I don’t remember all of the art that we saw that afternoon. I remember experiencing Monet’s “Water Lilies,” Zurbarna’s “The Crucifixion,” and Rothko’s beautiful untitled blocks of color, but that’s about it.
What I do remember more than the art was watching Debbie experiencing the art. Debbie danced with the works. She would move around the work, tracing the colors and shapes in the air with her hands. I could feel her mind and body settle when a painting pulled her in. Then she would refocus and quickly lead me into the next room, talking quickly in an attempt to capture what was incredible about what she had just experienced. While keeping up with Debbie was exhausting, I never got tired of watching her dance.
Even though Debbie talked a lot, she listened to everything I said with care and attention. She offered me space in the conversation. If I took it, she would listen, but if I didn’t, Debbie was happy to take that space and share her fascinating thoughts and perspectives.
When we got to campus, we walked over to Debbie’s room, and she asked casually, “Do you want to come up to my room?”
“What?” I replied in surprise.
“My room, c’mon, I’ll show you my drum.”
Before I could process what was going on, Debbie had opened the door and led me in her dorms lobby. I stood in her doorway awkwardly when she opened her dorm room's door. This was the first time I had ever seen the inside of a girl’s room. (And no, I had never been in a girl’s room either).
Debbie sitting in a chair looked up at me and coaxed me in like I was a puppy scared to come hither. I sat down on another chair and then Debbie did exactly what she said she was going to do. She pulled a conga drum out of the corner of the room and started playing it.
We talked for a bit, shared a pop tart, and then said goodnight. She gave me playful punch on the shoulder as she said goodbye. I thanked her for a great afternoon and before I left the room, Debbie leaned in and we shared a quick, but very cute hug.
I didn't follow up the museum trip by asking her out. I don't know if Debbie interpreted this as the fade away or was hurt that I didn't reciprocate. I didn't have the maturity to talk to her about our experience openly and I didn't have the confidence to put myself out there.
I don't know what she thought of that outing. Was it a date thing or a friend thing? I may have messed this up, and I hope that I didn’t hurt her feelings, because, I have always been grateful for her kindness and for reaching out to me. In no time, we fast became friends. We regularly saw each other in marching band practice and during meal times. As the years past, we continued to share good times.
Debbie was always the life of party, first to dance and never one to let me stand against the wall. She was never afraid to tell me I was being an idiot, and she always did this with a smile confirming that all her words were an expression of care.
Debbie still loves to dance. She works as a choreographer, fitness instructor, personal trainer, and a dance instructor in the Philadelphia area. She’s spreads her love for dance, and her amazing spirit to others.
When I’m throwing myself into a dance with my 5th graders and coaxing them to get into it, I’m channeling my best Debbie smile. When I see a “wall-flower” sitting alone during lunch or awkwardly standing by themselves before a faculty meeting, I push myself to go out of my comfort zone, draw on the kindness that Debbie shared with me and reach out to them. And when I’m feeling unsure, and not sure where to go or how to be, I feel the sense of adventure that Debbie sparked inside of me so many years ago, and I face this uncertainty with
optimism.
Showing posts with label college. Show all posts
Showing posts with label college. Show all posts
Friday, November 3, 2017
Friday, August 25, 2017
Frat Boy: Kerry - Part 3
Kerry’s other friends and I had been touching base with each other about how Kerry was doing and coordinating the best way to support her through this difficult time in her life. It was through one of these friends that I found out that Josh had lied.
There was no other girl. Josh had made up the desire to be with a different girl as a way to make himself into a villain and make a clean break. He knew that if he explained the truth that he was simply not committed to his relationship with Kerry, the break-up process would have taken more effort and possibly been more prolonged. Not only did he lack the guts to break-up with her in person, but also he lied in the process.
I felt a whole different kind of anger in that moment. A couple hours later, I saw him at the frat house and I couldn’t hold in the heat I felt towards him. I told him what I knew, and I let him have it all over again. Here’s the thing, in all of the other times when I had been mad at Josh, he had just taken my anger and absorbed it. This time he had enough. He put his hand up and told me to stop.
“What the hell was I suppose to do?” he pleaded to me. “You know Kerry, do you think it would have really been better if I had driven out there to her internship and had a drag out conversation that would have lasted hours? Would it really have been better if she heard that it wasn’t some other girl, that it was her and that I was simply tired of being with her?”
“Well, it would have been the truth,” I replied as I left the frat house.
Walking outside in the quad, I realized that Josh tried to break up with her in the nicest way possible. Intention isn’t everything but it counts for something. What was between Josh and Kerry was between them, but what Josh did affected the relationships he had with Kerry’s friends, like myself. It was up to me what they meant.
From then on, I never mentioned Kerry to Josh ever again. I didn’t go out of the way to be nice to him, but I wasn’t rude either. He could be that jerk who lied and broke-up with one of my best friends and he could be a frat brother that I treated with basic civility. It wasn’t an easy tension, but it was what I would come to learn understand as what it meant to have grown-up relationships.
Late in the school year during a quiet moment in a fraternity cookout, Josh asked me how Kerry was doing. This caught me by surprise, but I quickly had ready in my mind a sarcastic and mean comment, but when I looked over to him and saw a soft, caring look in his eyes. Instead of telling him how much of a jerk he was for what he did, I told him the truth.
“Kerry is doing great, her internship went really well, and she’s got some cool things lined up for the summer.” Josh replied, “That’s great, I’m glad to hear that, and I’m happy she has a friend like you.” I smiled at him, and we sat for a moment in the late spring sunlight in silence.
I think of Kerry whenever I listen to country music. She was into Brad Paisley and Tim McCraw and her interest opened me up to the world of country music I now love. I think Kerry whenever any of my female students speak their mind and prove as Kerry did that a woman can be tough. And I think of Kerry in my moments of doubt as a member of the chorus of people who believe in me and never gave up on me resonate deep within my soul.
There was no other girl. Josh had made up the desire to be with a different girl as a way to make himself into a villain and make a clean break. He knew that if he explained the truth that he was simply not committed to his relationship with Kerry, the break-up process would have taken more effort and possibly been more prolonged. Not only did he lack the guts to break-up with her in person, but also he lied in the process.
I felt a whole different kind of anger in that moment. A couple hours later, I saw him at the frat house and I couldn’t hold in the heat I felt towards him. I told him what I knew, and I let him have it all over again. Here’s the thing, in all of the other times when I had been mad at Josh, he had just taken my anger and absorbed it. This time he had enough. He put his hand up and told me to stop.
“What the hell was I suppose to do?” he pleaded to me. “You know Kerry, do you think it would have really been better if I had driven out there to her internship and had a drag out conversation that would have lasted hours? Would it really have been better if she heard that it wasn’t some other girl, that it was her and that I was simply tired of being with her?”
“Well, it would have been the truth,” I replied as I left the frat house.
Walking outside in the quad, I realized that Josh tried to break up with her in the nicest way possible. Intention isn’t everything but it counts for something. What was between Josh and Kerry was between them, but what Josh did affected the relationships he had with Kerry’s friends, like myself. It was up to me what they meant.
From then on, I never mentioned Kerry to Josh ever again. I didn’t go out of the way to be nice to him, but I wasn’t rude either. He could be that jerk who lied and broke-up with one of my best friends and he could be a frat brother that I treated with basic civility. It wasn’t an easy tension, but it was what I would come to learn understand as what it meant to have grown-up relationships.
Late in the school year during a quiet moment in a fraternity cookout, Josh asked me how Kerry was doing. This caught me by surprise, but I quickly had ready in my mind a sarcastic and mean comment, but when I looked over to him and saw a soft, caring look in his eyes. Instead of telling him how much of a jerk he was for what he did, I told him the truth.
“Kerry is doing great, her internship went really well, and she’s got some cool things lined up for the summer.” Josh replied, “That’s great, I’m glad to hear that, and I’m happy she has a friend like you.” I smiled at him, and we sat for a moment in the late spring sunlight in silence.
I think of Kerry whenever I listen to country music. She was into Brad Paisley and Tim McCraw and her interest opened me up to the world of country music I now love. I think Kerry whenever any of my female students speak their mind and prove as Kerry did that a woman can be tough. And I think of Kerry in my moments of doubt as a member of the chorus of people who believe in me and never gave up on me resonate deep within my soul.
Friday, August 26, 2016
To Be Asian-American: Being Asian On Campus-Part 2
“I’d like to talk to someone about feeling uncomfortable seeing groups of Asian people around campus.”
“Okay, can you come in next Tuesday at 1pm?”I had sat in front of the phone trying to figure out what to say. I rehearsed different phrases and ways to express how I felt. After ten minutes, I decided to just pick up the phone and say whatever came to mind. I was surprised at the straight-forward way I expressed my feelings and I was shocked at the kindness of the person who set-up my appointment.
CAPS: Counseling And Psychological Services at Northwestern made their presence known from the first day of freshmen orientation. When I moved into my dorm, I table tent with information about CAPS was prominently displayed. I heard the advice that since every students had a number of free sessions, so you might as well come up with an excuse to go and get your monies worth.
In the wake of student tragedies across America related to psychological issues, Northwestern University, like many colleges in our country actively promoted and supported counseling and psychological services like CAPS. While most people didn’t talk openly about going to CAPS, whenever these services came up in conversation people expressed gratitude that this service existed. It was this atmosphere and lack of stigma that gave my the strength to pick up the phone and later go up the stairs from the health center and enter CAPS.
I stumbled through my first session not really knowing how to describe my problem and my feelings. The psychologist didn’t really say anything and didn't validate my feelings verbally. At times there were silent pauses that I filled not because I had anything meaningful to say but rather because of a desire to curb a feeling of social awkwardness.
I felt like I was trying to prove that I needed help from CAPS and I felt like I was trying to convince the psychologist and myself that I had a problem with working through. At the end of the session, I wasn’t sure what I had gained from the experience.
The psychologist asked me if I would like to talk to someone on a weekly basis and I said that I would and he said he would set me up with a graduate student and he would help guide her work with me.
Every week for the rest of that school year, I met with a counselor at CAPS. I grew to appreciate having a stranger to share my thoughts and my feelings. It was liberating knowing that I didn’t have to worry about my words leaving the room. My sessions would start simply by my counselor asking me how I was doing. I would talk and once in a while she would ask clarification questions. Sometimes I talked about my racial issues, and my feeling about those groups of Asian people and during other sessions it never came up. She didn’t give assign me any books to read or really give me an advice, she simply gave me the space to work through my thoughts and feelings.
Over time, those groups of Asian students stopped bringing up negative feelings inside of me. I don’t know why. Maybe by talking about my feelings it allowed me to really feel them and once that happened I could let them go. I’m not sure.
One beautiful spring day after a session, I walked out of the health building, felt the sunshine in my face and through the blinding sunlight, the sky looked a color blue I had never seen before. I saw a group of Asian students walking across the street and I smiled at them. As I walked, I whispered to myself, “I’m good.”
Friday, August 19, 2016
To Be Asian-American: Being Asian On Campus-Part 1
I first noticed them in the dining hall. They were always in that back right corner at a long table, a group of Asian students eating together. Then I started to notice other groups of Asian students around campus. They always seemed to be enjoying each other’s company, often with matching t-shirts or jackets.
I was aware that Northwestern University had a significant Asian-American population. That’s one of the reasons that I chose that school. I knew this was important but I didn’t know why. When I got to campus, much like how I socialized in high school, my group of friends was more related to marching band. I got to campus, had a great band camp experience the week before school started and that was my social group (which later expanded into my fraternity).
During the first couple weeks of school, I didn’t go to the various Asian student organization meetings. I was busy with marching band practice, and I had my group of marching band friends.
One of the wonderful things about Northwestern’s marching band at that time was that it was a cross-section of the campus. The band included students of all majors and many students of color. It was a mix of Caucasians and students of color that felt right.
As I noticed these groups of Asian students sitting together in the dining hall and moving around campus, I started feeling uncomfortable. I was invited to their meetings, and it was my choice that I didn’t go to them. However I still felt excluded and it was this feeling of not being part of this group, that chipped away at my pride in being an Asian-American.
Every time I saw a group of Asian students together, it reminded me that I was Asian. I hated this reminder. This insecurity built a superiority complex. I felt better than them because I was “integrated.” I had white friends, I didn’t need to just hang out with other Asian people.
Like I discussed in last week’s post, Caucasian students would ask me about these groups and I chafed at the question. “I’m not one of them, I don’t know.” This community of Asian students who associated with each other because of their racial identity, were people I did not want to see. I didn’t know why at the time, I just wished that they would go away.
Every time I saw a group of Asian students together, I felt anxious and tense, but it passed and I forgot about it until another encounter. And then one night in the cafeteria, I got stuck behind a group of Asian students in line. They were speaking in Mandarin, I understood most of what they were saying and I felt annoyed at their happiness and laughter. I sat with my marching band friends and instead of joining in with the regular jokes and conversations I was sullen, trying to calm myself down.
We left our table as a group and exited the cafeteria. As we were heading toward the door of the dorm, another group of Asian students were congregating at the door talking and unaware that people were trying to pass (which is a very common thing for college students to do). As my friends worked their way through the crowd, I followed and started feeling nauseous and felt the heat of rage taking over my body.
Without saying by to my friends, I rushed off to my dorm room and dove into bed, my face buried in my pillow. Laying there in the darkness, tears welled up, but refused to release. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, I didn’t know what to do, but in that moment, I realized that I needed help.
I sat up, went to my desk and turned on my computer. In the glow of the computer screen, I saw a table tent, which had greeted me when I first moved into my room.
It read: CAPS - Counseling and Psychological Service.
I was aware that Northwestern University had a significant Asian-American population. That’s one of the reasons that I chose that school. I knew this was important but I didn’t know why. When I got to campus, much like how I socialized in high school, my group of friends was more related to marching band. I got to campus, had a great band camp experience the week before school started and that was my social group (which later expanded into my fraternity).
During the first couple weeks of school, I didn’t go to the various Asian student organization meetings. I was busy with marching band practice, and I had my group of marching band friends.
One of the wonderful things about Northwestern’s marching band at that time was that it was a cross-section of the campus. The band included students of all majors and many students of color. It was a mix of Caucasians and students of color that felt right.
As I noticed these groups of Asian students sitting together in the dining hall and moving around campus, I started feeling uncomfortable. I was invited to their meetings, and it was my choice that I didn’t go to them. However I still felt excluded and it was this feeling of not being part of this group, that chipped away at my pride in being an Asian-American.
Every time I saw a group of Asian students together, it reminded me that I was Asian. I hated this reminder. This insecurity built a superiority complex. I felt better than them because I was “integrated.” I had white friends, I didn’t need to just hang out with other Asian people.
Like I discussed in last week’s post, Caucasian students would ask me about these groups and I chafed at the question. “I’m not one of them, I don’t know.” This community of Asian students who associated with each other because of their racial identity, were people I did not want to see. I didn’t know why at the time, I just wished that they would go away.
Every time I saw a group of Asian students together, I felt anxious and tense, but it passed and I forgot about it until another encounter. And then one night in the cafeteria, I got stuck behind a group of Asian students in line. They were speaking in Mandarin, I understood most of what they were saying and I felt annoyed at their happiness and laughter. I sat with my marching band friends and instead of joining in with the regular jokes and conversations I was sullen, trying to calm myself down.
We left our table as a group and exited the cafeteria. As we were heading toward the door of the dorm, another group of Asian students were congregating at the door talking and unaware that people were trying to pass (which is a very common thing for college students to do). As my friends worked their way through the crowd, I followed and started feeling nauseous and felt the heat of rage taking over my body.
Without saying by to my friends, I rushed off to my dorm room and dove into bed, my face buried in my pillow. Laying there in the darkness, tears welled up, but refused to release. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, I didn’t know what to do, but in that moment, I realized that I needed help.
I sat up, went to my desk and turned on my computer. In the glow of the computer screen, I saw a table tent, which had greeted me when I first moved into my room.
It read: CAPS - Counseling and Psychological Service.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Frat Boy: Thanksgiving - Part 1
I never went home for Thanksgiving when I was in college.
Relax, it’s not like there was some huge fight or drama. Thanksgiving wasn't a huge holiday for my family and since it was so close to winter break, it didn't make sense for me to fly home from Chicago to Seattle twice in the span of one month.
My freshmen year, my parents and my brother came out and we had Thanksgiving in Chicago. It was one of the coldest Thanksgivings in the history of Chicago and my brother and my parents have never let me forget this fact. The next year I went over to my friend Erica’s house and the year after well . . . that was an adventure.
There was a group of people from PMA and SAI who decided to stay in town for that Thanksgiving. There was a football game only a couple hours away that a lot of people wanted to go to so a group of us decided to have Thanksgiving as a college family.
Here was the plan: We would do prep the meal Wednesday and one of my best friends Kerry, would stay back from the game with me (neither of us was that into football) and take care of cooking the turkey and getting dinner set-up.
Kerry was an upperclassmen that I met through NUMB. She was two years older than me and was one of those girls from SAI who took me under her wing. Kerry took care of me like an older sister but not the "responsible" kind of older sister. She was the first person I ever took a shot (it was straight Southern Comfort). Immediately after that I had my second and third shot with her.
Kerry was one of the smartest people I've ever met in her life and while many times she would have great advise for me, often her responses to my problems were hilariously sarcastic. After my friend Chrissie graduated (who I discussed in this earlier post), it was Kerry who stepped up and wouldn't hesitate for a second to stand up for me.
Kerry was honest, almost to the point that it would hurt your feelings as a friend, but it was this clarity that taught me about the nuances of what friendship meant in this crazy place called college.
We decided to cook the food over at SAI so Thanksgiving morning I headed over to the sorority house. No one was in the house except for Kerry and I. Everyone either went home or was at the football game.
We put the turkey in the oven in the basement kitchen and went back upstairs to the living room to watch television. We had set-up the turkey in one of those self-basting plastic bags so we wouldn’t have to check on it as often but we figured we should keep tabs on the bird.
After an hour or so Kerry went to check on the turkey and she said everything was fine. Some time later Kerry asked me to check on the turkey. I whined a little bit not wanting to get off the couch but eventually headed downstairs. As I opened the basement door a billow of smoke entered the stairwell. I made may my to the kitchen and saw smoke pouring out of the sides of the oven and up through the cooking range and I panicked.
Relax, it’s not like there was some huge fight or drama. Thanksgiving wasn't a huge holiday for my family and since it was so close to winter break, it didn't make sense for me to fly home from Chicago to Seattle twice in the span of one month.
My freshmen year, my parents and my brother came out and we had Thanksgiving in Chicago. It was one of the coldest Thanksgivings in the history of Chicago and my brother and my parents have never let me forget this fact. The next year I went over to my friend Erica’s house and the year after well . . . that was an adventure.
There was a group of people from PMA and SAI who decided to stay in town for that Thanksgiving. There was a football game only a couple hours away that a lot of people wanted to go to so a group of us decided to have Thanksgiving as a college family.
Here was the plan: We would do prep the meal Wednesday and one of my best friends Kerry, would stay back from the game with me (neither of us was that into football) and take care of cooking the turkey and getting dinner set-up.
Kerry was an upperclassmen that I met through NUMB. She was two years older than me and was one of those girls from SAI who took me under her wing. Kerry took care of me like an older sister but not the "responsible" kind of older sister. She was the first person I ever took a shot (it was straight Southern Comfort). Immediately after that I had my second and third shot with her.
Kerry was one of the smartest people I've ever met in her life and while many times she would have great advise for me, often her responses to my problems were hilariously sarcastic. After my friend Chrissie graduated (who I discussed in this earlier post), it was Kerry who stepped up and wouldn't hesitate for a second to stand up for me.
Kerry was honest, almost to the point that it would hurt your feelings as a friend, but it was this clarity that taught me about the nuances of what friendship meant in this crazy place called college.
We decided to cook the food over at SAI so Thanksgiving morning I headed over to the sorority house. No one was in the house except for Kerry and I. Everyone either went home or was at the football game.
We put the turkey in the oven in the basement kitchen and went back upstairs to the living room to watch television. We had set-up the turkey in one of those self-basting plastic bags so we wouldn’t have to check on it as often but we figured we should keep tabs on the bird.
After an hour or so Kerry went to check on the turkey and she said everything was fine. Some time later Kerry asked me to check on the turkey. I whined a little bit not wanting to get off the couch but eventually headed downstairs. As I opened the basement door a billow of smoke entered the stairwell. I made may my to the kitchen and saw smoke pouring out of the sides of the oven and up through the cooking range and I panicked.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Frat Boy: Introduction
Who was Kingsley Tang in college?
I was a music composition major, I was in marching band and I was a proud member of Phi Mu Alpha.
When I tell people I was in a fraternity it surprises a lot of people. Our society has a very narrow idea of what it means to be a member of a fraternity. While my brothers and I did have our share of fun, we did not live as they did in Animal House.
I’ve only been an undergrad on one college campus and I’m not really familiar with what fraternity life is like for people across the country. All I can do is speak for my experiences, which does not fit the fraternity stereotype of drunken debauchery that is portrayed in popular culture.
Just because my time as a Sinfonian (one of the names we identified ourselves with) wasn’t spent partying all of the time didn’t mean that we didn’t have our share of fun, craziness, insanity and drama.
So for the next couple months, I’m going to post stories about my time as a member of the Iota chapter of Phi Mu Alpha at Northwestern University. I’m going to use pseudonyms, but probably anyone who was in this fraternity or a member of the NUMB-Mu-Alpha-Iota social group will quickly figure out who I’m talking about.
These are my imperfect recollection of events that happened more than a decade ago. The purpose of these stories is not historical accuracy. I’m going for “story truth” so conversations and timelines of events may be modified and embellished upon to get capture the emotion and the meaning of the moment.
I’m going to tell you about my brothers. There were gods like Joseph, who seemed to have everything figured out. There were people like Harry whose life drama I became quickly swept up in and others like Tony who only now I’m beginning to understand.
I’m going to tell you about the girls of Sigma Alpha Iota, the sorority we hung out with the most. There’s Grace, one of the people who made me feel most welcome as part of this social group when I was a freshmen who ended up being one of the few people in my life I ever hated. And then there’s Chrissie, the senior girl who took me under her wing and who taught me what dignity really means.
I’m going to write about the good times: rushing, pranks and the Chipotle challenge. And I’ll try to describe the hard times: the politics, the social cliques and the drama that sometimes seemed to overtake the brotherhood.
Stay tuned on Fridays for tales of Phi Mu Alpha from this past and present frat boy.
I was a music composition major, I was in marching band and I was a proud member of Phi Mu Alpha.
When I tell people I was in a fraternity it surprises a lot of people. Our society has a very narrow idea of what it means to be a member of a fraternity. While my brothers and I did have our share of fun, we did not live as they did in Animal House.
I’ve only been an undergrad on one college campus and I’m not really familiar with what fraternity life is like for people across the country. All I can do is speak for my experiences, which does not fit the fraternity stereotype of drunken debauchery that is portrayed in popular culture.
Just because my time as a Sinfonian (one of the names we identified ourselves with) wasn’t spent partying all of the time didn’t mean that we didn’t have our share of fun, craziness, insanity and drama.
So for the next couple months, I’m going to post stories about my time as a member of the Iota chapter of Phi Mu Alpha at Northwestern University. I’m going to use pseudonyms, but probably anyone who was in this fraternity or a member of the NUMB-Mu-Alpha-Iota social group will quickly figure out who I’m talking about.
These are my imperfect recollection of events that happened more than a decade ago. The purpose of these stories is not historical accuracy. I’m going for “story truth” so conversations and timelines of events may be modified and embellished upon to get capture the emotion and the meaning of the moment.
I’m going to tell you about my brothers. There were gods like Joseph, who seemed to have everything figured out. There were people like Harry whose life drama I became quickly swept up in and others like Tony who only now I’m beginning to understand.
I’m going to tell you about the girls of Sigma Alpha Iota, the sorority we hung out with the most. There’s Grace, one of the people who made me feel most welcome as part of this social group when I was a freshmen who ended up being one of the few people in my life I ever hated. And then there’s Chrissie, the senior girl who took me under her wing and who taught me what dignity really means.
I’m going to write about the good times: rushing, pranks and the Chipotle challenge. And I’ll try to describe the hard times: the politics, the social cliques and the drama that sometimes seemed to overtake the brotherhood.
Stay tuned on Fridays for tales of Phi Mu Alpha from this past and present frat boy.
Monday, July 23, 2012
How The Little Man Learned To Dance
When I was in high school, I was that guy during the school dances that awkwardly stood around the periphery. Now I wasn’t alone, I remember most of the guys during dances didn’t actually “dance.”
Why not?
There was the feeling of not knowing “how” to dance and wanting to be cool. High school is a time when young adults try so hard to fit in and deal with their insecurities. Taking a chance by going out on a dance floor isn’t something most high school boys in my school were willing to take.
My girlfriend at the time was annoyed about this and she tried to teach me to dance. At the time, I found this annoying and I just didn’t feel at ease, moreover I didn’t want to dance. I do have one memory of going to a dance with a female friend (it was this girl) who managed to get me out on the dance floor because for a moment she was able to make me not care about being cool. Unfortunately this experience was fleeting and I spent high school at dances standing around.
Then my freshmen year at college, I encountered one of the most intimidating, charismatic, mysterious, and sometimes stunningly beautiful group of people I’ve ever met in my life: upperclassmen girls.
My social group was focused around marching band and many guys in my marching band were in the fraternity Phi Mu Alpha (which I later joined) and a lot of girls were in a fraternity for woman, Sigma Alpha Iota.
I got to know people in this group through marching band, eating together at the dining hall and during social events. One of these social events early in the year was a dance party at the Phi Mu Alpha house.
When I got to the party, I was shocked. This was totally different than high school dances. Everybody was dancing, boys and girl. However, this wasn’t enough to encourage me to get out there so I proceeded to stand against the wall awkwardly.
Then one of the upperclassmen girls, came over grabbed my hand and pulled me into the center of the room. In shock over the fact that this girl had just grabbed my hand, my mind pretty much exploded when I felt her hands on the side of my hips helping me move to the beat. Looking down, barely being able to comprehend what was happening, I heard her voice say to me, laughing to herself, “Hey, Little Man, I’m up here.”
When I looked up and our eyes met, suddenly I stopped worrying about being cool, or what other people were thinking. It wasn’t about doing a dance move or even moving to a beat, it was about loosing yourself in a song, in an experience with another person.
As I looked around the room, I noticed that a lot of people in the room weren’t so much “dancing” but just vaguely moving to the beat, doing silly motions and singing-along to the songs and everyone was smiling.
That was the first time I ever truly had fun dancing. There were other upperclassmen girls who helped pull me out of my shell and got me to loosen up on and off the dance floor. I am forever grateful for the interest they took in me.
That class as well as the upperclassmen girls who were around my sophomore year taught me how to dance. More than that, they taught me to not take my seriously and how to really have fun.
Guys, if you don't like to dance, get over yourself. Find a female friend that you trust who enjoys dancing and try some things out. Trust me, no one cares how stupid you look just as long as you're having fun. Girls if you're trying to get a guy in your life to dance, be patient with them. If you can make them feel at ease and comfortable by truly embracing their dancing, good or bad, and just enjoy the experience, you'll be surprised how much your man can move.
Why not?
There was the feeling of not knowing “how” to dance and wanting to be cool. High school is a time when young adults try so hard to fit in and deal with their insecurities. Taking a chance by going out on a dance floor isn’t something most high school boys in my school were willing to take.
My girlfriend at the time was annoyed about this and she tried to teach me to dance. At the time, I found this annoying and I just didn’t feel at ease, moreover I didn’t want to dance. I do have one memory of going to a dance with a female friend (it was this girl) who managed to get me out on the dance floor because for a moment she was able to make me not care about being cool. Unfortunately this experience was fleeting and I spent high school at dances standing around.
Then my freshmen year at college, I encountered one of the most intimidating, charismatic, mysterious, and sometimes stunningly beautiful group of people I’ve ever met in my life: upperclassmen girls.
My social group was focused around marching band and many guys in my marching band were in the fraternity Phi Mu Alpha (which I later joined) and a lot of girls were in a fraternity for woman, Sigma Alpha Iota.
I got to know people in this group through marching band, eating together at the dining hall and during social events. One of these social events early in the year was a dance party at the Phi Mu Alpha house.
When I got to the party, I was shocked. This was totally different than high school dances. Everybody was dancing, boys and girl. However, this wasn’t enough to encourage me to get out there so I proceeded to stand against the wall awkwardly.
Then one of the upperclassmen girls, came over grabbed my hand and pulled me into the center of the room. In shock over the fact that this girl had just grabbed my hand, my mind pretty much exploded when I felt her hands on the side of my hips helping me move to the beat. Looking down, barely being able to comprehend what was happening, I heard her voice say to me, laughing to herself, “Hey, Little Man, I’m up here.”
When I looked up and our eyes met, suddenly I stopped worrying about being cool, or what other people were thinking. It wasn’t about doing a dance move or even moving to a beat, it was about loosing yourself in a song, in an experience with another person.
As I looked around the room, I noticed that a lot of people in the room weren’t so much “dancing” but just vaguely moving to the beat, doing silly motions and singing-along to the songs and everyone was smiling.
That was the first time I ever truly had fun dancing. There were other upperclassmen girls who helped pull me out of my shell and got me to loosen up on and off the dance floor. I am forever grateful for the interest they took in me.
That class as well as the upperclassmen girls who were around my sophomore year taught me how to dance. More than that, they taught me to not take my seriously and how to really have fun.
Guys, if you don't like to dance, get over yourself. Find a female friend that you trust who enjoys dancing and try some things out. Trust me, no one cares how stupid you look just as long as you're having fun. Girls if you're trying to get a guy in your life to dance, be patient with them. If you can make them feel at ease and comfortable by truly embracing their dancing, good or bad, and just enjoy the experience, you'll be surprised how much your man can move.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Baby by Justin Bieber
It’s rare that I experience I piece of music without any preconceptions. Most of the time when I listen to new music I know the artist and/or know something about the song. Also most of the time I listen to the song, but I don’t really experience it.
Don’t get me wrong, listening to a song is an active and vital way to interact with music but it’s a different when you perform a song or dance to it. This is why dancing to “Baby” this week was one of the of the greatest musical experiences I’ve had in recent memory.
Let me explain.
For the past two weeks I’ve taken an Orff level 1 class at Vadercook College of Music in Chicago. Carl Orff was a composer who helped develop an approach to teaching music to children that revolutionized music education bringing the natural way children play, create and interact with music into the classroom.
Motion is a big part of Orff’s approach which I'm not great at. During the movement part of the Orff class I felt self-conscious, insecure and a little silly dancing around the room creating different shapes and waving scarves around (this is a sarcastic analysis of the role of movement if Orff curriculum, there's a lot more going on here).
Part way through the our motion session last Wednesday when we were learning folk dances something started happening. I noticed that I was picking up the dance steps quickly and that I was pretty good at this. Then I started having fun and not caring about the way I looked to the people around.
As we neared the end of the session, the instructor told us we were going to do the same folk dance we had just practiced to traditional music to some different music. As the music started, I heard gentle guitar plucks and the vocalization of a young singer and before I knew it we started dancing. The folk dance started with the group in a large circle so when the group started going you had to dance or get run over.
I didn't have time to think about the song, all I could do was dance to it staying completely in the moment. Before I knew it an uncontrollable smile came upon my face and as I lost myself moving to the music.
After the dance was over, someone identified the song as “Baby” by Justin Bieber. No, I haven’t been under a rock, I know who Justin Bieber is, I just haven’t listened to any of his music. I’ve heard plenty about him and I’m really glad that I didn’t know it was him before I started dancing or else I wouldn’t have enjoyed the music filled with the negativity I've heard about his music.
I don't know what the fuss is all about. “Baby” is a perfectly fine pop song. It’s nicely crafted. There’s not a lot of frills or anything musically revolutionary but it’s fun and my experience dancing to it was unforgettable. Sometimes it's more than the music that makes a song important to us. Sometimes it's the way we experience it that makes it meaningful and dancing to "Baby" made this song unforgettable for me.
Driving home from class I was so excited about the idea of teaching movement and dancing to my students next year. There are many reasons to teach dancing. I could write a dissertation on the educational benefits of movement activities but it wasn’t until last Wednesday I realized how much fun folk dancing could be and how much I want to help my students attain the feeling pure joy that came from experiencing music through dance.
Don’t get me wrong, listening to a song is an active and vital way to interact with music but it’s a different when you perform a song or dance to it. This is why dancing to “Baby” this week was one of the of the greatest musical experiences I’ve had in recent memory.
Let me explain.
For the past two weeks I’ve taken an Orff level 1 class at Vadercook College of Music in Chicago. Carl Orff was a composer who helped develop an approach to teaching music to children that revolutionized music education bringing the natural way children play, create and interact with music into the classroom.
Motion is a big part of Orff’s approach which I'm not great at. During the movement part of the Orff class I felt self-conscious, insecure and a little silly dancing around the room creating different shapes and waving scarves around (this is a sarcastic analysis of the role of movement if Orff curriculum, there's a lot more going on here).
Part way through the our motion session last Wednesday when we were learning folk dances something started happening. I noticed that I was picking up the dance steps quickly and that I was pretty good at this. Then I started having fun and not caring about the way I looked to the people around.
As we neared the end of the session, the instructor told us we were going to do the same folk dance we had just practiced to traditional music to some different music. As the music started, I heard gentle guitar plucks and the vocalization of a young singer and before I knew it we started dancing. The folk dance started with the group in a large circle so when the group started going you had to dance or get run over.
I didn't have time to think about the song, all I could do was dance to it staying completely in the moment. Before I knew it an uncontrollable smile came upon my face and as I lost myself moving to the music.
After the dance was over, someone identified the song as “Baby” by Justin Bieber. No, I haven’t been under a rock, I know who Justin Bieber is, I just haven’t listened to any of his music. I’ve heard plenty about him and I’m really glad that I didn’t know it was him before I started dancing or else I wouldn’t have enjoyed the music filled with the negativity I've heard about his music.
I don't know what the fuss is all about. “Baby” is a perfectly fine pop song. It’s nicely crafted. There’s not a lot of frills or anything musically revolutionary but it’s fun and my experience dancing to it was unforgettable. Sometimes it's more than the music that makes a song important to us. Sometimes it's the way we experience it that makes it meaningful and dancing to "Baby" made this song unforgettable for me.
Driving home from class I was so excited about the idea of teaching movement and dancing to my students next year. There are many reasons to teach dancing. I could write a dissertation on the educational benefits of movement activities but it wasn’t until last Wednesday I realized how much fun folk dancing could be and how much I want to help my students attain the feeling pure joy that came from experiencing music through dance.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
The Longest Time by Billy Joel
I don’t really like a capella music.
Well that’s kind of over-generalized statement let me fill that one out. I’m not talking about the classical music idea of singing without instrumental accompaniments, I’m talking about the vocal performance groups that have exploded around high school campuses all across America.
I respect the craft of a capella group. Transforming a pop song with the vocals and instrumentals into a all vocal performances takes a lot of hard work. The results are often range from silly and funny. . .
To musical astounding:
Don’t tell these boys couldn’t sing.
At the end of the day though, I’ve never heard an a capella version of song that I’d rather listen to than the original. Artists and composers conceive songs often with specific musical instruments in mind. You don’t write melody the same way if you know that it will be played guitar as opposed to violin or sung. By taking a song out of it’s intended musical context you are taking a chance that doesn’t always musically work.
What about songs that are conceived as a cappela sings from the start? That’s a different story. There in lies the validity of this musical style of music. From barbershop quartets to the singing on street corners, a capella music has had a profound influence on popular music in America. One of the best examples of this is “The Longest Time” by Billy Joel. Skip to 3:45 for the start of the song.
But Kingsley, there’s an electric bass in this song!! Yeah, well, maybe Billy Joel couldn’t find an astounding Melvin Franklin-like singer (bass singer of The Temptations level singer, which is really hard to find). It’s a line anyways that could be sung so I give it a pass.
“The Longest Time” simply would work in any other musical context. An electric guitar would kill this song and God knows it doesn’t need any 1980s synthesized sounds. The soul of this song and the expression is rooted not only in the lyrics, melody and harmony but the ensemble of the a cappella group itself.
I’m not saying that all a cappella music needs to be is nostalgic. I’m just saying that the sonic landscape for a song is just as critical to the expression as the song as anything other musical elements. Yes, you are fantastic at imitating drum sounds, I almost can’t decipher the different, that is an amazing musical feat. However, in the idea musical situation to get the best musical product, woudn’t you rather use a drum set?
A capella groups, take a look at what you are doing musically. You can do so much more than trying to imitate guitar lines. Compose your own music, it’s hard but give it a try. If you are going to cover pop songs chose them not for the novelty but because your voices bring something different and expressive to the song. Make a version that stands on its own and at the end of the day as something you would rather listen to than the original.
Well that’s kind of over-generalized statement let me fill that one out. I’m not talking about the classical music idea of singing without instrumental accompaniments, I’m talking about the vocal performance groups that have exploded around high school campuses all across America.
I respect the craft of a capella group. Transforming a pop song with the vocals and instrumentals into a all vocal performances takes a lot of hard work. The results are often range from silly and funny. . .
To musical astounding:
Don’t tell these boys couldn’t sing.
At the end of the day though, I’ve never heard an a capella version of song that I’d rather listen to than the original. Artists and composers conceive songs often with specific musical instruments in mind. You don’t write melody the same way if you know that it will be played guitar as opposed to violin or sung. By taking a song out of it’s intended musical context you are taking a chance that doesn’t always musically work.
What about songs that are conceived as a cappela sings from the start? That’s a different story. There in lies the validity of this musical style of music. From barbershop quartets to the singing on street corners, a capella music has had a profound influence on popular music in America. One of the best examples of this is “The Longest Time” by Billy Joel. Skip to 3:45 for the start of the song.
But Kingsley, there’s an electric bass in this song!! Yeah, well, maybe Billy Joel couldn’t find an astounding Melvin Franklin-like singer (bass singer of The Temptations level singer, which is really hard to find). It’s a line anyways that could be sung so I give it a pass.
“The Longest Time” simply would work in any other musical context. An electric guitar would kill this song and God knows it doesn’t need any 1980s synthesized sounds. The soul of this song and the expression is rooted not only in the lyrics, melody and harmony but the ensemble of the a cappella group itself.
I’m not saying that all a cappella music needs to be is nostalgic. I’m just saying that the sonic landscape for a song is just as critical to the expression as the song as anything other musical elements. Yes, you are fantastic at imitating drum sounds, I almost can’t decipher the different, that is an amazing musical feat. However, in the idea musical situation to get the best musical product, woudn’t you rather use a drum set?
A capella groups, take a look at what you are doing musically. You can do so much more than trying to imitate guitar lines. Compose your own music, it’s hard but give it a try. If you are going to cover pop songs chose them not for the novelty but because your voices bring something different and expressive to the song. Make a version that stands on its own and at the end of the day as something you would rather listen to than the original.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Hot In Herre by Nelly
It’s getting hot over here in Chicago.
A perfectly logical response to the warming of temperature is to take off articles of clothing, sweaters, hats, jackets, scarf.
Nelly took this a step further. Forget about taking of some of your clothes to cool, “it’s getting hot in herre so take of all of your clothes." This statement would be completely absurd except for the fact the response from the woman in this situation of rising temperature agrees, “I am getting so hot, I’m going to take my clothes off.”
What, is Nelly a hypnotist or something? Really, could he have said, “it’s getting hot herre, so give all of your money” and then the woman would response, “I am getting so hot, I’m going to give you all of my money!”
Okay, okay, I guess this whole “take off all your clothes,” is a natural sensual extension of the idea of one taking some clothes off because of heat. Hey you’re at a party things are getting crazy, why not flirt with the idea of getting naked? Lord knows it's better than what I could have come up with: “It’s getting hot in herre, so open all your windows."
I am SURE that some person who maybe had a little bit too much to drink heard Nelly’s suggestion on how to cool off and actually did take all of their clothes off. You don’t think so? Well, we are a pretty suggestible society; “Hot In Heere” sold over 500,00 copies.
I was in college when this song hit and it was played at every party I went to. There is a lot built into this song that makes it fun to dance to from syncopated bass line to the fascinatingly internal logic of the chorus. There’s plenty of “uh, uh,” Nelly asks for that a crowd can provide (maybe instead of repeatedly asking for a little he should have asked for a lot). Then there’s the lines set apart from the rhythm of the rap like “I think mah butt in there!!” that fun to sing along with.
My favorite part:
Stop pacing, time wasting
I gotta a friend with a fo' in the basement (What?)
I'm just kiddin like Jason (Oh)
Unless you gon' do it.
I don’t even know what he has in the basement but you know it’s something that the girl is kind of offended by but Nelly doesn't care.
Awesome.
One final note about this song apparently extra "R" in "Herre" is not a pronunciation thing but a rather an indication that is really hot. If this song was “Hot In Herrre” books would be igniting into flame.
Don't worry Chicago, no matter how catchy this song is and how hot it gets I will keep my clothes on.
What a song.
Now enjoy Weird Al's version.
A perfectly logical response to the warming of temperature is to take off articles of clothing, sweaters, hats, jackets, scarf.
Nelly took this a step further. Forget about taking of some of your clothes to cool, “it’s getting hot in herre so take of all of your clothes." This statement would be completely absurd except for the fact the response from the woman in this situation of rising temperature agrees, “I am getting so hot, I’m going to take my clothes off.”
What, is Nelly a hypnotist or something? Really, could he have said, “it’s getting hot herre, so give all of your money” and then the woman would response, “I am getting so hot, I’m going to give you all of my money!”
Okay, okay, I guess this whole “take off all your clothes,” is a natural sensual extension of the idea of one taking some clothes off because of heat. Hey you’re at a party things are getting crazy, why not flirt with the idea of getting naked? Lord knows it's better than what I could have come up with: “It’s getting hot in herre, so open all your windows."
I am SURE that some person who maybe had a little bit too much to drink heard Nelly’s suggestion on how to cool off and actually did take all of their clothes off. You don’t think so? Well, we are a pretty suggestible society; “Hot In Heere” sold over 500,00 copies.
I was in college when this song hit and it was played at every party I went to. There is a lot built into this song that makes it fun to dance to from syncopated bass line to the fascinatingly internal logic of the chorus. There’s plenty of “uh, uh,” Nelly asks for that a crowd can provide (maybe instead of repeatedly asking for a little he should have asked for a lot). Then there’s the lines set apart from the rhythm of the rap like “I think mah butt in there!!” that fun to sing along with.
My favorite part:
Stop pacing, time wasting
I gotta a friend with a fo' in the basement (What?)
I'm just kiddin like Jason (Oh)
Unless you gon' do it.
I don’t even know what he has in the basement but you know it’s something that the girl is kind of offended by but Nelly doesn't care.
Awesome.
One final note about this song apparently extra "R" in "Herre" is not a pronunciation thing but a rather an indication that is really hot. If this song was “Hot In Herrre” books would be igniting into flame.
Don't worry Chicago, no matter how catchy this song is and how hot it gets I will keep my clothes on.
What a song.
Now enjoy Weird Al's version.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Northwestern University Hymn (Alma Mater)
As Homecoming weekend at Northwestern University approaches, memories of my time on campus have been rushing back. There was that time we decided that we should move a couch into our fraternity bathroom, the lecture in my music history class that made me fall in love with opera and the time in the cafeteria when we decided to use a chocolate doughnut to make a breakfast sandwich resulting in the "Bacon McDoughnut."
Then there's the music. The fight song, “Go U, Northwestern” which I analyzed in this earlier post and of course the “Northwestern University Hymn” more commonly reffered to as the "Alma Mater." I love "Go U, Northwestern." I've performed that song more than any other song in my life, but there's something different about the "Northwestern University Hymn," something more profound.
As a member of the Northwestern University Marching Band (NUMB), I had the honor of performing this song for the university community however it was the times after games when NUMB would sing this song a cappella in a circle, arms around that this song represented what it meant to be at Northwestern.
It was a feeling of being at home, having a family, and being connected to something bigger than me. Often when we would sing the “Alma Mater” people in NUMB would be crying. I can’t explain why it meant so much, but it did. Every time I hear this melody it brings me back to this feeling and every time I think of Northwestern, the "Alma Mater" is echoing in the background.
The first version of Northwestern’s hymn was arranged by the first dean of the school of music Peter Christian Lutkin in 1907. J. Scott Clark, an English professor, arranged the lyrics in Latin which were based on the University’s motto from Philippians 4:8.
Whatsoever things are true,
Whatsoever things are honest,
Whatsoever things are just,
Whatsoever things are pure,
Whatsoever things are lovely,
Whatsoever things are of good report,
If there be any virtue and if there be any praise,
Think on these things
This motto is used to this day in university ceremonies and the first line in Latin "Quacumque Sunt Vera,” adorns the university seal. The music that Lutkin chose for these lyrics was “St. Anthony’s Chorale” which is attributed to Frank Joseph Haydn. This tune was relatively obscures until Brahms arranged a set of variation on this melody.
There is debate whether Haydn actually wrote this melody, however it is indisputable that Brahms arrangement cemented this melody as one of the most recognizable melodies in classical music.
The “University Chant,” as Lutkin titled it, was performed by university choirs and the students body. The combination of the Latin, which was part of every student’s academic studies at the time and this beautiful classical tune embodied the academic standards and values of the university.
Peter Christian Lutkin & his original arrangement of the "University Chant."
As Northwestern University changed, so did the student body and by the 1950s the respect and enthusiasm for the “University Chant” diminished and it fell into obscurity. In 1954, in an effort to revive the song, Thomas Tyra, a School of Music Alumni wrote English lyrics. He moved away from the university motto and instead wrote English lyrics expressing devotion to Northwestern.
Hail to Alma Mater
We will sing thy praise forever
All thy sons and daughters
Pledge thee victory and honor
Alma Mater Praise be thine
May thy name forever shine
Hail to purple
Hail to white
Hail to thee Northwestern
While many argued that the English lyrics would take away from the song's original meaning, these new less esoteric lyrics connected with the student body. Four years later, John Paynter, Northwestern's legendary band director, arranged the “University Chant” for band. Along with the English lyrics, the "chant" was retitled “University Hymn.”
Paynter’s arrangement starts off like most hymns with the last four measures of the melody used as an introduction. The band plays through the first two phrase in a straight-forward but artfully arranged four-part harmony. Like many devotion hymns, the arrangement is simple to focus not on performers but the university.
In a stunning musical development, the whole band instead of accompanying the audience sings the last half of the melody. Starting in unison, as one voice, the harmony slowly unfolds into four parts representing the singularity of values at Northwestern that expands into countless possibilities.
Paynter provides a moment of reflection for the audience as the band repeats the last half of the melody, starting with a single trumpet, which is joined by a euphonium. The rest of the band enters softly, rising to a climax, glorious but reverent and majestic while humble.
One of my greatest honors was to be the conductor of the “Alma Mater” as the music director of Phi Mu Alpha. Our fraternity hosted parties and at midnight we would gather in the living room of our house to sing fraternity songs. We would end every performance with the “Alma Mater.” Everyone in the audience would join in a circle and we would sing about how much we loved our university.
Standing in the center surrounded by friends, molding the music with my hands is one of the most magical feelings in my life. Singing this song in NUMB was different, we were in uniform, part of the ritual of the football game. However, in my fraternity house we were in the middle of a party. People would stop whatever games they were playing, put down whatever they were drinking and join us to share a moment together.
For my friends, pride in Northwestern wasn’t just about winning football games, it was something different and real. It wasn’t dorky, or forced, it was simply how we felt.
Hail to thee Northwestern
May thy name forever shine
Welcome home.
Then there's the music. The fight song, “Go U, Northwestern” which I analyzed in this earlier post and of course the “Northwestern University Hymn” more commonly reffered to as the "Alma Mater." I love "Go U, Northwestern." I've performed that song more than any other song in my life, but there's something different about the "Northwestern University Hymn," something more profound.
As a member of the Northwestern University Marching Band (NUMB), I had the honor of performing this song for the university community however it was the times after games when NUMB would sing this song a cappella in a circle, arms around that this song represented what it meant to be at Northwestern.
It was a feeling of being at home, having a family, and being connected to something bigger than me. Often when we would sing the “Alma Mater” people in NUMB would be crying. I can’t explain why it meant so much, but it did. Every time I hear this melody it brings me back to this feeling and every time I think of Northwestern, the "Alma Mater" is echoing in the background.
The first version of Northwestern’s hymn was arranged by the first dean of the school of music Peter Christian Lutkin in 1907. J. Scott Clark, an English professor, arranged the lyrics in Latin which were based on the University’s motto from Philippians 4:8.
Whatsoever things are true,
Whatsoever things are honest,
Whatsoever things are just,
Whatsoever things are pure,
Whatsoever things are lovely,
Whatsoever things are of good report,
If there be any virtue and if there be any praise,
Think on these things
This motto is used to this day in university ceremonies and the first line in Latin "Quacumque Sunt Vera,” adorns the university seal. The music that Lutkin chose for these lyrics was “St. Anthony’s Chorale” which is attributed to Frank Joseph Haydn. This tune was relatively obscures until Brahms arranged a set of variation on this melody.
There is debate whether Haydn actually wrote this melody, however it is indisputable that Brahms arrangement cemented this melody as one of the most recognizable melodies in classical music.
The “University Chant,” as Lutkin titled it, was performed by university choirs and the students body. The combination of the Latin, which was part of every student’s academic studies at the time and this beautiful classical tune embodied the academic standards and values of the university.
Peter Christian Lutkin & his original arrangement of the "University Chant."As Northwestern University changed, so did the student body and by the 1950s the respect and enthusiasm for the “University Chant” diminished and it fell into obscurity. In 1954, in an effort to revive the song, Thomas Tyra, a School of Music Alumni wrote English lyrics. He moved away from the university motto and instead wrote English lyrics expressing devotion to Northwestern.
Hail to Alma Mater
We will sing thy praise forever
All thy sons and daughters
Pledge thee victory and honor
Alma Mater Praise be thine
May thy name forever shine
Hail to purple
Hail to white
Hail to thee Northwestern
While many argued that the English lyrics would take away from the song's original meaning, these new less esoteric lyrics connected with the student body. Four years later, John Paynter, Northwestern's legendary band director, arranged the “University Chant” for band. Along with the English lyrics, the "chant" was retitled “University Hymn.”
Paynter’s arrangement starts off like most hymns with the last four measures of the melody used as an introduction. The band plays through the first two phrase in a straight-forward but artfully arranged four-part harmony. Like many devotion hymns, the arrangement is simple to focus not on performers but the university.
In a stunning musical development, the whole band instead of accompanying the audience sings the last half of the melody. Starting in unison, as one voice, the harmony slowly unfolds into four parts representing the singularity of values at Northwestern that expands into countless possibilities.
Paynter provides a moment of reflection for the audience as the band repeats the last half of the melody, starting with a single trumpet, which is joined by a euphonium. The rest of the band enters softly, rising to a climax, glorious but reverent and majestic while humble.
One of my greatest honors was to be the conductor of the “Alma Mater” as the music director of Phi Mu Alpha. Our fraternity hosted parties and at midnight we would gather in the living room of our house to sing fraternity songs. We would end every performance with the “Alma Mater.” Everyone in the audience would join in a circle and we would sing about how much we loved our university.
Standing in the center surrounded by friends, molding the music with my hands is one of the most magical feelings in my life. Singing this song in NUMB was different, we were in uniform, part of the ritual of the football game. However, in my fraternity house we were in the middle of a party. People would stop whatever games they were playing, put down whatever they were drinking and join us to share a moment together.
For my friends, pride in Northwestern wasn’t just about winning football games, it was something different and real. It wasn’t dorky, or forced, it was simply how we felt.
Hail to thee Northwestern
May thy name forever shine
Welcome home.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Stacy’s Mom by Fountains of Wayne
“I'm seventeen. Looking at linoleum makes me wanna have sex.”
Xander from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Season 2: "Innocence"
Welcome to the mind of a teenage boy. It is a scary place to be.
While Xander’s comment is a little sarcastic, it has a grain of truth in it. Hormones often drive teenage boys beyond reason and logic. It’s not even about sexuality rather it’s about the idea and fantasy of sex, which is exactly what “Stacy’s Mom” is really about.
Even though there is little in my mind that is more disgusting and insidious than statutory rape regardless of the gender of the people involved, the idea of a boy having a crush on someone’s mom is funny. It’s such preposterous idea that we can’t help but laugh at it. At the same time we giggle at the ridiculousness of the idea of a boy being “in love” with someone’s mom, some people can relate to this idea. Not so much of the idea of having a crush on someone’s mom but having a unrealistic crush whether it be on a teen idol, model or actress.
Most of Fountains of Wayne’s music reflects the drudgery and depression of blue color America. Songs like “Hackensack” are melon collie reflections the failure of the middle class subruban dream.
While Fountains of Wayne’s other songs contemplates the reality of life, “Stacy’s Mom” reflects on a fantasy. The protagonist explains to his girlfriend that he’s more into Stacy’s mom then he is into Stacy. This premise has the potential for a Graduate style catastrophe but instead the ideas stay in the realm of fantasies.
Our narrator describes Stacy’s mom as “got it going on.” Who really uses that phrase anymore? It’s like this boy heard this line in a movie and is trying to awkwardly describe to his friends the prowess of Stacy’s mom. This boy’s hormones have clearly distorted his sense of reality as he interprets her criticizing his lawn mowing technique as a sign that she likes him.
Even though we know how realize how stupid this kid is acting, we celebrate along with his fantasy because deep down we all know what it’s like to excited about a dream. Sometimes living in a fantasy, even an idiotic one is makes us feel better about life.
“Stacy’s Mom” will always have a special place in my heart, not because I have memories of being infatuated with someone’s mom. I can say emphatically that that has never happened.
During graduate school at Northwestern University, my main job assignment as a graduate student was to direct the Northwestern University Basketball Band (NUBB). I conducted the band at every single men’s and women’s basketball games (the band was split up into two groups).
Conducting this group was an incredible learning experience as a musician and a one of the funniest jobs I’ve ever had. I had a blast getting to know people in the job Conducting is always fun and when it’s popular music arranged for pep band, it’s a unique joy that is indescribable.
One of my favorite songs to conduct was “Stacy’s Mom.” The verses build beautifully into the chorus and because of its popularity it was a song the cheerleaders made a dance to it and the crowd had a great time singing along with.
The last game I conducted was a packed men's game. We invited marching band alumni to perform along with the band. This was one of the most stressful games I conducting because the large crowds made it hard to heard officials calls (which is how I knew when to start the band) and it was a musical and administrative challenge to manage the alumni.
The last song we played before the end of the game was "Stacy's Mom." The combination of relief that I had made it through game and the sheer musical joy of the song made a truly unforgettable musical experiences.
I gotta say, for that two an a half minutes it really felt like I had it going on.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Up, Up And Away by The Men In Black
Here's a recording of the fateful performance that I discussed in the previous post (there is no video, just audio). The prelude to "Up, Up And Away" is a song "Behold Man" a song we sang my freshmen year in choir, which we didn't exactly love (ok, we hated it). Join me and experience the conceptual shift from the audacity of art music to THE FIFTH DIMENSION.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Up, Up And Away by The Fifth Dimension
Stories about those moments in college that you will never forget seem to be part of college experience for almost everybody. These are the moments outside of class doing things that can only be understood with “college logic” that define not only the college experience but who we are as people.
That may be laying it on a bit thick, because if that’s the case than The Fifth Dimension, an adult contemporary group from the late 1960s helped defined who I am. Now that’s a scary thought.
On December 2nd, of my Junior year in college a group of my fraternity brother and I performed “Up, Up And Away” by the Fifth Dimension (complete with choreography) in front of a full audience in Lutkin Hall at Northwestern University.
During college, I was a member of the Iota Chapter of Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia, a music themed fraternity. We did similar activities to other fraternities but we also had a men’s choir, various other musical ensembles and put on recitals once a quarter. Many of us were good friends with the Beta Chapter of Sigma Alpha Iota (my wife was a member), which was a music fraternity for woman. They had a choir as well and other musical groups. Socially and professionally, the two organizations supported each other, going to each other’s events and having joint recitals and other events.
So when we found an men's choir arrangement of “Up, Up And Away” in a library sale, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to do a parody of Sigma Alpha Iota’s a capella group, Ladies In Red. In that moment the group Men In Black was born.
Where Ladies In Red, worked hard to do legitimate a capella arrangements of current pop songs, we were working off a four part arrangement of a song that perfectly combined the watered down musicality of adult contemporary music with the bland non-offensive sound of easy listening. “Up, Up And Away” was an enormously popular song which won four Grammy’s including record and song of the year. This song clearly deserved it winning over other songs that came out in 1967 like “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison, “Respect” by Aretha Franklin, “Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix and “Ruby Tuesday” by the Rolling Stones. Oh, Grammy's does your irrelevance ever fail to surprise us?
We enlisted the help of a couple more fraternity brothers and began rehearsing. This was not the easiest song to sing. Between the four key changes and thick harmonies there was quite a bit of work to do. Even though, as one of my friends put it, “the Eagles were more black than the Fifth Dimension,” they sang with a beautiful blend of and great harmonies.
Now you remember that I mentioned that the audience was full when were performed “Up, Up And Away?” That wasn’t the norm for our recitals. Usually the audience of Phi Mu Alpha recitals was primarily made up from woman from Sigma Alpha Iota. We were trying to figure out ways to get a bigger audience so we made a deal with the Northwestern School Of Music. We would promote their series of chamber music concerts and have two of the School Of Music chamber groups perform in our recital and the School Of Music would list us as part of their chamber music series.
Back then, there was a requirement that School Of Music, that all students had to go to certain number of performances as part of their grade. Towards the end of the quarter students would realize that they haven’t been to enough concerts and this joint venture between the School Of Music and Phi Mu Alpha was one of the last music concerts of that quarter.
It would have been one thing if we performed “Up, Up And Away” in front of friends but the fact that we did it in front of music majors was something different altogether. We performed right after a Beethoven string quartet and I remember right before starting the song, looking out at this audience thinking what a horrible idea this was, but once we started it was a blast and believe it or not the audience loved it.
Men In Black performed a couple more times, but nothing matched the magic of our first performance. There was something so spur of the moment and exciting about doing something fun for no other reasons but to be silly. Music can do a lot of things and “Up, Up And Away” helped me take myself less seriously as a “Music Major” and realize that sometimes the music itself isn’t the most important thing but it is the experience that you share with friends that is most meaningful.
On second thought, I think I would be up for performing this "Up, Up And Away" again, but only with the Men In Black.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Feels Like Home by Randy Newman
Linda Ronstadt recording
Chantal Kreviazuk recording
Chantal Kreviazuk recording
When I left home to go to college I never imagined that there would be any other place that I would call home.
I grew up in Mercer Island, Washington, which is a small suburb of Seattle that lies in the middle of Lake Washington. There's a tradition in my family of moving away from home. My mother and father came to America from Taiwan, my brother went to college at New York University and it only seemed to make sense that I would take opportunity to explore another part of the country. My brother went to a great American city so I chose Chicago to be the city that I would explore and I applied and got accepted to Northwestern University.
My freshmen year, I missed home a lot. I met some great people through Marching Band and my parents visited as much as they could but it was hard. I remember some nights feeling lonely and lost. My home seemed so far away and at times it seemed to physically hurt how much I wanted to feel the comfort of being at home. At those times, I would think about my parents coming over to a country in which they didn't even know the language, leaving all their family and friends and I would tell myself, if they could handle that, then I can make it at Northwestern.
As time went on, I joined a fraternity and lived in a frat house for three years. Slowly without thinking about it, I noticed that I would refer to my dorm room as "home." Sometimes people would ask if I was talking about my "home, home" which referred to my home in Washington or my "home" which was my dorm room. I don't remember the moment when I started thinking about my fraternity house as my home and when that happened I didn't seem to miss my "home, home" as much.
Maybe it was because I had made great friends and knew the town of Evanston and Chicago better, but I missed home less and less as my years at Northwestern progressed. I found that this happened again when my wife and I moved in together to Downers Grove another suburb of Chicago. When we first moved there I found myself missing home but as I began to know the town and feel comfortable in my surroundings I started calling it home and missing home less as the time passed.
After two years in Downers Grove, my wife and I moved back to Evanston and somehow our condominium felt like home quickly. I had lived in that same condominium during graduate school but something while Diana was finishing up her undergraduate degree at Northwestern but it never really felt like home during that time.
What my made condo feel like home so quickly? What was it that turned my Downers Grove apartment, my fraternity house and the house in Mercer Island a home? Is it about the building itself, the surroundings or is it something closer to the heart? Maybe the answer to this questions lies in “Feels Like Home” by Randy Newman.
In 1993, Randy Newman, most known for the music he composed for the Pixar films Toy Story and Monsters Inc. presented a musical he composed based on the story of Faust by Goethe and also utilized elements from Milton's Paradise Lost. The story is based in modern day with God and the Devil fighting for the soul of a University of Notre Dame student Henry Faust. The character of Martha who is trying to trick the Devil sings “Feels Like Home.” The setting and purpose of the song is to deceive but the emotional truth describing how people can bring us to the feeling of home is intimate, honest and genuine.
This song is about intangibles. Emotions that we can’t describe in words, so instead of trying to explain these emotions, Newman illustrates specific moments and situations that helps us feel theses magical and indescribable moments.
The song begins describing the emotional meaning that physical aspects can bring. Newman describes “something” in the eyes that makes him want to lose himself in his love’s arms. He hears something in her voice that touches his heart that makes him feel an emotion that he hopes will last forever. It has been said that love songs make sense when you finally fall in love and unless you have seen and heard that “something” that is being described it’s impossible to really know what Newman is singing about.
It is all of this that Newman sings “Feels Like Home.” This is a feeling of comfort, warmth and being safe. It is something that we see in each other eyes and feel in each other’s presence. It’s in our pain and in our happiness, which we work to express to each other. Though it is impossible to completely understand each other’s emotions through this struggle, we begin to better understand each other and even more so ourselves.
I don’t think home is just a building and I don’t think it’s just the people. It’s the joy in our lives, the struggle in the dark and a place in our heart. Home is a feeling that represents the best parts of ourselves and this feeling reminds us that no matter how far we travel, home will always be with us.
"Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule."
~Frederick W. Robertson
I grew up in Mercer Island, Washington, which is a small suburb of Seattle that lies in the middle of Lake Washington. There's a tradition in my family of moving away from home. My mother and father came to America from Taiwan, my brother went to college at New York University and it only seemed to make sense that I would take opportunity to explore another part of the country. My brother went to a great American city so I chose Chicago to be the city that I would explore and I applied and got accepted to Northwestern University.
My freshmen year, I missed home a lot. I met some great people through Marching Band and my parents visited as much as they could but it was hard. I remember some nights feeling lonely and lost. My home seemed so far away and at times it seemed to physically hurt how much I wanted to feel the comfort of being at home. At those times, I would think about my parents coming over to a country in which they didn't even know the language, leaving all their family and friends and I would tell myself, if they could handle that, then I can make it at Northwestern.
As time went on, I joined a fraternity and lived in a frat house for three years. Slowly without thinking about it, I noticed that I would refer to my dorm room as "home." Sometimes people would ask if I was talking about my "home, home" which referred to my home in Washington or my "home" which was my dorm room. I don't remember the moment when I started thinking about my fraternity house as my home and when that happened I didn't seem to miss my "home, home" as much.
Maybe it was because I had made great friends and knew the town of Evanston and Chicago better, but I missed home less and less as my years at Northwestern progressed. I found that this happened again when my wife and I moved in together to Downers Grove another suburb of Chicago. When we first moved there I found myself missing home but as I began to know the town and feel comfortable in my surroundings I started calling it home and missing home less as the time passed.
After two years in Downers Grove, my wife and I moved back to Evanston and somehow our condominium felt like home quickly. I had lived in that same condominium during graduate school but something while Diana was finishing up her undergraduate degree at Northwestern but it never really felt like home during that time.
What my made condo feel like home so quickly? What was it that turned my Downers Grove apartment, my fraternity house and the house in Mercer Island a home? Is it about the building itself, the surroundings or is it something closer to the heart? Maybe the answer to this questions lies in “Feels Like Home” by Randy Newman.
In 1993, Randy Newman, most known for the music he composed for the Pixar films Toy Story and Monsters Inc. presented a musical he composed based on the story of Faust by Goethe and also utilized elements from Milton's Paradise Lost. The story is based in modern day with God and the Devil fighting for the soul of a University of Notre Dame student Henry Faust. The character of Martha who is trying to trick the Devil sings “Feels Like Home.” The setting and purpose of the song is to deceive but the emotional truth describing how people can bring us to the feeling of home is intimate, honest and genuine.
This song is about intangibles. Emotions that we can’t describe in words, so instead of trying to explain these emotions, Newman illustrates specific moments and situations that helps us feel theses magical and indescribable moments.
The song begins describing the emotional meaning that physical aspects can bring. Newman describes “something” in the eyes that makes him want to lose himself in his love’s arms. He hears something in her voice that touches his heart that makes him feel an emotion that he hopes will last forever. It has been said that love songs make sense when you finally fall in love and unless you have seen and heard that “something” that is being described it’s impossible to really know what Newman is singing about.
It is all of this that Newman sings “Feels Like Home.” This is a feeling of comfort, warmth and being safe. It is something that we see in each other eyes and feel in each other’s presence. It’s in our pain and in our happiness, which we work to express to each other. Though it is impossible to completely understand each other’s emotions through this struggle, we begin to better understand each other and even more so ourselves.
I don’t think home is just a building and I don’t think it’s just the people. It’s the joy in our lives, the struggle in the dark and a place in our heart. Home is a feeling that represents the best parts of ourselves and this feeling reminds us that no matter how far we travel, home will always be with us.
"Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule."
~Frederick W. Robertson
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