Fish-N-Chips-N-Beethoven, Part III

This is from my journal during a high school trip to England and Scotland with the Rochester Philharmonic Youth Orchestra. This current font indicates my comments written in the present. See parts I & II if you haven't already.

Wednesday 4/18/84 -continued

...Shrewsbury is a really lovely town; unspoiled. Charles Darwin was born and raised here. Our hosts are really nice. They have 2 kids at home; Dave 20, and Catherine 14. Dave was cool and would have taken us to a pub but we were too tired. Catherine was very quiet.

Shrewsbury, Shropshire, UK. the center of town hasn't changed much
since Charles Darwin walked these streets

Thursday 4/19/84

The next day after a breakfast of sausage eggs, bacon, toast, cereal (I was surprised for some reason that the English had Corn flakes and other familiar products) and tea, we (Dave -my roommate, Tom -horn and Scott -trumpet were delivered to the town square. We broke into groups of 25 (I wasn't with Kristin—again) for a walking tour of Shrewsbury... We ended up at “The Castle” (Shrewsbury Castle). We had a reception by the Mayor. We had time to shop before rehearsal.

Shrewsbury Castle

The large instruments still haven't arrived. So when rehearsal time came we (the players of the large instruments) could still shop and hang out while the other kids had to rehearse anyway. I bought a pair of pinstriped jeans with Mary (cello). The van didn't show until an hour before our first concert. Then, 18 bars into the first piece, all the hair pulled out of the tip of my bow. I was furious and had to play pizzicato (plucking the strings) for the rest of the concert. It was ridiculous!

One of our guides, “Tim Jones,” is a bass player and happened to live right in Shrewsbury -thank God. He said he would lend me his (bow) for the rest of the tour.

After the concert we ate a late meal with our hosts and talked late into the night.

Walking around the town, we didn't have to open my mouths for English kids to know we were Americans. They seemed to know straight off somehow.


Shrewsbury was my favorite part of England, it was rich in history and beauty. It proved to me that the way I had always thought of England actually exists... except for maybe the punk rockers. It seemed that every kid in England at that time was completely punked-out and we Americans looked like a John Hughes movie on tour. No wonder they could tell we were Americans.

There was one girl in my own graduating class who was considered the class 'punk' because she wore dark eyeliner, black stockings and shunned the frilly preppy blouses that every other girl wore. We thought she was the coolest thing in the world because she was so 'rad'. If there was one thing about England that surprised me more than anything else, it was that, even in a small town like Shrewsbury, so many of the kids were hardcore: leather, spiked hair, piercings, Mohawks, chains, studs. I was a little frightened of them frankly. It was like our safe little John Hughes movie had detoured into a post-apocalyptic sci fi... that happened to be set in an idyllic English town.

Friday 4/20/84

We left for Yorkshire. After 5 hours of winding through gorgeous countryside we unloaded in Harrogate and almost immediately started rehearsing after listening to a very so-so high school band from Canada. After rehearsal I was ready to kill Jeanine (my stand partner) The stage was too small for a hundred plus member orchestra and Jeanine and I were practically backstage and still cramped. She kept hitting my bass with her bow as I recall. Jeannine was an annoying fourteen-year-old, but I think I was also a bit bugged that, because of my lousy audition I had been placed fifth chair out of six players even though, practically speaking, I was a better player than all but one of them. The situation with my bass bow didn't much improve my mood. Even though I had a loaner bow from one of our guides, it was a German style bow; very different from the French style I'd always played with. It used an entirely different hand position that resembles the final stages of arthritis. Getting used to it was was a learning process and making my right hand sore.

We then met our hosts. Dave and I were alone this time. Our hosts were nice enough but a bit stuffy. They had an awful dog who had his name on my leg.  

We were formally 'received' by the older upper class couple in their sitting room for a brief and formal Q & A, then shown to our rooms on the third floor. We only saw our hosts at meals henceforth. I felt my behavior or rather “behaviour” was being closely scrutinized the entire time I was there. 

(At the concert) We were the last act in what must have been a tiring show for the audience. We only played part of the program of our usual show. It was funny because it was the largest audience we'd played for and the least appreciative. Backstage at that concert a kid from Canada gave me a pin (of the Canadian flag) that Canadian Commerce had given him to give away.

Our performance at the Harrogate International Youth Music Festival.
There was so little space on this stage that the first chair violin and cello
had to put their music stand up on the conductors podium.
I'm the bassist on the far right in the back who's halfway backstage.

Sat 4/21/84

We got to sleep-in (sort of). Dave and I headed to the square for pictures of the orch, then shopped.

I remember getting lunch at a pizza place that served the worst pizza I have ever tasted.

 

The Rochester Philharmonic Youth Orchestra in Harrogate, Yorkshire in the UK.
Can you find me? Hint- I'm not looking at the camera. -you can click to enlarge-

That evening we had a concert in Leeds (or “At Leeds” if “The Who” are to be believed). It was the most beautiful hall we've played -Leeds Town hall. It seated about 700 people. Not quite 100, (mostly elderly) people showed up, but after our third straight show we were awesome! Tired again, why does Dave practice his recorders at night?

 

Leeds Town Hall, an awe inspiring place.

We were getting better with each show we played but there was one thing that kept us from sounding professional. There was a French horn passage in “The Moldau,” a beautiful piece that tells the story of a river's journey to the sea, that our first horn player could never seem to get right. It was almost a solo, completely exposed. There was a difficult leap to a high note right at the end of that section. Each performance so far she had missed the note. French horn, like violin, is a challenging instrument that sounds wonderful when played well, but like wild animal mating calls when not played absolutely perfectly. Each time we got to the horn passage the orchestra collectively held it's breath hoping she would hit that high note without 'squawnking' it.

At Leeds, once again, she squawnked.

Sun 4/22/84 (Easter)

I wanted to go to church or to an Easter Mass but our hosts didn't seem to know of anyplace. Off to Scotland...

There were both differences and similarities that surprised me about England. I'm not sure why it surprised me that there are four lane highways—or “motorways” as they call them in the UK—that look like they could be in Kentucky or Upstate New York except of course the traffic is all going in different directions on the right and left sides. Even the rest stops, with gift shops and fast food, looked very much like those along the New York State Thruway.

We had different buses this time, but Kristin was on the other one as usual. Amy (oboe), Jeanine (my stand partner), another Amy (violin) and a bunch of other girls decided it would be fun to do my hair after my very reluctant permission was granted. They matted it down with setting gel and put eyeliner under my eyes. Shortly thereafter, the bus broke down. (All the kids crammed onto the other bus) I stayed behind to help transfer luggage when a replacement bus would arrive later.

In the company of my fellow students, my funky looking hair and my rock star eyeliner looked a little bit cool, or at least was seen in the context of the fun we were having, and how can I lie—I loved the attention from all those girls—but now I was left back with a coach driver and the tour manager. I looked like an idiot and the rest of the orchestra was headed to Scotland without me.

Fish-N-Chips-N-Beethoven, Part IV

DOUBLE J's Double Take

A Music & Personal Update

During my long uneventful night hours during the French Open I finished the noise reduction modification to my Repeater (looper), some scary and intricate electronic alterations that I downloaded instructions for. The instructions warn that it's a difficult procedure. I was not deterred but maybe I should have been; I'm afraid the Repeater lost some of it's functionality under my scalpel, but it can be fixed later and thie things I killed were things I didn't expressly need, so it is back in my rack and now -more quietly- helping me recreate things like "Rice Crispies and Gin" live. After my first rehearsal (by myself) at my new space. Lou, the guy who primarily rents the place, called me to say that a guitarist friend of his who rents a space below ours told him he 'sounded really good the other night' when it was actually me he was hearing. "Keep making me sound good" Lou said. I start work this coming week (today technically) on a Hyundai commercial that will take me on the road for a couple of weeks. This will be something a little different for me and I am looking forward to it.