The Glenn Report

About 50 steps from the CM Residence is a nondescript little building with the words "The Colbert Report" written across the front. Ever heard of it? (Two weeks ago, I hadn't.) I've passed this building every day now for a month, and it was only today that I decided it might be fun to take a peek inside.

Sometimes I get lucky, and it turns out that today was one of those days for me.

Thanks to my good luck, I scored one last-minute ticket to a live taping of tonight's show. Then, thanks to the fact that I was a party of one, I got to sit in the VIP section on the front row (in the best seat in the house, I might add--the only one never blocked by a camera!). And thanks to my prime location, I got to give Stephen Colbert a high five as he ran onstage for the first time.

Woot, woot, WOOOOOOOO!

(Sorry. I'm still in cued-audience-response mode.)

Tonight's guest star was Gary Sinise, best known for his roles in CSI, Forrest Gump,and Apollo 13. I was amazed at how quickly the show went by; we were in and out in just over an hour, even though they had to stop the cameras three times. Watching Stephen (I can call him that now that we've high-fived, right?) break character and dissolve into laughter was like watching a live blooper reel. He seemed like a pretty nice, down-to-earth sort of guy. Before the show began and he donned his "character," the audience was allowed to ask him questions, and he was gracious and straightforward in his responses. And he was very patient with the swarm of hair-spraying, lint-removing staff members who descended during every commercial break. (If I were him, I would've swatted them away like flies.) When he garbled his sentences during the shooting, he turned to us and said, "My guys'll fix that up so the TV-watching public will never know I made a mistake. . .just so long as none of you blog." Well, guess who blogs, Mr. Colbert?

(Somehow, I don't think he'll mind.)

By the way, keep an eye on Colbert's running Colbert Super PAC joke; apparently, it could have some pretty serious political ramifications. He's actually going in front of the FED in DC tomorrow to testify and see if his request will be approved.

All this Colbert coverage isn't bad for a girl who, two weeks ago, walked past the standby line in front of the building, asked what the line was for, and thought she heard "The Kolob Rapport," right? (And yes, I had to google "The Kolob Rapport" before I ran across the actual Colbert Report and watched a couple of episodes online.) See how much I'm learning here in New York City? I'm becoming so cultured. Forget opera; I need exposure to pop culture. . .

Okay--on second thought, let's not forget opera entirely. I've got a plug for Janacek:

Last week, I attended the NY Phil's highly creative production of Janacek's opera, The Cunning Little Vixen. The music was fascinating, and the staging was sublime! The entire orchestra was seated onstage, but the players were half-hidden in a forest of giant sunflowers. As the lights came up on the orchestra and the overture began, an entire children's chorus crept onstage dressed as insects, frogs, and furry creatures. The costumes were colorful and exotic, and the children were very impressive both vocally and in terms of movement and acting. So were the lead singers (of course). With the exception of the minimalistic La Traviata that I saw at the Met last year, this may be the best, most effective opera I have ever seen. And it was funny too! The choice to perform the opera in English instead of in its original Czech made the experience very accessible.

In other musical news, auditions for the Broadway revival of Annie are finally coming to an end, and it's obvious that Charles has Annie on the brain. The other day as I sat in my little "office" (read "card table"), I heard Charles tinkering around at the piano in his studio. I momentarily stopped what I was doing and just sat there with a smile on my face. He was singing and playing all the songs from Annie! I thought to myself, "This is how a multi-million-dollar smash hit began--with a very unpretentious man trying out some tunes with his unpretentious voice on an unpretentious piano." The glossy Hollywood trim is just extra; the magic is in the art itself. Hearing Charles play Annie would be like watching Walt Disney replicate his first sketch of Mickey Mouse on a dirty napkin using a broken pencil. It would be like hearing a young Colbert tell his work buddies a political joke back when he worked installing insulation. . .

Okay, okay. I'm trying a little too hard to come full circle. :-)

I'm going to set aside any pretense of an underlying "theme" now and just tell you one last neat thing that happened to me this week:

As I was waiting to pay this week's rent at the CM Financial Office, I started chatting with the girl in front of me. I noticed that she looked very Ukrainian, but when I asked her where she was from, she said Montreal (her accent was sort of French). "I'm originally from Ukraine," she added. Bingo! We chatted happily in Russian until she got to the front of the line. I should make a list of all the Russian-speaking people I've met here in New York! It's almost uncanny.

I should probably share one quick non-event before signing off: I had tickets to go to the Yankees game yesterday, and I was very excited about it! Unfortunately, some commuter told me to get off at the wrong stop, and I ended up wandering around a less-than-safe area of Harlem for an hour before my phone died and I decided to just head home. Oh well.

Someday I'll see the Yankees, but in the meantime, I've seen Colbert, heard Janacek, and spoken with a girl from Ukraine. Not bad for a week in New York!

A Letter to My Blog

Dear Blog,

I know that you and I haven't spent much time together lately. That's my fault, and I'm sorry. When I tell you that I've been reeeeeally busy, I'm not dropping a hint that we should stop seeing each other. Truly! I'm just hoping that you'll forgive me for being MIA. . .

Anyway, I'm ready to make things right. Is there something I can give you? Some updated pictures, maybe? A background make-over? The promise of fewer typos???

While you mull it over, let me share the TOP 10 HEADLINES that you've missed over the past couple of weeks:

*****

1. Erica and High School Friend Tear up Town in Exciting 4-Mile Excursion

My friend, Jaimie, picked a perfect day to visit NYC: bright and sunny with a cool breeze. The weather made for a wonderful ride past the Statue of Liberty on the Staten Island Ferry and a pleasant--but ultimately hot and sticky!--walk from Washington Square Park, past Chinatown and Ground Zero, down to Battery Park, and, later, into Central Park. Another friend, Zach, came and visited the next weekend, and we made a similar round of the city, stopping for $4 gyros (jai-roes? hee-roes? yu-roes?) at the end. The next few weekends will be full of more of the same as other friends and family drop in for a taste--often their very first!--of The Big Apple.

I love showing people around New York; it helps me see the city in all of its flashy, splashy glory again. As somebody who has slipped into the routine of big city life, it's easy for me to forget how invigorating the New York atmosphere can be with its endless entertainment, art, and history and its literal millions of eager, hard-working hopefuls and dreamers. (Just a quick comparison: Salt Lake City has a population of less than 0.19 million. NYC draws in over 8 million!)

2. Erica Sees Sutton Foster in "Anything Goes;" Can't Stop Humming Tunes and Trying to Tap Dance Down Street

My review of "Anything Goes?"

A+! An evening of pure ear-and-eye candy.

This was easily my favorite Broadway performance yet. Sutton Foster filled every inch of the larger-than-life shoes of legendary character Reno Sweeny--a role played in the past by brassy giants such as Ethel Merman and Patti Lupone. Foster's Reno displayed an added touch of humanity (and, at times, vulnerability) coupled with the quirky, confident, I-don't-have-to-try-too-hard air of Katherine Hepburn. Foster definitely deserved her Tony ("Best Actress") this year!

The show itself was a fluffy, extravagant Depression-Era comedy that delighted in its own old-fashiondness (think Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Charlie Chaplin) and was smart enough not to modernize itself. And that was its charm.

3. Erica Accepts Full-Time, Four-Week Position Teaching Music

In a few weeks, here's what I'll be doing weekly: Escaping the New York heat in a swimming pool, teaching a music theater class (we'll be staging a fully-costumed performance of my script, Between the Lines), and taking field trips to museums and water parks with 30 kids who want to learn about music. Oh, and I'm actually getting paid to participate in the fun! :-)

4. Erica Attends "Jersey Boys;" Recognizes Many Songs ("Big Girls Don't Cry. . .")

This show reminded me of my elementary school's Lip Sync ("My boyfriend's back and you're gonna be in TROU-ble. . .").

5. Erica Experiences Make Music New York Festival/Gets Lost in Central Park

Because I had to work the morning of the festival, I wasn't able to attend the iPhone Symphony or play one of the 88 pianos stationed around New York. I did make it to the lake in Central Park, though, where dozens of brass players were playing call-and-response music in surround sound (from all corners of the lake). Rowers in the middle of the lake formed an unconventional "audience." I also heard performances by the West Point Brass Quartet, Perry Mauer's contemporary classical ensemble--complete with a skinny 50-year-old dancer who leapt and twirled awkwardly between the instrumentalists!--a jazz singer, the Collegiate Choir, and a female rabbi who gave a program of modern art songs in a midtown synagogue. There were over 1,000 free concerts in the city that day.

6. Erica Begins Teaching Piano at Convent/Bombards Students With Theory Assignments

Great news: I've finally got enough piano students to cover my living expenses this summer! I'm falling in love with teaching all over again; it's wonderful working with adults who have sought out a teacher on their own and who have a genuine desire to learn. Lessons are so engaging (music theory is FUN, I tell you!) that I usually go about 15 minutes overtime. . .

7. Erica Attends S'more Party With Church Friends on Apartment Rooftop. Door Won't Open. Friend Accidentally Pulls Off Entire Knob!

The headline pretty much says it all. When we buzzed to get inside the building for the party, the main door was stuck firmly shut. "Just twist the knob and push!" said my friend, Jessica. "I can't. It keeps turning and turning." "Let me try." Jessica stepped up with confidence, grabbed the knob, and twisted firmly. The entire fixture came off in her hand. She stood there in a split-second stupor, like some character from a slapstick comedy, and then the three of us (me, Jaimie, Jessica) burst into hysterical laughter. (It helped that Jaimie and I were completely exhausted after a day of sightseeing and that Jessica had just woken up from a nap. . .)

8. Erica Walks 4 Miles To/From Doctor's. Diagnosis: Allergies!

I'm on Claritin-D now, hoping that this sinus pressure will ease up soon.

9. Erica Attends B-day Party of Filmographer in Swanky Hotel; Unexpectedly Runs Into Strouse's Secretary

As a Mormon who spent her teenage years in Utah and has never touched a drop of alcohol, I'd never had the opportunity to attend a party where people were actually drunk. That opportunity finally presented itself last week when a friend from Boston invited me to go with him to a big-shot filmographer's birthday party at the Soho Grand Hotel. And guess what? People are funny when they're drunk. They kiss your cheeks and predict your future and laugh when talking fails.

10. Erica Explores NYC's West Village; Sees Homes Where Mark Twain/Emma Lazarus Lived (Respectively, Not Together)

I love this part of the city; it reminds me of the quainter, more historic parts of Boston and London.

*****

So now that you're all caught up, dear Blog, do you forgive me? I'll try to be better about finding time for you in the future.

Yours most affectionately,

Erica

P.S. A random conversation that I thought you might enjoy:

Jessica: So I went to this great place in Central Park the other day where you can row your boats. Wait--did I just say "row your boats?"

Me: Yes, you did. Is it a gentle stream? And do you row merrily?

Jessica: You do, actually, because life is but a dream.

Me: And a musical too, apparently!

Life really should be a musical.

88 Pianos, Gothel, and Glinda

Next Tuesday, the streets of New York will be lined with 88 pianos.

Is it National Get-Rid-of-Your-Piano Day? Nope. Are all the pianos of New York uniting and staging a strike? Not quite. June 21st, 2011 will mark the 5th annual celebration of the Make Music New York Festival!

Passers-by are encouraged to sit down and play any one of those 88 pianos. Or, if they happen to wander past Gainsevoort Plaza (the passers-by, not the pianos!), they can join an impromptu sing-along of Mozart's Coronation Mass or Handel's Messiah. New Yorkers might also choose to parade up 10th avenue with a New Orleans-style Marching Band or participate in an Interactive iPhone Symphony on Wall Street (I already downloaded the app and am ready to participate!). The list goes on and on. At sunrise in Central Park, the city is invited to perform Yoko Ono's Secret Piece:

(And yes, June 21 officially marks the first day of summer.)

It didn't surprise me to discover that John Corigliano--one of Alex Ross' "midtown" composers--is among the masterminds behind all this. What better way to get the average New Yorker involved in classical music than by turning the music-making experience into an interactive festival of major proportions? I can't wait. Depending on my mood, you may find me listening to bagpipes in Herald Square or playing along with a Gong Ensemble (no experience required!) in Central Park.

And I'm definitely going to find one of those 88 pianos. I walked through Washington Park the other day and saw a trained pianist performing on a Steinway right by the central fountain, so maybe street pianos aren't entirely uncommon in New York. Here's hoping that mine's a Steinway!

*****

Some Close Encounters of an Absurd Kind:

Yesterday I'd just finished mailing a submission to a composition competition when I turned down an obscure midtown street. . .and ran straight into one of the church members I know from Boston! He just happened to be visiting New York for a few days.

I've been doing a lot of that lately--running into people, I mean.

One example: Earlier this week, a random stranger and I did the "awkward dance" on the sidewalk. You know the kind I mean: Someone tries to pass another person walking the opposite direction, and that person moves the same way at the same time while the two, in their earnest efforts to avoid contact, end up blocking and eventually running into each other. I've also been "running into" things figuratively. Last week, for example, I ran into the Hudson river for the very first time. Who knew that there was a beautiful pier and free canoeing just a three-minute walk from my apartment? I've run into Donna Murphy--aka "Mother Gothel"--twice within the last month too. I think she's following me. (Not really.)

The first time I saw her, I was sitting on a balcony in a theater where she was giving her Tony-nominated performance as Raisel in The People in the Picture. The premise of the show seemed promising: A Jewish performance troupe in Poland suffers--but still manages to lift spirits--during the Holocaust. Unfortunately, the music and script kind of fell flat. Donna Murphy single-handedly saved the show with her seamless performance as both the young and the elderly versions of her character. Her execution of the script was so genuine, so subtle, and so powerful that it made up for the fact that the words she was speaking were contrived, overly-sentimental, and kind of flimsy. Thanks to her acting, the deathbed scene brought the entire audience to tears despite the emptiness of the dialogue.

The second time I saw Donna Murphy was at a performance of the off-Broadway musical Lysistrata Jones. I was using Charles Strouse's unused ticket that night, and apparently a lot of other Broadway celebrities had been invited to the performance too. (The musical, by the way, was okay but not great. It was kind of like Glee minus some of the heart and most of the wit.) And there was Donna Murphy again, sitting across the aisle from me!

While I'm throwing out names of famous people, let me throw out a couple more: Alan Green and Helene York. Alan is currently in Sister Act on Broadway, and Helene recently played Glinda in the national touring production of Wicked. These two are involved in Charles Strouse's musical revue, so I get to hang out in a room with both of them, a stage writer, and a music director three hours a week. Wow, right? Maybe some of their star power will rub off on me.

Speaking of star power, I saw the ballet The Bright Stream at the Met this week and was dazzled by every one of the dancers! Most ballets feature a few principles with a unified background ensemble, but this ballet showcased each dancer as a delightfully-unique character within the larger ensemble. Shostakovich's music was brilliant (hey--I keep "running into" this guy too!), and the show had its audience roaring from beginning to end. At one point, a wife dresses like her husband and the husband dresses like his wife in order to teach another couple a lesson about fidelity. It turns out that watching a man trying to teeter delicately en pointe and a woman trying to leap about the stage looking muscular is very entertaining! (Watch the YouTube Clip) I think I've discovered a new ballet favorite.

I've also discovered that it is 1:00 AM here in New York. I'm heading to bed now, but judging by my recent track record, I'm sure we'll "run into" each other again sometime soon. . .

Laundry and the Tonys

I have TWO major news items to share, and you can decide which is more exciting:

1. Today I did laundry.

2. Yesterday I watched the live broadcast of the Tony Awards from a front-row seat in Times Square. I also shook hands with Senator Harry Reid and Elder L. Tom Perry.

Let me guess: You want to hear about News Item 1? I thought so. (You chose well; this story involves wet towels, a lonesome quarter, and getting stuck in a tiny elevator with both.)

NEWS ITEM 1: This morning, for the first time in my personal New York history, I actually washed my clothes in a washer rather than in a sink!

(You may clap.)

Before you judge me harshly, let me point out that EACH load of laundry here costs $2.00. That's eight quarters. EIGHT. I've been saving my change (heart sinking whenever someone hands me two dimes and a nickel instead of a quarter) and scanning the sidewalks of New York for two weeks. . .and today I finally had enough quarters to pay for one whole load in the washer! (In order to make it all the way to eight, I did buy two packs of vending machine popcorn that I really didn't need, but the sacrifice was worth it.)

When the cycle had finished, I pulled out my plus-sized load of sheets, towels, and clothes and piled everything triumphantly in my arms. Then, using my superhuman powers of balancing, shifting, and hopping, I made it down the hall, through a swinging door, and onto the elevator. (Think the finicky old 20's elevator from "Thoroughly Modern Millie" here.)

Imagine my distress when, after pushing the "Floor 3" button, the grate slammed shut but the elevator refused to move! I pushed the button again, and this time, the elevator shuddered and let out a horrible groan of distress. At this point, I let out my OWN groan of distress, dropped all the wet laundry on the floor, and forced the grate and the door back open. After getting myself and all my laundry off the elevator and up three flights of stairs, I did finally make it back to my room. Every desk, bookshelf, and chair is now draped, top to bottom, in wet laundry. (I didn't have enough money left over for the dryer. All I had was one last, lonesome quarter. . .)

NEWS ITEM 2: Yesterday, I watched the Tonys in Times Square and met Elder L. Tom Perry and Senator Harry Reid (not in Times Square and not at the Tonys).

At first, I wasn't even planning on watching the Tonys. I'd spent the entire afternoon at a wonderful, spiritually-rejuvinating Young Single Adult Conference at the Lincoln Center church. The meetinghouse had been packed; nearly 1,000 Mormons showed up to hear apostles L. Tom Perry and Quentin L. Cook speak on the topic "We Believe the Bible." Senator Harry Reid also gave a wonderful talk about consecration, and afterwards, I just happened to bump into him. Extending my hand, I thanked him for his talk. Then I turned and saw Elder Perry chatting congenially with a group of missionaries. I inserted myself into the group (after all, I used to be a missionary!) and offered my hand to him as well. When he shook it in his hearty way, I was about as star-struck as an LDS girl could be. Well-known politician: Check! Member of the quorum of the twelve apostles: Double check!

I should also mention that, at the conference the day before (it was a three-day affair), I unexpectedly ran into a Ukrainian girl that I'd known during my time as a missionary in Donetsk. We were thrilled to see each other and spent the rest of the afternoon catching up. I also met another girl from Kiev (I can't believe how many Russian-speakers I've come across lately!), and the three of us ran around the city with fix or six other YSA's, trying to complete the requirements for a photo scavenger hunt. We became very creative towards the end: A red collar passed as a pink collar (red is a shade of pink, right?), a snow globe became a Christmas decoration, and a covered motorcycle became a Harley Davidson (well, it could have been). We did stop an actual bride and groom just as they were stepping into a car after their ceremony so that we could get a picture with them. We felt very successful. . .until we realized that we hadn't even placed in the competition. (Had there been a prize for creativity, we totally would have won!)

Although the skies had been threatening rain all day, nothing actually fell during our scavenger hunt. So when I looked online and discovered that I'd won free tickets (again!) to Shakespeare in the Park, I grabbed one of my new friends from the conference, and the two of us went to the performance together. Within an hour of arriving, Shakespeare in the Park became Shakespeare in the Rain. During the first act of the show, a light mist started to descend. By the second act, we were sitting in a steady downpour. I had neither umbrella nor jacket, but because the actors onstage were sticking it out (one even dropped to the stage and started making rain angels in the water!), we decided to stick it out too. When I got home that night (just before curfew!), I was drenched and freezing. The show was worth it, though; I'd enjoyed All's Well That Ends Well even more than I'd enjoyed Measure for Measure. I'll have to go see it again sometime when it's not raining!

And now back to our feature presentation: The Tonys. :-) As I said earlier, I wasn't originally planning on watching the Tonys. I'd had a full day at church, and I was ready to just relax. Then I thought to myself, "You are literally BLOCKS from Times Square, Erica, and if you don't hop down there RIGHT NOW while the Tonys are in your backyard, you will never forgive yourself." So I went. And it was fabulous! They had rows of chairs set in front of a giant screen just a few blocks from the tower, and I was able to slip into a prime spot. The excitement in the square was palpable. "Better than actually being at the Tonys, isn't it?" asked the announcer. It probably was.

For those who haven't heard, here's a quick recap of some of the major wins:

1. Best Musical: The Book of Mormon (The show also took best book and score, winning 9 Tonys in all. Last night must've held the record for the number of times the words "The Book of Mormon" were spoken on national television within the space of a couple hours. I don't endorse the musical, but--hey!--they say that any publicity is good publicity!)

2. Best Leading Actress in a Musical: Sutton Foster in Anything Goes (Her acceptance speech was so sweet and heartfelt. Can't wait to see her perform this Saturday!)

3. Best Leading Actor in a Musical: Norbert Leo Butz in Catch Me If You Can

4. Best Revival of a Musical: Anything Goes (I've got my ticket!)

5. Best Featured Actor in a Musical: John Laroquette in How to Succeed in Business

(I met him when I saw the show earlier and have his autograph on my program. Woot, woot!)

6. Best Play: War Horse (This show is next on my must-see list.)

And that's that. Now, really, weren't the Tonys a bit of a let-down after my laundry story?

Musical Magic

A few interesting updates from the world of Charles Strouse:

1. A upcoming movie version of Annie may star the hair-flipping Willow Smith in the title role. Believe it or not, here's a link to the ARTICLE. Jay-Z and Will Smith are also involved (with rumors circulating about Beyonce)! I wonder if all the songs would end up sounding like this: Jay-Z "Hard Knock Life"?

2. Annie is coming back to Broadway! Auditions will soon begin for the 2012 revival, and hundreds of parents are sending their little girls to Annie boot camps in preparation (ARTICLE). (If you know a little girl who wants to fly all the way to New York for auditions, send her over! It's an open call.)

3. Charles Strouse, age 83, is working on a new Civil War-themed musical. He has about half the music currently written and orchestrated/recorded.

4. Preparations are underway for a Strouse revue along the lines of Sondheim's Side by Side. Several of the songs are outtakes from musicals like Annie, and some have never before been performed. One, in fact, Charles just wrote this morning! (83 years old, and he's still tackling a million projects, living in the heart of the theater district, and songwriting every day. The man amazes me!)

Surprisingly, this composer who is best known for "Put on a Happy Face" and "The Sun'll Come Out" has actually written a good chunk of numbers tinged with melancholy and regret. (Far from being a machine of commercial production, he writes very personal pieces, most of which reflect his current state of mind. He has an entire closet full of drafts and scores--a musical record of his life.)

This new musical revue will end on a positive note, though. There's a whole team at work making sure of that! I'm one of those team members right now, although at the moment, I feel like I'm doing more observing than actual helping. (Later, I'll be accompanying for rehearsals and doing some transcriptions.) Still, observing the process of preparation has been fascinating. Today, for example, the writer and music director spent over an hour discussing the song line-up and the overall flow of the show. Nothing is ever set in stone; it's all up for revision and tweaking until, hopefully, it reaches the point where it suddenly transforms into Broadway MAGIC. (One thing I'm learning is that magic isn't really magic; it's the final pay-off of years of work. That said, there does seem to be a magical "x" factor that makes some shows succeed while others flop.)

I'm also transcribing several of the classical scores that Charles wrote during his time at the Eastman School of Music, with Aaron Copland, and in France with Nadia Boulanger. They're quite good--very motivic and neo-classical (Stravinsky-esque)--and I'm enjoying the chance to study his original manuscripts.

By the way, I know I haven't written much about what I'm actually doing as an intern. :-) I tend to record impressions and experiences while leaving out the actual details of the job. Well, here's what my daily schedule looks like:

10:25 AM: Walk into the Strouses' building, chat briefly with the doorman about the weather (HOT and HUMID), step into the elevator, and ascend 19 floors.

10:30 AM: Enter the apartment through the side door, say hi to Jewel (Charles' secretary) and Annetta (his housekeeper, complete with a black-and-white uniform). Sit down at my desk in the room with the electric piano and set up my computer as Annetta brings me a glass of cold ice-water.

10:35 AM - 2:30 PM: Transcribe scores. Send the completed files to Jewel (as pdf's, xml's, mp3's, and Sibelius files; we've got to have all our bases covered!).

I also interviewed for an internship with a performing arts academy today. The woman who interviewed me (the director of the program) was as effusive and as artsy as, in my mind, a New York artist should be. She wore a long, flow-y dress, no make-up, and she exuded new-agey openness. When she moved, she danced. When she spoke, she gushed. She asked me to play the piano and sing for her (I played the piece I wrote for Charles Strouse!) and questioned me about my teaching philosophy. By the end of the interview, she told me that the internship was in the bag. Unfortunately, it's a full-time internship, and it only pays $100/week. As a poor student who is already working one unpaid internship, I just don't think I could do that. When I explained my situation to the director, she looked disappointed, but she told me that she'd still like to send several piano students my way. She also asked if I'll be back in New York once I finish my schooling in Boston. It sounds like they might have a more permanent position in mind. . .

For now, though, I'm still on the job hunt.

On a different note (music's on the brain!), I got to see Deborah Voigt perform "Erwartung" with the NY Phil tonight. The piece was written by Schoenburg during the period of time when his wife had left him to pursue an affair with a family friend and artist, Richard Gerstl. Sadly, when Schoenburg's wife reconciled with her husband and left the artist, Gerstl burned all his paintings and, in one last act of twisted creativity, stabbed and hung himself in front of his studio mirror. A little gruesome? So was "Erwartung." The early 1900's was an interesting period in music history.

The philharmonic also played Shostakovich's first symphony--a much happier piece written when the composer was only 19! Here's what his mother wrote about the premiere: "All went more than brilliantly--a splendid orchestra and magnificent execution. At the end, when our handsome young composer appeared, looking almost like a little boy, the enthusiasm turned into one long thunderous ovation." The piece received a thunderous ovation at Avery Fischer Hall tonight too. People clapped enthusiastically (particularly the girls sitting next to me; I had to plug my ears because her clapping sounded like a bullwhip!), and a few even hooted. It was one of those wonderful moments when magic is made and the audience responds, not out of duty, but with genuine excitement and sincere appreciation.

I guess that's one thing that Charles Strouse and Shostakovich have in common: The ability to connect with an audience and create musical magic!

Just in Time

Thud, thud, thud.

Was that her feet hitting the pavement, or was it the sound of her heart pounding in her ears? The streets were growing darker, her breath was becoming more ragged, and the time was ticking away. . .ticking. . .ticking. . . (Image of a ticking clock; music of impending doom.)

Seven minutes. Six minutes. She reached 10th avenue and started moving downtown.

Thud, thud, thud.

Her feet quickened their pace. Only five minutes remained, and she was still several streets away from safety. ("In a strange way, I'm almost enjoying this," she thought to herself. "If I were always motivated to run by a rush of adrenaline, exercise might actually be fun. . .")

Two minutes. One.

And finally she'd made it. Or had she? (Sound of heavy breathing.)

Frantically, she rang the buzzer on the door, praying for a response. At first, she heard nothing. Her thoughts begin spiraling wildly. But after a few seconds came a comforting click, and she was, at last, safely inside the building. The woman at the front desk watched her enter. "You are just in time," she said. "We've been waiting for you."

(Dramatic cliffhanger ending.)

*****

Was that:

A. A sequence from an action movie?

B. An excerpt from a bad detective novel?

C. The preview for a new television series?

The answer is actually: D. None of the above. That was a true account of what happened to me as I was returning home to the CM Residence after Shakespeare in the Park, trying to make curfew and hoping I wouldn't have to sleep on the dark streets of NYC. Luckily, I got there before the nuns locked the doors for the night. As the nun sitting watch at the front desk pointed out, I was just in time.

"Just in time" seems to be a phrase and a concept that I've been encountering a lot these days. Earlier that morning, for example, I'd lost track of time and made it to my internship with only seconds to spare. Afterwards, I ran to Times Square to meet a couple of girls (Jessica-from-Utah and Lena-from-Russia) for sightseeing. . .and because they were both late, I made it just before they arrived.

The three of us stopped by Grand Central Station and toured the public library where I saw Charlotte Bronte's writing table, an original Beethoven manuscript (thrilling!), a draft of the Declaration of Independence, and a first edition of Phyllis Wheatley's poems on display, among other treasures. ("I wonder what museums will look like in a hundred years?" I found myself wondering. Possible exhibit: "This is the original computer used by Erica Glenn to write her First Symphony. It is a 2010 Macbook Pro--sleek and gray and exactly like the millions of other Macbook Pros produced that year." I smiled a little at the idea, but my smile disappeared when I saw a glass case which actually CONTAINED a Macbook. "New York Times Website," said the title card. Oh boy.) The child in me was most thrilled by the second exhibit we saw at the library: all the original Winnie-the-Pooh stuffed animals on display in the Children's Room.

Two hours later, I found out that I'd won free tickets to Shakespeare in the Park through the virtual ticketing lottery, and I had to go all the way to 81st street to pick up my ticket before they released it for standby. I made it to the Delacourte Theater just in time. Then I had to get back to the CM Residence for dinner, and I reached the cafeteria about two minutes before they stopped serving food. After that, I made the trek back to Central Park for the actual show. Did I get there before the performance started? Of course I did! I was just in time--8:00 on the dot.

The show--Shakespeare's Measure for Measure--was outstanding. I think that some of the performers were movie actors--maybe even famous ones!--but I'm not really up on my film celebrities. The hands-down standout performance was given by Danai Gurira (does she sound familiar to anybody?) who played Isabella, a novice nun who tries to reconcile principles of mercy and justice while remaining true to herself. I had a third-row seat, and her performance was so deeply-felt that I could see the tears streaming down her face at several points. I was riveted. I couldn't pull myself away at 10:30, even though I knew I needed about 40 minutes to get home and that curfew was 11:30. 10:45 came and the show still wasn't over. I didn't leave. The thing finally ended at 11:00 signaling my amazing race homeward! As you already know, I made it back just in time.

The next day was Charles' Strouse's 83rd birthday. In honor of the occasion, I wrote him a silly little song which you can listen to HERE. As I was recording the demo, two girls from across the hall knocked on my door. I thought they were going to tell me to keep down the volume--I can get very exuberant when I'm recording with earphones in!--but instead, they told me that they loved the song and wanted to hang out sometime. I think this is the first time practicing loudly has scored me friends instead of enemies! In Ukraine when I was warming up for a performance, one of our downstairs neighbors banged loudly on our door and asked if someone inside was in pain. . .

There was a free concert in Central Park later that evening featuring Yo-Yo Ma and Bobby McFerrin. . .and I didn't go. Surprised? I was too! I'd really burned myself out the day before, so I opted for a relaxing evening in. My life had become a little too. . .насыщенная. (Sorry--there's not a word that fits as well in English! This one means something along the lines of "full to overflowing.") Насыщенная is a good thing. . .

. . .but it can also be a pretty stressful thing! I need to remind myself that I don't have to run around in tourist mode--that I actually live here now and have three whole months to take in New York. Sometimes it's nice to simplify--to not have to worry about arriving everywhere just on time, panting hard and listening to action music in the background.

And now I've finished this entry. . .just in time to go to bed. :-)

(I have an interview for a part-time job tomorrow. Wish me sound sleep and lots of luck!)

Eye of the Storm

There are no mountains in Manhattan.

Well, of course there aren't--not unless you count the kind made of concrete and steel!

When I talk about "mountains," though, I mean so much more than "natural elevations of the earth's surface rising to a summit." (Thank you, dictionary.com!) In Utah, whenever decision-making was imminent or it was time for some serious self-reflection, I would climb the base of the mountain behind our house and find a quiet place to think. Like Moses, Thoreau, and the guy from John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High," the further I am from man's creations and the closer I am to God's, the greater my sense of peace and spiritual renewal. In the mountains, even my friends who don't believe in God say they feel closer to something divine.

But I can't climb a mountain to escape the noise of New York City. Street vendors yell. Horns blare. Even at night, the construction outside my window continues into the early hours of the morning. Life here is rich and varied and exciting, but sometimes when I try to hear my own thoughts, the voice on the other end of the line sounds weak and fuzzy and, frankly, a liiiiiiittle bit drunk. There's too much static!!!

When a person is continually surrounded by flashing lights, loud noises, and the perpetual hum of activity, where is the eye of the storm? Where is the oasis of calm in the city that never sleeps?

"And it shall come to pass in the last days, [that] the mountain of the LORD'S house shall be established. . .and all nations shall flow unto it" (Isaiah 2:2).

As I crossed the street from the Lincoln Center this morning and walked toward the building that serves as both the meetinghouse and the temple for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I knew I would find my mountain oasis. I'd found it in London as a foreign exchange student. I'd found it in Rome as a backpacker. I'd found it in Ukraine as a missionary and in Boston as a newcomer to the East Coast. And I'd find it here too.

As I ascended to the third floor of the building, the noise of the street died away. Then the congregation started singing "I Believe in Christ," and the newness of New York City melted into a warm familiarity. My mind started to clear. My thoughts began collecting themselves. And then those wonderful little nudges started working their way into my mind and heart--those nudges of inspiration that sometimes collide unexpectedly to fuse in a sudden flash of understanding! I love moments like that.

When the first meeting ended, I turned to meet the girl sitting next to me and discovered that her name is Lena and that she is visiting New York from Russia. When I cried, "Ой! Классно! Я по-русски говорю," her face lit up, and we spent the next fifteen minutes conversing in Russian. I also saw three or four people that I'd known in Boston, and I met several new people--many of them interns like me, living in New York for the very first time. Three of us are going to go sightseeing in New York tomorrow afternoon. (Классно!) The most unexpected encounter of all was Katie Robinson, a girl I'd known from high school who is now living in Kentucky. I hadn't seen Katie in seven years, and she and her husband just happened to be visiting New York this weekend. It's a small, small world--especially for members of the LDS Church!

One scriptural concept that I really love is the concept of tender mercies: "I will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance" (1 Nephi 1:20). According to Elder Bednar, one of our modern-day apostles, "Tender mercies are the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ" (The Tender Mercies of the Lord).

Tender mercies are what I've been receiving daily since the beginning of this New York adventure, and today, I saw a tender mercy in the topics we discussed in each of our church meetings. All of them spoke very directly to questions I've been asking lately: What does it mean to endure well? How can a person retain hope even in the face of recurring disappointment and failed plans? How does a person hold onto idealism while being grounded in reality? How can I know that I'm taking my life in the right direction? We had a stimulating and honest discussion in Relief Society about those very issues, and I already feel closer to the other girls in the class (we're all passing through the same sorts of experiences). How wonderful that we can gather every Sunday to strengthen and support each other!

So, you know, I think there are mountains in Manhattan after all.

One is the church building on 65th street, and one is the mountain that I can choose to climb spiritually every day. Want to come along for the hike? :-)

*****

Side note: I just got back from the most fascinating joint presentation by Rabbi John Borak (a delightfully humorous, personable, and well-spoken man who converted to Judaism from Roman Catholicism) and Brother Ahmad Borbitt (Director of the LDS Public Affairs Office). The topic was "love thy neighbor as thyself." I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of doctrinal disagreement on the topic! Rabbi Borak pointed out that, as a result of centuries of persecution, many Jews are understandably resistant to engaging in inter-faith dialogue. Mormons are no strangers to persecution, though, and he hopes that our communities will be able to interact and support one another in positive ways.

Food or Sleep?

(Is it just me, or does the duck in this 16th-century

relief have TEETH? Either the sculptor had never

seen a duck before, or he had a great sense of humor!)

******

So which would you choose: Food or sleep?

These days, I usually go with food.

Every morning at 6:45 AM sharp, the nuns at the CM Residence start serving breakfast, and those who snooze lose. During my first few days here, I was still adjusting to the time difference. As my phone alarm was blaring, "WAKE UP!" my internal alarm was blaring, "GO BACK TO BED!" My rumbling stomach finally made a deal with my foggy brain: "If you roll out of bed and grab your food from the cafeteria," it said, "I'll let you come right back and sleep some more."

Being foggy, my brain accepted the deal.

What my brain didn't immediately realize is that the cafeteria is full of interesting people and that, by entering a room with interesting people, I would probably become so engrossed in an interesting conversation that there would be no going back to sleep. My stomach is smart like that.

Yesterday in the cafeteria, I met an architecture major from France. Today I met a girl from Holland, and we made plans to visit to the Metropolitan Museum later on. I'm also friends with the sweet women who work as servers, even though they don't speak much English and I speak even less Spanish. ("Gracias!" "Mucho gusto!" "Tortilla!") Every time the cafeteria workers see me now, they say, "Look; eets Erica!" One lady smiled as she was dishing up my dinner yesterday and told me, in confidential tones, "Erica my favorite." I wonder if she meant the name or the person?

But here's the bad news: I know enough people now that I'm actually going to have to start looking. . .you know. . .put-together for breakfast. My friend from Holland saw me with make-up for the first time as we left for the Met today, and she looked surprised. "Oh!" she said. "You look nice." Surprise! (Sometimes I hope people won't recognize me in my just-rolled-out-of-bed state. But invariably, they do. How? Does the frumpy me with bed-head really look that much like the ready-for-the-day me? What if I'm wearing my glasses? I mean, really, people?!?)

I had a great conversation with my Dutch friend as we made our way to the Met. Although she's here studying finance and preparing for law school, her mother is a concert pianist, and she herself grew up playing the violin. She offered all sorts of insights about the cultural gaps between the U.S. and Western Europe. In Holland, for example, the arts are government-subsidized (whereas art programs in the U.S. are privately-funded). As a result, people from all walks of life have more ready access to the arts. (This isn't a political statement, by the way; I'm just recounting what she said. And it's true that government funding can fuel a renaissance: It happened when Eleanor Roosevelt convinced her husband to instigate the Federal Music Project, and it stopped short when that program dissolved.)

In Holland, too, art history is an integral component of early education--even at the elementary school level. Classical music isn't seen as something elitist or privileged; it's an exciting art form with a living history, and because they understand its past, young people are eager to play into its future (no pun intended!). In America, pop culture seems to fill that need because classical music no longer does--at least not for the general public. Then, too, the arts aren't very well-marketed in the U.S. ("Ironic," my friend pointed out, "because Americans are the best marketers out there!").

The Met itself was just as wonderful and as overwhelming as I'd remembered it, and the upper-level Garden Terrace was picture-worthy today. Inside the museum, we hit the highlights: The impressionist/early modern paintings, the Greek, Roman, and Assyrian ruins, the armory, the American room, the Egyptian wing. We also walked through the Alexander McQueen "Savage Beauty" installation and my Dutch friend--a fashion enthusiast--gave me the insider's tour. (It's a good thing we got to the exhibit early in the day; we were able to pass right through, but by the time we left, there was a line that stretched through five wings of the museum!) Afterwards, not wanting to pay $2.25 for the Metro, I walked the 34 streets and 6 avenues back home.

Now I'm exhausted! I've got much more to write, but I'll do it tomorrow. In the meantime, here's a quick teaser: This evening, I sat in a theater about 20 feet away from Donna Murphy--the woman whose voice was used to create Mother Gothel in Disney's Tangled! She made me--and all the gray-haired couples in the room--weep shamelessly for about twenty minutes straight. (I really started envying all those elderly people their handkerchiefs!)

But that's a story for later. Sometimes sleep wins out over everything else!

'Night.

Dancing Ghosts and Classical Music

I just got back from Giselle at the Met, and I understand now why Disney decided to name its heroine in Enchanted after the title character in this ballet. Both Giselles are peasants who fall in love with princes, but, as always, Disney takes just a few liberties:

Giselle in Enchanted does not die from the heartbreak of unrequited love. She doesn't come back to haunt her lover as a ghost, and she doesn't bring back with her the ghosts of a whole league of jilted brides, bent on destroying men by dancing them to death. (Anybody thinking Miss Havisham from Great Expectations here? Those Victorians sure enjoyed their unrequited love and revengeful brides!)

Now that you know the storyline, don't you want to watch this ballet? Who could resist a romantic thriller that involves the most gorgeous, athletic dancing you'll ever see? Ballet is anything but boring.

*Pulls out soapbox. (But not really.) Clears throat.*

I. Why YOU Would Love Ballet:

Ballet is a fully-theatrical experience that touches on universal themes that are as relevant today as they were in the 19th century. Plus it's easy on the eyes. The costumes and the set are as striking as anything on Broadway.

Which leads me to. . .

II. Why YOU Would Love Opera:

Don't stop reading! Hear me out. :-) Opera's just like ballet but with more focus on beauty of sound than on beauty of movement.

Did you know that, in Shakespeare's day, people used to say that they had gone to "hear" a performance of Shakespeare, not to "see" a performance? There is beauty in words and in the sounds they create (whether spoken or sung). Opera has the potential to pack more emotional power than almost any other artistic genre I've ever encountered. (And it's not just for stuffy old people! I love it, and I'm young and completely unstuffy.)

As an unstuffy musician who is fascinated by the up-and-coming, I'm excited to attend the premier of a brand new orchestral work performed by the New York Philharmonic tomorrow. I wish I could share the experience with all of you! Indulge me one more time:

III. Why YOU Would Love Contemporary Classical Music:

It's as creative, as genuinely unique, and as experimental as indie music or progressive rock.

Contemporary classical music explores the parameters of sound. It tests or manipulates those parameters to create a final product that could sound like almost anything from Mozart to someone banging on a piano to sound just hanging in silence. (There's actually a piece by John Cage that requires a pianist to sit at the piano and do nothing at all!)

So many types of music fall under this single heading, in fact, that it's almost ridiculous to group them together. Whether you prefer electronic music or acoustic, rhythmic or static, complex or sparse, there's something for you, but be warned: This music demands something. It demands openness; no snap judgments are allowed. Sometimes you have to listen to a piece six or seven times before you love it. Like pupils dilating to accept new levels of light, your ears must adjust to understand a new soundscape.

Now quickly, before you dismiss all of this, give me a chance to ask you one question: Do you know any composers who wrote classical music post-WWII? (And no, as much as I love their music, John Williams and Hans Zimmer don't count.)

Gershwin? (Too early. "Rhapsody in Blue" came out in 1924.)

Any other suggestions? (If you're resourceful, you might remember that I mentioned John Cage earlier!)

If you've got nothing, don't worry; most people are in the same boat. But wouldn't you like to become informed if there were a quick and easy way to do it? Well, good news: There is!

Just visit the following website, and in less than FIVE MINUTES, you can listen to clips of the five of the pieces that Alex Ross (lover of pop, rock, and classical alike) considers the most influential of the 20th century. You don't have to do any prep work; just remember the ONE simple requirement: Listen with open ears.

CLICK HERE

Enjoy!

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale...

I'm sitting in a small study, 19 stories up, with the New York skyline spreading wide beneath me. The sight makes me a little dizzy. In the room with me are Charles Strouse, Barbara Siman, two successful Broadway actors, an alumna of the NYU Graduate Music Theatre Writing Program, and a professor from NAU who is working on some kind of an article.

The group is discussing the latest Charles Strouse musical revue--a line-up of catchy showtunes, jazzy ballads, and Sondheim-esque art songs. We're searching for a unifying theme. The conversation is snappy, and everybody seems able to speak at once while somehow still paying attention to the others. Alan, a polished musician, begins singing "Love" (an outtake from Annie Warbucks) in his rich baritone voice, and suddenly all the splendor of a Broadway stage is right here in this modest room. (Strip Broadway of its spectacle and glitz, and what've you got? The true magic: Sheer creative energy and raw talent!)

Soon the dialogue turns to Alan's solo, "It Was Worth the Price."

Charles: "This is a song about the love of theater."

Jason: "It's also about paving the way for future generations, you know? I hear young actors complaining about union requirements all the time, and I think, 'You have no idea what it was like before the union. . .'"

Alan: "But this idea of something being worth the price doesn't have to be generic. It hits home for me because, although there were struggles then, there are struggles now too. My grandfather may have paved the way for me, but I continue fighting my own battles, and I learn from his perseverance. His triumph motivates mine."

Charles: "You just wrote the piece for me! I'll work in the new bits."

If only I could snap my fingers and conjure up a brainstorming session like this every time I'm trying to work out a musical kink. Get enough creative minds in one room and it seems there's no obstacle too large to overcome.

After a couple of hours, Charles' wife, Barbara, whisks him off to another engagement. A few others stay on, discussing the structure and feel of the show, but most start gathering their things. As Alan leaves, he winks and says, "Bye, Mary Ann." I smile politely, assuming he's forgotten my name. "You know Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island, right? The one with the pigtails? You look just like her!"

I've never seen "Gilligan's Island," so of course I had to come home and google "Mary Ann." And you know what? I can totally see the resemblance between us:

Kidding!!! :-) I don't really see the likeness. But, in fairness, here's how I actually looked on the day of the rehearsal:

So I guess I get to play the role of the li'l corn-fed gal moving to the big ol' city for the very first time. :-) I don't mind. I'm certainly not the first idealistic dreamer to land in New York City!

NYC definitely moves at a quick pace--quicker even than a place like Boston. I feel like I'm living life in fast-forward these days! Let's play a little game of, say, five truths and a lie, and you can guess which has NOT happened within the last 48 hours:

*****

1. Jewel offered me Charles' free VIP tickets to a performance of several new one-act plays. . .and I turned them down to attend Institute at the LDS chapel instead. (Travel tip: The LDS chapel across from the Lincoln Center is an OASIS of cool air in the desert of New York heat!) And speaking of LDS buildings, Jewel told me that, when she lived in Las Vegas, she used to take her coffee to the Mormon temple grounds and soak in the atmosphere. Ironic, but sweet. :-)

2. I went BACK to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to buy a second fan. . .and the fans were gone! There must've been a massive rush because the entire section was stripped clean. To console myself, I pushed my cart onto one of those nifty little cart-only escalators only to discover that I'd sent it all the way up to the exit above the store! Hoping the security guard didn't think I was trying to steal a shopping cart, I ran up after it, smiled at him benignly, and wheeled that cart right back down again.

3. I met a friendly girl from France who is doing an internship in architecture. She wants to go to a Broadway show with me sometime. I also discovered that there are free Yoga classes in both Bryant Park and Central Park.

4. I was informed that I am now third in line to inherit designer clothes. Jewel told me that Barbara, Charles' wife, clears out her closet consistently and gives everything away. The housekeeper gets first picks, Jewel gets second, and apparently I'm #3. (Charles' wife, by the way, looks about 60. She's actually 78, and Charles himself is 82, turning 83 on Tuesday!)

5. I'm attending a performance of the ballet Giselle tonight at the Metropolitan Opera House.

6. Charles and I held a spontaneous 30-minute conversation about the future of music when I poked my head into his study today to ask if the horn part I was transcribing is concert pitch or transposed. He kept apologizing for the fact that this internship is unpaid and saying he wished he could do more for me.

*****

Okay, you caught me. Everything on my list is true. :-) I'm terrible at fabricating convincing lies, and anyway, they say that truth is often stranger than fiction. (So far for me in New York, that's proven absolutely true!)

But a bit more about my chat with Charles:

The two of us discussed some of the developments he's seen in music over the course of his lifetime and talked about the modern public's relative openness to almost any kind of music but classical (especially contemporary classical).

I love the way Charles hears things: To him, there aren't really "kinds" of music--there's just music itself. He doesn't seem to care for all the academic terminology or for divisive categorization. He describes style in terms of sound and mood, not in terms of formal analysis or harmonic structure.

"You can justify an F# all you like," he said, "but eventually you've got to let that F# lead you somewhere and develop into something you love. Alan J. Lerner used to tell me that the public has an 'idiot instinct' that musicians sometimes train out of themselves. A Broadway audience is the best, most honest critic. I've never gotten the sort of genuine, joyful responses from classical audiences that I've gotten from my audiences here. And I love that spontaneous sincerity."

I can't help wondering if there's a way to bring that sincerity of intent and genuine excitement in reception back into the world of classical music. I need to chew on the idea some more.

Charles also told me that I've got the talent and ambition to really make it someday (sweet of him to say since he's never heard any of my compositions!). I mentioned that I'd just finished a musical, and he expressed an interest in hearing the demo recordings sometime. "I hope that, in the future, I can give you the opportunities you deserve in a more lucrative situation," he said.

What a wonderful, good-hearted man!