The Art of Self-Destruction

Okay, so there's this dancer/performance artist in the UK who is planning to purposefully induce in herself an epilectic seizure in front of a paying audience. Not only that, the Arts Council of England has apparently endorsed this seemingly insane bit of art to the tune of £14,000. (If you happen to have been looking for a good shock-and-awe way of describing to a friend the difference between federal arts funding in Europe and America, you're welcome.)

Now, I don't know a whole lot about epilepsy beyond the fact that, back in seventh grade, my friend Joe Holland got hauled off to the principal's office, for bonking me over the head with a Life Sciences textbook, by a teacher who was claiming loudly that he'd probably just given me said condition. But I do have the general impression that it is one of those things that, once you Have It, you pretty much need to Medicate It. Forever. So this particular bit of performance art would seem to be ill-advised, no matter how many write-ups it gets you in advance of said performance.

Still, there are a lot of performers out there willing to put themselves at some degree of risk for the sake of art, or fame, or whatever. I can't say as I've personally ever been a part of such a show - I did once play a piece of music in which the composer strongly suggested that the conductor have a heart attack and die during the performance, though I'm fairly certain he was kidding - but I know that they're out there.

So my question to you is, what's the nuttiest/bravest/most self-destructive thing you've ever seen an artist, musician, or other performer do in the name of entertaining you? If anyone can top Epilepsy Girl, I'll be mightily impressed...

No kidding

Speaking of acoustics, here's another interesting bit on sound and hearing. Although it comes as no surprise!

One caveat; musicians sometimes have to contend with the very real possibility of hearing loss associated with instrument-induced damaged.

Sick Daze

I should be backstage at Orchestra Hall right now, warming up for the concert that begins in 24 minutes. I was there this morning for the last rehearsal of the week, and even stuck around afterward for a chamber music rehearsal. Now, I'm slumped on my couch, sipping jasmine tea, watching a hockey game and feeling alternately cold, shaky, and generally lame. The thermometer says the fever that set in a few hours back is fairly mild, and when I called our personnel manager to let her know that I'd be staying away tonight, I also guaranteed that I'd be back tomorrow. With any luck, I'll be right.

I hate - hate - calling in sick to work. I hate it more than I hate actually being sick, which I also hate. In fact, when whatever this is that's currently attacking me (and you may keep your swine flu jokes to yourself, thank you very much!) was gathering steam last week, I went to work on a couple of days that I probably shouldn't have, just because I couldn't stomach the idea of wussing out and staying home. Part of it is that my job really is the most important thing in my life, and missing a day when my hands and arms still technically work makes me feel like I'm not pulling my weight.

Another part is that there are some people in my orchestra with real and serious medical issues that make my little cold seem like a hangnail. In particular, one of our violists suffers from an incredibly painful joint disease that sometimes leaves him doubled over with his eyes screwed shut or flat on his back in the locker room - and even on his bad days, which are frequent, he makes a superhuman effort to show up and at least try to get through the day. With colleagues like that around, the idea of missing a service for any reason just makes me feel, well, lame.

Of course, the flip side of that coin is that, unlike most people, I work literally shoulder to shoulder with my officemates, and no one likes the idiot who straggles into work on death's door only to pass his Martian Death Flu on to everyone else in the building. You think bugs spread quickly in your kid's elementary school? You should see how fast a virus can sweep through an orchestra. Not only are we breathing down each others' necks in a figurative sense, we're doing it literally as well. Everyone in an orchestra is more or less constantly breathing hard, spitting, sweating, and generally being at least vaguely unsanitary in the act of playing our instruments. So if I had shown up for tonight's concert, I'm guessing I would not have been a popular guy.

So it's tea and hockey for me, and a very early bedtime as well, in the hope that I'll be good as new tomorrow morning. Which is sort of important, because I've got four Kinder Konzerts to play starting at 9:30am on Friday, and because I'm the only violist in the group, and the only one who's rehearsed the repertoire, there's no one I can call to sit in for me. And yes, I promise to stay far, far, away from all of the kids...

Run, Ludwig, run!

Fun and frolics at the Fairbanks Symphony - their annual "Beat Beethoven" 5K run. Why not an upgrade for next year? If taken at a profoundly deliberate pace, perhaps Mahler's 3rd Symphony would be the perfect marathon benchmark.

Brief absence

Apologies for the lack of posting this week; as Sam has said, I'm gearing up for a ridiculously busy week.

In addition, I'm having some hand and shoulder problems - a combination of old injuries, a ton of traveling, lots of work and no time off - which makes typing painful, so you can see how my blogging would suffer.

I'll try to post later in the week as we're in the midst of our Inside the Classics concerts. For now, I'm taking some more Advil and going back to score studying!

Performance enhancement?

A blog post by Matthew Guerrieri today (4/18) reminded me of a conversation I had recently regarding musicians and meds, specifically Inderal, the beta blocker most often used for performance anxiety.

It’s safe to say that performance anxiety is an inescapable fact of life for any professional musician - regardless of preparation or experience, everyone feels some surge of adrenaline, some sharpening of the nerves every time they walk onstage. There are those who find a way to channel this energy in a positive and productive way, while others are beset by what can sometimes be crippling stage fright. I’m always surprised by the number of well-known performers who have battled nerves all of their lives – Vladimir Horowitz left the concert stage for a decade because of stage fright; Glenn Gould took Valium; Barbara Streisand stopped giving live performances because of it; the list goes on and on.

Musicians, creative creatures that we are, have found a variety of ways to cope with performance jitters, running the gamut from deep breathing and visualization to a pre-concert cocktail (or two). The irony of it all is that nerves are part of what creates excitement in a performance and gives live music it’s “edge” – and it’s part of what makes it thrilling for those of us on stage as well. The problem lies in when the personal edginess becomes so overwhelming as to become debilitating, or when it prevents you from approaching optimal execution.

The use of Inderal, which is intended for angina, hypertension and migraines, as a musician’s performance aid started quietly in the late ‘70’s and has become fairly commonplace in the business. Studies from as early as the late 80’s show that nearly 22% of musicians polled took beta blockers in one capacity or another; I would venture to guess that this percentage is far higher now, particularly in audition situations.

By blocking adrenaline receptors in various organs, beta blockers slow one’s resting heart rate, lowering both blood pressure and cardiac output. What it can do is allow one to focus on music making by minimizing the physical effects of anxiety; what it cannot do is help you play well if you haven’t adequately prepared or are unable to control your psychological state. There’s a lot of back and forth about it out there on the internet/blogosphere, with passionate opinions in both directions.

I’ve never been able to figure out why this is such a terribly controversial topic and one which musicians are often reticent to discuss (I’ve always been of the “do what you need to do” school of life). Maybe it’s our general societal sensitivity to what might be considered to be a performance enhancing drug. I certainly know colleagues who have found great success in Inderal use for high-pressure situations. By the same token, I’ve had friends who found it to be emotionally detaching and terribly unhelpful. As with anything in life, it's up to each individual to figure out for themselves what works best for them, or, as the French say, chacun a son gout.

Beta blockers are a regular feature of my life; I hate (HATE) flying, and it’s something I have to subject myself to at least 3-4 times a month, if not more. I was initially prescribed Valium for air travel (there was a period of time when simply walking onto a plane was panic-inducing), but Valium's not really a viable option if I have to get off a flight and conduct a rehearsal 2 hours later (which is not so infrequent a situation) – it just make me terribly sleepy and apathetic, neither of which are acceptable to an orchestra. Inderal at least keeps my heart rate from going out of control every time we hit an air pocket and lets my brain calmly reason with itself (“Flying is statistically safer than driving”, etc.). I still have to deal with what’s going on internally, but at least the physical manifestations are suppressed, and that makes it infinitely easier. I don’t think I could really make a living as a conductor if I couldn’t cope with air travel, so in a way beta blockers really do help me career-wise!

Occupational hazards

An interesting article on the hidden perils of our job.

Hearing is the the bedrock of musicianship - without the ability to discern the slightest varieties of intonation, to hear the smallest nuances of tone, any other skill is practically useless. As a conductor, all I really have are my ears; my job is to pick out the tiniest details in the orchestra that need to be adjusted and perfected, and if I have any auditory issues my career is shot. Musicians tend to be very careful about their aural faculty - we're the ones covering out ears when fire trucks go by, and the ones wearing ear plugs when we go clubbing (OK, I actually don't know anyone else who does this, but when I'm out dancing somewhere there's a booming bass, I have my earplugs in!). It's a bit ironic, then, that one of the most dangerous places for our ears is our workplace.

To wit: a normal conversation is between 60-70 dB. OSHA monitoring requirements begin at 90 dB. Pain can begin around 125 dB. A symphony orchestra, at it's peak (and depending on the size and constitution of the ensemble) can reach 137 dB. Now, that's assuming a certain amount of distance from the group in question - but can you imagine being in the middle of it?

And it's not only when we're onstage - practicing has its own hazards. Check out the bottom of this handy list to get an idea of the decibel level of several instruments played in their higher dynamic range. My husband, a horn player, regularly works with a sound level meter and has discovered that he can pump up his own volume to 108 dB. As with any horn player, his bell (where the sound comes out) is under his right ear, and he acknowledges that his hearing is different in that ear than in his left. Given that 90-95 dB is the level of sustained exposure that may cause permanent damage, this is a pretty frightening prospect.

Standing on the podium today during a Holiday Pops show, I was inundated by the sound from a big band plus orchestra and from a trumpet solo in a very high range only a few feet away, and I have to say, sometimes it hurts, and that worries me. I'm very careful with my aural health - any time I use headphones I keep it on a setting below 5/10, the car radio is low enough that people ask me if it's actually on - but this is an area where it is difficult to control what's going into my ears. During louder pops shows you'll see half the orchestra put in bright pink ear plugs from the big boxes backstage. But the thing is, they can do it subtly. How strange would it look if I put in my plugs in the middle of a big band chart??

I'm on ear rest tonight - no iPod, no going anywhere there might be loud traffic (not too much of a problem during the winter in Minneapolis!), and no phonecalls ...well, maybe just a few, but speak softly if you call...