Music in movies

When they announced Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows I got excited, but not for the reasons you might think. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the eye candy. While I'm not a huge Jude Law fan, I really like his portrayal of Dr. Watson. While I am a huge Robert Downey Jr. fan, it's not because he's rather easy on the eyes. I'm a huge Robert Downey Jr. fan because I think he's an awesome actor. I like that he isn't just Robert Downey Jr. playing a part. I like that when I watch him in movies I see the character he's playing. I really liked the first Sherlock Holmes. I liked the storyline, the pace of the movie, and the music. I think my favourite track was Rocky Road to Dublin, by the Dubliners, like that's any big surprise to any of you.

I saw Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows on Christmas day as part of my traditional Channukah/Christmas celebrations. I was really looking forward to it, and I was not disappointed. I liked the pacing and the story. I liked the new characters. I liked the old characters. Most of all, though, I loved the music. The Roma tunes were... indescribable. I could see them. They made my pulse move, and my fingers itched for my fiddle and bow. Friends took me to see the movie again earlier this week, and I had the same reaction. I need to get this soundtrack, but even more, I need to learn these tunes. I need to play these tunes. Before I head off, let me share this article with you. It's pretty fantastic, and there are some great clips. Make sure you watch all the clips!

Hans Zimmer Uses 'Sherlock Holmes' Soundtrack to Expose Slovakian Villager Musicians | Billboard.biz

Needing a little Help from my Friends

Dear Quackers, Fans, Friends, Y'all who are reading...

I need help!

 With my poor van Serenity being dead, and no real prospects for a new vehicle, I'm looking at putting something up on Kickstarter.  The problem is that I don't know what to offer. This is where YOU come in.  What would YOU like from NeidFyre? What would motivate you to donate to the "Get NeidFyre Back On The Road" fund?

Inquiring minds need to know, 'cause I've got to leave for AZRF at the end of January!

Singing with my Daughter

I sing songs and play fiddle music for DB, and she watches me intently.  When I sing, she stares at my lips with amazing focus and mimics the shapes my mouth is making.  She has learned to sing several of the songs in my regular faire set list, including the Mingulay Boat Song.  Today she floored me.

At naptime she asked for her Lullaby (In a Glade) and as I began she sang it with me. Each verse and chorus.  The song is in Ukrainian.  UKRAINIAN!!

Here's a link to the non-Milla Jovovich version of the song.  FYI, while I love Milla's version, and I sing it about the same tempo she does, I really enjoy this version.

This child is so incredible...

Winter Wonderwhat?

I'm a freak. I know this isn't a surprise to you, but I thought I'd start out with this fact.

Today's freakiness is brought to you by the words cold, snow and wind chill. I love the winter. There, I said it. I L.O.V.E. The winter. I'd much rather have the temperature cool or cold than hot. Really, I can't stand the heat. Hell, I don't even like it when it's too bright outside.

In my closest circle of friends I'm in the minority. They enjoy the heat. They enjoy the sun. They enjoy the... :shudder: summer. How does one actually enjoy the summer? It's HOT. It's often HUMID. And the light. FFS, it's frelling BRIGHT out. Stupid Evil Burning Daystar what keeps us alive, but is really painful on my eyes and skin. Also, you can only take off so many clothes before you're naked. Once you're naked there's no where left to go. The only saving grace of the hot: A/C. You heard me, Air Conditioning. My parents house had central air. My grandparent's house had a massive wall unit in the den and another in their bedroom. All my friends had A/C. A/C was a way of life, man.

Winter, on the other hand... Winter is delightful. The days are shorter. If you're cold you can put on more layers. Snow is beautiful to look at. It can still be frelling bright out, but there's not much I can do about that. Winter is hot chocolate, the smell of stews and soups, roasts and evergreens. Winter is snuggles and tea. Winter is beautiful. Winter is snow. Winter is brisk. Winter is skiing, tobogganing, and ice skating. Most of all, Winter isn't hot.

The winter this year has been incredibly mild. It was in the 40's and 50's the week of Christmas. 40's and 50's people! WTF? Last night we had a lake effect advisory. The temperature dropped to the single digits, and this morning it was between -5 to 5 depending on the wind chill. There was even snow. Granted, it wasn't a lot of snow, but there was snow!When I went out today I had to wear a hat, scarf, coat and gloves. It was fantastic.

I know that Longest Night has passed, and the nights are getting shorter. I know Spring will be here soon. I know the Evil Burning Daystar will mock me with its glare. Until then, I just want to enjoy the Winter. I don't care that I'm in the minority. Bring on the Winter.

Going through the motions

2012.  I haven't touched my blog since May 2011. (The post prior to this doesn't count, as it's from 4/8/11)  It's been just over 7 months.  It's a new year.  To quote Dr. Horrible, "It's a brand new day..." I'm not a big one for new year's resolutions.  They don't work for me. I am, however, all for working on changing behaviours that need adjusting.  Maybe it's semantics, but I look at like I look at dieting.  Diets don't work.  Changing the patterns of how I eat and what I eat does work. It's a lifestyle change, not a quick fix.

So what do behaviours do I want to change? I think one of the biggest is that I need to let things go and let things out.  I have  bottled up so many things and it does me no good.  I want to do so many things and be creative in so many ways, and I take steps to start but never seem to get over the hump to make these things consistent.  I'd like to change that this year.  As for being creative, I'd like to play more music and write more. With that, I offer you this, my first post of 2012.

***

I'm curled up on my bed, Lyric is curled up on my body pillow and as I'm typing this I'm watching Grimm for the first time. I was very excited when I heard Grimm and Once Upon A Time were airing. While I really miss having cable, I adore Hulu and Streaming Netflix. In my copious spare time I try to catch up on things, but I'm finding that I have sweet little copious spare time. Being a huge fan of TV, I find this somewhat inconvenient. Who wants to clean the kitchen or put the laundry away when The Big Bang Theory is on, or House, or Sanctuary, or Eureka, or How I Met Your Mother, or Backyardigans... dear Gods.... Backyardigans. :shudder: Now I need to add Grimm to the list.

When I say that I'm a huge fan of TV, I mean a Huge.Fan.Of.TV. I grew up in a house full of TV's. FFS, my grandparents had a small TV in their kitchen. My folks moved us to Fort Salonga when I was in the 3rd grade. It was a ginormous contemporary in the woods. There was a sunken living room, a finished basement that I never went into, and my bedroom had a Dutch door. I had a frelling Dutch Door!!!  Suffice to say, I thought my bedroom was awesome, and it was probably my favourite bedroom of all time. The best part of this, however, was the fact that my brother and I had TV's in our bedrooms. You read that right, I was in the 3^rd grade and had a TV in my bedroom.  I believe I was 7 going on 8, but I can't remember. Jeeze, maybe if Snufleupagus and Big Bird were involved I'd remember, but I digress.


So my family had just moved to Fort Salonga and I didn't have a lot of friends.  I made the TV my friend. I talked about TV all the time. I watched TV all the time. To this day, I can tell you about the search for “Mount Snuffleupagus” in fantastic detail.  The fact that I would regale my family with tales of what happened on The New Zoo Review and Sesame Street every single day was probably the first clue to my folks that I was watching too much TV. I know the undiagnosed ADD didn't help with the fact that I could sit down in front of the TV and watch for literally hours and not realize how much time had gone by.

After the whole nearly burning down my bedroom at 5am because of some faulty wiring, but that's another story, my parents decided that I was watching too much TV and took the TV out of my bedroom.  At some point I didn't watch TV at all during the week until I was in high school which led to my love affair with reading, but again that's a different story. After I moved out of my parents house I had cable. I had cable in every apartment and house I lived in. I had cable until about 5 or so years ago because it just got too expensive. I miss it. I miss being able to watch the newest episodes of things when the originally air. I miss being able to watch whatever I want whenever I want. I miss the luxury of it.

Not having cable or watching much TV in the past few years combined with being on the road more has changed my opinion on TV a little. I'm not so married to the idea of having to keep up with my “stories”. I'm ok with not having cable. The time I spent glued to the tube can be spent doing other things, like playing with my daughter, or reading, or cooking, or practicing, or cleaning, or having sex. That doesn't mean that when I have completely free time that I don't plant myself in front of the computer and catch up on things. I do. (Still watching Grimm as I type this out.) It just means I don't get hooked all the time. Or most of the time. Really I need to go to bed, but there's just 2 more episodes before I'm caught up. Did I mention that tomorrow is still part of the holiday weekend?

***

I wrote that post last night with the full intention of posting it, but I fell asleep watching Grimm.  Right now I've got season 6 of Buffy streaming onto my TV and I just finished watching "Once More With Feeling" as I edited this post.  As for now, I think I'll keep Buffy on, make some tea and start conquering Mt. Washmore.  Seriously, I can turn it off at any time...

ADOS

POSTDATED- Does anyone know how to postdate posts that were drafts but never got posted?  This is from 4/8/11

Initially I was going to blog about muumuu Friday.  That, of course, was Friday.  Right now it's Monday. It's mostly Monday.  Well, it's 4:11am, that fantastical time when I realize that I haven't gone to bed yet and I'm not tired, and I'm running on and ADD high. Lets go back to Friday.

:insert Scooby Doo Audio and wiggly fingers: Scoodillidoo! Scoodillidoo! Scoodillidoo!

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FYI:  I just spent 20 minutes trying to find a video of the Scooby Doo Wiggly Fingers, but found nothing. I suck at finding things on the intarwebs. 

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It's Friday. Wait, it's muumuu Friday. Yeah, you heard me, muumuu Friday. Muumuu Friday was not my idea.  Muumuu Friday is a thing that Jessica and the crew at the Arizona Renaissance Festival do. It's pretty much what it sounds like; they all wear muumuu's on Friday. And why not? They're comfy. They flow. They hide those unsightly Hawaiian shirts and plaid shorts. They're forgiving. They're like your sweet Nana who only wants to give you a hug.  Before I left Arizona I stopped at a Saver's and I found myself a muumuu. It's lavender with little butterflies on it.  It has snaps down the front, and it's got pockets. This isn't the greatest picture, but it still shows me in all of my muumuu glory.

Me & My Muumuu

We are the Music Makers, and we are the Dreamers of Dreams

Once upon a time, not very far away, there was a budding violinist, and she loved to play music.

Music touched her heart and soul the way nothing else could.  Boyfriends could come and go, stress could mount, depression could rear its depressed head, but as long as there was music it was all OK. Music made her heart soar, her blood race, and brought a joy to her entire being. That said, the idea of practicing was never fun.  She would practice when she had to, and once she got started it was easy to continue. Still, the getting started was always the hardest part.

She was lucky, or perhaps blessed, that music came easily (mostly) to her.  She excelled in music at school, played music at summer camp, and dreamt that she would make music her career. She was a big fish in a little pond through her school years.  She decided to follow the path and auditioned for colleges across the Eastern coast.  She was encouraged by her parents to follow a different path.  Music wouldn't pay. Music was hard.  Music was a good hobby, but not something to base ones life upon. Music was a dream. Her parents weren't being cruel, but rational. After all, "how many violinists are there, and how many orchestras are there, and how many of said violinists actually get jobs in said orchestras."  Better to learn more marketable skills and enjoy music on the side.

She would have nothing of it. Music was in her breath and her blood.

There were auditions. They were scary. There was travel to more auditions. They were just as scary. The letters started to come back.  Each letter was received with trepidation, but once opened (and often read with one eye closed) the answers were the same. Accepted. Accepted. Accepted. Accepted. The response  to those letters was always the same, with the girl and her mother screaming in excitement and running up and down the halls of their home.

A college was selected in Upstate NY. It was close enough for her parents, and far enough for her to be happy and satisfied.

Classes began, soon followed by the schooling. There was so much she didn't know. So much she didn't have experience with. So much to learn. Practicing wasn't something to fudge around with anymore. This was Serious Business. There was theory. There were scales, arpeggios, position work, vibrato... She needed to be more disciplined in her practice.  Her heart and soul poured into the music, but her skills weren't at the same level.  She began to practice more often. She would venture to the practice rooms in the bowels of the music building and practice.

And practice.

And practice.

Hours were spent in those small rooms.

At the end of the academic year, music students had a Jury. It was their final exam for the year.  For the violinists, they would walk out onto the large, empty stage, and they would play.  Everything they worked on for the year would be thrown out for the judges to dissect. This was not was the violinist excelled at. Solo playing was a terrifying experience. Being part of the corps, a strong player in the middle of the section, that was where she was comfortable.

The Jury began. She couldn't hear anything aside from the blood rushing in her ears and the mistakes she made. The results weren't very good.  She passed, barely, but she would have to step it up if she wanted to continue on this path.

Practicing began in earnest.  This was her path, right?  This was her dream, right? MUSIC. The colours, the emotions, the magic that  came from playing the notes and being part of the group.  MUSIC.

So she practiced. A lot. And then the pain started.

Shooting pains in her wrists and her right elbow.  She pushed on, of course.  One needs to suffer for their Art, right?  Hours at a time, day after day, she pushed on.  Her sophomore year was not a good year. Ice, meds, braces on her wrists, nothing helped.  She limped along, barely making the grade.  There were tears and screams of frustration.  Dreams were not supposed to hurt. Her second Jury was not successful.

Courses needed to change as her plans for her future needed to change.  The doctors, and there were several, told her that she damaged herself and she could either have surgery, or stop playing.  Surgery that wasn't necessarily proven, so said her parents. Surgery was not an option.  She contemplated a life without music and found it was bleak. Too bleak.  She thought about not continuing anymore, and attempted not continuing anymore.

Her junior year included a lot of therapy.  She continued to play, but very infrequently.  She sang more, but it didn't touch what she felt when she played her violin.

Her senior year came and went. She played even less.  Then she stopped playing.

For five years.

She didn't touch her chosen instrument. She sang less.  Music was too painful to listen to.

Life stumbled along. It was a shadowy existence. Music played on the radio, but almost never classical music. The true Changing point happened at Sterling. Walking down the stone and brick path, she heard a violin. She ducked behind the pork pocket booth and stood, slack-jawed, watching a musician play.  It was a joyous sound. It had depth, energy and life. It was a deep breath after being under water for too long. It was Music.

She began to play again, slowly.  She changed her repertoire.  She discovered she's heard this kind of music before, when she was young, and reveled in the feelings it rekindled in her.

Now, some 14 years later, she's still playing.  She performs.  She still doesn't practice like she should, but Music is part of her life. It is her chosen path, and her career.  Still, she rarely plays or listens to classical music because of the pain, physical and emotional, that it stirs in her.

Recently, last night in fact, she turned on the radio and heard the Brandenburg Concerto. It was incredible and she couldn't turn it off. After the Brandenburg they played the Concerto for 2 Violins in D minor. Feelings of sorrow and joy flooded her. The music was so beautiful, and so familiar, but she'd never be able to play them the way she used to.  Not without pain.  Tears flowed. Loss tempered with the knowledge she could play equally beautiful music without pain was a huge comfort.  Knowing she's instilling a love of music in her daughter, and with her students consoled her further.  Knowing she brings joy to those who listen to her play reminds her that she made the right career decision.  It hurts, but her path is still there.  This is not a pity party. Music flows in her life, and in her blood, and thats what matters.

Bach Concerto for 2 Violins in D Minor, Issac Stern & Shlomo Mintz