You can tell that school has started. Long time since my last post. I'm still pretty giddy about having my second symphony played on NPR! (Yes, when you're a living composer, that's a pretty big deal!) So, as I settled into my last class of PhD work this summer, the months rolled by rather quickly. And so, here we are.
I had the good fortune to receive a commission from the Hays (KS) Symphony Guild to write a piece for their 100th Anniversary. The Hays Symphony premiered "Hays, America!" last Saturday evening. I was very proud, not only to be involved in such a storied organization, but also because the music really captured the essence of Hays and Western Kansas. My congrats and appreciation goes out to the musicians, concert master Matt Means, and conductor Ben Cline. They performed beautifully and really brought my work to life.
But that's got me thinking, as a PhD student is wont to do from time and time again, about what it means to not only be a composer, but a composer from Kansas. I've lived here longer than any other state, going on my twenty-first year now, and I am proud to say that I'm a Kansan. (Although, without getting too political here on my business site, I'm not exactly proud of my state government and some of the yahoos who garner national media attention with their hate and stupidity!) And even though I love my home state of Iowa, I'm a Kansan now. And because of that, I feel it's my responsibility to represent what it means to be from a "flyover state," lest someone compare the Great American Symphony to the Tallest Skyscraper in Kansas (see my last post for that inside joke).
I clinic orchestras all over the country as a composer and conductor. When I tell people I'm from Kansas, it's often met with a look of surprise. I used to say I was from Kansas City to avoid any undue rolling of the eyes, but not anymore. Now it's just, "Hi, I'm Jeffrey. I teach and compose in Kansas." I think it's about time people know that there are many intelligent, inspired, and creative people here in the Sunflower State.
And so, it is with great pride, and a little trepidation, that I come to grips with what I only recently coined "Prairie Style." Yes, my music can sound like Copland. But it can also sound like Stravinsky, Kancheli, or any number of composers whom I like to emulate. But mostly, this mishmash of sounds is my own expansive, if not frenetic at times, exploration of what it's like to live in a state with as much potential as it has horizon. "Prairie Style" means open, blocky chords that ring out, clarion-style, like Carrie Nation with her hatchet, or William Allen White tick-tick-ticking on the keys of his typewriter. It means John Brown raising hell and Missouri Ruffians trying to quell it. It means history and progress, sometimes in great leaps, but other times in tiny increments. It's Dorothy and her red ruby shoes and "I like Ike." It's six hundred miles of beautiful scenery along I-70 that's there for the viewing if you just take the time to really look at it.
I'm an ardent tonalist. I'm a Romantic at heart. And, as I come full circle with it, I'm a Kansan. And although I hear it much too often for it to be funny, it is true when they say "There's no place like home."
Monday, September 30, 2013
Thursday, July 4, 2013
The Great American Symphony vs. the Tallest Skyscraper in Topeka, Kansas
Maybe I should learn to keep my opinions to myself, after all, who really wants to hear from a music educator/composer/writer anyways? Well, I found out that, apparently, National Public Radio will not only listen (or read), they'll actually respond! Here's how it happened:
I was commuting between Kansas State University and KC (going home from my PhD class) on Thursday, July 3rd, when I heard Robert Siegel interview JoAnn Falletta on the NPR program "All Things Considered."You can listen to it HERE. I was struck by Mr. Siegel's comparison of "should we care about symphonic literature" to "the tallest skyscraper in Topeka, KS." Ironically, I was driving past that very same skyscraper when the story aired.
I went home and, after really thinking about what I wanted to say, I wrote the following response:
Dear ATC,
I was intrigued by your story today on the "Great American Symphony" with guest JoAnn Falletta. In it, Mr. Siegel and Maestra Falletta debate the fate of our American Symphonic history. I was especially surprised, if not taken aback, by Mr. Siegel's comment comparing the Great American Symphony to the "tallest skyscraper in Topeka, Kansas."
Ironically enough, I happened to be driving past the very same skyscraper in Topeka when he made that comment. I am currently working toward my PhD in Education at Kansas State University (with a Music Education Cognate). I commute to and from a Kansas City suburb, where I teach high school orchestra. And, I am a composer, an American composer with dozens of published works for bands and orchestras, including three symphonies.
I wanted you to know that music educators across this country are instilling in our students the importance of our American musical heritage. It may not be the "Great American Novel" nor the "Great American Movie," but it is alive and kicking and growing and changing from generation to generation. Granted, not everyone can write like Barber, Copland, or Ellington, but there are those of us who are teaching the next generation of composers through our very own "American" music. My second symphony for strings, for example, utilizes American Folks Tunes from the American Great Plains, the "Wild" West, and the deep South. Yes, it is "European" in form, but at its core, it is American music.
I'm not sure exactly why Mr. Siegel's "skyscraper" comment caught my attention, but I guess that it speaks to the attitude that somehow American classical music is an oddity, a relic of bygone eras that fail to garner the fame and accolades of more popular music. Mostly, I wanted him to know that American music is being composed all over this country by amazing living composers (John Adams, Tobias Picker, and Michael Daugherty come to mind immediately), and by those of us who want nothing more than to write music that inspires young people to pick up the mantle of music creation and to make it their own.
Thank you for sharing this article with the NPR audience.
Sincerely,
Jeffrey S. Bishop
Educator, Composer, NPR Listener
I didn't expect a response, but was pleasantly surprised by an email from ATC producer Rob Ballenger asking if they could have permission to use my letter on today's episode. Moreover, I was struck at how even-handed they were in reading my response. And, at the end of the story, they played a portion of my second symphony for strings, "An American Folk Symphony." You can listen to the segment HERE.
I am deeply humbled and honored to have had the chance to advocate for America's music educators on a program that I greatly enjoy and admire.
I've got to admit, I'm feeling rather proud to be an undead, American composer today!
Happy Fourth of July!
Jeffrey
I was commuting between Kansas State University and KC (going home from my PhD class) on Thursday, July 3rd, when I heard Robert Siegel interview JoAnn Falletta on the NPR program "All Things Considered."You can listen to it HERE. I was struck by Mr. Siegel's comparison of "should we care about symphonic literature" to "the tallest skyscraper in Topeka, KS." Ironically, I was driving past that very same skyscraper when the story aired.
I went home and, after really thinking about what I wanted to say, I wrote the following response:
Dear ATC,
I was intrigued by your story today on the "Great American Symphony" with guest JoAnn Falletta. In it, Mr. Siegel and Maestra Falletta debate the fate of our American Symphonic history. I was especially surprised, if not taken aback, by Mr. Siegel's comment comparing the Great American Symphony to the "tallest skyscraper in Topeka, Kansas."
Ironically enough, I happened to be driving past the very same skyscraper in Topeka when he made that comment. I am currently working toward my PhD in Education at Kansas State University (with a Music Education Cognate). I commute to and from a Kansas City suburb, where I teach high school orchestra. And, I am a composer, an American composer with dozens of published works for bands and orchestras, including three symphonies.
I wanted you to know that music educators across this country are instilling in our students the importance of our American musical heritage. It may not be the "Great American Novel" nor the "Great American Movie," but it is alive and kicking and growing and changing from generation to generation. Granted, not everyone can write like Barber, Copland, or Ellington, but there are those of us who are teaching the next generation of composers through our very own "American" music. My second symphony for strings, for example, utilizes American Folks Tunes from the American Great Plains, the "Wild" West, and the deep South. Yes, it is "European" in form, but at its core, it is American music.
I'm not sure exactly why Mr. Siegel's "skyscraper" comment caught my attention, but I guess that it speaks to the attitude that somehow American classical music is an oddity, a relic of bygone eras that fail to garner the fame and accolades of more popular music. Mostly, I wanted him to know that American music is being composed all over this country by amazing living composers (John Adams, Tobias Picker, and Michael Daugherty come to mind immediately), and by those of us who want nothing more than to write music that inspires young people to pick up the mantle of music creation and to make it their own.
Thank you for sharing this article with the NPR audience.
Sincerely,
Jeffrey S. Bishop
Educator, Composer, NPR Listener
I didn't expect a response, but was pleasantly surprised by an email from ATC producer Rob Ballenger asking if they could have permission to use my letter on today's episode. Moreover, I was struck at how even-handed they were in reading my response. And, at the end of the story, they played a portion of my second symphony for strings, "An American Folk Symphony." You can listen to the segment HERE.
I am deeply humbled and honored to have had the chance to advocate for America's music educators on a program that I greatly enjoy and admire.
I've got to admit, I'm feeling rather proud to be an undead, American composer today!
Happy Fourth of July!
Jeffrey
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Hello, Summer, How Ya Been?
Well, we got school over with as painlessly as possible once again. Another successful year of educating America's finest students in the art of making music together, and now we turn toward the promise that is Summer Break. Except, wait a minute, I don't get one this year!
But it's not that bad, I promise. Two more classes toward my PhD are on the schedule. And to think, one year from this August, and I'll be DONE with all of my coursework! At that point, it'll just be writing the dissertation. And that's a piece of cake, right?
In other news, I'm very proud and happy to report that Alfred Publishing Co. has accepted two of my recent commissions for publication. I'm thrilled! Alfred is a major player in the educational composition realm, and they not only publish string orchestra literature, but also literature for full orchestra. "Aethelinda" for symphony orchestra and "To Guard and Guide" will be released by Alfred in the next year!
I hope that you're doing well. Keep making music, creating things, heck, just make some beauty in the world, would ya?! That's all we really need and we sorely don't get enough of it.
Peace,
Jeffrey
But it's not that bad, I promise. Two more classes toward my PhD are on the schedule. And to think, one year from this August, and I'll be DONE with all of my coursework! At that point, it'll just be writing the dissertation. And that's a piece of cake, right?
In other news, I'm very proud and happy to report that Alfred Publishing Co. has accepted two of my recent commissions for publication. I'm thrilled! Alfred is a major player in the educational composition realm, and they not only publish string orchestra literature, but also literature for full orchestra. "Aethelinda" for symphony orchestra and "To Guard and Guide" will be released by Alfred in the next year!
I hope that you're doing well. Keep making music, creating things, heck, just make some beauty in the world, would ya?! That's all we really need and we sorely don't get enough of it.
Peace,
Jeffrey
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Oh, April, How I...Love...thee?
I used to love April. I mean, really, really love it.
April means spring. And that means fresh cut lawns, rain showers, and best of all, my birthday (which means presents)! But then I became a music teacher and that all changed. Now April is little more than a blur: a day-to-day spectacle of preparing for the "next thing," whether it be a clinic, a concert, or a contest. But every now and then, take like, now, for instance, I stop and regain a little perspective about my favorite month of the year.
A month ago my students were rough around the edges musically. They were still trying to get stuff figured out. But they worked hard, forgot a bunch of stuff they learned while on spring break, came back, screwed their brains back in and got down to work. All of my string players attended early morning rehearsals, the Orchestra Leadership Team took charge of logistics like seating charts and moving chairs, and the Symphony kids continued the tradition of two-hour,"8th hour," rehearsals on Monday evenings. In short, they went above and beyond to make sure our tradition of excellence continued.
Except today that streak was broken. Or was it? Sure, the String Orchestra earned a Division II rating (in Kansas, they're rated from I to V, with I being "superior" and V being "you sure you should've played today?"), for the first time in thirteen years. But is that what's important? Thirteen years ago I might've said "yes!" But not today. Today the streak was kept alive. The more important streak, that is.
Just like the government's attempt at creating a "level playing field" by enforcing standardized testing as a way to "grade" all schools, music contests are a "snapshot" - a one-off look at how an orchestra (or band, or choir, or jazz band, insert musical ensemble here) plays at any given moment on a single day. However, what standardized testing and music contests fail to take into consideration is all of the preparation that went into it behind the scenes. Believe me, I'm a good enough teacher to make a "C" feel like you just won the Nobel Prize and an "A-" feel like the worse thing you've ever done. So I wanted to make sure that my students knew what the really, and I mean this, the REALLY important stuff about today's contest was.
I'm talking about kindness. I'm talking about politeness. I'm talking about 150 kids walking into a building and being quiet and respectful of the students, faculty, and volunteers running the contest. I'm talking about students holding open doors, saying "please" and "thank you" and meaning it. I'm talking about a whole lot of high school kids eating bag lunches in a little theatre and leaving it cleaner than they found it. I'm talking about kids, some of whom have ADD, ADHD, IEPs, whatever you want to call it, who concentrated so hard that they were twitching in their seats. I'm talking about parent volunteers who took time away from work to deliver those meals, to run kids between venues (because they're so darn talented they just had to be in choir and band, too), and to be there and support their amazing children.
THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!
The most important streak, that streak of keeping our humanity along with our musicality, was kept alive today and I couldn't be more proud of the people who kept it going.
So, April, you just go ahead and bring it. I've got about 150 people standing behind me who will kick your butt right back into that happy place you used to be. I'm tired of being tired. I'm going to celebrate my students today. It was the best "2" I've ever seen a bunch of kids earn. And, April, you just can't take that away from me.
But can I still have the birthday presents?
April means spring. And that means fresh cut lawns, rain showers, and best of all, my birthday (which means presents)! But then I became a music teacher and that all changed. Now April is little more than a blur: a day-to-day spectacle of preparing for the "next thing," whether it be a clinic, a concert, or a contest. But every now and then, take like, now, for instance, I stop and regain a little perspective about my favorite month of the year.
A month ago my students were rough around the edges musically. They were still trying to get stuff figured out. But they worked hard, forgot a bunch of stuff they learned while on spring break, came back, screwed their brains back in and got down to work. All of my string players attended early morning rehearsals, the Orchestra Leadership Team took charge of logistics like seating charts and moving chairs, and the Symphony kids continued the tradition of two-hour,"8th hour," rehearsals on Monday evenings. In short, they went above and beyond to make sure our tradition of excellence continued.
Except today that streak was broken. Or was it? Sure, the String Orchestra earned a Division II rating (in Kansas, they're rated from I to V, with I being "superior" and V being "you sure you should've played today?"), for the first time in thirteen years. But is that what's important? Thirteen years ago I might've said "yes!" But not today. Today the streak was kept alive. The more important streak, that is.
Just like the government's attempt at creating a "level playing field" by enforcing standardized testing as a way to "grade" all schools, music contests are a "snapshot" - a one-off look at how an orchestra (or band, or choir, or jazz band, insert musical ensemble here) plays at any given moment on a single day. However, what standardized testing and music contests fail to take into consideration is all of the preparation that went into it behind the scenes. Believe me, I'm a good enough teacher to make a "C" feel like you just won the Nobel Prize and an "A-" feel like the worse thing you've ever done. So I wanted to make sure that my students knew what the really, and I mean this, the REALLY important stuff about today's contest was.
I'm talking about kindness. I'm talking about politeness. I'm talking about 150 kids walking into a building and being quiet and respectful of the students, faculty, and volunteers running the contest. I'm talking about students holding open doors, saying "please" and "thank you" and meaning it. I'm talking about a whole lot of high school kids eating bag lunches in a little theatre and leaving it cleaner than they found it. I'm talking about kids, some of whom have ADD, ADHD, IEPs, whatever you want to call it, who concentrated so hard that they were twitching in their seats. I'm talking about parent volunteers who took time away from work to deliver those meals, to run kids between venues (because they're so darn talented they just had to be in choir and band, too), and to be there and support their amazing children.
THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!
The most important streak, that streak of keeping our humanity along with our musicality, was kept alive today and I couldn't be more proud of the people who kept it going.
So, April, you just go ahead and bring it. I've got about 150 people standing behind me who will kick your butt right back into that happy place you used to be. I'm tired of being tired. I'm going to celebrate my students today. It was the best "2" I've ever seen a bunch of kids earn. And, April, you just can't take that away from me.
But can I still have the birthday presents?
Sunday, March 10, 2013
"Why" to the Nth Degree
I've never been accused of being lazy. If anything, I've been accused of being a little hyper-active, constantly exploring new things, and, well, suffering from "attention deficit disorder." I've never really minded the accusation, as I probably do seem a little hyper-whatever from the outside looking in toward the life I lead.
But I'm not sure "ADHD" or any other diagnosis accurately describes it. "Curious" probably comes closest to defining my nature, but even then that doesn't accurately describe the process by which I live my life. Well, unless you go with the secondary definition of curious, which is "strange, or different." I'll own that definition with great pride!
Yes, curiosity comes close, but I think what best describes my drive to create and discover is more accurately summed up, at least in the past couple years, by one word: "why."
I blame it on the fact that I'm currently pursuing my PhD in Curriculum & Instruction with a Music Education Cognate. I've done extensive research the past year into different philosophies and methodologies in the music classroom. I've explored Bloom's Taxonomy, Piaget's Theories, and come face-to-face with Gordon's Music Learning Theory (I'm not a fan, by the way, as I see him as a musical elitist, dividing children into those "who get it" and those "who don't"). And all of this research has led me to one simple word: "why."
As music educators, we're very good at the "what" and the "how." We know we have to teach the kids to get through particular pieces of music using specific techniques and methods that will create the best performance with the least amount of stress (in other words, we want to make sure the kids can perform their very best without pain, be it physical, mental, or emotional). We rock "what" and "how." One area that we never truly explore, or at least explain to our students, is "why."
I recently asked my orchestra students (my "kids") if they knew what "Common Core Standards" were. I also asked them if they knew about other state and federal standards that are being used to decide whether they'll graduate or not. A very small percentage (maybe 2% of my VERY unscientific poll), knew what these standards were or could articulate how they impacted students' lives. My question to my students was then "Doesn't it scare you that there are people making decisions about your future that you have no idea what they are?" Most of the students hadn't thought of it. And I blame myself and my fellow educators for that.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a fan of teachers. In fact, other than police officers, I don't believe there are more important and more under-appreciated people on the planet. It's the system that's the problem. We are so busy trying to get the kids to the next test, the next "checked box" on the list of our educational goals, that we forget to explain to the students why we're doing what we're doing. And, at least in my classroom, that has got to stop.
Why do we warm up on scales? Why is it important to know when this composer lived and who his contemporaries were? Why do I need to be able to hear the difference between major and minor? Why can't I hold my instrument pinched between my chin and shoulder? Why do you care so much, Mr. Bishop?
I want, or probably more accurately, I need my students to ask "why" more. It will help me become the teacher I need to be in order to help them reach their ultimate potential. As I tell my kids, "I don't expect you all to become professional musicians, but I will teach you as though you were heading that direction."
"Why?" Because I care, that's why.
That one little word drove me crazy as a young teacher, nineteen years ago. And now, I can't get enough of it. What drives you crazy? And why aren't you exploring it?
Peace,
Jeffrey
But I'm not sure "ADHD" or any other diagnosis accurately describes it. "Curious" probably comes closest to defining my nature, but even then that doesn't accurately describe the process by which I live my life. Well, unless you go with the secondary definition of curious, which is "strange, or different." I'll own that definition with great pride!
Yes, curiosity comes close, but I think what best describes my drive to create and discover is more accurately summed up, at least in the past couple years, by one word: "why."
I blame it on the fact that I'm currently pursuing my PhD in Curriculum & Instruction with a Music Education Cognate. I've done extensive research the past year into different philosophies and methodologies in the music classroom. I've explored Bloom's Taxonomy, Piaget's Theories, and come face-to-face with Gordon's Music Learning Theory (I'm not a fan, by the way, as I see him as a musical elitist, dividing children into those "who get it" and those "who don't"). And all of this research has led me to one simple word: "why."
As music educators, we're very good at the "what" and the "how." We know we have to teach the kids to get through particular pieces of music using specific techniques and methods that will create the best performance with the least amount of stress (in other words, we want to make sure the kids can perform their very best without pain, be it physical, mental, or emotional). We rock "what" and "how." One area that we never truly explore, or at least explain to our students, is "why."
I recently asked my orchestra students (my "kids") if they knew what "Common Core Standards" were. I also asked them if they knew about other state and federal standards that are being used to decide whether they'll graduate or not. A very small percentage (maybe 2% of my VERY unscientific poll), knew what these standards were or could articulate how they impacted students' lives. My question to my students was then "Doesn't it scare you that there are people making decisions about your future that you have no idea what they are?" Most of the students hadn't thought of it. And I blame myself and my fellow educators for that.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a fan of teachers. In fact, other than police officers, I don't believe there are more important and more under-appreciated people on the planet. It's the system that's the problem. We are so busy trying to get the kids to the next test, the next "checked box" on the list of our educational goals, that we forget to explain to the students why we're doing what we're doing. And, at least in my classroom, that has got to stop.
Why do we warm up on scales? Why is it important to know when this composer lived and who his contemporaries were? Why do I need to be able to hear the difference between major and minor? Why can't I hold my instrument pinched between my chin and shoulder? Why do you care so much, Mr. Bishop?
I want, or probably more accurately, I need my students to ask "why" more. It will help me become the teacher I need to be in order to help them reach their ultimate potential. As I tell my kids, "I don't expect you all to become professional musicians, but I will teach you as though you were heading that direction."
"Why?" Because I care, that's why.
That one little word drove me crazy as a young teacher, nineteen years ago. And now, I can't get enough of it. What drives you crazy? And why aren't you exploring it?
Peace,
Jeffrey
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Meanwhile, back at the Ranch
The Composition Ranch, that is.
I've been busy with a new commission. It's for the Hays Symphony (Hays, KS). They wanted a piece to celebrate their 100th Anniversary and asked me to write a work that will be premiered next September at their opening concert. Wow. One hundred years as a symphony orchestra in a town in Western Kansas. It's pretty amazing really, but not if you know the people there.
I had the opportunity to play some sketches for the conductor and concert master when they were on tour here last week (they play as a violin/cello duet as part of Fort Hays State University's Department of Music). I'm very happy to report that they loved the sketches and "Hays, America!" is born! Apparently there was this really funny, homegrown series of commercials for a car dealership back in the 1960s where the owner would yell, "Right here, in Hays, America!" at the end of every commercial. The music is sweet, almost nostalgic, but also has a bit of hectic, neurotic flair. I think we're capturing the spirit of not only the Hays Symphony but of the city as well.
I'll continue working on the sketches and orchestrations as time permits this quarter, but right now my meagre attention turns from composing, right past teaching, and headlong in my PhD studies. "EDLEA 838: Qualitative Research Methods " was scaring the bejeebers out of me prior to our first class meeting yesterday. Now that I've met the teacher (awesome), gone over the syllabus (doable), and learned how the grading system will work (four major papers - yikes!), I feel like I've got a good handle on it. I know it may sound absurd, but I am a little, nay a tiny bit, right-brained. *Gasp* I know, I know, but don't worry, I'll wrap my head around this research stuff and get it all figured out. Besides, by the end of the semester I should have the first chapter of my dissertation completed (or sketched out pretty darn well). And that'll be downright alright with me.
I hope you're doing well out there!
Peace,
Jeffrey
I've been busy with a new commission. It's for the Hays Symphony (Hays, KS). They wanted a piece to celebrate their 100th Anniversary and asked me to write a work that will be premiered next September at their opening concert. Wow. One hundred years as a symphony orchestra in a town in Western Kansas. It's pretty amazing really, but not if you know the people there.
I had the opportunity to play some sketches for the conductor and concert master when they were on tour here last week (they play as a violin/cello duet as part of Fort Hays State University's Department of Music). I'm very happy to report that they loved the sketches and "Hays, America!" is born! Apparently there was this really funny, homegrown series of commercials for a car dealership back in the 1960s where the owner would yell, "Right here, in Hays, America!" at the end of every commercial. The music is sweet, almost nostalgic, but also has a bit of hectic, neurotic flair. I think we're capturing the spirit of not only the Hays Symphony but of the city as well.
I'll continue working on the sketches and orchestrations as time permits this quarter, but right now my meagre attention turns from composing, right past teaching, and headlong in my PhD studies. "EDLEA 838: Qualitative Research Methods " was scaring the bejeebers out of me prior to our first class meeting yesterday. Now that I've met the teacher (awesome), gone over the syllabus (doable), and learned how the grading system will work (four major papers - yikes!), I feel like I've got a good handle on it. I know it may sound absurd, but I am a little, nay a tiny bit, right-brained. *Gasp* I know, I know, but don't worry, I'll wrap my head around this research stuff and get it all figured out. Besides, by the end of the semester I should have the first chapter of my dissertation completed (or sketched out pretty darn well). And that'll be downright alright with me.
I hope you're doing well out there!
Peace,
Jeffrey
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)