One of the strongest inspirations for me this year has come primarily from books – mostly contemporary novels, though occasionally a few tried-and-true older books and non-fiction as well.  I find that I’m drawn more and more to the books where I feel the writer has fantastic technique and a compelling personal voice, much like I’m drawn to that sort of musician.  Plot is actually (surprisingly) not very high on my list these days, though it is always a treat when the plot is as compelling as the craft.  One of the most beautiful books I read this year was “Blue Mountain” by Meir Shalev.  I also really enjoyed “On Beauty”, which is Zadie Smith’s latest novel.  I went through a couple of shorter books by Joyce Carol Oates, who it is great at conveying the characters’ psychological states through their thoughts and dialogue and not necessarily narrator commentary.  Another inspiration and joy to read for the masterfully-written dialogue and narrated passages examining states-of-mind was “To Kill a Mockingbird” by Harper Lee, which I last read over 15 years ago.  It was also a pleasure to return through that book to the sights and smells and hot temperature of the American South for a couple hundred pages (except of course for painful reminder of the South’s racism).

I sometimes wonder at my fascination with technique.  Perhaps because I always felt that technique was my weaker point, I’ve often been impressed by musicians who are natural technical masters.  And yet, I’ve also found comfort in the words of great musicians bemoaning those who just show off rather than have anything real to say.  There are obviously those who do both very well…but I know that technique is much easier to train than musicality.  Well, maybe it is just that – technique is trained, whereas musicality is inspired.  One involves hours of small muscle movements, and one involves years of life experiences.   Technique is quite a bit easier to judge objectively, and it can also be easier for an audience to grasp immediately.  But musicality comes from something more internal, starting first from personal inspiration (and this can come through many different channels), and then through the bravery and honesty needed to open up your soul and share it with the world.

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Lately I’ve been viewing my music and musical abilities more as a lifelong journey rather than something to master by a certain date.  I freely recognize my weaknesses, yet I feel confident that I know how to continue working through them.  I don’t feel paralyzed by these challenges, but instead I think of them as works-in-progress.  In fact, the more I think about it and talk about it with friends, I’m struck by how very honorable and beautiful it is to be an artisan and artist all in one.  To do something that literally takes years to master, or even to just bring to a high level – this is years of scales, long tones, new instruments, life experience, listening to other music, days of productivity and laziness, risks, self-control, brutal honesty – all of this is so very worthy of praise.

I have recently been listening over and over to an mp3 of a live performance of a well-respected group here in Holland; its link was given as a gift to all those who subscribe to their digital newsletter.  The more I listen to it, the more I am inspired by this performance.  The music – a trio sonata by Haydn  – is generally playful, and they perform it with such joy.  But as with all music I know by Haydn, there are so many other emotions at play, and I feel that this ensemble really captures that in their live performance.  I laugh, I get nervous, I feel like a warrior, I feel out-of-control, I feel sympathetic.  I’m struck by how open these performers seem to be, how freely they display these passions, how they dare to risk even with the occasional out-of-tune note as a result.  I’m touched and inspired by the fact that they perform and share their years of life experience with me through these collective sounds.

Being a musician isn’t just something you learn in a 4-year college degree and then easily turn into a job in that field.  It’s so much more than that.  Sadly, it is also often so much less financially stable, but I cannot help still feeling hope that others occasionally recognize the immense amount of blood, sweat, and tears (and also joy and playfulness!) that go into preparing one piece of music.  As I’ve been (re-)discovering with my mp3 gift, I as an audience member, and therefore also my audience members, appreciate the musician’s efforts on stage.  Hopefully one day the money will be there, if not in abundance at least in a sufficient amount to let me continue what I love to do.

Special thanks here to my friend H for inspiring many of these thoughts, and for being a constant sounding-board for my latest musings.

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