Apparently there's a big fuss going on over the release of X-Factor winner, Alexandra Burke's rendition of Leonard Cohen's song 'Hallelujah'.
This happens to be one of my favourite songs of all time, me and several million others, especially Jeff Buckley fans, I suppose.
The song is one of those that needs no frills - the epitome of less is more. Essentially it's melancholic and regretful and giving it the Mariah Carey big voice treatment is like adding chocolate sauce to cheese fondu. This is what Alexandra has done, or is it Simon Cowell made her do it? Anyway, she has a lovely voice and really doesn't need the frippery of extra singers and a full-sized orchestra. Not for this song anyway.
As a special Christmas treat, here are a few versions of this beautiful song. Note the rendition of JLS and how sweet it is BEFORE the choir start joining in. Marvin and the boys don't need the frippery either.
Jeff Buckley fans reckon he gave the ultimate performance despite his youth. The official version is here, but if you want a more live rendition, you can see one here:
If you saw the film Shrek, you'll remember Rufus Wainwright's cover:
The man himself, here's Leonard's version, live:
From a craggy old git to sweet young men, JLS:
John Cale has a great voice and sings the song with just a piano accompaniment. It's all it needs:
Ok, so that's some of the guys, here come the girls, starting with KD Lang (who's a good transition...):
Sheryl Crow on guitar, a bit fast for my taste, but she has a great voice:
And Kate Voegele studio version:
I think the best versions come from the older singers who know what the hell they're singing. Alexandra Burke, who sings it here apparently admitted that she didn't know what on earth it was about, so while she gives an enthusiastic performance, it's empty of feeling. For some things you just have to have experience of life - adversity, loss, frustration, and love. If you've ever been in love and experienced a gradual eroding of the relationship, this song is for you.
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Stolen Day
I felt 'poorly' this morning. Too poorly to go to work. I won't say it wasn't my own fault, but I could see that there was little point entertaining the concept of work, so I might just as well stay in bed. Sitting up...
At lunch time it occurred to me that I should eat something, and having started the day irresponsibly, I decided I may as well continue, so had toast and honey with a cup of coffee (strong). While I was munching in front of the computer, I was sent a link to a music website, Playa Cofi Jukebox, which has music from 1950 to 1984. You download nothing, but can listen to it by clicking on a genre or a year and it just starts off and goes through the music on the play-list. I remember the late 70s and early 80s in particular, so it was sheer joy to set it off and then let the years drop away.
While listening, I read The Kept Man by Jami Attenberg which I'm really enjoying, or fell into a musical slumber just because I could. When I'd had enough of that, I emailed my someone special and chatted on IM and had a lovely time.
My day has been one of those stolen jewels of self-indulgence; a sanity break where for a few hours you can be off the treadmill, not grown up at all and revel in total selfish decadence.
Recommended!
At lunch time it occurred to me that I should eat something, and having started the day irresponsibly, I decided I may as well continue, so had toast and honey with a cup of coffee (strong). While I was munching in front of the computer, I was sent a link to a music website, Playa Cofi Jukebox, which has music from 1950 to 1984. You download nothing, but can listen to it by clicking on a genre or a year and it just starts off and goes through the music on the play-list. I remember the late 70s and early 80s in particular, so it was sheer joy to set it off and then let the years drop away.
While listening, I read The Kept Man by Jami Attenberg which I'm really enjoying, or fell into a musical slumber just because I could. When I'd had enough of that, I emailed my someone special and chatted on IM and had a lovely time.
My day has been one of those stolen jewels of self-indulgence; a sanity break where for a few hours you can be off the treadmill, not grown up at all and revel in total selfish decadence.
Recommended!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Fatal Bazooka - Girl Power
This is doing the rounds of my eldest's collège and is a big hit with the girls who are fed up with being harassed by les mecs...! It's hilarious :
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Keep on Strummin'
We are rockin'! Yesterday afternoon I took my eldest to buy his electric guitar. We went to a specialist shop in Castelnau le Lez - a wonderful emporium dedicated to everything guitar-shaped string.
I explained our mission - sent from the guitar teacher, and needing the full caboodle: guitar, bag, tuner, ampli, struts, strap, connecting bits and bobs. A rather delicious (too young) guy with lively eyes took us into the depths of the back. There were guitars of all sorts hanging up from every available spot. On one side were the acoustic guitars (guitare sèche...!) and in a little enclave were the electric ones, together with a pile of amplifiers.
The guy sat on a stool having fished a guitar off the wall explaining that it was the one they recommended for beginners as it has an excellent sound, and is very good value. It's an Ibanez GRG170 (so now you know...).
He then took an ampli and proceeded to give a demonstration of the various sounds it could produce, playing some appropriate song for each type. I'm a sucker for musicians, especially young handsome ones, and so I had a ball. My eldest was going "Oh, c'est cool" and pretended to strum along too, and the guy definitely appreciated our enthusiasm because he gave us 10% off and threw the case in for nuffink.
Of course, I nearly passed out at the bill - it'll have to come off the boys' inheritance, but it's also an investment. I'm now hoping my eldest will be a real whizz at the electric guitar, become a terribly famous drug-free guitarist and make so much money he can keep his mother in the style to which she intends to become accustomed...
Plan B is still that he does well at school and further education, and becomes the marvellous vet he's talking about wanting to be at the moment.
Our house has been full of electrically-saturated twangs since yesterday. My youngest has been getting on the digital piano and joining in with as many different sounds as possible but especially the ones that keep a sustained note, like the 'organ' and 'synth'. All we need now is a drum kit... on second thoughts, maybe we don't!
I explained our mission - sent from the guitar teacher, and needing the full caboodle: guitar, bag, tuner, ampli, struts, strap, connecting bits and bobs. A rather delicious (too young) guy with lively eyes took us into the depths of the back. There were guitars of all sorts hanging up from every available spot. On one side were the acoustic guitars (guitare sèche...!) and in a little enclave were the electric ones, together with a pile of amplifiers.
The guy sat on a stool having fished a guitar off the wall explaining that it was the one they recommended for beginners as it has an excellent sound, and is very good value. It's an Ibanez GRG170 (so now you know...).He then took an ampli and proceeded to give a demonstration of the various sounds it could produce, playing some appropriate song for each type. I'm a sucker for musicians, especially young handsome ones, and so I had a ball. My eldest was going "Oh, c'est cool" and pretended to strum along too, and the guy definitely appreciated our enthusiasm because he gave us 10% off and threw the case in for nuffink.
Of course, I nearly passed out at the bill - it'll have to come off the boys' inheritance, but it's also an investment. I'm now hoping my eldest will be a real whizz at the electric guitar, become a terribly famous drug-free guitarist and make so much money he can keep his mother in the style to which she intends to become accustomed...
Plan B is still that he does well at school and further education, and becomes the marvellous vet he's talking about wanting to be at the moment.
Our house has been full of electrically-saturated twangs since yesterday. My youngest has been getting on the digital piano and joining in with as many different sounds as possible but especially the ones that keep a sustained note, like the 'organ' and 'synth'. All we need now is a drum kit... on second thoughts, maybe we don't!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Strum-a-lum
Both the boys have decided they want to learn to play the electric guitar, since last night. We spent the evening listening to the efforts of the music students at the local music school, including my eldest who does solfège there. He learns the violin with his teacher where we used to live and participated in their music concert a couple of weeks ago.
Last night, with the other solfège kids, he was on the kazoo, so hardly the coolest instrument of the bunch... They did a rendition of some French pop song which I could la la laa to you, but whose name escapes me for the moment.
Other recitals came from children who played the drums, the guitar - both acoustic and electric, piano, song and violin. One young girl played the piano and sang her own composition. She must only have been about 9. I was most impressed.
Obviously the drums and electric guitar have enormous success with young people, who flock to lessons in the greatest numbers, especially when there is a cool, dynamic teacher to get them going. I was very impressed with both the drummers and the guitarists - drummers because the coordination needed to deal with three different beats from the hands and feet is a real feat, and guitarists because they were terrific and enthusiastic. Instead of intervals, the guitarists with a drummer did a series of 'Riffs' where they played a few bars of a famous song or advert and gave a lollipop to the person who identified the piece of music. That was a great success, with the ados behind me taking it all very animatedly, and little children at the front running about getting the answers from their parents.
One thing's for sure, around here, if any local band needs a guitarist or a drummer, they'll have embarras du choix if they go to the music school. In fact, the band idea is one that appeals to my eldest, for the moment. He's decided he wants to be a pop star...
I was actually surprised that my youngest didn't jump on the idea of learning to play the drums. He may well do yet, of course but for the moment I think he fancies himself leaping about a stage with a guitar. I wonder if I should consult Ebay. Any advice on guitars for children will be gratefully received!
Last night, with the other solfège kids, he was on the kazoo, so hardly the coolest instrument of the bunch... They did a rendition of some French pop song which I could la la laa to you, but whose name escapes me for the moment.
Other recitals came from children who played the drums, the guitar - both acoustic and electric, piano, song and violin. One young girl played the piano and sang her own composition. She must only have been about 9. I was most impressed.
Obviously the drums and electric guitar have enormous success with young people, who flock to lessons in the greatest numbers, especially when there is a cool, dynamic teacher to get them going. I was very impressed with both the drummers and the guitarists - drummers because the coordination needed to deal with three different beats from the hands and feet is a real feat, and guitarists because they were terrific and enthusiastic. Instead of intervals, the guitarists with a drummer did a series of 'Riffs' where they played a few bars of a famous song or advert and gave a lollipop to the person who identified the piece of music. That was a great success, with the ados behind me taking it all very animatedly, and little children at the front running about getting the answers from their parents.
One thing's for sure, around here, if any local band needs a guitarist or a drummer, they'll have embarras du choix if they go to the music school. In fact, the band idea is one that appeals to my eldest, for the moment. He's decided he wants to be a pop star...
I was actually surprised that my youngest didn't jump on the idea of learning to play the drums. He may well do yet, of course but for the moment I think he fancies himself leaping about a stage with a guitar. I wonder if I should consult Ebay. Any advice on guitars for children will be gratefully received!
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Sing to me, Lou
Last year, when we were on our happy hols near Swansea, in Mumbles, we went to see friends of my mother's. We were invited to dinner chez Betty and Lou Baker for which event, we took along the video camera. Why? Well, at dinner chez nous a couple of days previously, Lou had told us he had written a song and if we liked, after much persuading, would sing it for us.
Naturally, we were dying to hear it, and record it for posterity, so we set up the camera in their sitting room, Lou comfortably ensconced in an armchair and cued the maestro.
I think you will agree that it's a lovely, sad song; melancholic although at the same time, quite jaunty. Lou played with a jazz band years ago. He was a fine clarinetist and dreamed of becoming a professional musician. Unfortuately, music is a precarious way of life, and as a married man, he felt he could not put his dearly beloved through it.
He thus opened a garage in Mumbles and contented himself with amateur gigs. How could he but not regret his passion, though?
With the magic of the internet, however, he will at last reach out to the world and sing to those who wish to listen.
The music during the credits is called 'Dead God' and is a Marilyn Manson song - the passion of Jean-Mi Carter who so kindly put the video together...! I hinted that he might be asked to change it as Lou was more of a jazz man, in which case, he really shouldn't be offended...
Naturally, we were dying to hear it, and record it for posterity, so we set up the camera in their sitting room, Lou comfortably ensconced in an armchair and cued the maestro.
I think you will agree that it's a lovely, sad song; melancholic although at the same time, quite jaunty. Lou played with a jazz band years ago. He was a fine clarinetist and dreamed of becoming a professional musician. Unfortuately, music is a precarious way of life, and as a married man, he felt he could not put his dearly beloved through it.
He thus opened a garage in Mumbles and contented himself with amateur gigs. How could he but not regret his passion, though?
With the magic of the internet, however, he will at last reach out to the world and sing to those who wish to listen.
The music during the credits is called 'Dead God' and is a Marilyn Manson song - the passion of Jean-Mi Carter who so kindly put the video together...! I hinted that he might be asked to change it as Lou was more of a jazz man, in which case, he really shouldn't be offended...
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Soirée Musicale
St Gély is a dynamic place. It's the village next door, and while St Bloggie is a calm haven of residential sanity (for the recovering escapees of divorce like myself), it's all happening down the road.
It's where my eldest has his violin lessons, and this evening we went to watch the end of year concert. There seemed to be a lot going on at the same time. In the sports hall were collected mature dancers in 5-gallon hats, girls in green tee-shirts and black cycle shorts and all manner of creative club members set to perform for their annual bash.
We were in the amphitheatre, with comfy seats and a good view. The sports hall has wooden seats and benches, if you're lucky enough to nab one before someone else gets to it. I know this because it's where they hold the judo tournaments six times a year. My eldest used to do judo. I can't say I was sorry when he gave it up.
The concert was due to start at 'six' which of course is an arbitrary time meaning anything from 6.15pm to 7pm depending on when the participants arrive and finally get themselves sorted out. We were quite a party. There was moi (natch - the driver, and mum), my youngest, my eldest (natch - the star), his beloved (yes, they start young in France), her twin sister, and NG. A show of force, you might say.
The first on was a group of classical guitarists aged from about 7 to 13. They did very nicely. Then an electric guitar group came on, to the delight of most of their classmates who were sitting up at the back. One of the classical girls also played the electric guitar, and very well she did too! The prof played the drums, and there were 4 guitarists and one bassist. NG and I were most impressed. I couldn't ask my boys what they thought as they were sitting on the other side of the amphi, my youngest under strict instructions to behave or come and sit by mummy and get walloped when he did something naughty... When the prof introduced the players at the end of the performance, their pals all cheered their particular classmate. Then that half of the audience all got up, trooped down the steps and left!
After a little pianist and a little viola player (who got a special clap from me, being one too!), my eldest came on with his group of fellow violinists and two cellists. I had forgotten my camera (BAAAAAD mother!) and had to fall back on my mobile phone to take a video of them playing.
They did very well. I know my eldest was feeling extremely anxious as he had behaved diabolically this morning before breakfast, but he didn't give in to his nerves and was rightly pleased with himself. I cheered like mad when they'd finished I was so proud.
Just before NG collapsed into a heap, we gathered the young'uns and headed home.
NG and I made a special point of studying the youth on stage, and tried to guess which ones were probably being a bugger at home. On the whole, they seemed nice and relatively normal, which was encouraging. The boys looked alive and animated, and the girls looked clean and fresh.
Music is such a wonderful thing to be part of, especially when you reach the stage where you can play with others. My eldest has now reached that point and, I'm delighted to say, wants to continue playing the violin next year.
On condition he doesn't have to do solfege...
It's where my eldest has his violin lessons, and this evening we went to watch the end of year concert. There seemed to be a lot going on at the same time. In the sports hall were collected mature dancers in 5-gallon hats, girls in green tee-shirts and black cycle shorts and all manner of creative club members set to perform for their annual bash.
We were in the amphitheatre, with comfy seats and a good view. The sports hall has wooden seats and benches, if you're lucky enough to nab one before someone else gets to it. I know this because it's where they hold the judo tournaments six times a year. My eldest used to do judo. I can't say I was sorry when he gave it up.
The concert was due to start at 'six' which of course is an arbitrary time meaning anything from 6.15pm to 7pm depending on when the participants arrive and finally get themselves sorted out. We were quite a party. There was moi (natch - the driver, and mum), my youngest, my eldest (natch - the star), his beloved (yes, they start young in France), her twin sister, and NG. A show of force, you might say.
The first on was a group of classical guitarists aged from about 7 to 13. They did very nicely. Then an electric guitar group came on, to the delight of most of their classmates who were sitting up at the back. One of the classical girls also played the electric guitar, and very well she did too! The prof played the drums, and there were 4 guitarists and one bassist. NG and I were most impressed. I couldn't ask my boys what they thought as they were sitting on the other side of the amphi, my youngest under strict instructions to behave or come and sit by mummy and get walloped when he did something naughty... When the prof introduced the players at the end of the performance, their pals all cheered their particular classmate. Then that half of the audience all got up, trooped down the steps and left!
After a little pianist and a little viola player (who got a special clap from me, being one too!), my eldest came on with his group of fellow violinists and two cellists. I had forgotten my camera (BAAAAAD mother!) and had to fall back on my mobile phone to take a video of them playing.
They did very well. I know my eldest was feeling extremely anxious as he had behaved diabolically this morning before breakfast, but he didn't give in to his nerves and was rightly pleased with himself. I cheered like mad when they'd finished I was so proud.
Just before NG collapsed into a heap, we gathered the young'uns and headed home.
NG and I made a special point of studying the youth on stage, and tried to guess which ones were probably being a bugger at home. On the whole, they seemed nice and relatively normal, which was encouraging. The boys looked alive and animated, and the girls looked clean and fresh.
Music is such a wonderful thing to be part of, especially when you reach the stage where you can play with others. My eldest has now reached that point and, I'm delighted to say, wants to continue playing the violin next year.
On condition he doesn't have to do solfege...
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Ducking and Diving
I was contemplating my navel again this evening watching my youngest have his swimming lesson. There was a new girl; the only girl in fact, in a class of 5 boys. She was none too happy; I think because she didn't want to swim rather than being in a class of boys.
The instructor, who at the end of last half term had been getting grumpier and more impatient, had returned refreshed, short-haired and patient. He persuaded the reluctant girl into the water (at which point her father decided it was a good moment to beat a hasty retreat) and to hang on to the sponge 'frite'. That was as far as she got before she started wailing.
She wailed up the length of the pool. She wailed back down the length of the pool. The boys were swimming nonchalantly up and down, overtaking her, chatting to each other as they swam, and generally minding their own business.
Eventually she stopped wailing and found that she was enjoying herself. Then she found she was doing pretty well and ended up frite-less, swimming, and even learning how to dive from her knees. Just goes to show really, doesn't it?
Meanwhile, my eldest was suffering 'solfege', the bane of the lives of French children who study a musical instrument. Rare are the teachers who make it a pleasant lesson, and it's often enough to stop the child from carrying on learning their instrument. My eldest is at that point. He hates going to solfege lessons (music theory) and says that next year he's going to stop learning to play the violin so he can stop solfege. Can I get away with not making him go to solfege? Maybe. Afterall, it would be a shame to stop something he enjoys just because something not very important is spoiling his pleasure. He's not going to be a professional musician, so why torture him with unnecessary crap?
Ah the French. They do love their due processes!
The instructor, who at the end of last half term had been getting grumpier and more impatient, had returned refreshed, short-haired and patient. He persuaded the reluctant girl into the water (at which point her father decided it was a good moment to beat a hasty retreat) and to hang on to the sponge 'frite'. That was as far as she got before she started wailing.
She wailed up the length of the pool. She wailed back down the length of the pool. The boys were swimming nonchalantly up and down, overtaking her, chatting to each other as they swam, and generally minding their own business.
Eventually she stopped wailing and found that she was enjoying herself. Then she found she was doing pretty well and ended up frite-less, swimming, and even learning how to dive from her knees. Just goes to show really, doesn't it?
Meanwhile, my eldest was suffering 'solfege', the bane of the lives of French children who study a musical instrument. Rare are the teachers who make it a pleasant lesson, and it's often enough to stop the child from carrying on learning their instrument. My eldest is at that point. He hates going to solfege lessons (music theory) and says that next year he's going to stop learning to play the violin so he can stop solfege. Can I get away with not making him go to solfege? Maybe. Afterall, it would be a shame to stop something he enjoys just because something not very important is spoiling his pleasure. He's not going to be a professional musician, so why torture him with unnecessary crap?
Ah the French. They do love their due processes!
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Warm and Fuzzy
I'm sitting here listening to The Brandenburg Concerto No 2 for two violins. The boys are not here, so I am able to do this unaccosted by complaints that they would prefer to play some ghastly game on the computer. I am trying to raise the tone of the house just for the Christmas weekend, and succeeding, actually.
The brandy butter is made and hardening in the fridge, the turkey is out defrosting, the mince pies are cooling and the Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College, Cambridge has been on Radio 4. It was lovely, as ever, although I wish they wouldn't have quite so many new tunes for carols and so much dissonance in new ones. Still, it was one of those marvellous moments of English tradition; the choir's voices soaring to the upper reaches of the vaulted roof, the quality and talent of the choristers, and the beauty of the music. Church music is one of the more inspiring elements of Christianity.
Tonight we are going to have a French Reveillon with NG who is preparing a super dinner, for which we are dressing appropriately as deems fit for the occasion. I've dug out my black velvet evening gown which I last wore... um... probably about ten years ago. Amazingly, it still fits, still looks good and is comfy to wear. Father Christmas is unlikely to leave a diamond necklace in my stocking, so it'll have to be du toc around my neck. Or pearls (cultivated).
My compter screen is becoming snowed up thanks to a little application sent to me by my son's violin teacher. It's really cool and very festive.
I love Christmas Eve. It's like the calm before the storm; a moment to appreciate how lovely the house looks, start eating the mince pies, admire the pressies around the Christmas tree for the last time in the subtle, gentle glow of tree lights and feel all Christmassy and special.
Happy Christmas everyone.
The brandy butter is made and hardening in the fridge, the turkey is out defrosting, the mince pies are cooling and the Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College, Cambridge has been on Radio 4. It was lovely, as ever, although I wish they wouldn't have quite so many new tunes for carols and so much dissonance in new ones. Still, it was one of those marvellous moments of English tradition; the choir's voices soaring to the upper reaches of the vaulted roof, the quality and talent of the choristers, and the beauty of the music. Church music is one of the more inspiring elements of Christianity.
Tonight we are going to have a French Reveillon with NG who is preparing a super dinner, for which we are dressing appropriately as deems fit for the occasion. I've dug out my black velvet evening gown which I last wore... um... probably about ten years ago. Amazingly, it still fits, still looks good and is comfy to wear. Father Christmas is unlikely to leave a diamond necklace in my stocking, so it'll have to be du toc around my neck. Or pearls (cultivated).
My compter screen is becoming snowed up thanks to a little application sent to me by my son's violin teacher. It's really cool and very festive.
I love Christmas Eve. It's like the calm before the storm; a moment to appreciate how lovely the house looks, start eating the mince pies, admire the pressies around the Christmas tree for the last time in the subtle, gentle glow of tree lights and feel all Christmassy and special.
Happy Christmas everyone.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Double Maths
I feel vindicated. For years I spent hours enduring my mathematician father telling me the answer wasn't the important thing in maths, it was how you got to it that counted. It was all very well for him, he could do it. I couldn't. I wanted him to give me the answer so I could see where we were going and understand the underlying routing. Would he give it to me? Not on your life. Did I understand it any better because he explained in mathematical gobbledigook how to solve a particular problem? Er, no. I couldn't see the general direction, didn't understand whether an answer was likely to be right or not, and wondered hopelessly when I would ever need to use most of it.
My father read Maths at university (Cambridge), but, like many who have a natural understanding of maths, was completely incapable of explaining it to dunderheads like me. Was his talent shared with any of this three children? Nope. We all struggled, although we did get that oh so important maths 'O' level; the gateway to university for some reason.
Today I read in the Times that Marcus du Sautoy, Professor of Mathematics at the University of Oxford says it's important to keep children interested in maths, to make it relevant to everyday life and to show them the big picture. He suggests teaching it in a similar way to music:
I see similar reactions in my eldest. Poor lad, he doesn't seem to have inherited his dad's mathematical skill either. Why do these mathematicians keep things for themselves? Selfish buggers.
Pr du Sautoy suggests that learning a musical instrument helps in the understanding of maths. I can't say I agree with him. I learned three and it made no difference at all. I reckon it helps those that are already good at maths to get even better. It's a very insular gift.
However, he does seem to have some very interesting thoughts on relevant maths, such as the idea that adolescents could be enthused by stories of mathematical discovery, the magic of prime numbers with examples of these in Nature. I do agree that there is some fascinating stuff to learn about maths out there... (eek), and I even enjoy watching the tele show 'Numb3rs', but school maths is dire, 'O'level maths was ghastly and I decided that if I never saw another maths problem again as long as I lived after I'd got through it, it would be a day too soon.
Maybe my youngest will be the new maths champ in our family... I know it would make his dad happy at least....
My father read Maths at university (Cambridge), but, like many who have a natural understanding of maths, was completely incapable of explaining it to dunderheads like me. Was his talent shared with any of this three children? Nope. We all struggled, although we did get that oh so important maths 'O' level; the gateway to university for some reason.
Today I read in the Times that Marcus du Sautoy, Professor of Mathematics at the University of Oxford says it's important to keep children interested in maths, to make it relevant to everyday life and to show them the big picture. He suggests teaching it in a similar way to music:
You have to teach all the scales and arpeggios, but first you have to play the finished piece of music to the pupil so they know what they are aiming for. To inspire and excite you have to show the big picture of what they are aiming for first even if they don’t yet understand how to get there.Ha! You see? Give me the big picture (and the answer) and there'll be a vague chance I might be able to look at the problem without my eyes immediately glazing over, my brain seizing up, or a knee-jerk 'I can't do it' reaction, or even a stupid answer to 6+7. (I had a mental block over this for some time, when I was a wee thing, and it used to incense my father, which caused further blockage, a stricken brain, and wild guessing.)
I see similar reactions in my eldest. Poor lad, he doesn't seem to have inherited his dad's mathematical skill either. Why do these mathematicians keep things for themselves? Selfish buggers.
Pr du Sautoy suggests that learning a musical instrument helps in the understanding of maths. I can't say I agree with him. I learned three and it made no difference at all. I reckon it helps those that are already good at maths to get even better. It's a very insular gift.
However, he does seem to have some very interesting thoughts on relevant maths, such as the idea that adolescents could be enthused by stories of mathematical discovery, the magic of prime numbers with examples of these in Nature. I do agree that there is some fascinating stuff to learn about maths out there... (eek), and I even enjoy watching the tele show 'Numb3rs', but school maths is dire, 'O'level maths was ghastly and I decided that if I never saw another maths problem again as long as I lived after I'd got through it, it would be a day too soon.
Maybe my youngest will be the new maths champ in our family... I know it would make his dad happy at least....
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Coffee at 10metres
In June 1995 I was in an amateur orchestra as a viola player and we made a mini CD. One of the recordings was a piece by Pablo Casals: the Cant dell Ocells for cello and strings. The soloist who so kindly gave up his time to play with us was Cyrille Tricoire who was a member of the National Montpellier Orchestra.
It's a very beautiful piece of music; ethereal, sonorous and meditative, and making that little disc was a proud moment for me. I still have the mini disc. I left the orchestra soon afterwards to give birth to my eldest after which I had no more time, and no support to do such activities from my ex-h.
Imagine my delight, then, upon opening a newspaper produced by the Montpellier Agglomoration and seeing a concert in which M Tricoire was a soloist. He, a pianist and a violinist were to play Haydn's Piano Sonata n° 33, Mozart's Piano Sonata K333 and Mendelssohn's Trio n° 1. Lovely pieces, and in the Corum on a Sunday morning at 10.45. It was too good a chance to miss, and I decided I would try and see him afterwards to say hello.
Would you be surprised to learn that there were at least 200 people at this concert on a Sunday morning? I was. The concert hall was almost full of mostly mature, well-to-do Montpellier society. Some parents had brought along their children too. At 14€ straight price, it was a very reasonably-priced chance to listen to some beautiful music played by super professionals.
We dashed out for a coffee at the interval and although we were probably the first to make it to the bar, an elderly lady, obviously more desperate for a caffeine dose than us, called out her order for 2 coffees at 10m. She contined striding up to us and declared how moving the Mozart had been and how it always made her cry. She'd been having a lovely time too.
At the end of the concert, we hung about in true groupie form, by the interior stage door waiting for M Tricoire to come out. The other soloists were brought out by some fans, but Cyrille did not come out with them. I wondered if he had been forgotten in the quest for signed programmes, or if the soloist girls were the sought-after 'stars' while the poor cellist was just considered a cosy old accompanist. I even felt sorry for him that he did not have a bevvy of mature middle class ladies all keen for his signature on the programme.
I thus asked the pianist, Claire-Marie Le Guay if he had left already, and she replied he hadn't and that she would take us to him. We thus entered the bowels of behind stage and were taken to his dressing room. He recognised my face. Isn't that amazing? He got the instrument wrong though as he thought I played the flute, but that's okay, it was ten years ago, and a mere amateur event without professional interest for him.
Anyway, he was very charming and told me there is an amateur orchestra in Montpellier (not the same one - it was disbanded after the conductor ran off with a Polish musician he'd been having an affair with) which is always on the look-out for musicians, and he gave me the email of the conductor. Viola players are always in demand as there are so few of us. It's so nice to feel wanted...
I told him how much I had enjoyed the concert too and asked after his career. He said that, well, he was world renowned in Montpellier, in a very jolly way, but doesn't seem to mind as he is the star cello soloist of the Orchestre National de Montpellier, and teaches at the Conservatoire, so I should think he makes ends meet.
I did not ask him to sign the programme, but left him to finish putting his stuff away, and went off happy as a sandboy outside into the brisk but doue November sun.
The last time I joined an orchestra I had not played the viola for ten years. It's now been about ten years since I last played. Maybe it's time for me to take it up again. This seems to be a situation presented to me on a plate, and as such should be followed up.
I'm a great believer in Fate and doing things at the right time; not before, not after. If you don't take notice of this, things invariably go wrong because you're too early, or too late. There is a bon moment. Don't ignore it.
StBdeR
It's a very beautiful piece of music; ethereal, sonorous and meditative, and making that little disc was a proud moment for me. I still have the mini disc. I left the orchestra soon afterwards to give birth to my eldest after which I had no more time, and no support to do such activities from my ex-h.
Imagine my delight, then, upon opening a newspaper produced by the Montpellier Agglomoration and seeing a concert in which M Tricoire was a soloist. He, a pianist and a violinist were to play Haydn's Piano Sonata n° 33, Mozart's Piano Sonata K333 and Mendelssohn's Trio n° 1. Lovely pieces, and in the Corum on a Sunday morning at 10.45. It was too good a chance to miss, and I decided I would try and see him afterwards to say hello.
Would you be surprised to learn that there were at least 200 people at this concert on a Sunday morning? I was. The concert hall was almost full of mostly mature, well-to-do Montpellier society. Some parents had brought along their children too. At 14€ straight price, it was a very reasonably-priced chance to listen to some beautiful music played by super professionals.
We dashed out for a coffee at the interval and although we were probably the first to make it to the bar, an elderly lady, obviously more desperate for a caffeine dose than us, called out her order for 2 coffees at 10m. She contined striding up to us and declared how moving the Mozart had been and how it always made her cry. She'd been having a lovely time too.
At the end of the concert, we hung about in true groupie form, by the interior stage door waiting for M Tricoire to come out. The other soloists were brought out by some fans, but Cyrille did not come out with them. I wondered if he had been forgotten in the quest for signed programmes, or if the soloist girls were the sought-after 'stars' while the poor cellist was just considered a cosy old accompanist. I even felt sorry for him that he did not have a bevvy of mature middle class ladies all keen for his signature on the programme.
I thus asked the pianist, Claire-Marie Le Guay if he had left already, and she replied he hadn't and that she would take us to him. We thus entered the bowels of behind stage and were taken to his dressing room. He recognised my face. Isn't that amazing? He got the instrument wrong though as he thought I played the flute, but that's okay, it was ten years ago, and a mere amateur event without professional interest for him.
Anyway, he was very charming and told me there is an amateur orchestra in Montpellier (not the same one - it was disbanded after the conductor ran off with a Polish musician he'd been having an affair with) which is always on the look-out for musicians, and he gave me the email of the conductor. Viola players are always in demand as there are so few of us. It's so nice to feel wanted...
I told him how much I had enjoyed the concert too and asked after his career. He said that, well, he was world renowned in Montpellier, in a very jolly way, but doesn't seem to mind as he is the star cello soloist of the Orchestre National de Montpellier, and teaches at the Conservatoire, so I should think he makes ends meet.
I did not ask him to sign the programme, but left him to finish putting his stuff away, and went off happy as a sandboy outside into the brisk but doue November sun.
The last time I joined an orchestra I had not played the viola for ten years. It's now been about ten years since I last played. Maybe it's time for me to take it up again. This seems to be a situation presented to me on a plate, and as such should be followed up.
I'm a great believer in Fate and doing things at the right time; not before, not after. If you don't take notice of this, things invariably go wrong because you're too early, or too late. There is a bon moment. Don't ignore it.
StBdeR
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
The Point?
I was watching my youngest at his swimming lesson this evening, tea-less, so suffering. He likes me to stay and watch him which I don't mind at all, except that there are no chairs, so I have to lean over a railing in stifling heat hopping from one foot to the other.
I was standing there and you know how you wonder about things sometimes? It came upon me to wonder what was the point of it all - swimming, driving, wearing clothes, working, making an effort and so on. It's all just filling in time before we peg it.
Still, there are more amusing ways to fill in time than others, and I came across one this afternoon. The daughter of a work colleague makes music, and it seems that she is rather good at it. She and her partner won a competition last week - no, not StarAc, but of that ilk. She has a website on MySpace where you can listen to their songs, and I must say it makes very very pleasant listening. It's cool music - atmospheric jazz, sort of...
I was thrilled to see the opportunities that are available now thanks to the internet. Making music and reaching a wide audience is so much easier now than it's ever been before. I suppose I'm a little envious too as it must be very exciting to be young and musical in this day and age. Even I, with my digital piano am benefitting from the electronic possibilities. I can play with the earphones on and make as much racket as I like, and as many mistakes as I like, in whatever instrument sound I like without anyone being any the wiser. Freedom!
Anyway, having wondered what was the point of it all, I decided that maybe there's no particular point, but it's up to all of us to make our own. I'm feeling a little guilty that I'm not being all go-getting and out there making millions. Instead I'm just happy with my peaceful little life without exotic holidays or bling. I don't even care that I don't own my house, but rent. In fact, the idea of owning fills me with a sort of dread at the responsibility and financial bottomless pit that that would entail. So I coast... and it's lovely.
But is it life?
I was standing there and you know how you wonder about things sometimes? It came upon me to wonder what was the point of it all - swimming, driving, wearing clothes, working, making an effort and so on. It's all just filling in time before we peg it.
Still, there are more amusing ways to fill in time than others, and I came across one this afternoon. The daughter of a work colleague makes music, and it seems that she is rather good at it. She and her partner won a competition last week - no, not StarAc, but of that ilk. She has a website on MySpace where you can listen to their songs, and I must say it makes very very pleasant listening. It's cool music - atmospheric jazz, sort of...
I was thrilled to see the opportunities that are available now thanks to the internet. Making music and reaching a wide audience is so much easier now than it's ever been before. I suppose I'm a little envious too as it must be very exciting to be young and musical in this day and age. Even I, with my digital piano am benefitting from the electronic possibilities. I can play with the earphones on and make as much racket as I like, and as many mistakes as I like, in whatever instrument sound I like without anyone being any the wiser. Freedom!
Anyway, having wondered what was the point of it all, I decided that maybe there's no particular point, but it's up to all of us to make our own. I'm feeling a little guilty that I'm not being all go-getting and out there making millions. Instead I'm just happy with my peaceful little life without exotic holidays or bling. I don't even care that I don't own my house, but rent. In fact, the idea of owning fills me with a sort of dread at the responsibility and financial bottomless pit that that would entail. So I coast... and it's lovely.
But is it life?
Monday, October 23, 2006
Artistic Endeavors
This is a self-portrait of my youngest doing what he loves best. Please note the happy smile and active demeanor; the blue sky and casual sun. The picture formed part of an 'identity booklet' which he produced at school. On the cover was a photocopied, blown-up photo of himself which he had partly coloured in, and inside the same picture, traced and reproduced - bit like artistic Chinese whispers.There was also a piece of string representing his height, a hand print and footprint. It was such an adorable ensemble, and artistic, I was really proud of his school and the work they enabled him to produce.
It is nearly half-term which is why we are getting all the artwork to take home. I was also given a roll of a number of paintings he had done since September. I noticed that other bundles were thicker than his, which had a mere 3 pictures inside, but I suppose it's quality, not quantity which counts... I think, thus, it would be fair to say that as an artist, he is not exactly prolific, but he aint half cute!
He and his brother had a jolly time this evening, as did the RA, as we had a DIY supper. Saturday last saw us not in Intermarche, but in Carrefour, with all that that implies: more choice, higher spending...
One of the jolly items we fell for was a packet of 'lavash' which seem to be some sort of oriental flat bread which you fill and make into a pancake-like sausage. Last night we had a roast chicken, so today, we had the leftovers presented in a little bowl together with bowls of corn, apple, onion, white cabbage, and mayonnaise, peanut butter, ketchup and banana.
We all took a square of lavash and filled it as we wished. My eldest, renowned for his picky ways, ate 5 sausage sandwiches stuffed with peanut butter, chicken, corn and apple. My youngest was not so keen, so he was tonight's Captain Picky. They like to rotate the title, my two.
I would, however, consider the evening meal a roaring success as doing it DIY leant a wonderfully spontaneous aspect to everything and brought out laughter, good humour and a lovely atmosphere. To be recommended!
Previously, the RA and my eldest had both been practising their violins at the same time, and it sounded exactly like a music school. I had been playing the piano - I must buy some more music - on which I am making gradual but steady progress. I am using old piano books that I had when I was my eldest's age - grade 3 and various exercise books, plus some grade 5 music, which is where I stopped to concentrate on the viola.
Mind you, it's much more amusing on a digital piano. There's so much more you can do what with all the different instrument sounds, a metronome, possibility to record and listen and even play along the musical selection already programmed in, either with both hands or one. Plus the advantage of earphones means you can make as awful a noise as you like and no one near is wincing privately.
By gum it's all such fun!
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Rethinking Retirement
I was really hoping my youngest would be able to keep me, in my declining years, in the style to which I intend to become accustomed with his footie prowess leading to Beckham-like expertise and vast wealth.
After today's performance on the soccer pitch, however, sadly I have to face the evidence that, aged 5 1/2, he does not and will never bend it like the master. My little 'pre-debutant', too young even for a football licence was down on the local all-weather pitch playing in a friendly tournament. He was actually playing with others in his footie club, but the older, licenced boys were playing against the Vendargues team.
They played three matches in just over an hour and a half and my son's side won two, lost one, so no complaints there. He was, unfortunately, hampered by his tibia pads so we took them off, whereupon he was put into goal where tibia pads are not so much an essential piece of leg protection (at that age!). When he was next liberated onto the field, he did run around more comfortably, but has a tendency to kick and leave the ball; he doesn't follow it up the field to pass or try to score, and just seems to be perpetually perplexed.
Hence my acceptance of the fact that his vocation is unlikely to be footie. To be honest, given your typical footie player and those WAGs, I'm not overly worried, and am probably quite relieved. I wouldn't like him to live 'Footballers' Wives'...
I doubt he'll make millions in music either although he does seem to be something of a purist. Since the digital piano was delivered, he has taken to playing the magnificent, old, out-of-tune original piano which, before, he never touched, but from the moment the other arrived, started tinkling away on its ivories (literally...). It's not like he's rejected the modern electronic one, but he has a definite preference for the classic piano.
He's been trying to play his favourite song of the moment, 'Au clair de la lune, j'ai peté dans l'eau...' (boy=toilet humour). I helped him with the first phrase; 3 notes. I took his finger and played the melody as far as 'mon ami Pierrot'. Could he get the hang of it by himself? Nope. We tried again, and again, to no avail.
Hence my acceptance of the fact that he is obviously not a musical genius either, although that does not necessarily exclude him from becoming a famous pop star...
On the other hand, he is getting enormous enjoyment out of both playing footie and the piano, and I'll just have to look to other solutions for my little retirement comforts.
After today's performance on the soccer pitch, however, sadly I have to face the evidence that, aged 5 1/2, he does not and will never bend it like the master. My little 'pre-debutant', too young even for a football licence was down on the local all-weather pitch playing in a friendly tournament. He was actually playing with others in his footie club, but the older, licenced boys were playing against the Vendargues team.
They played three matches in just over an hour and a half and my son's side won two, lost one, so no complaints there. He was, unfortunately, hampered by his tibia pads so we took them off, whereupon he was put into goal where tibia pads are not so much an essential piece of leg protection (at that age!). When he was next liberated onto the field, he did run around more comfortably, but has a tendency to kick and leave the ball; he doesn't follow it up the field to pass or try to score, and just seems to be perpetually perplexed.
Hence my acceptance of the fact that his vocation is unlikely to be footie. To be honest, given your typical footie player and those WAGs, I'm not overly worried, and am probably quite relieved. I wouldn't like him to live 'Footballers' Wives'...
I doubt he'll make millions in music either although he does seem to be something of a purist. Since the digital piano was delivered, he has taken to playing the magnificent, old, out-of-tune original piano which, before, he never touched, but from the moment the other arrived, started tinkling away on its ivories (literally...). It's not like he's rejected the modern electronic one, but he has a definite preference for the classic piano.He's been trying to play his favourite song of the moment, 'Au clair de la lune, j'ai peté dans l'eau...' (boy=toilet humour). I helped him with the first phrase; 3 notes. I took his finger and played the melody as far as 'mon ami Pierrot'. Could he get the hang of it by himself? Nope. We tried again, and again, to no avail.
Hence my acceptance of the fact that he is obviously not a musical genius either, although that does not necessarily exclude him from becoming a famous pop star...
On the other hand, he is getting enormous enjoyment out of both playing footie and the piano, and I'll just have to look to other solutions for my little retirement comforts.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Music in the Air
I got out my viola this evening. I had a sudden urge to play it, so I did. A while ago, I bought a couple of music books with CD. This makes messing about on the viola a whole lot more fun.
To say I'm rusty is an understatement, but I have nothing to practice for, and no time to be part of an orchestra which usually demands regular attendance and weekend practices before a concert. It's quite restful just getting the instrument out, deciding to sight-read the music, and play along to the CD as best I can.
I was pretty crappy in places, but also surprised myself once or twice. Music is best shared, however, which is why I love playing with my son, and would love him to get better so we can really let rip. He may never get there, however, as he is already campaigning to give up the violin, the sooner the better, after coming back from the summer holidays saying he wanted to continue.
He maintains the violin is a girly instrument and I can cite the names of brilliant male violinists until I'm blue in the face, it makes no difference. He is the only boy in his violin entourage, ergo, the violin is a girly instrument. I've told him he has to continue to the end of the year. I've paid, he made the decision, alors il l'assume! All terribly character-building...
Last night my youngest and I were on the internet on a site where children can learn to read: Starfall. It's horribly American, so the accents are quite funny, and we had great fun exaggerating the phrases to say them in the strongest American accent we could. Despite the accents, it is a jolly site, has amusing animation, and seems to be a good learning tool. My youngest is in Mat 4; the last year of Maternelle, so is learning letters at school. I wanted to show him that you can learn to read in English too, and to introduce some sounds and word recognition. He seemed to enjoy it, so whilst I wouldn't labour the point, we will pop in there from time to time for some word play.
My eldest learned to read English all by himself, but then he did benefit from a year in the US when he was 2-3, and has a superb grasp of English already.
On the other hand, my youngest learned to ride a bike without stabilisers all by himself at the age of 3 1/5. At school!
I can't wait to see what they make of the piano. Delivery programmed for tomorrow. Watch this space!
To say I'm rusty is an understatement, but I have nothing to practice for, and no time to be part of an orchestra which usually demands regular attendance and weekend practices before a concert. It's quite restful just getting the instrument out, deciding to sight-read the music, and play along to the CD as best I can.
I was pretty crappy in places, but also surprised myself once or twice. Music is best shared, however, which is why I love playing with my son, and would love him to get better so we can really let rip. He may never get there, however, as he is already campaigning to give up the violin, the sooner the better, after coming back from the summer holidays saying he wanted to continue.
He maintains the violin is a girly instrument and I can cite the names of brilliant male violinists until I'm blue in the face, it makes no difference. He is the only boy in his violin entourage, ergo, the violin is a girly instrument. I've told him he has to continue to the end of the year. I've paid, he made the decision, alors il l'assume! All terribly character-building...
Last night my youngest and I were on the internet on a site where children can learn to read: Starfall. It's horribly American, so the accents are quite funny, and we had great fun exaggerating the phrases to say them in the strongest American accent we could. Despite the accents, it is a jolly site, has amusing animation, and seems to be a good learning tool. My youngest is in Mat 4; the last year of Maternelle, so is learning letters at school. I wanted to show him that you can learn to read in English too, and to introduce some sounds and word recognition. He seemed to enjoy it, so whilst I wouldn't labour the point, we will pop in there from time to time for some word play.
My eldest learned to read English all by himself, but then he did benefit from a year in the US when he was 2-3, and has a superb grasp of English already.
On the other hand, my youngest learned to ride a bike without stabilisers all by himself at the age of 3 1/5. At school!
I can't wait to see what they make of the piano. Delivery programmed for tomorrow. Watch this space!
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