Whichblog

A bit of fun currently making the rounds - Twelve-tone Masters.

Sure, the whole joke is based on the incorrect assumption that one can approach all music with the same set of ears & expectations, and some of the pieces mentioned weren't even written in the twelve-tone method, but it's still good for a laugh or two.

James Caldwell - professor of oboe at the Oberlin Conservatory- died on February 8th. A hint of his life's work and accomplishments can be seen in this article from the Oberlin website.

Now I am not (and never will be) one of the "profession's leading oboists," but I still wanted to relay some of my experiences with this great musician.

I arrived in Oberlin as a student not knowing what to expect. Prior to enrolling I visited the campus several times and the environment just felt right. Not exactly the best criteria for picking a school, I know, but once I found out that I had somehow been accepted I knew I wanted to spend the next four years there.

To say I was nervous at first would be a huge understatement. Discovering that I didn't know how to play those Barret etudes after all. Reading Zen in the Art of Archery and trying to relate it to my studies. Whole lessons would go by with hardly a mention of the oboe itself. The focus was on music. Make it sing, make it interesting, make it something. To someone still relatively new to the oboe this was terrifying, but looking back on it I know it was exactly what I needed at that stage in my development. His teaching style emphasised self study; he rarely taught directly, instead teaching me how to teach myself.

I never knew what to expect going into a lesson, but I left feeling inspired. I left knowing that I still had a lot to learn, and that these lessons could come from any source, musical or not. One session in particular stands out in my mind. We were sitting at opposite ends of the office. My oboe was down, we were just talking. Our conversation ended with two short sentences. Exactly what he said is only relevant to me, but those few words taught me not only about my approach to music, but my approach to life.

I expect that each of his students had a unique experience with Mr. Caldwell, and to me that is the biggest reason why he was such a great teacher. I went to school with some great players, some of whom have no doubt secured full time playing jobs. I'm sure they learned their own set of important lessons from Mr. Caldwell; I know I learned simply by listening to them perform. But there was also room in the studio for students who were there for other reasons. He knew my interests lay elsewhere in music, and I was encouraged to find my own niche. Whether I'm going through a period of regular oboe playing or not, I still use ideas given to me in my lessons. I'm still working on some of them and probably always will be, and for that I consider myself lucky.