Monday, October 17, 2005
Précis
It's late, I'm not particularly eloquent, and I really can't be bothered to rephrase sentences coherently, so this will probably not read smoothly at some places. I will simply jot this down in the exact order it comes out of my head, expression and phrasing intact. Well, basically, as I normally write these things.
There’s this jap song that sounds like a Happy Tree Friends theme. Also, J-Pop Hits (a concert band piece) is comprised of three songs – the first being typical, the second called ‘White Breath’, and sounding exactly like a news station weather report theme song, and the third, comprising entirely of some strange symbols that your computer produces when lacking the codec to translate a foreign language, sounds vaguely like, ‘IAYE YUEGH’ (no lie), or a guttural throat clearing noise.
Anyway.
I’ve got a pretty close friend who’s kinda studying for his ‘A’ levels right now, and watching him inspires some amount of nostalgia, and envy – thoughts of the past, memories of camping the MacDonald’s with the 3B gang, solving the ‘brain teasers’ which MCDs put up everyday, with the promise of free ice cream to anyone who could solve their ‘mindboggling’ puzzles; let’s just say that we couldn’t have eaten any more ice cream without passing out from the sugar overdose. Memories of Lionel hugging a stretch ball bigger than my entire body mass, and how it must have looked to any passer-by watching him lug it back home; memories of the abomination made out of McDipper containers, empty drink cups, and forks (damn you for pushing all the crap over onto me, Gary!!!) ; memories of trying to psycho the guys to stop studying and come over to my house for a ‘little’ R&R. I swear, I could have gotten a perfect score if not for that.
Then, sitting down next to him, and gazing over his past-year papers, bearing the Raffles crest, suddenly filled me with all sorts of dread and fear, and some amount of relief, the ‘holy crap I never want to see another trigonometry question as long as I live’ feeling. I guess retrospect is always 20/20 – you filter out all the things you don’t want to remember and cherish only the best things you experienced back then, keeping the memories most precious to you sealed in that little alcove in your mind, away from the cerebrovascular cleaners and erosion of time. Trying to relive them will only unearth the horrors that you want nothing more than to keep suppressed. But my my, how time has flown by.
After getting into the sight-reading mode again, I’ve managed to resusticate some amount of a previous passion for concert playing – I have discovered that the area I am totally and utterly sick of is undoubtedly within the March genre. I never want to play another damn march for as long as I live. I’m tired of the mindless repetition and symmetrical trios – marches are barely a type of music as much as an accompaniment for moving around pointlessly from place to place, following a rhythm for some unfathomable reason with a tempo that is derived from the fact that we have an even amount of legs. All I want to play are concert pieces – and having been given a chance to do so over the past few days over our well-deserved lull period, I’ve begun to realize the comfort and security in what I grew up learning as a musician – like a womb, the concert band has always been the warm, nurturing place that I developed my potential and unraveled the mysteries of the note. The pressures of expression, dynamics and improvisational reading are the essential facets of music which elevate the experience, not hamper it – unlike the parade, where the lethargy of the mid-day sun, the searing heat, humidity, and sheer boredom are poor companions to music-making. Once again, sitting down to play familiar and unknown pieces alike, I am reminded of my true roots – reminded by my peers, especially, of what genre of music I was born to appreciate, of the genre I was trained to craft and mold with my intuition and experience. I regain my confidence in the band room because I know that everything I have learnt has enabled me to face any challenge in this respect with all my wisdom and confidence, confidence in the stability and superiority of my training. How I’ve missed that feeling.
In line with that, I’ve decided that I’m sick and tired of wasting these precious years of my life here, and hence, have formulated ‘Operation Parasite Eve’ – a complex project which will, according to my schematic, unfold over the next six months. It is a project with the sole intention of utilizing the resources at my disposal to achieve one specific goal – the pursuit of knowledge. Having visited our library many times – and I might add, one of the best music libraries in the country – has made me realize how silly I’ve been all this time. To be surrounded by literally thousands of catergorised and meticulously organized scores, from the archaic to the super-modern, to all sorts of technique guides, exam references, music encyclopedias is not something just any musician can lay claim to. I have that fortune, just that I’ve never once thought about appreciating it. Starting today I compiled a seriously long list of pieces from ‘the Catalogue’, as I call it – a list detailing every piece I’d played before, and pieces with percussion parts I am interested in – and have decided that over the next few months, I’ll devote my time and resources to obtaining them to enrich my personal library at home. I’ve always celebrated knowledge as a percussionist, and all my close friends know that. I have little respect for people who can play well, but lack the technical knowledge to appreciate fully what they are playing. Of course, I will seek full permission and endorsement for this – trying otherwise is suicide.
LC seemed to detect a sudden thirst for knowledge within me, and immediately invited me over to his studio to browse through his personal library, generously extending an invitation to me to borrow scores, with the promise of returning it eventually. That was a honour far greater than I deserve – LC, one of the greatest and most talented percussionists I know, inviting me to view his source material? I spent the next two hours receiving a personal drumset master-class from the legend himself, and asked him questions about the different source books he used, what he recommended, technical demonstrations and applications, and any doubts that leapt to mind. He resolved them all with his usual carefree attitude, and later added that I shouldn’t be so disheartened at not being at a professional standard, saying that what is more important is that I do it because I like it, not because I want to be the best. That meant something I guess, coming from him, the percussionist with the impeccable knowledge I’ve come to trust wholeheartedly over the past year. Anyway, I managed to filter out a large stack of material which I deemed useful to me – criteria being, firstly that he recommended it, and secondly, that I would actually have a decent chance of learning it over the duration of my lifetime. Most of the material failed the second one. But it was an incredible haul nonetheless – carrying only what I could, I promised that I would be back very soon for the rest.
As for the material I did manage to carry back – let’s just say $30 worth of photocopies at 5 cents a page is a lot of pages.
Oh, Advent Children was very nice. It would be a no-brainer to say that it was hands-down the best animation movie I’ve seen to date. The promise of a ‘contemplative’ storyline was not quite fulfilled, I think – it seemed pretty linear to me. But then again, I’ve always been ‘different’. I pursued the final fantasy VII story longer than most normal people would even after the third run-through of the game. Getting all the hidden materia, unlocking every possible secret, and mastering every nuance of the game is of course, unsurprising. My interest in the game bothered on fanaticism. Which explains why I was more than a little excited when they first announced the development of the follow-up movie. The fact that the movie did, in most respects, live up to my expectations, is entirely expected from a company as reputable as Square, and is most admirable, given my lofty expectations concerning the game I regard to be one of the greatest masterpieces of the age. The movie was humorous, somewhat reflective, thrilling for the better part of it, and all-round heart-wrenching in it’s whole ‘this is for YOU, true believer’ feel. The music was beautiful, the remakes were moving, and the subtle references to the past events were both reassuring and provocative. Advent Children is poetry in motion.
There is a lot more I should be writing about – the reunion with the RV guys who I literally haven’t seen in years, my recent infatuation with ridiculously technical jazz, my unique dining experience at a particularly unique restaurant, the books I’ve only just finished reading.
But I’m too lazy. So there.
Paranoia out.
There’s this jap song that sounds like a Happy Tree Friends theme. Also, J-Pop Hits (a concert band piece) is comprised of three songs – the first being typical, the second called ‘White Breath’, and sounding exactly like a news station weather report theme song, and the third, comprising entirely of some strange symbols that your computer produces when lacking the codec to translate a foreign language, sounds vaguely like, ‘IAYE YUEGH’ (no lie), or a guttural throat clearing noise.
Anyway.
I’ve got a pretty close friend who’s kinda studying for his ‘A’ levels right now, and watching him inspires some amount of nostalgia, and envy – thoughts of the past, memories of camping the MacDonald’s with the 3B gang, solving the ‘brain teasers’ which MCDs put up everyday, with the promise of free ice cream to anyone who could solve their ‘mindboggling’ puzzles; let’s just say that we couldn’t have eaten any more ice cream without passing out from the sugar overdose. Memories of Lionel hugging a stretch ball bigger than my entire body mass, and how it must have looked to any passer-by watching him lug it back home; memories of the abomination made out of McDipper containers, empty drink cups, and forks (damn you for pushing all the crap over onto me, Gary!!!) ; memories of trying to psycho the guys to stop studying and come over to my house for a ‘little’ R&R. I swear, I could have gotten a perfect score if not for that.
Then, sitting down next to him, and gazing over his past-year papers, bearing the Raffles crest, suddenly filled me with all sorts of dread and fear, and some amount of relief, the ‘holy crap I never want to see another trigonometry question as long as I live’ feeling. I guess retrospect is always 20/20 – you filter out all the things you don’t want to remember and cherish only the best things you experienced back then, keeping the memories most precious to you sealed in that little alcove in your mind, away from the cerebrovascular cleaners and erosion of time. Trying to relive them will only unearth the horrors that you want nothing more than to keep suppressed. But my my, how time has flown by.
After getting into the sight-reading mode again, I’ve managed to resusticate some amount of a previous passion for concert playing – I have discovered that the area I am totally and utterly sick of is undoubtedly within the March genre. I never want to play another damn march for as long as I live. I’m tired of the mindless repetition and symmetrical trios – marches are barely a type of music as much as an accompaniment for moving around pointlessly from place to place, following a rhythm for some unfathomable reason with a tempo that is derived from the fact that we have an even amount of legs. All I want to play are concert pieces – and having been given a chance to do so over the past few days over our well-deserved lull period, I’ve begun to realize the comfort and security in what I grew up learning as a musician – like a womb, the concert band has always been the warm, nurturing place that I developed my potential and unraveled the mysteries of the note. The pressures of expression, dynamics and improvisational reading are the essential facets of music which elevate the experience, not hamper it – unlike the parade, where the lethargy of the mid-day sun, the searing heat, humidity, and sheer boredom are poor companions to music-making. Once again, sitting down to play familiar and unknown pieces alike, I am reminded of my true roots – reminded by my peers, especially, of what genre of music I was born to appreciate, of the genre I was trained to craft and mold with my intuition and experience. I regain my confidence in the band room because I know that everything I have learnt has enabled me to face any challenge in this respect with all my wisdom and confidence, confidence in the stability and superiority of my training. How I’ve missed that feeling.
In line with that, I’ve decided that I’m sick and tired of wasting these precious years of my life here, and hence, have formulated ‘Operation Parasite Eve’ – a complex project which will, according to my schematic, unfold over the next six months. It is a project with the sole intention of utilizing the resources at my disposal to achieve one specific goal – the pursuit of knowledge. Having visited our library many times – and I might add, one of the best music libraries in the country – has made me realize how silly I’ve been all this time. To be surrounded by literally thousands of catergorised and meticulously organized scores, from the archaic to the super-modern, to all sorts of technique guides, exam references, music encyclopedias is not something just any musician can lay claim to. I have that fortune, just that I’ve never once thought about appreciating it. Starting today I compiled a seriously long list of pieces from ‘the Catalogue’, as I call it – a list detailing every piece I’d played before, and pieces with percussion parts I am interested in – and have decided that over the next few months, I’ll devote my time and resources to obtaining them to enrich my personal library at home. I’ve always celebrated knowledge as a percussionist, and all my close friends know that. I have little respect for people who can play well, but lack the technical knowledge to appreciate fully what they are playing. Of course, I will seek full permission and endorsement for this – trying otherwise is suicide.
LC seemed to detect a sudden thirst for knowledge within me, and immediately invited me over to his studio to browse through his personal library, generously extending an invitation to me to borrow scores, with the promise of returning it eventually. That was a honour far greater than I deserve – LC, one of the greatest and most talented percussionists I know, inviting me to view his source material? I spent the next two hours receiving a personal drumset master-class from the legend himself, and asked him questions about the different source books he used, what he recommended, technical demonstrations and applications, and any doubts that leapt to mind. He resolved them all with his usual carefree attitude, and later added that I shouldn’t be so disheartened at not being at a professional standard, saying that what is more important is that I do it because I like it, not because I want to be the best. That meant something I guess, coming from him, the percussionist with the impeccable knowledge I’ve come to trust wholeheartedly over the past year. Anyway, I managed to filter out a large stack of material which I deemed useful to me – criteria being, firstly that he recommended it, and secondly, that I would actually have a decent chance of learning it over the duration of my lifetime. Most of the material failed the second one. But it was an incredible haul nonetheless – carrying only what I could, I promised that I would be back very soon for the rest.
As for the material I did manage to carry back – let’s just say $30 worth of photocopies at 5 cents a page is a lot of pages.
Oh, Advent Children was very nice. It would be a no-brainer to say that it was hands-down the best animation movie I’ve seen to date. The promise of a ‘contemplative’ storyline was not quite fulfilled, I think – it seemed pretty linear to me. But then again, I’ve always been ‘different’. I pursued the final fantasy VII story longer than most normal people would even after the third run-through of the game. Getting all the hidden materia, unlocking every possible secret, and mastering every nuance of the game is of course, unsurprising. My interest in the game bothered on fanaticism. Which explains why I was more than a little excited when they first announced the development of the follow-up movie. The fact that the movie did, in most respects, live up to my expectations, is entirely expected from a company as reputable as Square, and is most admirable, given my lofty expectations concerning the game I regard to be one of the greatest masterpieces of the age. The movie was humorous, somewhat reflective, thrilling for the better part of it, and all-round heart-wrenching in it’s whole ‘this is for YOU, true believer’ feel. The music was beautiful, the remakes were moving, and the subtle references to the past events were both reassuring and provocative. Advent Children is poetry in motion.
There is a lot more I should be writing about – the reunion with the RV guys who I literally haven’t seen in years, my recent infatuation with ridiculously technical jazz, my unique dining experience at a particularly unique restaurant, the books I’ve only just finished reading.
But I’m too lazy. So there.
Paranoia out.
# posted by Paranoia Incarnate @ 8:24 AM 
