What we can learn from John Wooden VIII

Last week I addressed a number of John Wooden's ideas about pedagogy, taken from Gallimore and Tharp's 2004 article.

 

So now it's time to see what his pedagogical ideas can offer us as conductors. Part of the last post deals with our responsibility as teachers--is it our responsibility just to present material, or is it to find a way for our students learn the material, learn the skills involved, and learn those materials in a broader context that lead to their mastery of both skills and ideas so that they can apply them on their own? I'll begin to explore that next week as we look at Gallimore and Swen Nater's book, You Haven't Taught Them Until They Have Learned.

 

This week I'll focus on drill, which was a part of the first post in this series. Here's the relevant section from Gallimore and Tharp's 2004 article:

One debate turns on the relative value of drilling students to strengthen skills and habits. The controversy plays out in many areas, including reading, science, and mathematics. For many, "drill is a way to kill" student interest and learning. For others, it is fundamental to learning.

Coach Wooden is unabashedly an advocate of drill when it is used properly within a balanced approach that also attends to developing understanding and initiative . . . Repetition, or drill, is one of his four laws of learning:

"The 4 laws are explanation, demonstration, imitation, and repetition. The goal is to create a correct habit that can be produced instinctively under great pressure. To make sure this goal was achieved, I created 8 laws of learning, namely,  explanation, demonstration, imitation, repetition, repetition, repetition, and repetition."

However, drill for Coach Wooden is a means to an end, not an end in itself. Drilling is intended to achieve an automaticity or mastery of fundamentals that opens up opportunities for individual creativity and initiative. To make certain the drills were understood by his students to be part of a larger more meaningful whole, he tried to show the context in which a skill or habit would operate:

"I tried to teach according to the whole-part method. I would show them the whole thing to begin with. Then I'm going to break it down into the parts and work on the individual parts and then eventually bring them together. [I wanted to teach] within the framework of the whole, but don't take away from the individuality because different ones are going to have different things at which they excel. I never wanted to take away from their individuality but I wanted that effort to put forth to the welfare of the group as a whole. I don't want to take away their thinking. I wanted options."

Let's unpack this and apply to conductors.

 

His initial four laws are explanation, demonstration, imitation, and repetition. These are somewhat self-explanatory, but we can expand upon them.

 

We often need to explain concepts. Concepts can be grasped fairly quickly and understood intellectually--in a sense this is like the cliche of the light bulb going on--if it's explained well enough the individual can immediately understand what is meant. For example, in working with my Collegium Singers on the Monteverdi 1610 Vespers, we were tuning to quarter-comma meantone where the major thirds are "pure" (come directly from the natural harmonic series) and are lower than the tempered thirds most of us are used to hearing. My singers could understand the concept quite quickly. However, understanding the concept and being able to apply it consistently and accurately are different things. We're talking about a skill that needs to be developed.

 

So we come to demonstration, imitation, and repetition. I chose the hymn Ave maris stella as one of the first movements in the Vespers to work on, since it has fairly regular phrases, is mostly homophonic, and has regular major cadences. This allowed me to work on the sound I wanted them to make, sense of phrase, what parts to bring out, and most importantly, tuning. Demonstration was sometimes done by me (having them sing the chord minus the third--I'd sing the third, then whatever part sang the third would imitate my tuning). This is what I most often do in rehearsal because normally I have a piano tuned in equal temperament. But in this case, we had our portative organ tuned to quarter-comma meantone (you can get an app now, by the way, with lots of historic tunings!), so most of the time our accompanist would play the chord and they would then sing, matching (imitating) the tuning.

 

But the skill to do this regularly, accurately, and immediately is something that takes time . . . and drill . . . to develop. I had a fairly large number of new students in the choir this year who were not accustomed to singing pure thirds. So it took a considerable number of repetitions in every rehearsal at the beginning--stopping after a cadence, letting them know the 3rd was too high, having the organ play the chord, then the choir singing again. After a while we began to get close each time--in this case I still had to stop, but now could ask them to sing better in tune without hearing the organ first, which they could do, but often took a second or two to get it really well in tune. The task was then to get to the point where they could sing the thirds in tune first time, every time. (I will fairly soon have the Monteverdi on YouTube so you can hear and judge this for yourself--watch for an announcement on Choralist)

 

This repetition--drill--is why Wooden created his eight laws of learning: explanation, demonstration, imitation, repetition, repetition, repetition, repetition, and repetition. Drill can be tedious, of course, but it's also the way to mastery of the music we perform and the skills our singers need to learn. I feel it's important that my singers learn how to hear and do these kinds of things themselves so they can carry these skills onward without me. But drills can't be all we do, and drills (which of necessity focus on a relatively narrow set of things) have to be combined with "scrimmage," running through larger sections or the entire piece. It's the same thing as Wooden's players doing many drills, but also needing to scrimmage regularly--because it's only there, where the various skills are combined in the way they will be in a real game (or for us, a real concert).

 

I also think Wooden's emphasis on the whole-part method is important. This can be seen in two ways: first, when learning a very specific skill that's made up of several parts, we can demostrate the full skill, break down into the component parts for drill, then combine the separate elements into the full skill. This why demonstration can be so important--it gives a larger picture and context of the particular skill being drilled before it's broken down into its component parts.

 

Second, when possible, it's important to give our singers a sense of the whole piece they're going to sing, before working on the individual sections, phrases, and challenges they have to master (through drill), then gradually bring it back to an ability to perform whole sections and ultimately, the whole piece.

 

When my group's capable of it, I want them to sightread as much of the piece as possible at first. That gives them an overview. Of course, sometimes that isn't possible--the music's too difficult, perhaps. I can play a recording of it for them, for example. But I may also explain the context/meaning of the music as well early on.

 

With a large work, I often need to find a way to introduce it that gives a sense of the whole before they begin to work on it. As an example, I did the Britten War Requiem with my PLU Choirs (three choirs combined, including our community-based Choral Union). The Britten is an extraordinarily difficult piece for them to imagine at first and, of course, the choir only plays a part in the whole since the tenor and baritone sing the moving poetry of Wilfrid Owen. I opened with all three choirs together, showing them pictures of Coventry Cathedral where it was premiered (the ruins of the old cathedral visible from the new one), explaining the symbolism of the English, Russian, and German soloists of the premiere (actually Galina Vishnevskaya wasn't allowed to leave Russia for the premiere, so an English soprano had to substitute), reading the poetry of Wilfed Owen and showing the connections Britten makes between the Latin text (from the Requiem) and Owen's poetry (using Owen's chilling re-telling of the Abraham and Isaac story, for example), etc. We then worked on the end of the first movement, with the choir and bells (which toll the C-F# tritone), the choir itself finally slipping into a magical F major. All this was to help them understand the whole and, frankly, give them the motivation, the why, to do the drill and rehearsal necessary to master such a complex work.

 

I certainly feel Wooden's concepts and understanding of pedagogy can help us understand how we can achieve more with our choirs.

 

Next, on to Swen Nater!

Ozawa & Britten War Requiem

Seiji Ozawa, who's been suffering from esophageal cancer, has returned to the podium for some concerts with his Saito Kinen Orchestra. Below, the review in the NY Times.

I conducted the War Requiem in 1987 at PLU (see my blog post, here), which was an absolutely great experience. Some of my singers then had the fantastic and emotional experience the next year of a choir tour to England, where we gave a concert at Coventry Cathedral, where the work was premiered. A fabulous experience--both of them!

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/20/arts/music/20war.html?ref=music

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December 19, 2010

Adding Another Layer to ‘War Requiem’ Story

By JAMES R. OESTREICH

Benjamin Britten’s “War Requiem,” completed in 1962 for the reopening of Coventry Cathedral in England, which had been bombed out by the Germans and rebuilt, was the great internationalist statement of a pacifist. To drive the point home in the first performance Britten wanted vocal soloists from Britain (Peter Pears), Germany (Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau) and the Soviet Union (Galina Vishnevskaya, who, barred from traveling to England, had to be replaced by the British soprano Heather Harper).

As an idealist force, if that is not an oxymoron, the work still packs a punch. It certainly did in a 2002 performance conducted by Britten’s friend (and Ms. Vishnevskaya’s husband) Mstislav Rostropovich in Peenemünde, Germany — at a plant used in Nazi times to develop the dreaded V-2 rocket, now a museum — with an international cast and an audience including Mikhail Gorbachev and other dignitaries.

The work has also afforded a platform for intensely personal statements, as when the great humanist conductor Robert Shaw put the baritone Benjamin Luxon forward in a 1994 presentation at Carnegie Hall, exquisitely prepared in a weeklong choral workshop, knowing full well that Mr. Luxon was almost deaf and prone to error. The performance proved a deeply moving triumph for both, as well as for Britten.

And on Saturday evening, in the last of three concerts by the Saito Kinen Orchestra at Carnegie Hall, Seiji Ozawa touched both the internationalist and the personal chords. In the first two concerts, on Tuesday and Wednesday, Mr. Ozawa, mostly recovered from surgery and treatment for esophageal cancer early in the year but still suffering acutely from sciatica, conducted only half of each.

Here he led the whole 85-minute “War Requiem,” including the segments incorporating Wilfred Owen’s poetry and scored for chamber orchestra, typically handled by a second conductor. He worked seated much of the time, looking less vigorous than he had earlier in the week despite his obvious frailty, and an intermission was added to help conserve his energy.

“I personally do not care for political pieces,” Mr. Ozawa wrote in program notes, but he was introduced to the “War Requiem” by a Rostropovich performance in 1979, and he has obviously internalized the work. He conducted from memory, as usual, with complete command and a loving attention to detail and nuance.

His current affection for the piece stems in part from its role in his physical recovery, he said in an interview in September. Having led most of the same forces in the work at the Saito Kinen Festival in Matsumoto in 2009, he set about restudying it.

“I had so much time, and I couldn’t do anything else, and music became more and more important,” he said. “Maybe the piece was a little too heavy, but I felt so happy to study and have time.”

The international representation was assured by the very nature of the Saito Kinen Orchestra, which mingles Japanese and Japanese-American performers (especially the string players) with Westerners. The Japanese choruses — the SKF Matsumoto Choir and Children’s Choir and the Ritsuyukai Choir — performed superbly, with powerful fortissimos and breathtaking pianissimos, and they articulated the Latin texts admirably.

The vocal soloists — Christine Goerke, a penetrating soprano who sometimes shaded flat; Anthony Dean Griffey, a touchingly communicative tenor; and Matthias Goerne, initially remote but ultimately a hauntingly involved baritone — were strong and well matched. And the orchestra shone again, with those remarkable strings upholding their lofty standard and the brasses — after a few early hitches — improving on their previous performances, in blazing climaxes.

With an obvious mix of exhaustion and exhilaration Mr. Ozawa generously shared the clamorous ovation from an audience that seemed to have taken in the work’s — and the performance’s — many messages.

England Study Tour 1975 - 12

Sunday, June 29

High (and I mean high) Mass at Westminster Cathedral -- amazing pageantry , vestments, etc. -- music not outstanding (choir was also very far away) -- very bright boy's sound -- rather ugly building inside and out -- awful organ (tubbiest of the tubs) playing Widor Toccata as postlude

Monday, June 30

To Covent Garden for Death in Venice -- once again, due to being in the upper slips (where you could not see easily) it took me a while to get "into" the opera -- once I did, however, I thought it was fantastic -- I like the opera (and enjoyed the production) very much -- Pears is really incredible -- he's on stage practically the whole time at age 65 (we heard he turned 65 the day we were in Aldeburgh) -- he's still marvelous -- Steuart Bedford (conductor) not terribly impressive -- things occasionally got a bit away from him -- overall this was another "occasion" -- Pears will retire soon, so this may have been the last times in that role (which he fills so well) [orchestra in the pit was the English Chamber Orchestra--also in the cast were Thomas Helmsley as The Traveler, James Bowman as the Voice of Apollo]

Tuesday, July 1

In the morning we met with composer John Gardner, composer of A Latter-Day Athenian Speaks -- [Gardner is probably best-known in the US for his Christmas carol, Tomorrow Shall be my Dancing Day or perhaps his Five Hymns in Popular Style -- A Latter-Day Athenian Speaks is a stunning large, a cappella setting that I first heard Bob Scandrett do with his choir at Western, then got to know through the John Alldis recording (no longer available) -- I then did it with my Choir of the West at PLU in 1986 -- I'd love to do it again!] -- Gardner's still alive and (apparently) composing at age 92

The New Philharmonia Orchestra with Barenboim -- unfortunately we were very far back, so we couldn't see Barenboim too well -- Berlioz Romeo & Juliet not overly impressive -- didn't seem to hang together too well -- Overture to Coriolan -- but then Janet Baker singing Mahler's Songs of a Wayfarer was outstanding -- gorgeous voice and a personality that really projects -- too bad we couldn't see her in opera or recital! [another "occasion" to hear her live]

Wednesday, July 2

We went to Winchester to hear Britten's War Requiem -- this is in part a student performance, as well as members of the Bournmouth Sinfonietta (pro) and various teachers -- combined orchestras of Bedales and Winchester College, the Bedales School Choral Society and Winchester College Glee Club, with the Winchester Cathedral Choristers (Martin Neary preparing), conducted by William Agnew and Angus Watson -- Soprano Alison Hargan, Tenor Neil Jenkins (again!), and baritone Julian Smith -- the performance overall was disappointing, largely due to our placement on the side: balances were not good (too much percussion, soloists couldn't be heard as well as they should have) -- also, the acoustic really muddled things up: in the "quam olim Abrahae" the second time around (when it was soft) you could hardly hear the individual lines -- neither of the conductors was outstanding and things did not always hang together well (ensemble problems) -- the orchestra played pretty well, with the exception of the brass, who were very disappointing -- I thought the chorus sang very well: a generally good sound, very well prepared -- even though overall disappointing, much better than a comparable student group would do here [although with the perspective of hindsight, I think our PLU production in 1987 was far better -- our University Orchestra was strong that year, with particularly good brass (and faculty additions), the professional NW Chamber Orchestra provided the chamber orchestra that accompanies the tenor and baritone soloists--I conducted the big orchestra and choir and Jerry Kracht (PLU Symphony conductor) conducted the chamber group--our soloists (Felicia Dobbs, Aelred Woodard, Robert Peterson) were superb--and the choir (my Choir of the West and Choral Union plus the University Chorale) did beautifully, as did the Northwest Boychoir under Joe Crnko -- particularly the performance at St. Mark's Cathedral in Seattle was outstanding, with the boys up in the gallery]

Presenting new styles or works to your choir

I talked briefly in the last blog about presenting unfamiliar works or styles to your choir. This can be a challenge, particularly with works in a completely new style, works that are difficult to sight-read, or works where the choir’s role is only a part of what makes the piece significant.

This can take many different forms. In 1985 at PLU I found out the University’s Artist Series had booked Robin and Rachelle McCabe for a duo-piano recital. Both had grown up near PLU, Robin had gone from the University of Washington to study at Juilliard and built a career as a concert pianist, her career helped by a New Yorker profile that became a book called Pianist’s Progress by Helen Drees Rosencutter (Robin’s now Director of the School of Music at the UW). Rachelle also went from the UW to Juilliard, then to the University of Michigan for doctoral work, then teaching at Oregon State University. I asked my Dean if I could propose doing Brahms’ Liebeslieder Walzer with the McCabes and the Choir of the West, did so, and the idea was accepted.

With the Brahms, it wasn’t a problem of an unfamiliar musical language (the German took some work), but the question was how to familiarize the choir with Viennese waltz style. Brahms certainly appreciated and knew the waltz culture in Vienna and, when he met Strauss’ daughter, gave her his card with the theme from “The Blue Danube” written on the back, along with the words, “Leider nicht von Brahms” (Unfortunately not by Brahms). Certainly he knew well the traditional performance style for Viennese waltzes. So I began by playing waltzes as the choir came in for each rehearsal—I always had Strauss Waltzes playing in performances by the Vienna Philharmonic under Willi Boskovsky and others. This was, much as my listening to Russian choirs for Rachmaninov, to start building their unconscious aural picture of how waltzes were done—the “lilt” and rubato particularly. We also talked about the waltz socially in Vienna, the kind of Hausmusik that was taking place, and the great popularity of the Liebeslieder once they were published. We also had a waltz party with the PLU dance instructor there to teach the choir members how to dance a waltz (too bad we didn’t have the great popularity of “Dancing with the Stars!”). At any rate, it was great fun and I think it all made a difference in their performance.

A couple years later I felt we had the right forces in place for a performance of the Britten War Requiem, a work I’d long loved and wanted to do. The problem here is that much of the choral music is not easy to sight-read, some is difficult, much isn’t “pretty,” and the choral parts by themselves don’t make much sense without a context. In this situation, I need to “sell” the work to the choir so that they buy into all the work that was ahead in learning the music. I knew they’d love it once all the elements were put together, but to get as far as we could in terms of quality of performance, they had to “own” it from the very beginning.

For those that don’t know the Britten, it was written for an arts festival celebrating the opening of the new Coventry Cathedral in England, which sits next to the ruins of the old cathedral, which was firebombed in WWII. In it, Britten combines the Latin text of the Requiem mass (sung by the choir with large orchestra and soprano soloist, along with boychoir and organ, who are to be placed in the distance) and the anti-war texts of poet Wilfrid Owen, who died in the trenches shortly before the end of WWI (sung by a chamber orchestra and tenor and baritone soloists). Britten very carefully interweaves the two sets of texts so that they comment on each other in moving ways. As in Britten's original performance, we did it with multiple conductors: I took the big orchestra and choir, Jerry Kracht (conductor of the orchestra) took the chamber orchestra with tenor and baritone soloists, and Joe Crnko coordinated the boys from the back gallery.

In introducing the work to the choirs (we combined my Choir of the West, the second mixed choir, and also the Choral Union—an adult community choir), I made sure I did this with them all together, even though some of their rehearsals would be done separately. Since I’d been to Coventry, I had photos of the new Cathedral and the old. The new one is very contemporary in style and has liturgical art from around the world. As you enter the Cathedral there is a high wall of windows with etchings in the glass—so from inside the church as you look back you see the skeleton ruins of the old Cathedral through the glass.

I also introduced the poetry of Owen, which is so moving. As an example of Britten’s careful choice of texts, I first read and then we listened to the “Quam olim Abrahae” section, which is followed by Owen’s re-telling of the story of Abraham and Isaac. After the Latin text proclaims (in quite a jaunty fugue) “As Abraham promised to his seed forever,” Owen's re-telling adds a bitter twist: after God allows Abraham to sacrifice a ram instead of his son—Owens then says, “But the old man would not so, and slew his son, and half the seed of Europe one by one.” Frankly, I get a chill even writing those words right now. After the tenor and baritone finish with Owen’s section, the quam olim comes back, but in a piano dynamic and with the fugue theme inverted. Even though the music for the choir isn’t easy and not that rewarding to sing by itself, the choir now fully understood its significance and were ready to work on it.

Of course, I also want them to sing and experience some of the work immediately. So I had to choose some sections where they could make music quickly. One of the sections I chose was the end of the Kyrie. Britten uses the tritone with regularity throughout the War Requiem and this last section begins with the bells chiming C and F#. The choir picks up those pitches for this short, homophonic section, but the last time melts into an almost magical F major, which in that context is extraordinarily beautiful. Almost always I want to find some sections of such a work where the choir can experience its beauty of expression from the very beginning.

For everyone, I think our two performances of the Britten were an unforgettable experience.

As a postscript, I took the Choir of the West on a tour to England a year later and we did one performance at Coventry Cathedral—for all those who’d sung the Britten, that was also an extraordinary experience.

What ways have you found to get your choir to "buy in" to challenging works, or works that may not have immediate appeal?