Archive for the ‘Music’ Category

We Are the Robots

Sunday, February 14th, 2010

That’s what they should have named this travesty of a cover (music begins about 1:05.)

Don’t feel bad if you can’t make it all the way to the end; I had to turn it off after the offensively didactic rap section (“someone to help you rebuild / after the rubble’s gone”.)

After you’re finished laughing, take a few minutes to watch the original, below:

We have American Idol to thank for this mess.  I’m proud to say I hardly recognized any of the faces in the new version, but I can name almost everyone in the original recording (here’s a cheat sheet,) which was made with about a hundred times more talent.

GRRRR!  Can we just pretend the remake never happened?!

A Year of MMG: Getting Started

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010

The first time I saw Music Mind Games being taught was in one of Michiko’s group classes.  I marveled at the way the children interacted with each other, sharing materials, teaching each other and generally having a great time playing together.

For many reasons, however, such a scenario is not possible for all of us.  I teach out of my living room, where the rug seats only 3 or 4 people.  My students come from all different directions and distances, and most have so many other commitments that I’ve never been able to successfully “sell” the group lesson concept.

So, how do I use Music Mind Games?  As part of my private lessons.  At the end of each 30- or 45-minute lesson, I take a few minutes to play a game with my students.  If they’ve brought friends or siblings, they’re invited to play too (I’ve gotten lots of new students this way!)  The focus, of course, is on the student, making sure he gets a good balance of review, new material and plain old fun.

For years, I simply grabbed something from my stack and went to town, not worrying about how long it had been since my students had seen it.  This is a great way to start, but over time I found there were certain things I gravitated toward, resulting in an unbalanced repertoire of games and a learning plateau for my brightest students.

Several years ago, I hit on the idea of focusing on one set of materials per month.  This corresponds roughly to the Puppy Packet of materials, though there are a couple of sets from previous incarnations of Music Mind Games.  There are nine months in the school year (my lessons are more relaxed during the summer,) so here’s how I divided them:

  1. Alphabet Cards
  2. Blue Jello Cards
  3. Staff Slates & Grand Staff Cards
  4. Tempo Cards
  5. Music Symbol Cards
  6. Notes & Rests Cards
  7. Rhythm Playing Cards
  8. Staff Slates & Do-Re-Mi Cards
  9. Real Rhythm Cards

The order isn’t necessarily important, though I do feel pretty strongly about the first three — they’re very accessible for new students and loads of fun to review.

Last spring, Michiko was asking me about how I used her materials in my studio.  When I explained, she suggested spending two weeks on each set rather than one month.  This would ensure that each student saw each set of materials several times over the course of a year.  I’ve tried that this year, and it’s worked even better!

In the next few posts, I’ll write about what I do with each set of materials.  One more very important thing first, though: I strongly recommend each student have his or her own Puppy Packet.  Here’s why:

  • People value something more highly if it belongs to them.  For a student, that means “it’s mine!”  For a parent, it means, “I paid for it!” This accomplishes both; the student will enjoy showing it off, while the parent will want to see it used often.
  • There is an incredible sense of wonder and excitement that’s created when someone opens a package for the first time.  They want to take their time unwrapping it and examine every little piece.  The Puppy Packet is wonderfully designed for maximum enjoyment in that respect — colorful Magic Notes, Plastic bands, cards and a see-through box are enticing and mesmerizing to children.  And, in my experience, to teenagers and adults too!
  • As a teacher, you’ll get more bang for your buck: by assigning “homework” (which should really be renamed “homefun” in this case) you can ensure the students are getting more exposure and practice than the few minutes you’re spending with them each week.  Think of your lesson as the teaser trailer for the feature film — the fun they’ll have exploring the games at home.

How you do it is up to you: you can include the cost in the tuition of lessons or ask parents to purchase on their own.  Just be sure each student can claim ownership of her own little box of magic.  You will be so glad you did!

Who Are You?

Monday, February 8th, 2010

You know I am not a football fan, but I did sit in front of the TV last night with a book and look up during commercials.  I also watched the halftime show, about which I mostly agree with Rod and others: clearly, The Who was not in its prime last night.  I was disappointed at their choice of a medley; for a band that excels at dynamic, nail-biting musical interludes, they could easily have rocked the house with one or two full tracks.  Their choice was predictable, too (we had guessed every one but the few bars of “See Me, Feel Me,”) which was a little disappointing.  The only song on our list that we didn’t hear, fittingly: “My Generation,” with its eerily applicable line, “I hope I die before I get old.”

I’m glad they didn’t, and I can forgive this display of mediocrity, but only because I know better.  Rob and I saw The Who live in 2002, a month after the original bassist died from a cocaine overdose.  (At 57.  These guys party hard.)  Daltrey’s voice was a little thinner than on their records, but the range was still there — he could perform most, if not all, of the vocal acrobatics for which he was known.  Townshend was as strong as ever, and both exuded an energy that sustained the crowd for a show that lasted more than two hours, with no breaks, and included every single hit we could remember.

The fun part: we brought my dad, who claims that at no time did “Who’s Next” ever cease to play on the record player in his college dormitory suite.  He knew all the songs by heart, of course, but was shocked that we did, too.  It was a little weird to be belting out power ballads (and occasionally smelling pot) with your dad, but my dad is comfortable with just about any crowd, so we all just enjoyed ourselves.  The memory of that concert is a lot bigger than the few pitiful minutes onscreen in Miami.

Unrelated rant about why else I hate football: at the end of the game, the Saints’ QB had his little baby on the field.  The child looked utterly bewildered and was wearing noise-canceling headphones, so undoubtedly missed this gem: one of the announcers said something like, “This is it.  This is THE most important and precious moment a father could possibly share with his son.”  Gales of laughter erupted from our living room at this, but I’m sure there were plenty of fans out there nodding in tearful agreement.  The same fans, I’m sure, who were touched by the earlier commercial in which the NFL thanked them for watching with open mouths and painted faces all season long.  People, please.  IT’S A GAME.

A Moment of Zen

Thursday, February 4th, 2010

The epic-battle girl stared as I shuffled through my repertoire cards, choosing the ones she can play by heart.  Her eyes widened:  “I know a LOT of pieces!”

And then, thoughtfully, looking at the discard pile: “And I don’t know a lot of pieces, too.”

Welcome to the world, kid.

Help Me Help You

Thursday, January 28th, 2010

A few years ago, my mom was cleaning out old file folders and found something she wrote for me when I was young.  I was having difficulty with piano, probably saying I wanted to quit (I made a lot of noise about this for a lot of years, and it’s to my parents’ credit that they ignored me.)

It was a questionnaire, something designed to allow me to share my feelings about playing the piano.  Five questions: what I thought of my teacher, practicing and performing, and my likes and dislikes about learning to play.  Each had a handful of possible answers and an opportunity to fill in my own.  Judging by my penmanship, the 7-digit phone number scrawled on the back and the fact that she wrote it out by hand, I’d put it at about 1988.  I was eight years old, playing Bach minuets but struggling to learn to sightread the most basic melodies.  It was a difficult time, perhaps the only difficult time in my musical career, and without her brilliant pedagogical logic I might not have made it through.  I don’t remember the experience at all, but that’s probably a testament to the resolution we reached.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I guess.  Last week I did a very similar exercise with my Journalism students, who were in a pretty bad place after last semester.  They claimed they were furious at the administration for killing some of their pieces; I arranged a meeting so they could communicate, at which point they told the administration they were furious at me for assigning too much homework.  Clearly, we had misunderstood each other.

So, last week, we started over.  I asked them what they liked and disliked about the class, what they would change about it if they could, and what they wanted to do for the rest of the year.  It was not nearly as well-thought-out as my mom’s questionnaire; I just asked a question, gave them five minutes to brainstorm, and then asked for volunteers to start the discussion.  I tried to be fair and unbiased (although when one girl protested that we should do more sports articles, because “everyone loves to read about sports,” I had to take a couple of deep breaths.)

The result: a lot of great ideas.  One suggested a food issue where we review local restaurants, share recipes and interview nutritionists.  One wants to write only about sports, but another only about international news.  One was adamant about including games, like Sudoku and word searches.  All liked the format of the paper and at least some of the articles they’d written thus far.  After some profitable discussion about interviews, I increased their deadline from five days to seven, which made all the difference in the world; they agreed it was fair and even seemed excited about starting their new assignment.

It seemed almost too easy to heal the hurts of a semester in a day, but by actively seeking and relying on their opinions, maybe I reassuried them that they count, that I valued them fellow human beings.  The surprising thing is that when you ask for input and are serious about accepting it, you will find that students’ standards aren’t much lower than yours.  Sometimes they’re even higher (many students had specific suggestions about grading, implying they wanted their classmates to share their ideas about proper quality.)  In short, after a bad start to the week, things are looking up.

Just for fun, below is the whole piano questionnaire, with my answers in bold.  I made a few changes to the original and I think I may send it out to my piano parents — it could be one of them is dealing with a child every bit as headstrong and difficult as me!

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