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21 September 2002 Just got back from a St. Lawrence String Quartet concert at Eric Cheng's house. It's always startling to hear really good classical music -- Tchaikovsky and Bartók, in this case -- played live by musicians of their caliber. The discipline required to achieve that level of effortlessness, so that virtuosity is merely a means for expression and spontaneity shines through the most practiced passages, absolutely humbles me. Listening to them always does. I'm reminded too of a Glen Phillips interview I was reading last night, in which he describes his friends in the "new bluegrass" band Nickel Creek: "They can deconstruct Coltrane solos, they know every Elliott Smith song, every Ben Folds song, they know every Irish traditional song. They're classically, incredibly well trained. They're real musicians. Most people doing what we do –- myself included -– we're experienced and capable amateurs. There's stuff that you develop, songwriting craft, but as far as being musicians -– amateurs, purely." Some people have remarked on how impressive it is that I write my own songs, and the lyrics, and sing and play the piano. I've never found that particularly noteworthy; I do it because I can't do anything else. It wouldn't make sense for me to have someone write the music for my lyrics or vice versa, as difficult as that process is for me. As for performance, if you listen to a classical pianist or a jazz singer, it's obvious how much of a hack I am in comparison. "Experienced and capable amateur" is a very good way of putting it. I might dare to call myself a professional songwriter, but I am definitely an amateur musician. Which means, of course, that there's plenty of room to grow. Time to practice scales again, study chamber music scores, transcribe a Thelonious Monk solo. Also to read poetry. I need to go out and hear concerts like tonight's more often. They remind me of just how much beauty there is in this world. - VT
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