15 July 2008
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
Well, I survived being ‘Smooth-Jazzed’ (actually, that does sound a tad profane, doesn’t it?) and am recovering both my spirit and sense of decency. I’ll tell you, I was actually amazed playing this well-known club last week for a number of reasons. The Russian audiences are very sedate, almost dead. I have seen this at numerous venues now. There is no life in them; they just sit there…I don’t think it was me and the Smooth Jazz show (which would put anybody into a catatonic state) because I’ve seen it in every show. Every type of music: classical, jazz, pop…just sitting there…When I’m in the audience, I like to enjoy shows (maybe too much as Margaret, bless her, keeps reminding me). A great show is like a Revival meeting: I nod along, clap, and even holler if it’s an appropriate venue (and even sometimes when it’s not…but should be). Granted, people look at me funny, but to Hell with them if they can’t learn to loosen a few buttons and get down to the tunes…
The Russians, like, don’t even move. I can’t even tell if they are breathing…
This is disturbing…it’s like that scene from ‘The Blues Brothers’ when they play a great opening number and no one claps, the audience just sits there. THIS is a Russian audience. To give them credit, they do politely clap after tunes, and given most Russian’s sense of groove it is much better if they DON’T clap along (believe me…wow), but a little sign of life would be nice.
The performers don’t seem to mind. Most have no sense of stage presence, so many play almost like they are working in a cubicle. They play a tune, play the same structure, the same solos, and then…it’s “very nice; next song”…I like audiences. I REALLY like audiences. I want my audiences to KNOW that I like them and that I appreciate them. I even like to talk to people from stage. It seems like a common thing, right? Performers, especially in intimate settings, talk to people. I always have; it’s an important connection. Here (and by the way, also in many other Eastern European countries, as I have encountered) there is this odd relationship where the performer is on stage doing his or her thing and the audience sits quietly and watches. There is no interaction. I actually have been chastised for talking to the audience-I was told that it belittles the music and is more for clowns and not for serious art…
…some of these people are so full of themselves…please…you know, it’s all a part of this ‘great person’ fatalism that this culture has. A great person (performer, artist, thinker, etc.) is great…period. They are beyond the rest of ‘us’, who are nothing but lowly ants that have been graced by their presence…the problem is that artists actually believe this and treat the audience this way-separate and lower. The audience accepts this as their rightful place. It’s so complete Bull $#^!, but it is the norm…remember, I have brought this up now in a number of letters…
Anyways, so we play this show…with a drum machine, remember.? Also, perfectly acceptable. We even had a percussionist on stage to ‘fill in’. A couple of days later, I played a club gig with this same percussionist (and basically the same band, but the leader wasn’t there) and I commented on the drum machine and how much I hated it. His comment? “It’s not so bad; it’s very good for many situations and can add a lot”…What?…you’re a PERCUSSIONIST and you like the drum machine? He went on to say how much he prefers working with it because it’s always steady and you know what it’s going to do…“For God’s Sake, man!” I said, not unviolently “this is JAZZ we are talking about! Not some syntho-tracked pop music to back some untalented American Idol contestant. This is music to be played LIVE!” He didn’t agree…many are of the same view. “It’s easier, the audience doesn’t mind (and isn’t important); it’s good, steady, and controlled. We play it the same way all time, anyways”…
…it’s bull $#^!, that’s what it is…
Well…enough of this topic. I’m starting to foam at the mouth…
In Russian culture news, let me tell you: we went to Peterhof yesterday. Wow, I have to say, wow, I was impressed. The palace complex, which is based on Versailles, was just beautiful. We took a hydrofoil to the palace-that alone was cool! I don’t think I have been on a hydrofoil before. This was probably the most comfortable I have been on or in anything made in this country…anyways, we left from across the Hermitage and headed into the Gulf of Finland-great voyage! Of course, the Gulf itself is an ecological disaster, but that’s a whole different topic. As we came upon the palace complex, we could see the main fountains rising in the distance. The palace complex is known for its many, many different fountains. There is even a once fully-functional waterway (it still has water, just no boats) that leads up to the Great Palace door, surrounded by fountains and canals and incredible gilded neo-classical statues.
We spent the day walking around the grounds, which are well-manicured and laden with both paved and dirt paths which lead to the many buildings, statues, and many, many fountains. The fountains were great. There was one which I really liked that was shaped like a chess board that was built into the side of a hill. At the top were dragons whose mouths the water sprayed out. Very cool.
It was just great to get out of the city for a while. Even though my touring is done, my physical ailments (my ankle, especially) have kept me mostly locked inside my apartment. I was able to walk a great deal yesterday, which lifted my spirits. I only have a month left, and I want to try and make the most of it.
I’ll finally get to the Hermitage. Let me tell you…we went the first month we were here and it was a disaster. Between being misguided by staff and dealing with closed exhibitions, it really was a disappointing, if not awful, experience. Granted, I have played in the Hermitage since. Actually, my new ‘claim to fame’ is that I was the first performer EVER allowed to perform among the exhibits, AND get filmed doing it. I walked up and down the Greek and Roman rooms playing flute. These, however, have been my only Hermitage experiences (that and going for meetings for the APXE project) so I have not as of yet enjoyed it.
But I’m looking forward to it. They have a great collection of French art, which really interests me, especially Matisse. I can’t get enough Matisse-he is my favorite 20th century artist. Not that I’m taking anything away from Picasso, mind you, who for me is equivalent to Stravinsky or Miles Davis in numerous ways…but I prefer Matisse. Any artist who can use that much pink and make it work gets major laudations in my book.
I’ll tell you all about it soon.
Your traveler,
Demetrius
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
8 July 2008
8 July 2008
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
Well, here we are; I’m at the finishing line for my scheduled performances. As I had mentioned, the last few weeks (since I have been back in Russia) have presented one frustrating professional (term used VERY loosely) situation after another. This last week was not any different…
But first, I must say that I spent a quiet Independence Day here. Once again, this is usually a big celebratory event in my family. We met with a couple of Margaret’s colleagues (Americans) and toasted the USA with a Russian beer. That was nice…the week plummeted sharply from there…
I need to talk about the Russian’s sense of jazz. They like jazz, really. Of course, what they like is not REALLY jazz for a jazz player/aficionado, but at least they like something that is related. There is a great love here for Smooth Jazz…ahhhh (you have to sigh after saying ‘Smooth Jazz’…try it…it helps).
I hate Smooth Jazz. Well, at least I hate most of it. There are some great players who do this, don’t get me wrong. But there are also MANY marginal musicians who have become popular (and wealthy…) doing this bastardized New Agey-Pop for the chardonnay-sipping crowd. But, people like it, so who am I to argue?
Anyways…so I have been a guest player with this Russian Smooth Jazz band. Great guys, really excellent musicians…actually, by far the best musicians I have heard in this country (any style). The tunes are pretty good…a little monotonous and drawn out, but OK. What kills me is the drum machine…yes, jazz with a drum machine. Now, I have played with this group at fancy dinner clubs, and you know, the drum machine can pass…somewhat. When people are picking at tapas and sushi and swilling wine spritzers they aren’t really paying any attention to the band that has numerous layers of percussion with no human actually playing any of them. But…this band plays jazz clubs. In fact, we are playing probably the best one in Russia this week. This band has played there many times, WITH the drum machine…nobody seems to mind. I don’t get it…the audience accepts this as being perfectly reasonable…
I don’t. To make matters more humorous (or frightening, as the case may be), the show at this club is billed “The Sound of Chill”…with my name next to this as a special guest…any of you who have seen my live performances know that the idea of ‘chill’ is the antithesis of what I do. I don’t think I have ever been associated with the word ‘chill’ in any aspect of my life…ouch…
Speaking of association, I have to talk a little bit about ‘labeling’. The idea of a label is something that is of absolute importance to the music industry, but heinous to most artists. We hate to be categorized, well, at least I hate to be categorized. I do a number of different things professionally, and my creative work doesn’t really fit any standard groupings (thank GOD), but that doesn’t stop concert promoters and publicists from trying to explain what I do in 3 words or less…
It’s funny…this year, my concerts have fallen under numerous categories in publicity blitzes and promotional materials…it’s funny. I have been billed as classical, contemporary classical, experimental, avant-garde, jazz, ethnic, nu-jazz, pluralistic, futuristic, minimalist, post-minimalist, totalism, post-modern, post-classical, post-jazz, and multimedia…all, mind you, for the same basic program…I actually had to look some of these up when I saw the posters to figure out what I am supposed to be doing…but, luckily, the ‘Sound of Chill’ was never branded upon me…until now…
Which brings to me to my final Russian festival experience…this, was awful. As most Russian events are, this was poorly managed, poorly planned, poorly executed, and poorly attended. It was poorly poor. I worked with some dancers, who, by the way, were probably the highlight of my entire Russian festival experiences this year. We created improvisations to paintings. This, I thought, was successful. The next presentation was me improvising for artists to create paintings to…this was awful…what was created was beyond poor. The whole festival reeked of forced-fun arts and crafts projects…terrible. My final performance was with the Society for Overtone People. An amateur group who I have performed with a few times this year. Nice people, and they do what they do very well. But, to be honest, if I never hear another didgeridoo again, it will be too soon…I don’t understand the Russian fascination with an instrument that I equate with 1970s college dorm room bong-enhanced weekends. I mean, OK, it’s kind of cool, for about 10 minutes, TOPS. The fact that I had to create my modern dance work with a prominent didgeridoo part was bad enough (that’s what the person paying wanted…); but the fact that Russian producers think this instrument has much mass-appeal for Western arena-sized concerts and for all Western audiences is very narrow-minded.
In fact, at this festival, I had an interview with newspaper reporters that was also broadcast live via internet. They kept asking me questions about the didgeridoo…I asked if they were going to ask me anything of importance, they said ‘no, we are interested in the didgeridoo only’. They then asked about my spiritual affiliation with the instrument before my Russian experiences with it and how it has enhanced my creativity. I, of course, answered that I never gave it any thought beforehand, and once I leave will probably give it little thought again…then smiled at the camera…I don’t think they liked this…
Of course, this is what I get when I say ‘yes’ to things that I should know better about. It’s been a long year; I have acted as booking agent, manager, producer, composer, performer, and sometimes even sound engineer, all usually for the same concert. Enough. I actually wouldn’t mind someone else making all the decisions for a while…I’ll just go and play 2nd clarinet in a orchestra somewhere and disappear. But, of course, with my ‘lack of chill’ personality, this wouldn’t last…
Although, I do have some good news. I actually saw a Russian ‘healer‘. Doctor/hospital medicine here is best avoided, believe me. This person was a friend of a fiend and came highly recommended. To put it bluntly, she beat the crap out of me. She combined intense, deep tissue massage with chiropractic treatments for THREE HOURS. Ouch. I felt like I had been beaten with an existential rolling-pin. But…I have to say that days afterwards, I haven’t felt this good in a long time. My ankle still hurts greatly and walking is still an issue, but the rest of the body is feelin’ fine. Russia has this all over the West, I have to admit. Next treatment Friday…wish me luck!
To celebrate, I went American: Carl’s Jr. on Nevsky Prospect. It’s funny, I would never go to a place like this in the US, but in Russia, man, it just felt right. Let’s hear it for Western Capitalism! Double Western Burger…mmmm…the funny thing is, I had heard that fast food places like McDonalds are actually of far superior quality here than in the US. They were right. Carl’s Jr. was great. Not greasy or fatty, and the beef was definitely of better quality and cooked very well. Hmmm…who woulda thunk it…?
I’d still rather would have had it on Broadway, but you get what you can get…
Anyways, that’s all for now.
Your respectful traveler,
Demetrius
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
Well, here we are; I’m at the finishing line for my scheduled performances. As I had mentioned, the last few weeks (since I have been back in Russia) have presented one frustrating professional (term used VERY loosely) situation after another. This last week was not any different…
But first, I must say that I spent a quiet Independence Day here. Once again, this is usually a big celebratory event in my family. We met with a couple of Margaret’s colleagues (Americans) and toasted the USA with a Russian beer. That was nice…the week plummeted sharply from there…
I need to talk about the Russian’s sense of jazz. They like jazz, really. Of course, what they like is not REALLY jazz for a jazz player/aficionado, but at least they like something that is related. There is a great love here for Smooth Jazz…ahhhh (you have to sigh after saying ‘Smooth Jazz’…try it…it helps).
I hate Smooth Jazz. Well, at least I hate most of it. There are some great players who do this, don’t get me wrong. But there are also MANY marginal musicians who have become popular (and wealthy…) doing this bastardized New Agey-Pop for the chardonnay-sipping crowd. But, people like it, so who am I to argue?
Anyways…so I have been a guest player with this Russian Smooth Jazz band. Great guys, really excellent musicians…actually, by far the best musicians I have heard in this country (any style). The tunes are pretty good…a little monotonous and drawn out, but OK. What kills me is the drum machine…yes, jazz with a drum machine. Now, I have played with this group at fancy dinner clubs, and you know, the drum machine can pass…somewhat. When people are picking at tapas and sushi and swilling wine spritzers they aren’t really paying any attention to the band that has numerous layers of percussion with no human actually playing any of them. But…this band plays jazz clubs. In fact, we are playing probably the best one in Russia this week. This band has played there many times, WITH the drum machine…nobody seems to mind. I don’t get it…the audience accepts this as being perfectly reasonable…
I don’t. To make matters more humorous (or frightening, as the case may be), the show at this club is billed “The Sound of Chill”…with my name next to this as a special guest…any of you who have seen my live performances know that the idea of ‘chill’ is the antithesis of what I do. I don’t think I have ever been associated with the word ‘chill’ in any aspect of my life…ouch…
Speaking of association, I have to talk a little bit about ‘labeling’. The idea of a label is something that is of absolute importance to the music industry, but heinous to most artists. We hate to be categorized, well, at least I hate to be categorized. I do a number of different things professionally, and my creative work doesn’t really fit any standard groupings (thank GOD), but that doesn’t stop concert promoters and publicists from trying to explain what I do in 3 words or less…
It’s funny…this year, my concerts have fallen under numerous categories in publicity blitzes and promotional materials…it’s funny. I have been billed as classical, contemporary classical, experimental, avant-garde, jazz, ethnic, nu-jazz, pluralistic, futuristic, minimalist, post-minimalist, totalism, post-modern, post-classical, post-jazz, and multimedia…all, mind you, for the same basic program…I actually had to look some of these up when I saw the posters to figure out what I am supposed to be doing…but, luckily, the ‘Sound of Chill’ was never branded upon me…until now…
Which brings to me to my final Russian festival experience…this, was awful. As most Russian events are, this was poorly managed, poorly planned, poorly executed, and poorly attended. It was poorly poor. I worked with some dancers, who, by the way, were probably the highlight of my entire Russian festival experiences this year. We created improvisations to paintings. This, I thought, was successful. The next presentation was me improvising for artists to create paintings to…this was awful…what was created was beyond poor. The whole festival reeked of forced-fun arts and crafts projects…terrible. My final performance was with the Society for Overtone People. An amateur group who I have performed with a few times this year. Nice people, and they do what they do very well. But, to be honest, if I never hear another didgeridoo again, it will be too soon…I don’t understand the Russian fascination with an instrument that I equate with 1970s college dorm room bong-enhanced weekends. I mean, OK, it’s kind of cool, for about 10 minutes, TOPS. The fact that I had to create my modern dance work with a prominent didgeridoo part was bad enough (that’s what the person paying wanted…); but the fact that Russian producers think this instrument has much mass-appeal for Western arena-sized concerts and for all Western audiences is very narrow-minded.
In fact, at this festival, I had an interview with newspaper reporters that was also broadcast live via internet. They kept asking me questions about the didgeridoo…I asked if they were going to ask me anything of importance, they said ‘no, we are interested in the didgeridoo only’. They then asked about my spiritual affiliation with the instrument before my Russian experiences with it and how it has enhanced my creativity. I, of course, answered that I never gave it any thought beforehand, and once I leave will probably give it little thought again…then smiled at the camera…I don’t think they liked this…
Of course, this is what I get when I say ‘yes’ to things that I should know better about. It’s been a long year; I have acted as booking agent, manager, producer, composer, performer, and sometimes even sound engineer, all usually for the same concert. Enough. I actually wouldn’t mind someone else making all the decisions for a while…I’ll just go and play 2nd clarinet in a orchestra somewhere and disappear. But, of course, with my ‘lack of chill’ personality, this wouldn’t last…
Although, I do have some good news. I actually saw a Russian ‘healer‘. Doctor/hospital medicine here is best avoided, believe me. This person was a friend of a fiend and came highly recommended. To put it bluntly, she beat the crap out of me. She combined intense, deep tissue massage with chiropractic treatments for THREE HOURS. Ouch. I felt like I had been beaten with an existential rolling-pin. But…I have to say that days afterwards, I haven’t felt this good in a long time. My ankle still hurts greatly and walking is still an issue, but the rest of the body is feelin’ fine. Russia has this all over the West, I have to admit. Next treatment Friday…wish me luck!
To celebrate, I went American: Carl’s Jr. on Nevsky Prospect. It’s funny, I would never go to a place like this in the US, but in Russia, man, it just felt right. Let’s hear it for Western Capitalism! Double Western Burger…mmmm…the funny thing is, I had heard that fast food places like McDonalds are actually of far superior quality here than in the US. They were right. Carl’s Jr. was great. Not greasy or fatty, and the beef was definitely of better quality and cooked very well. Hmmm…who woulda thunk it…?
I’d still rather would have had it on Broadway, but you get what you can get…
Anyways, that’s all for now.
Your respectful traveler,
Demetrius
Monday, June 30, 2008
30 June 2008
30 June 2008
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
Here we are, on the eve of July…I can’t believe that I have been out of the US this long. It also feels as if my Fall concerts were years ago, not just months…NYC seems like a distant memory, and Boston feels like the remnants of a dream…
…it’s been a long intense year. I’m tired and I have to admit that my patience is gone…I have had some great events and worked with some fantastic people and organizations; I have also had some of the most frustrating experiences dealing with the most amateur and pathetically organized events that I have ever encountered. It’s been quite a mix…
I have to also say that my body has given out, as well. Now, I am a very health conscious person-daily exercise, yoga, healthy diet-but I think the year of stress and travel have taken their toll. At this point, my right side has been in revolt: my neck, shoulder, and arm seem to have a pinched nerve, as does my back; my right knee (sports injury) throbs with pain and I can’t put wait on my right foot-my ankle has been swelled up for over 2 weeks. Of course, one still has to perform, so…one does. One just pays the price later on. Numerous playing/performing injuries over the years have led me to never want to have to rely on my chops for a living-this is why I expanded into teaching and started to focus more and more on composing as the years went on.
I feel I know what older athletes go through…you can still do it at high levels, many times even far better then when you were younger (like I feel I do), but man, you pay afterwards.
This week didn’t help…
Ah, Russian organization…this is such a surreal topic, because truly one can not believe what one is actually perceiving. Wow. Things are so shlocked together at the last minute and run by people who have no idea what they are doing, one can only be amazed that the whole production doesn’t collapse…funny thing is, it DOES collapse on occasion, but everyone excepts it as fate…no one takes the blame, and they go on to create more poor productions. Now, I’m talking about productions at ALL levels…including major festivals and the Marinskii Theater…
So…my week:
On the 24th of June, I was to premier two works by a young Russian composer, Olga Kreshenko. Now, Olga is a good composer, and I think that once she expands her perception out of the Russian (badly copied…) avant-garde and into more of a current world music view, she may be an interesting voice in a few years. The festival was called Fin-de-Siecle…now this title is wrong for a number of reasons: number one, traditionally this term referred to the end of Victorianism (19th century) and the beginning of Modernism (20th century); secondly, even if you disregard this, now is not the end of a cycle (century), but the beginning…using this term is ignorant. Olga explained that the idea of ‘the end’ is very important to Russian artists, so that is why they use it…see, Fatalistic…whatever…
Anyways, so I premiered a solo flute piece and played flute in a chamber work…they were OK; the room, the House of Composers, was awful…holes in the floor/stage, dead sound, smelly and falling apart. We were to be paid a ‘modest’ fee…this is Russia, I mean MODEST…however, in typical Russian fashion, the organizers-AFTER the concert, mind you-said that they actually had no money to pay any performers and that the composers were on their own. The poor girl had to pay us out of her own pocket…it wasn’t much, mind you, but please…I find this disgusting…but it’s all too typical here…
The second festival was a whole different set of circumstances…
I started a collaboration with video artist Andrey Efi on an animation project. The film, entitled “The Carefree Princess”, was to premiered as a multimedia work on his festival, Art Concept. OK, sounds good. Andrey-a very nice guy, by the way-since he was running the festival, took longer then expected to finish the film…like 3 weeks longer…I had to write the score in about 2 days, record and edit it, and get it to him to create a dvd. Fine, we did it. The animation is of one of his paintings coming to life. My score sounds like the love-child of Sting and Blood, Sweat, and Tears…I even sang on the performance…
…ah, the performance. Now, initially, I was to give three performances over three consecutive days: the opening of the festival would be the new animation/multimedia presentation; the second day, my “Mythology and Modern Perception” live film performance; and lastly, my improvisational collaboration with the Nieve Dance ensemble, entitled “The Secret Domain of Women”…
Now, the night before the festival began, I was told that all three performances would be on the same evening…tomorrow…“excuse, me…what was that again?”. The festival board thought that it would be more interesting…no one asked me what I felt about it…
So…I played three, caffeine-enhanced concert programs over 4 hours. They were happy, the festival was successful, I was dead…
…Russia…
Well, there has been SOME good news. The Saxophone Journal issue (July/August 2008) which I am the cover story was just released. The interview, done in December, talks about my tour, my life, my music…my mother even liked it…she bought like 12 copies. I think that my mother is finally starting to understand what I do professionally-this has taken decades, mind you-and maybe is even starting to forgive the fact that I play nothing like Stan Getz…
It’s funny, I remember when I saw my first issue of Saxophone Journal (1984?); I was in high school. I thought, “how cool would it be to be on the cover?”. Over the years, I read interviews with major players and thought about how I would answer, if ever asked…now, I was asked, and my answers, for better or for worse, are now in print…
So, there it is…
As I head into my last full month here, I can’t help but wonder about what my life will be like back in the States.
If nothing else, I’m sure that it will always be an adventure.
Your traveler,
Demetrius
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
Here we are, on the eve of July…I can’t believe that I have been out of the US this long. It also feels as if my Fall concerts were years ago, not just months…NYC seems like a distant memory, and Boston feels like the remnants of a dream…
…it’s been a long intense year. I’m tired and I have to admit that my patience is gone…I have had some great events and worked with some fantastic people and organizations; I have also had some of the most frustrating experiences dealing with the most amateur and pathetically organized events that I have ever encountered. It’s been quite a mix…
I have to also say that my body has given out, as well. Now, I am a very health conscious person-daily exercise, yoga, healthy diet-but I think the year of stress and travel have taken their toll. At this point, my right side has been in revolt: my neck, shoulder, and arm seem to have a pinched nerve, as does my back; my right knee (sports injury) throbs with pain and I can’t put wait on my right foot-my ankle has been swelled up for over 2 weeks. Of course, one still has to perform, so…one does. One just pays the price later on. Numerous playing/performing injuries over the years have led me to never want to have to rely on my chops for a living-this is why I expanded into teaching and started to focus more and more on composing as the years went on.
I feel I know what older athletes go through…you can still do it at high levels, many times even far better then when you were younger (like I feel I do), but man, you pay afterwards.
This week didn’t help…
Ah, Russian organization…this is such a surreal topic, because truly one can not believe what one is actually perceiving. Wow. Things are so shlocked together at the last minute and run by people who have no idea what they are doing, one can only be amazed that the whole production doesn’t collapse…funny thing is, it DOES collapse on occasion, but everyone excepts it as fate…no one takes the blame, and they go on to create more poor productions. Now, I’m talking about productions at ALL levels…including major festivals and the Marinskii Theater…
So…my week:
On the 24th of June, I was to premier two works by a young Russian composer, Olga Kreshenko. Now, Olga is a good composer, and I think that once she expands her perception out of the Russian (badly copied…) avant-garde and into more of a current world music view, she may be an interesting voice in a few years. The festival was called Fin-de-Siecle…now this title is wrong for a number of reasons: number one, traditionally this term referred to the end of Victorianism (19th century) and the beginning of Modernism (20th century); secondly, even if you disregard this, now is not the end of a cycle (century), but the beginning…using this term is ignorant. Olga explained that the idea of ‘the end’ is very important to Russian artists, so that is why they use it…see, Fatalistic…whatever…
Anyways, so I premiered a solo flute piece and played flute in a chamber work…they were OK; the room, the House of Composers, was awful…holes in the floor/stage, dead sound, smelly and falling apart. We were to be paid a ‘modest’ fee…this is Russia, I mean MODEST…however, in typical Russian fashion, the organizers-AFTER the concert, mind you-said that they actually had no money to pay any performers and that the composers were on their own. The poor girl had to pay us out of her own pocket…it wasn’t much, mind you, but please…I find this disgusting…but it’s all too typical here…
The second festival was a whole different set of circumstances…
I started a collaboration with video artist Andrey Efi on an animation project. The film, entitled “The Carefree Princess”, was to premiered as a multimedia work on his festival, Art Concept. OK, sounds good. Andrey-a very nice guy, by the way-since he was running the festival, took longer then expected to finish the film…like 3 weeks longer…I had to write the score in about 2 days, record and edit it, and get it to him to create a dvd. Fine, we did it. The animation is of one of his paintings coming to life. My score sounds like the love-child of Sting and Blood, Sweat, and Tears…I even sang on the performance…
…ah, the performance. Now, initially, I was to give three performances over three consecutive days: the opening of the festival would be the new animation/multimedia presentation; the second day, my “Mythology and Modern Perception” live film performance; and lastly, my improvisational collaboration with the Nieve Dance ensemble, entitled “The Secret Domain of Women”…
Now, the night before the festival began, I was told that all three performances would be on the same evening…tomorrow…“excuse, me…what was that again?”. The festival board thought that it would be more interesting…no one asked me what I felt about it…
So…I played three, caffeine-enhanced concert programs over 4 hours. They were happy, the festival was successful, I was dead…
…Russia…
Well, there has been SOME good news. The Saxophone Journal issue (July/August 2008) which I am the cover story was just released. The interview, done in December, talks about my tour, my life, my music…my mother even liked it…she bought like 12 copies. I think that my mother is finally starting to understand what I do professionally-this has taken decades, mind you-and maybe is even starting to forgive the fact that I play nothing like Stan Getz…
It’s funny, I remember when I saw my first issue of Saxophone Journal (1984?); I was in high school. I thought, “how cool would it be to be on the cover?”. Over the years, I read interviews with major players and thought about how I would answer, if ever asked…now, I was asked, and my answers, for better or for worse, are now in print…
So, there it is…
As I head into my last full month here, I can’t help but wonder about what my life will be like back in the States.
If nothing else, I’m sure that it will always be an adventure.
Your traveler,
Demetrius
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
17 June 2008
17 June 2008
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
As I have said in recent letters, this has been a long, tough year for a number of reasons. Obviously, not the least of which has been both culture shock and, maybe a new phrase, 'infrastructure shock'...how the city/country is organized and governed...like the fact that they turn off the hot water in the city for weeks to clean the pipes. It’s cold here…it’s not like it’s 90 degrees Fahrenheit everyday, more like 50...it’s too cold for that…
But, one of the things that has saddened me has been the fact that I have missed a number of major milestones this year back in the US.
The first was my 20th high school reunion; I wrote about this around Thanksgiving when it happened. This was sad for me-there were people whom I would have liked to have seen. I’m not an arrogant person nor have I ever felt the need to ‘go back and show off’ and say “see, see what I have become?” as many do. No…I just wanted to have some nice, quiet conversations with old friends.
Strangely, I have reconnected with some people via the Internet on sites like Myspace and Face book. These do provide a quick, easy way-albeit maybe a little impersonal-to ‘be in touch’ with people. But I can’t complain here-at least I’m in someone’s thoughts…
The second was my sister’s 50th birthday. Granted, for my sister, this hasn’t had any effect in slowing her down-the fact that she looks a generation younger helps this-and I heard that the celebrating was great and merry. Her birthday also coincides with Memorial Day, so it’s a double celebration. In true Mediterranean fashion, there was great food and wine and much singing…I was here…
To be honest, I still see her as 28...I don’t know why…50? Really?
The third will be next month: my mother’s 75th birthday. This is also a surprising one to grasp. I see my mother as 50 (which, needless to say, would be pretty next to impossible given my sister’s age…and mine…). I fear the years are taking their toll-she’s tired and alone-this concerns me. She doesn’t use a computer so she can’t email or google or know what I’m doing…she actually can’t even read these letters…my sister prints them out or her on occasion, usually months after the fact. We speak on the phone every now and then, but I’m hard to catch at home (we just taught her how to use a phone card). Granted, my mother is a very intelligent person (she was a research chemist, mind you), but technology has passed her by…
So, I will miss that, too…
The fourth happened this past weekend on Father’s Day. Strangely, Father’s Day marked the 10th anniversary of my father’s passing. He died around Father’s Day weekend, 1998, after a very difficult battle with cancer. My father was a very strong man: 15 operations, blood transfusions, Hepatitis C (through a blood transfusion in the 80s), Multiple Sclerosis, and a liver transplant…he beat them all…the cancer finally got him at 65 (the same age his dad died of cancer), but not without a fight.
He lost his health, his business in bankruptcy after 34 years, and his family in divorce, but he still fought on…
…that’s tough.
Our relationship was not smooth; he wanted me to be an athlete like him (which I was to a certain extent). He was a famous local athlete-still holds high school and college records almost 60 years after the fact-was even in ‘Ripley’s Believe It Or Not’ for sports. His dream was to be a professional athlete, a dream that was cut short by injuries-he was even drafted professionally (football) and was the first recipient of the Harry Agannis award for Outstanding Greek-American Athlete nationally. This dream never happened.
I didn’t live up to this expectation-my pursuits were elsewhere, which caused great tension between us.
He started a business. It was a small pizza place which he turned into a mega-restaurant, the largest North of Boston-he expanded into more venues, into real estate, and into contracting-built an empire.
He wanted me to have this-I wanted nothing to do with it…so, he didn’t support my endeavors. At 19, I was on my own…
His businesses collapsed completely when I was 23-he lost everything, including his wife and house.
Maybe this changed him…I’m still not sure. Maybe he understood the idea of family…I still don’t know. He was a cold man-he came from a very difficult part of Greece, a part where the people are considered strong and hardy and show no emotion…he was one them. His mother was difficult, showed no emotion…he was her son.
But, I think, maybe, just maybe, towards the end, he started to realize what he had lost and what he still had…
We had many unresolved conflicts. Eventually, he said that he was proud of me and what I did because I did it with no help from him…well, nice to hear that, but it would have been nice to hear that at 19 and not just at 29...
The last time I saw him conscious, he gave me a hug-no emotion, but more of an understanding that this was it. I understood it too…
At the hospital, I had to make the decision to help him pass peacefully. I was by myself with him…he was suffering…I did what was best. The doctors couldn’t understand that I came to the decision so quickly…but I did, and so did my father. He was done with suffering…why keep him in agony for maybe two more days…who was it for? Maybe for us, but not for him. He didn’t want this…he told me as much on our last meeting. After all of the pain and suffering in our relationship, the least I could do was allow him to die on his terms.
One year later, we cast his ashes into the Merrimack River; his business, his life, was centered here…it was his wish, and it was only fitting.
I wonder, 10 years later, what he would’ve though about me-about my life and what I have done in my career. I have to admit, I talk to him…maybe in arrogance. In a way, I wish that he was around to see that I could do it without him and his support. That I could create a career far beyond what he thought that I could accomplish…he thought all musicians were nothing more than lounge acts, a ‘dime-a-dozen’, they play weddings, ‘no future’. I would have liked to have proven him wrong…
…maybe he knows…
I don’t have children. Probably won’t at this point, but one never knows. Although starting a family at my age seems daunting…15 years ago, when my friends started, OK, but now…
But, if I did, there would be certain traits of my father that I would instill in my children. These are the ones that have made me successful-sometimes, they are also the ones that have made me less than sympathetic to those around me, as many former friends and failed relationships will attest to. But, they have made me ME. For better or for worse.
So, on June 15th, as I looked out over the Neva River in St. Petersburg, Russia, I saluted him. Maybe in arrogance, maybe in wistfulness, I said “I wish you could see me now”…
…and maybe he can…
The time has passed quickly. I have my 40th birthday in a few months-another shock and another milestone, but at least I will be home, God willing, to celebrate that with friends and family.
Until next time.
Your traveler,
Demetrius
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
As I have said in recent letters, this has been a long, tough year for a number of reasons. Obviously, not the least of which has been both culture shock and, maybe a new phrase, 'infrastructure shock'...how the city/country is organized and governed...like the fact that they turn off the hot water in the city for weeks to clean the pipes. It’s cold here…it’s not like it’s 90 degrees Fahrenheit everyday, more like 50...it’s too cold for that…
But, one of the things that has saddened me has been the fact that I have missed a number of major milestones this year back in the US.
The first was my 20th high school reunion; I wrote about this around Thanksgiving when it happened. This was sad for me-there were people whom I would have liked to have seen. I’m not an arrogant person nor have I ever felt the need to ‘go back and show off’ and say “see, see what I have become?” as many do. No…I just wanted to have some nice, quiet conversations with old friends.
Strangely, I have reconnected with some people via the Internet on sites like Myspace and Face book. These do provide a quick, easy way-albeit maybe a little impersonal-to ‘be in touch’ with people. But I can’t complain here-at least I’m in someone’s thoughts…
The second was my sister’s 50th birthday. Granted, for my sister, this hasn’t had any effect in slowing her down-the fact that she looks a generation younger helps this-and I heard that the celebrating was great and merry. Her birthday also coincides with Memorial Day, so it’s a double celebration. In true Mediterranean fashion, there was great food and wine and much singing…I was here…
To be honest, I still see her as 28...I don’t know why…50? Really?
The third will be next month: my mother’s 75th birthday. This is also a surprising one to grasp. I see my mother as 50 (which, needless to say, would be pretty next to impossible given my sister’s age…and mine…). I fear the years are taking their toll-she’s tired and alone-this concerns me. She doesn’t use a computer so she can’t email or google or know what I’m doing…she actually can’t even read these letters…my sister prints them out or her on occasion, usually months after the fact. We speak on the phone every now and then, but I’m hard to catch at home (we just taught her how to use a phone card). Granted, my mother is a very intelligent person (she was a research chemist, mind you), but technology has passed her by…
So, I will miss that, too…
The fourth happened this past weekend on Father’s Day. Strangely, Father’s Day marked the 10th anniversary of my father’s passing. He died around Father’s Day weekend, 1998, after a very difficult battle with cancer. My father was a very strong man: 15 operations, blood transfusions, Hepatitis C (through a blood transfusion in the 80s), Multiple Sclerosis, and a liver transplant…he beat them all…the cancer finally got him at 65 (the same age his dad died of cancer), but not without a fight.
He lost his health, his business in bankruptcy after 34 years, and his family in divorce, but he still fought on…
…that’s tough.
Our relationship was not smooth; he wanted me to be an athlete like him (which I was to a certain extent). He was a famous local athlete-still holds high school and college records almost 60 years after the fact-was even in ‘Ripley’s Believe It Or Not’ for sports. His dream was to be a professional athlete, a dream that was cut short by injuries-he was even drafted professionally (football) and was the first recipient of the Harry Agannis award for Outstanding Greek-American Athlete nationally. This dream never happened.
I didn’t live up to this expectation-my pursuits were elsewhere, which caused great tension between us.
He started a business. It was a small pizza place which he turned into a mega-restaurant, the largest North of Boston-he expanded into more venues, into real estate, and into contracting-built an empire.
He wanted me to have this-I wanted nothing to do with it…so, he didn’t support my endeavors. At 19, I was on my own…
His businesses collapsed completely when I was 23-he lost everything, including his wife and house.
Maybe this changed him…I’m still not sure. Maybe he understood the idea of family…I still don’t know. He was a cold man-he came from a very difficult part of Greece, a part where the people are considered strong and hardy and show no emotion…he was one them. His mother was difficult, showed no emotion…he was her son.
But, I think, maybe, just maybe, towards the end, he started to realize what he had lost and what he still had…
We had many unresolved conflicts. Eventually, he said that he was proud of me and what I did because I did it with no help from him…well, nice to hear that, but it would have been nice to hear that at 19 and not just at 29...
The last time I saw him conscious, he gave me a hug-no emotion, but more of an understanding that this was it. I understood it too…
At the hospital, I had to make the decision to help him pass peacefully. I was by myself with him…he was suffering…I did what was best. The doctors couldn’t understand that I came to the decision so quickly…but I did, and so did my father. He was done with suffering…why keep him in agony for maybe two more days…who was it for? Maybe for us, but not for him. He didn’t want this…he told me as much on our last meeting. After all of the pain and suffering in our relationship, the least I could do was allow him to die on his terms.
One year later, we cast his ashes into the Merrimack River; his business, his life, was centered here…it was his wish, and it was only fitting.
I wonder, 10 years later, what he would’ve though about me-about my life and what I have done in my career. I have to admit, I talk to him…maybe in arrogance. In a way, I wish that he was around to see that I could do it without him and his support. That I could create a career far beyond what he thought that I could accomplish…he thought all musicians were nothing more than lounge acts, a ‘dime-a-dozen’, they play weddings, ‘no future’. I would have liked to have proven him wrong…
…maybe he knows…
I don’t have children. Probably won’t at this point, but one never knows. Although starting a family at my age seems daunting…15 years ago, when my friends started, OK, but now…
But, if I did, there would be certain traits of my father that I would instill in my children. These are the ones that have made me successful-sometimes, they are also the ones that have made me less than sympathetic to those around me, as many former friends and failed relationships will attest to. But, they have made me ME. For better or for worse.
So, on June 15th, as I looked out over the Neva River in St. Petersburg, Russia, I saluted him. Maybe in arrogance, maybe in wistfulness, I said “I wish you could see me now”…
…and maybe he can…
The time has passed quickly. I have my 40th birthday in a few months-another shock and another milestone, but at least I will be home, God willing, to celebrate that with friends and family.
Until next time.
Your traveler,
Demetrius
Sunday, June 15, 2008
June 9-13, 2008 (Latvia)
June 9-13, 2008 (Latvia)
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
Well, I survived it. My final trip outside Russia this year, save my happy return to the US. I was a guest of the Latvian Academy of Music in Riga, given the task of lecturing about working with electronics and multimedia as both a performer and composer, and also to premier new works by graduate student composers at the Academy.
Hey, sounded easy enough. This is what I do, right? Right up my alley, my area of expertise, my ‘specialties’ all coming together in one happy week. Only 4 pieces…¼ the number of what I did in Greece in October, and I also get to play my own program on top of it. “Great“, I thought. I also get to talk about what I know best, which is working with electronics and film; “easy”, I thought, “cake!”.
Why did this week almost kill me? I don’t know. I left Latvia very tired and achy. I finally think that the year has caught up with me-actually, I have been feeling this way for a while, but I really ‘felt it’ this time. You know, I don’t know if I could have pulled off what I now call ‘the Greek Miracle’ (premiering 15 new works, two solo concerts, and 4 full days of recording in Athens after a week of festival performances, solo concerts, recording sessions, and lectures in Bulgaria and Serbia) now. In October, I had only been abroad for a few weeks and had more time to prepare for that experience. I was ‘fresh’. The 10 days in October killed me, but I did it. I hurt, but it felt good and successful. I had complained in the letter about that trip that I always feel like I have a big ‘S’ on my chest and assume (maybe arrogantly…) that I can handle any Herculean task thrown at me. Immediately after the Balkan experience, I went right into preparing for my first Central Asian trip. I recovered quickly and jumped right in.
Now, I am tired. I have completed a week that I wouldn’t even have thought twice about 6 months ago, but now has left me drained. It may have been my last trip, but it was far from my last commitment-many festival performances and composition projects that have to be accomplished in the next few weeks. I’m at a point where I just want to stay in bed and not bother-granted, I don’t get depressed, EVER, but it’s not that. It’s exhaustion. I’m not used to this, and I don’t like it. The Russian quality of life I know has played a strong role in this. That knowledge doesn’t make the impact any lighter.
But…this letter is about Latvia. So let’s talk about this.
My friend Charles Griffin, who is a US ex-pat living in Latvia and a damn good composer, connected me with Rolands Kronlaks, the director of the electro-acoustic studio at the Academy. Rolands invited me to the Academy for a week of lectures and to premier these new works.
Riga is a beautiful city. Not to detract from this beauty, I have to say that Latvians, in general, are probably the coldest people I have met. Now, the people at the Academy were friendly, and Rolands is a very warm person and a great guy (must be because he spent lots of time abroad) and his students were all very kind and nice, but in general in the restaurants, the hotel, the airport, and on the street…cold people. Russians are generally grumpy, but at least they show emotion; Latvians just look, well, numb. As I mentioned, the people whom I worked with were very nice-it must be that they need to interact with you a great deal to feel comfortable about being friendly. I don’t know, I come from the land of hospitality (Greece, although the US is also very friendly) so, well, I always smile and try and make people feel comfortable. It’s important to me, so I find it strange when people go out of their way to make you feel unwanted…
But, enough of that. This was a tough week for a number of reasons. The first was that I was lecturing on music and technology, specifically on working with electro-acoustic music and film. I started off making a comparison of academic experimental music and pop music, saying that pop music uses much of the same technology (and always has!) to much greater success…it was like I, excuse the expression, passed gas in church…Rolands was the first to jump down my throat, saying that new music technology was researched and designed with the academic composer in mind…RIIIGHT…that is SUCH a multimillion dollar market, those crazy academic composers…but, I left it alone and jut discussed my experiences working in pop studios. It was safer…
Much of the week was like this: a number of disagreements on my lectures, but that’s OK. We all have different values and views on the world and our place within it. I see things from a Western, non-academic point of view; this means that as a creative artist, I also understand the practical means of producing performances and creating opportunities. My views are not influenced by academic situations or governmental funding…I just do what I need to.
Well, beyond that, we had a few issues with the pieces…like, they weren’t finished…oh, two were done and rehearsed just fine; two weren’t. The first was given to me beforehand, but there were numerous issues with the electronics and score, and the composer was not present until the day of the performance at the dress rehearsal, where we had to quickly put it all together and fix numerous issues. Not my idea of a good situation. The other piece was finished the day of the performance-it was a good piece, a good composer (albeit, a tad overscheduled at the time), but that didn’t help me. Luckily, I survive in my career by the fact that I sight-read REALLY WELL and learn things extremely quickly.
For this latter piece, since the electronics component didn’t materialize in time, I suggested adding live-time electronic manipulation for the composer to control via lap-top during the performance. This was a first for her, and I think that she enjoyed it tremendously. Actually, this could be a new thing for her-she did great! It’s high time to bring lap-top performances to Latvia…
Due to these issues, my days expanded on both sides. I arrived earlier in the day and stayed later then scheduled to make all of this work.
Well, you know, it all turned out fine. Learned some nice, new pieces, met some great people and made some fantastic new friends….maybe even influenced the next generation of composers…maybe, I have temped them away from academia to the Dark Side…(add maniacal laughter here)
The other interesting aspect was the fact that yes, I admit, I spent a lot of time watching the Euro 2008 football (read: soccer) championships on TV. Yes, I know…I have made fun of soccer in at least three recent letters, but I have to admit: I had watched at least 5 games over that week and yes, I enjoyed it. I also have to admit that I checked the schedule when I returned to Russia and PLANNED MY SCHEDULE around the Greece-Russia game Saturday evening…
…I know…I’m pathetic…
But, I will still prefer a baseball game any day.
So, I am back in Russia, exhausted. My last scheduled trip, and to be honest, it didn’t come soon enough. I have many-a-commitment here in Russia for the next two months, but traveling internationally, luckily, isn’t among them.
Save to go home…
Well, my last few weeks, I am sure, will give me many adventures to talk about.
I can already lay bets on what I think will happen…
Until the next letter.
Your traveler,
Demetrius
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
Well, I survived it. My final trip outside Russia this year, save my happy return to the US. I was a guest of the Latvian Academy of Music in Riga, given the task of lecturing about working with electronics and multimedia as both a performer and composer, and also to premier new works by graduate student composers at the Academy.
Hey, sounded easy enough. This is what I do, right? Right up my alley, my area of expertise, my ‘specialties’ all coming together in one happy week. Only 4 pieces…¼ the number of what I did in Greece in October, and I also get to play my own program on top of it. “Great“, I thought. I also get to talk about what I know best, which is working with electronics and film; “easy”, I thought, “cake!”.
Why did this week almost kill me? I don’t know. I left Latvia very tired and achy. I finally think that the year has caught up with me-actually, I have been feeling this way for a while, but I really ‘felt it’ this time. You know, I don’t know if I could have pulled off what I now call ‘the Greek Miracle’ (premiering 15 new works, two solo concerts, and 4 full days of recording in Athens after a week of festival performances, solo concerts, recording sessions, and lectures in Bulgaria and Serbia) now. In October, I had only been abroad for a few weeks and had more time to prepare for that experience. I was ‘fresh’. The 10 days in October killed me, but I did it. I hurt, but it felt good and successful. I had complained in the letter about that trip that I always feel like I have a big ‘S’ on my chest and assume (maybe arrogantly…) that I can handle any Herculean task thrown at me. Immediately after the Balkan experience, I went right into preparing for my first Central Asian trip. I recovered quickly and jumped right in.
Now, I am tired. I have completed a week that I wouldn’t even have thought twice about 6 months ago, but now has left me drained. It may have been my last trip, but it was far from my last commitment-many festival performances and composition projects that have to be accomplished in the next few weeks. I’m at a point where I just want to stay in bed and not bother-granted, I don’t get depressed, EVER, but it’s not that. It’s exhaustion. I’m not used to this, and I don’t like it. The Russian quality of life I know has played a strong role in this. That knowledge doesn’t make the impact any lighter.
But…this letter is about Latvia. So let’s talk about this.
My friend Charles Griffin, who is a US ex-pat living in Latvia and a damn good composer, connected me with Rolands Kronlaks, the director of the electro-acoustic studio at the Academy. Rolands invited me to the Academy for a week of lectures and to premier these new works.
Riga is a beautiful city. Not to detract from this beauty, I have to say that Latvians, in general, are probably the coldest people I have met. Now, the people at the Academy were friendly, and Rolands is a very warm person and a great guy (must be because he spent lots of time abroad) and his students were all very kind and nice, but in general in the restaurants, the hotel, the airport, and on the street…cold people. Russians are generally grumpy, but at least they show emotion; Latvians just look, well, numb. As I mentioned, the people whom I worked with were very nice-it must be that they need to interact with you a great deal to feel comfortable about being friendly. I don’t know, I come from the land of hospitality (Greece, although the US is also very friendly) so, well, I always smile and try and make people feel comfortable. It’s important to me, so I find it strange when people go out of their way to make you feel unwanted…
But, enough of that. This was a tough week for a number of reasons. The first was that I was lecturing on music and technology, specifically on working with electro-acoustic music and film. I started off making a comparison of academic experimental music and pop music, saying that pop music uses much of the same technology (and always has!) to much greater success…it was like I, excuse the expression, passed gas in church…Rolands was the first to jump down my throat, saying that new music technology was researched and designed with the academic composer in mind…RIIIGHT…that is SUCH a multimillion dollar market, those crazy academic composers…but, I left it alone and jut discussed my experiences working in pop studios. It was safer…
Much of the week was like this: a number of disagreements on my lectures, but that’s OK. We all have different values and views on the world and our place within it. I see things from a Western, non-academic point of view; this means that as a creative artist, I also understand the practical means of producing performances and creating opportunities. My views are not influenced by academic situations or governmental funding…I just do what I need to.
Well, beyond that, we had a few issues with the pieces…like, they weren’t finished…oh, two were done and rehearsed just fine; two weren’t. The first was given to me beforehand, but there were numerous issues with the electronics and score, and the composer was not present until the day of the performance at the dress rehearsal, where we had to quickly put it all together and fix numerous issues. Not my idea of a good situation. The other piece was finished the day of the performance-it was a good piece, a good composer (albeit, a tad overscheduled at the time), but that didn’t help me. Luckily, I survive in my career by the fact that I sight-read REALLY WELL and learn things extremely quickly.
For this latter piece, since the electronics component didn’t materialize in time, I suggested adding live-time electronic manipulation for the composer to control via lap-top during the performance. This was a first for her, and I think that she enjoyed it tremendously. Actually, this could be a new thing for her-she did great! It’s high time to bring lap-top performances to Latvia…
Due to these issues, my days expanded on both sides. I arrived earlier in the day and stayed later then scheduled to make all of this work.
Well, you know, it all turned out fine. Learned some nice, new pieces, met some great people and made some fantastic new friends….maybe even influenced the next generation of composers…maybe, I have temped them away from academia to the Dark Side…(add maniacal laughter here)
The other interesting aspect was the fact that yes, I admit, I spent a lot of time watching the Euro 2008 football (read: soccer) championships on TV. Yes, I know…I have made fun of soccer in at least three recent letters, but I have to admit: I had watched at least 5 games over that week and yes, I enjoyed it. I also have to admit that I checked the schedule when I returned to Russia and PLANNED MY SCHEDULE around the Greece-Russia game Saturday evening…
…I know…I’m pathetic…
But, I will still prefer a baseball game any day.
So, I am back in Russia, exhausted. My last scheduled trip, and to be honest, it didn’t come soon enough. I have many-a-commitment here in Russia for the next two months, but traveling internationally, luckily, isn’t among them.
Save to go home…
Well, my last few weeks, I am sure, will give me many adventures to talk about.
I can already lay bets on what I think will happen…
Until the next letter.
Your traveler,
Demetrius
Thursday, June 5, 2008
6 June 2008
6 June 2008
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
Well, here we are-June. I’m amazed that I have been out of the States this long…actually, amazed that I have survived Russia this long. Oh, no…it’s not really THAT horrible, I’m just teasing…but it was a culture shock. I can only imagine the culture shock that I am going to have when I return to the US in a few weeks. Now, as I prepare for my second to last departure from Russia (to Latvia on Monday; my final departure will be back home), I have been thinking progressively about what I have missed most, and, amazingly, what I may miss from here.
I wrote last time about baseball. Gotta admit, that’s towards the top of the list. By this I mean Boston ‘Red Sox’ baseball…if I don’t specify this, my mother will disown me…
I miss my tenor (saxophone). You know, I have been having dreams about it ever since I have been here. For my concerts this year, I only brought four instruments: flute, alto flute, clarinet, and alto saxophone. Basically, these are all the most practical combination of smallest and most expressive. My piccolo is smallest, but it’s not as expressive (at least not when I play it); my tenor is most expressive, but it was too big to bring. Even though the alto sax is the most practical, the tenor was always the one that I felt closest to and the one that I ‘worked’ with-the one that I played the most professionally, at least as far as the saxophones go. I probably have played as much classical clarinet, if not more, as saxophone, and clarinet and tenor always seemed a proper pair for me, but the clarinet is here and the tenor is not. I did have a dream about bass clarinet, strangely…and also one or two on bass guitar, which I haven’t touched in God-knows-how-long…it’s amazing what floats around in one’s unconscious.
Peanut butter. I used to live on this stuff! Doesn’t exist here save only in the finest of boutiques, and it‘s EXPENSIVE like you wouldn‘t believe. I mean, my college diet consisted of peanut butter and “Product 19” cereal…add some orange juice and milk, and you have a complete, balanced meal (or, at least to my deranged thinking, you do…). Margaret’s parents, bless them, when they visited brought me a jar of “Skippy”…it barely lasted the evening…I was grateful like you would not believe!
Real coffee. Russia is NOT a coffee culture. They don’t get it. Boiled Nescafe is not what I call coffee, or even in most cases, drinkable. The best part about touring the Balkans was cheap, amazing coffee. It was like 20 cents a cup in Bulgaria, compared to the $4 espresso here; and coffee they use here is just, well, not like any espresso you have ever had. It is brown, I’ll give them that…
Fresh vegetables that are not either (a) rotten, or (b) poisoned with radioactive waste. There is also waste and heavy metals in the drinking water, which does have the benefit of killing a good number of the parasites…
Friendly customer service…all I have to say is, um, wow…
Toilet paper…see above comment on ‘friendly customer service’…
In general, food that doesn’t require tremendous amounts of either (a) salt, or (b) sour cream (smetana). I don’t really understand this need to pour and lather these products on everything served you. I think that my cholesterol level has spiked to Andrew Lloyd Weber induced dimensions…Get it? Cheesy. The music, it’s cheesy. It’s so cheesy it brings up your cholesterol levels…get it? Oh…forget it…
My wardrobe. I brought only two suitcases with me, mostly of drab colored clothing (Margaret’s, bless her, suggestion) to fit in and not stick out like a foreigner…like they would EVER think I was Russian! Who am I trying to kid? How’s that working out for me? Hah! I didn’t even bring blue jeans, and EVERYBODY here is wearing them, and other hip, Western brands, too…I feel like an Amish farmer…
Paperback books in English that aren’t $30. To add insult to injury, the English book stores never have anything that I would actually want to read; as much as I’m sure teenage romance novels have powerful characters and ripping good stories, I can’t as of yet see the allure there, nor have I yet been driven that far as to embrace them. I miss my personal library.
Metro stations, businesses, libraries, schools, art galleries, museums, parks, concert halls, stadiums, streets, and towns NOT named after Pushkin…it’s also his birthday today; something about a virgin birth and a second coming…
Needless to say, I miss my family and friends. Being here has really shown how dear these people are to me. Except, of course, those who don’t write me back…that crowd can all burn in Hell…
Let’s see. I miss a country where one can make fun of one’s government without the fear of being ‘erased‘, as they call it. Oh, sorry…did I say that? …must have slipped…
Efficient postal systems. No, really-it’s OK. I enjoy the “Tree Sloth Express”…
Mostly, I miss being able to start singing in the middle of the street and then everyone breaks in singing in perfect harmony with all the right words and choreographed dancing, like we do in NYC…What? That’s only in the movies? Darn, I HAVE been here too long…
OK, so there is a partial list. I’m sure that there is more that I am forgetting-pollution destroys brain cells, you know-but I will probably bring up more in future letters.
And as for what I’ll miss here? Well, you’ll have to wait on that for a few more weeks.
Your traveler,
Demetrius
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
Well, here we are-June. I’m amazed that I have been out of the States this long…actually, amazed that I have survived Russia this long. Oh, no…it’s not really THAT horrible, I’m just teasing…but it was a culture shock. I can only imagine the culture shock that I am going to have when I return to the US in a few weeks. Now, as I prepare for my second to last departure from Russia (to Latvia on Monday; my final departure will be back home), I have been thinking progressively about what I have missed most, and, amazingly, what I may miss from here.
I wrote last time about baseball. Gotta admit, that’s towards the top of the list. By this I mean Boston ‘Red Sox’ baseball…if I don’t specify this, my mother will disown me…
I miss my tenor (saxophone). You know, I have been having dreams about it ever since I have been here. For my concerts this year, I only brought four instruments: flute, alto flute, clarinet, and alto saxophone. Basically, these are all the most practical combination of smallest and most expressive. My piccolo is smallest, but it’s not as expressive (at least not when I play it); my tenor is most expressive, but it was too big to bring. Even though the alto sax is the most practical, the tenor was always the one that I felt closest to and the one that I ‘worked’ with-the one that I played the most professionally, at least as far as the saxophones go. I probably have played as much classical clarinet, if not more, as saxophone, and clarinet and tenor always seemed a proper pair for me, but the clarinet is here and the tenor is not. I did have a dream about bass clarinet, strangely…and also one or two on bass guitar, which I haven’t touched in God-knows-how-long…it’s amazing what floats around in one’s unconscious.
Peanut butter. I used to live on this stuff! Doesn’t exist here save only in the finest of boutiques, and it‘s EXPENSIVE like you wouldn‘t believe. I mean, my college diet consisted of peanut butter and “Product 19” cereal…add some orange juice and milk, and you have a complete, balanced meal (or, at least to my deranged thinking, you do…). Margaret’s parents, bless them, when they visited brought me a jar of “Skippy”…it barely lasted the evening…I was grateful like you would not believe!
Real coffee. Russia is NOT a coffee culture. They don’t get it. Boiled Nescafe is not what I call coffee, or even in most cases, drinkable. The best part about touring the Balkans was cheap, amazing coffee. It was like 20 cents a cup in Bulgaria, compared to the $4 espresso here; and coffee they use here is just, well, not like any espresso you have ever had. It is brown, I’ll give them that…
Fresh vegetables that are not either (a) rotten, or (b) poisoned with radioactive waste. There is also waste and heavy metals in the drinking water, which does have the benefit of killing a good number of the parasites…
Friendly customer service…all I have to say is, um, wow…
Toilet paper…see above comment on ‘friendly customer service’…
In general, food that doesn’t require tremendous amounts of either (a) salt, or (b) sour cream (smetana). I don’t really understand this need to pour and lather these products on everything served you. I think that my cholesterol level has spiked to Andrew Lloyd Weber induced dimensions…Get it? Cheesy. The music, it’s cheesy. It’s so cheesy it brings up your cholesterol levels…get it? Oh…forget it…
My wardrobe. I brought only two suitcases with me, mostly of drab colored clothing (Margaret’s, bless her, suggestion) to fit in and not stick out like a foreigner…like they would EVER think I was Russian! Who am I trying to kid? How’s that working out for me? Hah! I didn’t even bring blue jeans, and EVERYBODY here is wearing them, and other hip, Western brands, too…I feel like an Amish farmer…
Paperback books in English that aren’t $30. To add insult to injury, the English book stores never have anything that I would actually want to read; as much as I’m sure teenage romance novels have powerful characters and ripping good stories, I can’t as of yet see the allure there, nor have I yet been driven that far as to embrace them. I miss my personal library.
Metro stations, businesses, libraries, schools, art galleries, museums, parks, concert halls, stadiums, streets, and towns NOT named after Pushkin…it’s also his birthday today; something about a virgin birth and a second coming…
Needless to say, I miss my family and friends. Being here has really shown how dear these people are to me. Except, of course, those who don’t write me back…that crowd can all burn in Hell…
Let’s see. I miss a country where one can make fun of one’s government without the fear of being ‘erased‘, as they call it. Oh, sorry…did I say that? …must have slipped…
Efficient postal systems. No, really-it’s OK. I enjoy the “Tree Sloth Express”…
Mostly, I miss being able to start singing in the middle of the street and then everyone breaks in singing in perfect harmony with all the right words and choreographed dancing, like we do in NYC…What? That’s only in the movies? Darn, I HAVE been here too long…
OK, so there is a partial list. I’m sure that there is more that I am forgetting-pollution destroys brain cells, you know-but I will probably bring up more in future letters.
And as for what I’ll miss here? Well, you’ll have to wait on that for a few more weeks.
Your traveler,
Demetrius
Thursday, May 29, 2008
29 May 2008
29 May 2008
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
I’m in Russia.
Yes, I know that you realize this. The funny thing is that I don’t necessarily realize it, myself. It’s very interesting; you get into a, for lack of a better word, ‘routine’, and you forget where you are. Now, other than practicing and composing and doing my regular work-which I can do anywhere, thanks to technology-my days are not routine in the basic sense. I may go to buy groceries, meet with colleagues (who all speak English, thankfully), or go play a jazz gig or something, and I internally realize that I’m in a different country, but it doesn’t really consciously hit me anymore. Even the fact that I can’t understand any of the conversations happening around me has ceased to bother me. My ‘foreign awareness’ has disappeared…
…until Memorial Day. Now, Russia has a version of this, as well, called “Defenders of Fatherland Day”. And recently, Russia celebrated “Victory Day” which I wrote about in my last letter. So, when I say Memorial Day, I’m not referring to the actual Holiday, which I think is probably the most important American Holiday next to Thanksgiving. No, I’m referring to the cultural significance of Memorial Day, which is the traditional beginning of the Summer season. The time for warming weather, white shoes, out door grilling and ice cream, and of course, the most important American Summertime cultural activity…
…baseball.
OK, now granted, we do have the St. Petersburg “Zenit” here, who just won the 2008 Euro Cup. But, this is SOCCER…it’s ice hokey with sneakers, except slower. Yes, I realize that this is the most popular sport in the world and that due to my obviously barbaric American upbringing I can’t fathom the plethora of nuances displayed on the field, but come ON. It’s not BASEBALL. Soccer is neither fast enough to keep you riveted to the action, nor slow enough to allow you to multitask with unrelated conversations, hot dogs, and peanut vendors. This is where baseball has it all over soccer. It moves soooo slowly that you can literally engage in multiple unrelated tasks and at the same time be perfectly aware of what is happening on the field. It’s the ultimate Zen sport: you can be present and not-present at the same time!
Of course, what spawned this was the fact that I missed my sister’s Memorial Day barbecue. This also coincides with her birthday, and having come from a family of chefs and restaurant people, this is usually quite the event. My one major connection with American culture has been my morning Internet browsing of baseball Box Scores-Margaret, bless her, makes fun of me constantly for this; she did not grow up in a part of the US where baseball was a way of life, so she will never understand that we in the Northeast live and die by the daily happenings of our teams. This is very true. A casual baseball fan in the Mid-West is trying to figure out where second base is; a casual baseball fan in Boston would be calculating the angle of a pitcher’s sinker ball…and suggesting means of possible improvement.
For my European, Asian, and non-baseball-loving-American readers, ’Box Scores’ are summaries of the game via daily statistics-who did what, when, and how much. Baseball is a game based on statistics-it’s a mathematicians paradise. These statistics not only deal with past performance, but also are used for predicting future results. In fact, there is a popular theory, which some teams are based on, that break everything down to statistics and not to individual players abilities on given days. Thus, regardless of a player’s performance, he may be put in or taken out depending on how certain numbers come out. It’s frighteningly sterile in a way and has varied results.
But, since baseball is a game of statistics, the emphasis will always be on the individual rather than the team. Because of this, it’s the ultimate Humanistic team sport. Things rarely happen in tandem; a play almost always involves one player, or one on one. Only in certain defensive situations do you have players working together. Individual performance is so important because this also determines the size of one’s contract. In football (US football), a team can say that they will only pay so much salary for one position-a variety of skilled players can fit into the system. Not so in baseball. You play well, you make big money. It’s the great American sport-individual accomplishment brings rewards.
Of course, this brings up the issue of cheating…this is the one major stain of the last 10 years. I don’t even want to get into the grand disappointment that I have for players whom I enjoyed over the years. Stardom and money-lust corrupts…
…so let’s not get into that.
The other event that spawned this letter was an article that I read on ESPN about top players who were not signed this year and were ‘pushed’ into retirement. The idea of retirement is an interesting one. I’m at that age now where almost all professional athletes are far younger than me, but a few of my age bracket keep holding on. People like Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds were already making a name for themselves when I was still in school-they are only a couple of years older than me, but in a way it seems like they are far older since I’ve heard their names for well over 20 years. Athletes start young; athletes end young, too. It interesting that when you are in school and watching games with your friends, you are seeing your sports heroes and routing for them, but you also become aware of the ‘rookies’, the new signed ‘kids’ or draft picks, who are your age. You wonder how they will do. Over the years, many disappear, but one or two may become superstars. The list over ‘older’ players in the article contained names that I had known for 20 years-players that were my age, like Mike Piazza and Sammy Sosa-who have left the game or being forced out to pasture. I was with them the whole time during their careers. They’re kids, how can they retire? These articles also talk about how players are getting old and losing their skills, by 35! I was just getting warmed up at 35.
It’s funny: I’m in a career that I believe we get better as we age. You learn to be more efficient as a performer and become more wise and skilful as a composer. I plan on gigging at 105. Of course, the fact that I’m in a career that I really can never retire for financial reasons does feed into this, but let’s not get into that…But the fact that these peoples’ careers are over at 40, many even younger, is staggering. What do they do? The education system hasn’t prepared them for anything else other than hitting a fastball-what happens when those skills diminish…?
Why this long letter by a musician about baseball? I don’t know. It’s been a long year…I miss my country. Baseball is the one truly American institution that I can hold on to while I’m here. Heck, I wear my Boston ‘Red Sox’ cap everywhere here-mostly to counter all of the ‘Yankees’ caps I see. I’m serious-talk about an international brand name-and they stink this year! Ha…’Yankees’…give me a break…
So, thus ends these Americanistic thoughts. In a couple of months, I’ll be back in the States, enjoying the final days of Summer and all that it offers. For now, I sit in my little apartment in St. Petersburg, look at my little computer window on the world, and cross my fingers that Manny Ramirez will hit his 500th home run!
All best,
Demetrius
Mark Twain
United States of America
Dear Mark,
I’m in Russia.
Yes, I know that you realize this. The funny thing is that I don’t necessarily realize it, myself. It’s very interesting; you get into a, for lack of a better word, ‘routine’, and you forget where you are. Now, other than practicing and composing and doing my regular work-which I can do anywhere, thanks to technology-my days are not routine in the basic sense. I may go to buy groceries, meet with colleagues (who all speak English, thankfully), or go play a jazz gig or something, and I internally realize that I’m in a different country, but it doesn’t really consciously hit me anymore. Even the fact that I can’t understand any of the conversations happening around me has ceased to bother me. My ‘foreign awareness’ has disappeared…
…until Memorial Day. Now, Russia has a version of this, as well, called “Defenders of Fatherland Day”. And recently, Russia celebrated “Victory Day” which I wrote about in my last letter. So, when I say Memorial Day, I’m not referring to the actual Holiday, which I think is probably the most important American Holiday next to Thanksgiving. No, I’m referring to the cultural significance of Memorial Day, which is the traditional beginning of the Summer season. The time for warming weather, white shoes, out door grilling and ice cream, and of course, the most important American Summertime cultural activity…
…baseball.
OK, now granted, we do have the St. Petersburg “Zenit” here, who just won the 2008 Euro Cup. But, this is SOCCER…it’s ice hokey with sneakers, except slower. Yes, I realize that this is the most popular sport in the world and that due to my obviously barbaric American upbringing I can’t fathom the plethora of nuances displayed on the field, but come ON. It’s not BASEBALL. Soccer is neither fast enough to keep you riveted to the action, nor slow enough to allow you to multitask with unrelated conversations, hot dogs, and peanut vendors. This is where baseball has it all over soccer. It moves soooo slowly that you can literally engage in multiple unrelated tasks and at the same time be perfectly aware of what is happening on the field. It’s the ultimate Zen sport: you can be present and not-present at the same time!
Of course, what spawned this was the fact that I missed my sister’s Memorial Day barbecue. This also coincides with her birthday, and having come from a family of chefs and restaurant people, this is usually quite the event. My one major connection with American culture has been my morning Internet browsing of baseball Box Scores-Margaret, bless her, makes fun of me constantly for this; she did not grow up in a part of the US where baseball was a way of life, so she will never understand that we in the Northeast live and die by the daily happenings of our teams. This is very true. A casual baseball fan in the Mid-West is trying to figure out where second base is; a casual baseball fan in Boston would be calculating the angle of a pitcher’s sinker ball…and suggesting means of possible improvement.
For my European, Asian, and non-baseball-loving-American readers, ’Box Scores’ are summaries of the game via daily statistics-who did what, when, and how much. Baseball is a game based on statistics-it’s a mathematicians paradise. These statistics not only deal with past performance, but also are used for predicting future results. In fact, there is a popular theory, which some teams are based on, that break everything down to statistics and not to individual players abilities on given days. Thus, regardless of a player’s performance, he may be put in or taken out depending on how certain numbers come out. It’s frighteningly sterile in a way and has varied results.
But, since baseball is a game of statistics, the emphasis will always be on the individual rather than the team. Because of this, it’s the ultimate Humanistic team sport. Things rarely happen in tandem; a play almost always involves one player, or one on one. Only in certain defensive situations do you have players working together. Individual performance is so important because this also determines the size of one’s contract. In football (US football), a team can say that they will only pay so much salary for one position-a variety of skilled players can fit into the system. Not so in baseball. You play well, you make big money. It’s the great American sport-individual accomplishment brings rewards.
Of course, this brings up the issue of cheating…this is the one major stain of the last 10 years. I don’t even want to get into the grand disappointment that I have for players whom I enjoyed over the years. Stardom and money-lust corrupts…
…so let’s not get into that.
The other event that spawned this letter was an article that I read on ESPN about top players who were not signed this year and were ‘pushed’ into retirement. The idea of retirement is an interesting one. I’m at that age now where almost all professional athletes are far younger than me, but a few of my age bracket keep holding on. People like Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds were already making a name for themselves when I was still in school-they are only a couple of years older than me, but in a way it seems like they are far older since I’ve heard their names for well over 20 years. Athletes start young; athletes end young, too. It interesting that when you are in school and watching games with your friends, you are seeing your sports heroes and routing for them, but you also become aware of the ‘rookies’, the new signed ‘kids’ or draft picks, who are your age. You wonder how they will do. Over the years, many disappear, but one or two may become superstars. The list over ‘older’ players in the article contained names that I had known for 20 years-players that were my age, like Mike Piazza and Sammy Sosa-who have left the game or being forced out to pasture. I was with them the whole time during their careers. They’re kids, how can they retire? These articles also talk about how players are getting old and losing their skills, by 35! I was just getting warmed up at 35.
It’s funny: I’m in a career that I believe we get better as we age. You learn to be more efficient as a performer and become more wise and skilful as a composer. I plan on gigging at 105. Of course, the fact that I’m in a career that I really can never retire for financial reasons does feed into this, but let’s not get into that…But the fact that these peoples’ careers are over at 40, many even younger, is staggering. What do they do? The education system hasn’t prepared them for anything else other than hitting a fastball-what happens when those skills diminish…?
Why this long letter by a musician about baseball? I don’t know. It’s been a long year…I miss my country. Baseball is the one truly American institution that I can hold on to while I’m here. Heck, I wear my Boston ‘Red Sox’ cap everywhere here-mostly to counter all of the ‘Yankees’ caps I see. I’m serious-talk about an international brand name-and they stink this year! Ha…’Yankees’…give me a break…
So, thus ends these Americanistic thoughts. In a couple of months, I’ll be back in the States, enjoying the final days of Summer and all that it offers. For now, I sit in my little apartment in St. Petersburg, look at my little computer window on the world, and cross my fingers that Manny Ramirez will hit his 500th home run!
All best,
Demetrius
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