Music has been a part of my life from a very young age, and my interest in instruments came from my mother. As I always say, it has been my goal to be a mini-me of my mother ever since I can remember. I consciously and subconsciously have watched her every move and locked them in my mind so that I know what I need to do when I become her age. So, it's not surprise that I wanted to play guitar because my mom played guitar.
Mom played classical guitar in college, and she was really good. By the time I was born she had stopped playing, but I had a cassette tape of a song she recorded and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. I told her that I wanted to play guitar, and she said no. She told me that I had to take piano first, and if after a year of piano I still wanted to play guitar, then I could take lessons. She was absolutely right. Piano had everything, literally, and musically it was incredibly smart of her to make that deal with me. Piano gave me the foundation for all my future musical instruments and music knowledge (and almost twenty years later, I still have never played guitar).
So piano lessons started at the age of nine. My mom took them with me. She bought a piano and the teacher would come to our house: one lesson for me followed by one lesson for her. I advanced quickly, and after only a few weeks I had jumped out of the books that my teacher brought for me and immediately started playing the very last song (and therefore the most difficult) in the book for my mom. My teacher was so upset. She told me that I wasn't allowed to play more advanced songs yet, and that I had to do the lesson plan that she had laid out for me. Needless to say, I soon found another teacher.
My second teacher would turn out to be my last piano teacher (as of writing this blog entry that is), and my most favorite music teacher ever. She had a grand piano in her living room - basically, her living room was a grand piano, and we would drive to her house for lessons. I quickly found out that I could play by ear, which can be a nightmare for teachers since children who play by ear learn to use this to cheat out of reading the notes - I was no exception. This teacher didn't let me get away with anything. It took her one week to realize what I was doing, and she would find songs that I couldn't listen to before hand and refused to play a sample of them until she heard me play it first. She was always one step ahead of me, and as far as I wanted to go in music, she was there to push me even further. I had to stop my lessons with her when we moved, but I'll never forget what she taught me.
Along with piano, I chose to play flute in the fifth grade. Everyone had to choose an instrument, but there wasn't that much of a choice: flute, trumpet, drums, and a few other odds and ends. I liked flute. I found myself catapulted to one of the best players in the class. I actually stuck with my flute, while most kids stopped playing after one, maybe two years. I played up until the eighth grade, but it was the band that made me quit. I wasn't a band geek, although all of my high school friends were, and I didn't have the passion to be in a marching band. I still have my flute somewhere, but with all the moves I did as a child (I've lost count over the years, but the last time I did count we had lived in twelve different houses and I had gone to sixteen different schools...something like that) I lost the flute in a drawer somewhere. I need a new one, so maybe one day I'll pick it back up again, but I still remember how to play.
In the band in middle school I wanted to explore my love of everything bass. I was obsessed with bass. I learned the left hand of all of my piano songs before the melody, my cd player was constantly set to the highest bass setting, and of course my headphones had to follow suite. It was halfway during the school year that I asked my band teacher if I could play bari sax. He said no. I have no idea why. I loved baritone sax; it was badass. I made a joke to him and said, "Fine, if I can't play bari sax, then I'll play the tuba." He said ok. Next day, I dragged a tuba home. My mom couldn't believe it when I brought it in. It was huge and disgusting. I loved the sound that it made, but the whole spit valve thing was, well, gross. I liked that I could be very loud, but I didn't care for how much I stood out with it. After a performance in front of the school (which everyone knows is embarrassing) I ended up quitting the band completely. I never picked up the tuba again.
I'm Russian Orthodox, so my church had groups that showcased the traditional Russian heritage. It's no surprise then that they had a balalaika orchestra. I was a member of our Russian dance group, and during our festival (held once a year) we would dance and the orchestra would play after us. I was listening to them one day when it came to my mind that 'I could do that too'. So, I went to the director and asked if I could join.
Obviously, the first thing I did was wanted to play the contrabass. The director said no. I never did understand why she didn't want me to play contrabass. She never really told me. All of her daughters played. But, being told no is the story of my life. She said I had to play prima balalaika, so I said ok. There were only three people in the entire orchestra who could read music beside myself, so all of our music was numbered with fret numbers for the rest of the group. Unfortunately, due to this, I never did learn how to read music for my balalaika (I could figure it out, of course, but it wasn't natural because I never had to practice, so it would take me a minute or two). Again (story of my life) I found myself catapulted as one of the best players in the group. Most of the group was much (much) older than I...alright, let's put it this way, I was by far the youngest (I believe I was eleven when I started playing). I was second chair in the orchestra, and was told that the only reason I wasn't first chair is because it would be rude to put an eleven year old kid over an almost eighty year old woman who had been in the orchestra for years. Even thinking about it now, it doesn't make much sense, but the lady who was first chair was, to this day, one of the coolest women I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, so I didn't mind. I got to be a part of the special, smaller orchestra for smaller events (they only took a few of the best players). We even got to play in a castle for a private birthday party :)
In 2000, at the age of thirteen, I went with my orchestra to the Balalaika and Domra Association of America (BDAA) convention in Pittsburgh, PA. I applied for and won a scholarship to pay for the trip and hotel. I was the youngest person there. I had the most amazing time and was blessed to have met some of the most talented and genuinely wonderful people in the balalaika world. We had workshops with master teachers from Russia, and at the end of the week there was a 100 piece orchestra that would play a concert at the Byham Theater. Again, being the youngest and also featured as a scholarship winner, I got a lot of attention. It was neat to be a part of a jam session for the first time and to meet musicians who played beyond what I thought was possible.
During this convention the relationship between me and my director became strained. It was similar to the story of my first piano teacher: I wanted to fly, but according to her, I wasn't allowed. I made friends with the director of the Washington D.C. orchestra, who was also directing the 100 piece orchestra at the end. While we were preparing for the big finale, he let me play his contrabass during the practice because he knew how much I loved it. I couldn't believe it: the head director's contrabass and I got to play it. It was the most memorable music experience I've had so far. They even took a picture of me playing it which ended up in their newsletter. My director was pissed to say the least. It was also sometime after this that I had been asked why our orchestra was the only one who had our domras on the right side and the balalaikas on the left, when it should be the opposite since the left ear hears treble and the right ear hears bass (for the audience). I asked my director why (because I didn't know either), but she took it as an insult. I remember that shortly after this she introduced me to another player as their "prima donna". I had never heard this term before, but when I told my mom (since I had taken it as a compliment) she was furious and explained to me that it is far from something nice to say. I felt very hurt and started to cry. I couldn't understand why my director was so against me. We finished out the week with success. The announcer during the final performance at the Byham even grabbed me and let me be a part of a "humor piece" where we were "talking" on stage as the curtain came up and therefore he had failed to notice that the audience was waiting for him to announce. Again, my director was livid. I got to sign autographs for people at the end of the week, and one of the other players got my address and sent me a cassette of an orchestra with some really nice contrabass parts, along with a loving message to follow my heart and play what I wanted. As for me, it was the end of my time in the orchestra.
In high school I took a hiatus from instruments. I played as I could, but I wanted a break. In college I started back up again with my piano. I was upset at myself for how poorly I played after not practicing for a few years, but I quickly came back. I never did much after that with my balalaika, only playing a little to not be too rusty if ever asked to play, and the same with the flute (until I lost in in a drawer).
My junior year of college I decided that I wanted to take voice lessons. I had been singing in the choir of my church since we moved there (and through all of our moves after, we were fortunate enough to stay at the same church) and I loved singing. The choir director was amazing at everything music - I mean amazing - and I wanted to make him proud because I looked up to him. I signed up for lessons at the university with a Brazilian opera singer. I didn't know that I was actually taking opera until I got there (I just thought "hey, voice, cool") but I didn't mind since I considered opera to be the piano of voice: it contains everything you'll ever need to know, and if you can do it, you can do anything. I liked it and I learned a lot, but I wasn't the best student. My engineering studies would take up practice time, and other times I just wasn't motivated enough. There were weeks where I wouldn't practice and I performed well, and other weeks where I practiced every day and my teacher would yell at me for being worse than the week before. It was frustrating, so I only stuck with it for a year. I gave up on voice. I never wanted to be a famous singer, if anything I wanted to be a backup dancer, and I decided that I would much rather either dance or play an instrument for someone than sing.
Ever since I can remember I have had a special place in my heart for celtic music. For that reason, I've always wanted to visit Ireland. I don't know what it is about this type of music, but for me it stood out from the rest. I adore baroque, almost anything in a minor chord, swing, blues, arabic and indian music, but celtic just has that special something of which I just can't get enough. I was always going to Irish festivals. It was at one of these festivals where I stumbled upon the band that would become my all time favorite: Scythian.
I honestly can't say enough in words about these guys. If you haven't heard them, youtube or itunes, if you haven't seen them, go. They fulfill everything that I could want musically: they are classically trained, they are talented as all get out, they're damned good, and they mix celtic rock with other genres: be it Fiddler on the Roof to traditional Russian and Ukrainian folk songs to 70s rock music to classical. It's like listening to a comedy routine that has intellectual innuendoes mixed in to test your knowledge - it's pleasing in all respects and everyone can enjoy it whether they know the reference or not. It was after one of their concerts where it dawned on me: I love celtic music, I'm obsessed with fiddle, so why don't I play?
I bought my first fiddle (well, it was actually a violin) from a music store near us. I didn't know anything about it, but the people there were really nice. I took home some books and started trying to teach myself. It didn't take long to realize that this instrument was nothing like anything I had played before and that I needed professional help to get started. I e-mailed the violin professors at the college and explained exactly what type of music I was looking to play. One of them told me that he had the perfect person for me: a former student who had dedicated her life to old time fiddle playing and had made quite a name for herself in the area. He was right, she was perfect. I took lessons with her for a year, and I appreciated every minute of it. It was the first time I had studied an instrument with someone who wasn't "superior" to me, in that I wasn't a little child and she wasn't an adult in the sense that she wasn't much older than I was. It was an interesting and very fulfilling relationship as teacher and student, and she gave me exactly what I wanted: fiddle, in all its raw beauty. We stopped our lessons together because we were both moving away, but I still talk with her from time to time. If we ever find ourselves in the same area, I will definitely get a lesson with her.
Since then I sold my violin and bought an old violin on ebay. I took it to a luthier recommended to me by my teacher and he transformed it into a proper fiddle. I adore my instrument, and I literally take it with me wherever I go. I play every day, practicing Irish tunes in the hopes that one day I'll find that guitar and drum player to form my own celtic rock band ;)
Mom played classical guitar in college, and she was really good. By the time I was born she had stopped playing, but I had a cassette tape of a song she recorded and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. I told her that I wanted to play guitar, and she said no. She told me that I had to take piano first, and if after a year of piano I still wanted to play guitar, then I could take lessons. She was absolutely right. Piano had everything, literally, and musically it was incredibly smart of her to make that deal with me. Piano gave me the foundation for all my future musical instruments and music knowledge (and almost twenty years later, I still have never played guitar).
So piano lessons started at the age of nine. My mom took them with me. She bought a piano and the teacher would come to our house: one lesson for me followed by one lesson for her. I advanced quickly, and after only a few weeks I had jumped out of the books that my teacher brought for me and immediately started playing the very last song (and therefore the most difficult) in the book for my mom. My teacher was so upset. She told me that I wasn't allowed to play more advanced songs yet, and that I had to do the lesson plan that she had laid out for me. Needless to say, I soon found another teacher.
My second teacher would turn out to be my last piano teacher (as of writing this blog entry that is), and my most favorite music teacher ever. She had a grand piano in her living room - basically, her living room was a grand piano, and we would drive to her house for lessons. I quickly found out that I could play by ear, which can be a nightmare for teachers since children who play by ear learn to use this to cheat out of reading the notes - I was no exception. This teacher didn't let me get away with anything. It took her one week to realize what I was doing, and she would find songs that I couldn't listen to before hand and refused to play a sample of them until she heard me play it first. She was always one step ahead of me, and as far as I wanted to go in music, she was there to push me even further. I had to stop my lessons with her when we moved, but I'll never forget what she taught me.
Along with piano, I chose to play flute in the fifth grade. Everyone had to choose an instrument, but there wasn't that much of a choice: flute, trumpet, drums, and a few other odds and ends. I liked flute. I found myself catapulted to one of the best players in the class. I actually stuck with my flute, while most kids stopped playing after one, maybe two years. I played up until the eighth grade, but it was the band that made me quit. I wasn't a band geek, although all of my high school friends were, and I didn't have the passion to be in a marching band. I still have my flute somewhere, but with all the moves I did as a child (I've lost count over the years, but the last time I did count we had lived in twelve different houses and I had gone to sixteen different schools...something like that) I lost the flute in a drawer somewhere. I need a new one, so maybe one day I'll pick it back up again, but I still remember how to play.
In the band in middle school I wanted to explore my love of everything bass. I was obsessed with bass. I learned the left hand of all of my piano songs before the melody, my cd player was constantly set to the highest bass setting, and of course my headphones had to follow suite. It was halfway during the school year that I asked my band teacher if I could play bari sax. He said no. I have no idea why. I loved baritone sax; it was badass. I made a joke to him and said, "Fine, if I can't play bari sax, then I'll play the tuba." He said ok. Next day, I dragged a tuba home. My mom couldn't believe it when I brought it in. It was huge and disgusting. I loved the sound that it made, but the whole spit valve thing was, well, gross. I liked that I could be very loud, but I didn't care for how much I stood out with it. After a performance in front of the school (which everyone knows is embarrassing) I ended up quitting the band completely. I never picked up the tuba again.
I'm Russian Orthodox, so my church had groups that showcased the traditional Russian heritage. It's no surprise then that they had a balalaika orchestra. I was a member of our Russian dance group, and during our festival (held once a year) we would dance and the orchestra would play after us. I was listening to them one day when it came to my mind that 'I could do that too'. So, I went to the director and asked if I could join.
Obviously, the first thing I did was wanted to play the contrabass. The director said no. I never did understand why she didn't want me to play contrabass. She never really told me. All of her daughters played. But, being told no is the story of my life. She said I had to play prima balalaika, so I said ok. There were only three people in the entire orchestra who could read music beside myself, so all of our music was numbered with fret numbers for the rest of the group. Unfortunately, due to this, I never did learn how to read music for my balalaika (I could figure it out, of course, but it wasn't natural because I never had to practice, so it would take me a minute or two). Again (story of my life) I found myself catapulted as one of the best players in the group. Most of the group was much (much) older than I...alright, let's put it this way, I was by far the youngest (I believe I was eleven when I started playing). I was second chair in the orchestra, and was told that the only reason I wasn't first chair is because it would be rude to put an eleven year old kid over an almost eighty year old woman who had been in the orchestra for years. Even thinking about it now, it doesn't make much sense, but the lady who was first chair was, to this day, one of the coolest women I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, so I didn't mind. I got to be a part of the special, smaller orchestra for smaller events (they only took a few of the best players). We even got to play in a castle for a private birthday party :)
In 2000, at the age of thirteen, I went with my orchestra to the Balalaika and Domra Association of America (BDAA) convention in Pittsburgh, PA. I applied for and won a scholarship to pay for the trip and hotel. I was the youngest person there. I had the most amazing time and was blessed to have met some of the most talented and genuinely wonderful people in the balalaika world. We had workshops with master teachers from Russia, and at the end of the week there was a 100 piece orchestra that would play a concert at the Byham Theater. Again, being the youngest and also featured as a scholarship winner, I got a lot of attention. It was neat to be a part of a jam session for the first time and to meet musicians who played beyond what I thought was possible.
BDAA Convention 2000 - Pittsburgh, PA
(I circled myself in red - click to enlarge)
During this convention the relationship between me and my director became strained. It was similar to the story of my first piano teacher: I wanted to fly, but according to her, I wasn't allowed. I made friends with the director of the Washington D.C. orchestra, who was also directing the 100 piece orchestra at the end. While we were preparing for the big finale, he let me play his contrabass during the practice because he knew how much I loved it. I couldn't believe it: the head director's contrabass and I got to play it. It was the most memorable music experience I've had so far. They even took a picture of me playing it which ended up in their newsletter. My director was pissed to say the least. It was also sometime after this that I had been asked why our orchestra was the only one who had our domras on the right side and the balalaikas on the left, when it should be the opposite since the left ear hears treble and the right ear hears bass (for the audience). I asked my director why (because I didn't know either), but she took it as an insult. I remember that shortly after this she introduced me to another player as their "prima donna". I had never heard this term before, but when I told my mom (since I had taken it as a compliment) she was furious and explained to me that it is far from something nice to say. I felt very hurt and started to cry. I couldn't understand why my director was so against me. We finished out the week with success. The announcer during the final performance at the Byham even grabbed me and let me be a part of a "humor piece" where we were "talking" on stage as the curtain came up and therefore he had failed to notice that the audience was waiting for him to announce. Again, my director was livid. I got to sign autographs for people at the end of the week, and one of the other players got my address and sent me a cassette of an orchestra with some really nice contrabass parts, along with a loving message to follow my heart and play what I wanted. As for me, it was the end of my time in the orchestra.
In high school I took a hiatus from instruments. I played as I could, but I wanted a break. In college I started back up again with my piano. I was upset at myself for how poorly I played after not practicing for a few years, but I quickly came back. I never did much after that with my balalaika, only playing a little to not be too rusty if ever asked to play, and the same with the flute (until I lost in in a drawer).
My junior year of college I decided that I wanted to take voice lessons. I had been singing in the choir of my church since we moved there (and through all of our moves after, we were fortunate enough to stay at the same church) and I loved singing. The choir director was amazing at everything music - I mean amazing - and I wanted to make him proud because I looked up to him. I signed up for lessons at the university with a Brazilian opera singer. I didn't know that I was actually taking opera until I got there (I just thought "hey, voice, cool") but I didn't mind since I considered opera to be the piano of voice: it contains everything you'll ever need to know, and if you can do it, you can do anything. I liked it and I learned a lot, but I wasn't the best student. My engineering studies would take up practice time, and other times I just wasn't motivated enough. There were weeks where I wouldn't practice and I performed well, and other weeks where I practiced every day and my teacher would yell at me for being worse than the week before. It was frustrating, so I only stuck with it for a year. I gave up on voice. I never wanted to be a famous singer, if anything I wanted to be a backup dancer, and I decided that I would much rather either dance or play an instrument for someone than sing.
Ever since I can remember I have had a special place in my heart for celtic music. For that reason, I've always wanted to visit Ireland. I don't know what it is about this type of music, but for me it stood out from the rest. I adore baroque, almost anything in a minor chord, swing, blues, arabic and indian music, but celtic just has that special something of which I just can't get enough. I was always going to Irish festivals. It was at one of these festivals where I stumbled upon the band that would become my all time favorite: Scythian.
I honestly can't say enough in words about these guys. If you haven't heard them, youtube or itunes, if you haven't seen them, go. They fulfill everything that I could want musically: they are classically trained, they are talented as all get out, they're damned good, and they mix celtic rock with other genres: be it Fiddler on the Roof to traditional Russian and Ukrainian folk songs to 70s rock music to classical. It's like listening to a comedy routine that has intellectual innuendoes mixed in to test your knowledge - it's pleasing in all respects and everyone can enjoy it whether they know the reference or not. It was after one of their concerts where it dawned on me: I love celtic music, I'm obsessed with fiddle, so why don't I play?
I bought my first fiddle (well, it was actually a violin) from a music store near us. I didn't know anything about it, but the people there were really nice. I took home some books and started trying to teach myself. It didn't take long to realize that this instrument was nothing like anything I had played before and that I needed professional help to get started. I e-mailed the violin professors at the college and explained exactly what type of music I was looking to play. One of them told me that he had the perfect person for me: a former student who had dedicated her life to old time fiddle playing and had made quite a name for herself in the area. He was right, she was perfect. I took lessons with her for a year, and I appreciated every minute of it. It was the first time I had studied an instrument with someone who wasn't "superior" to me, in that I wasn't a little child and she wasn't an adult in the sense that she wasn't much older than I was. It was an interesting and very fulfilling relationship as teacher and student, and she gave me exactly what I wanted: fiddle, in all its raw beauty. We stopped our lessons together because we were both moving away, but I still talk with her from time to time. If we ever find ourselves in the same area, I will definitely get a lesson with her.
Since then I sold my violin and bought an old violin on ebay. I took it to a luthier recommended to me by my teacher and he transformed it into a proper fiddle. I adore my instrument, and I literally take it with me wherever I go. I play every day, practicing Irish tunes in the hopes that one day I'll find that guitar and drum player to form my own celtic rock band ;)
