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  • Writer: Amy Viola
    Amy Viola
  • Sep 12, 2018
  • 2 min read

There’s an internet meme going around my social media network at the moment, and it’s being shared by musicians from all backgrounds and interests. It’s common thread seems to touch us all at the root of a nerve:





This one hits right in at me. My performing life has been defined through the suffering of performance anxiety because of the expectation to play correctly always. Now, I gleefully remind myself that it doesn’t matter if I play a wrong note because it’s my own music, and I can (as the saying goes) play it again three more times and it will be correct. Oh - that’s jazz. Well, same thing.


There’s something deeper at play here, though. Audiences want to FEEL - and in a way they can’t otherwise. Music forges a superhighway to the heart strings and can bring to light submerged feelings and thoughts we would otherwise be unawares of. We all know this - and is one of the reasons we love music.


But when I play my original music, my perfection brain is in full control. I judge my own performance based on my ability to recreate a song perfectly as I intended it. I acknowledge that my training as a classical violinist has established this framework for me, and it is a tricky one to change.


I was shocked recently when I gave an average performance and yet a friend had to leave the room full of emotion. What a contradiction - that the music I was delivering in ’reproduction’ mode had enough power on its own to affect someone so deeply. There is clearly as much transference into the performance from the audience as the performer, which we feel as performers when we really smash a passage or note, the audience’s excitement is almost tangible.


So, how can performers get their audience to always feel when they perform? We’ve seen it done badly or in poor taste (the scantily clad violinists that flaunt their wares while playing Paganini), and appealing to basic instinct is the cheapest way to get your message across. Is your message worth getting across if that’s what you are appealing to?


I think the answer lies in being as genuine as you can be - telling the absolute, raw truth of your own emotions and life in a broad way that can be understood by a crowd. Let them escape in your story, your emotion and your unique perspective on life.


Leonard’s Cohen ‘Anthem’ does this for me. I covered it for my #recomposed series last week and just loved singing it. I love the line 'There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in' - a live performance may never be perfect, but it will be filled with light, love and truth.


What do you think?

-AV





  • Writer: Amy Viola
    Amy Viola
  • Aug 28, 2018
  • 2 min read

Here in Australia we lack the cultural tradition of the symphony orchestra that is present in Europe. Those of us who grew up in Australia learning an orchestral instrument bemoan the lack of work available to us as we graduate from our performance degrees, and many of us move to Europe in search of greener pastures. I knew something was out of balance when I flew to Hobart for a tutti viola audition with the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra, along with 90 of my fellow Australian violists. Our Head of Strings, Goetz Richter, unceremoniously informed us of this fact in our first week as undergraduates: 'Most of you will never get work in an orchestra', he said. He was trying to coax us to work harder, I think. It made me realise that orchestral work was not my pathway, which I talk about here.


Nevertheless, there has been an interesting crossover in the orchestral idiom over the decades. Those playing Beatles and Beach Boys albums in the 1960s heard the symphonic beginnings of ork-pop (no, not a LOTR reference), which became fully-blown in the 90s when indie-rock reacted against the low-fi fuzz of alt music. Metallica and Deep Purple brought a full orchestra on stage with them and set the scene for a clashing aesthetic that somehow uplifted both. Contemporary artists started to tour with ready-made arrangements for the local symphony orchestra to play as part of their 'outreach' bill, in between Ring Cycles and Mozart Symphonies. Here in Australia, my colleagues started to tour with The Hilltop Hoods and the Cat Empire during the 2000s, and all around the world artists enhanced the live experience with an orchestral offering.



Deep Purple playing live with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in 1969, conducted by Malcolm Arnold


As I launch into a full-fledged crossover career, I've observed some interesting polarities at play when I attend an indie gig and get invited up to improvise along on viola. There is a power in the classical sound: heads turn almost immediately, regardless of what I play. In fact I'm certain that I could be playing twinkle twinkle over a pop song and their interest would be piqued. I believe it's the timbre, texture and lyrical nature of string and wind instruments that enhance popular music, when used in correct proportion. I started by playing too much - all the time, even - competing with the voice. I've had to find a delicate balance in learning Bob Dylan's Desire album, which features Scarlett Rivera's violin throughout, even over the harmonica. And I am testing the edges of the crossover conversation with my viola and loop in my own solo project.

There is something timeless in the classical sound that has yet to be fully unleashed across genres to create new, beautiful and exciting sounds. One of my favourite artists to experiment with this, Peter Gabriel, brought some beautiful sounds to rework his material in 'Live Blood', of which I pay hommage to in this #recomposed video:



We may not be playing Bruch Symphonies every week, but we will be playing. The crossover possibilities are endless, exciting and here to stay.


AV


 
 
 
  • Writer: Amy Viola
    Amy Viola
  • Aug 21, 2018
  • 2 min read

Updated: Aug 22, 2018


I'm in the process of touring a Bob Dylan classic album show around NSW, playing the violin part of Scarlett Rivera and singing the backing vocals of Emmylou Harris, simultaneously. I want to share with you the hack I've discovered that's let me pull this off. 


Without frets, string players rely closely on their ear to pitch notes. When we sing, we also rely on the ear. When we try to sing and play (with the bow) at the same time, anarchy ensues! The ear's attention is divided and often always chooses to focus on singing, because of it's close proximity to the sound, I suppose. Why is it fine for a guitarist strumming chords while accompanying themselves singing, then? 


I believe there are two reasons: firstly, the long, sustained sound of a violin or viola is closer in quality to the voice. It competes for the attention of the ear moreso than the short, rhythmic decay of a guitar strum. When I put my viola in 'guitar position' and strum, I don't experience the same aural struggle as when I use my bow. Secondly, the guitarist's left hand is playing 'shapes' that are embedded in their muscle memory, and recalling these uses less brain power than, say, playing an intricate melodic line while singing. 


So, with this knowledge, I developed a brain 'hack' to allow my ear to focus on my voice without being compromised:



I can sing when I strum, no problems!


I forced my left hand to play it's notes using purely muscle memory. I sang long notes while changing pitches with my left hand to make sure my ear was focusing on my voice, keeping it in tune with the viola. If I started to tune my viola with my ear, I have to stop singing. I can hear what you're thinking: this is a recipe for intonation disaster! I certainly do find a 'safer' ground when I stick to open strings and first position, and I have since learnt to 'shadow' sing while I quickly check the tuning of my viola.


This skill has taught me so much about my brain, how it learns, and what it's doing when I'm performing. Under the stress of performance (because performance anxiety still affects us all from time to time), I had to play my viola more quietly to be sure my voice was correct. And then there was the time when my strings were slightly out of tune and I had to sing while play double stops (two notes at once). Ouch.


But I've decided to cultivate the skill and keep at it. I try and use it when I produce my #recomposed Youtube video each week. In fact, here is an example of me singing and playing harmonies simultanously, in I'll Fly Away from 'O Brother Where Art Thou': 




What are your thoughts on playing and singing at the same time?


AV




 
 
 

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