doing it together.

It used to be the continuo section would have Brent Wissick playing cello. The cellist and the bassist are almost always playing exactly the same thing an octave apart. The bassist shadows the cellist who is the leader and effectively the leader of the entire ensemble (even if the conductor thinks he/she is the leader). The melodies and harmonies ride on top of the continuo line the way a jazz soloist rides on top of the rhythm section. If the line falters, the whole ensemble falls. The bassist and cellist have to be of the same mind. Intonation, timing, articulation. There are so many shapes the line can take - some are dictated by the lyrics or the melody, but often it's just a matter of style and preference. Playing with Brent for many years we almost never had to talk about these things - it just happened. We were of the same mind. It made playing with other players feel tedious.

Those were the years of the Society for Performance on Original Instruments which later became Ensemble Courant which is now at best plays only one or two concerts a year. Brent and I rarely play but like old lovers meeting again we never have to speak of mundane details when we play together. Still of the same mind.

In more recent years I've been "holding the line" with Barbara Blaker Krumdieck, who can be heard this weekend with the baroque ensemble Pomodoro. When we met at our first rehearsal together a few years ago we were both eyeing each other suspiciously as the person who had the greatest potential for making the weekend a miserable one.  Happily we clicked from the first note and the line snaked onward and we have been playing together in many ensembles since. Our next performance together is February 17th with the Aurora Baroque Ensemble although we'll be in a different configuration this time - taking turns playing continuo for each other and for the rest of the ensemble. Barbara on baroque cello and me on the new bass viol. Barbara has put together many wonderful ensembles and programs and I have been very fortunate to be a part of some of them. Watch for Wild Rose Ensemble, Ensemble Serendipity, Aurora Baroque with the great violinist David Wilson, and occasionally I even get to perform with Ensemble Vermillian.

Lastly, dear friend of 25 years Virginia Hudson and I have finally been getting to hold the line together. We've played in many ensembles over the years but only recently have been doing continuo together and I can say that a solid friendship really helps. The give and take and close listening required come much easier if you're accustomed to doing that in real life. Virginia took over principle cellist duties in the ensemble for the annual performance of the Messiah in Duke Chapel and we've been getting other opportunities to play as well.

Additional links:
"The Theory and Practice of the Basso Continuo"
Triangle Early Music Presenting Organization

Community Choirs - you gotta love them. The people you see every day on the street, in the grocery, cutting your hair, cleaning your teeth, hauling your trash and fixing your car. They're your neighbors, friends, enemies, distant cousins and the good and bad drivers on the highway during your morning commute. Folks from all walks of life getting together to share their love for music. I love community choirs and I play for them regularly. Usually it's in a small orchestra performing some classical work for choir and orchestra. But last night it was in a trio - piano, bass, drums - performing gospel and jazz. Summer choir - tends to be more on the pop side. Lighter works.

It was certainly fun and the audience very enthusiastic. But I think I've finally figured out a behavioral pattern that seems to apply to every community chorus I've worked with. Have you ever noticed how a choir makes their entrance into the performance hall? It seems to work one of two ways with occasional variations. They usually either come down the center aisle in side-by-side pairs, splitting at the stage to come on stage from opposite sides. Or they come down the outer aisles in single files filling the stage from opposite sides. In some halls they'll enter from the wings of the stage. But the important thing to watch is the spacing. I think choirs pride themselves on keeping equal spacing between bodies and moving at the same speed. Somehow I suspect they spend quite a bit of time practicing this so that you never see bunched up bodies anywhere along the way. It's always a solemn, dignified, well organized entrance. This seems to bear no relationship to the quality of the musical performance but is an art in and of itself. The unfortunate thing I have discovered is that this march formation appears to be hard wired into every chorister and nothing - NOTHING - may interfere with it. Last night I needed to make an instrument change from acoustic bass to electric bass at the conclusion of the jazz portion of the program which was performed by a solo singer. The choir was joining us again on stage during this transition. Because of the small stage size I needed to move the acoustic bass off stage, walk back on, retrieve the electric bass from a different place and return to my spot on stage, retrieve a chair, plug in and tune the electric bass. All of this could easily have been accomplished before the chorus completed it's long procession onto the stage (two single files from the back of the hall coming up the outer aisles) had I been able to actually get off and on stage. That was not to be the case. Sit at any unmarked traffic intersection and eventually some friendly motorist will slow his or her pace and allow you to join the flow. But not a chorister bent on keeping his/her proper spacing. You would think that a person with a very large instrument standing by the marching line of singers only wanting to cross to the other side of the line would eventually elicit some sympathy and someone would slow their pace enough to allow him to cross in front. I finally had to practically leap in front of a singer which the frown on her face told me instantly that I had made a bad move. I still had 3 more crossings of the line to make and after one more brush with soprano wrath I decided to just wait until they were fully on the stage. At that point the conductor raised her arms to begin the piece and I hadn't even reached my chair yet, no less plug in and tune my instrument so I had to whisper loudly "WAIT!!!" and hastily tuned my instrument.

Everything went fine after that but I've finally learned my lesson and in the future will negotiate all necessary moves about the stage area ahead of time with the conductor which I'm sure will necessitate a complete reprogramming of the choir members and possibly extra rehearsal time.

Oh, by the way - the Chapel Hill Community Chorus gave a wonderful performance, as did the outstanding jazz vocalist Susan Reeves.

I'm not talking about "listening to your inner bark" here (although perhaps some of the same listening techniques could be employed). I'm talking about what I've previously referred to as "the notes that nobody else wanted" or "those messy inner parts". Think second violin or second soprano. Altos and violas. As an "outer voice" player (bass line and/or melody) I never really had to deal much with the stuff in the middle. It's sometimes nice to listen to, it occasionally adds spice or life to the music, but I've never really paid it much attention. This past weekend I had the challenge of playing tenor viol (an instrument I've performed on exactly once before), reading my least favorite clef (alto), and playing 2nd and 3rd parts (really inner voices) in works by 16th/17th century composers John Bennet, John Bull, Orlando Gibbons, and Anthony Holborne. The event was part of the Centenary United Methodist Church in Richmond, Virginia Classics music series conducted by Stan Baker.

After getting over the usual "what clef is this?" "what instrument is this?" confusion I settled into trying to wrap my mind around these cast off notes. That's really what they seemed like at first. The notes nobody else wanted. In music of this period there are not a lot of parallel harmonies. A part that follows the melody a third away I can hear. No - these parts seem to occupy their own little space in the universe - a place I've never been before. I kept trying to play the notes I THOUGHT should be there but my intuition was almost always wrong. Much of the time I was doubling singers but I found that I had trouble hearing the singer I was doubling because my ear kept going to the person singing the bass or lowest part - or the person singing the highest part. This gave me new appreciation of those people who play and sing the middle parts as part of their daily lives - second violinists and violists - what a different way to hear the music - from the inside out! It does truly take listening deeper to appreciate these parts.

By concert time I was finally able to hear my way around the music - I finally found my partners in the chorus and began to hear the odd but beautiful melodies that made up these middle parts. To hear only the outer voices is like a skeleton with a beautiful face - no substance, no body. I will make a point of listening for those juicy inner parts in the future.

I should add that I did get to play some "outer voices". The program ended with the Handel Jubilate for the Peace of Utrecht. I played violone - the Duff Dawg, built by John Pringle and on generous loan from Duff (thanks!!!). Mr. Handel really knew how to write a bass line and bassists of all types and inclinations would do well to study his lines many of which could stand alone as melodies.

Two events last weekend by organizations that I've been involved with for a very long time reminded me of the importance of dedicated teachers in the arts. The Duke University Pre-Collegiate String School (or DUSS), founded by Dorothy Kitchen, celebrated it's 40th anniversary Saturday. I've had the privilege of working with Dorothy for almost 25 years now and have witnessed her transform/mold/empower/encourage the lives of so many young people. Through an era of schools cutting back on music ensembles she kept string playing alive and well in the Triangle. In a world that rewards cheating and cutting corners she gives her students the permission to work toward perfection and helps them find the rewards and joys of putting your heart and soul and sweat and tears into making beautiful music happen. That she has done this for so many years, and continues to do it with a grueling teaching schedule in addition to being a wife, mother, grandmother and a person with many, many other interests in the world is a tribute to her dedication to making real, quality music-making a possibility for every young person who wants it.

Another wonderful person making the arts a reality for young people is Gene Medler, founder and director of the North Carolina Youth Tap Ensemble. I played (in a jazz trio) for NCYTE's Spring Concert last weekend. First off, this is NOT your average children's tap group. NCYTE is THE standard for youth tap across the country. The NCYTE approach reminds me of the Suzuki teaching approach. The company performs many of the same pieces year to year along with some newly choreographed works and reworked older ones. The older kids teach the dances to the younger kids. There is a lot of one-on-one between the students with very little intervention on the part of the teacher. Guest artists/teachers from the professional world of tap as well as former students drop in to round out the mix. There is a real sense of community there as well as some friendly competition. But all are working together for the good of the company.

The DUSS approach is much more top-down which is understandable given that the process involves private lessons with a teacher and orchestras with a conductor. But as I said - both methods yield excellent results. Gene Medler and Dorothy Kitchen's approaches to teaching are probably miles apart but the result is the same - young people with a very high degree of artistic excellence and enthusiasm.

Seeing/hearing the young people in performance is the reward for the rest of us. I highly recommend you keep an eye out for upcoming performances by these groups.