1948 - throw rocks
1967 - fire guns
1987 - shoot missiles
2000 - detonate suicide bombs
2003 - start a viola ensemble

I like to think of Sulski – and people like him in other places – as custodian-advocates of musical life for the communities in which they operate. But what’s interesting about his model is that it works in a way that’s massively beneficial for the community, yet is entirely sustainable. Sustainable, because it creates enough paid performance opportunities for seriously good musicians to commit to regular performances and education work in a single community. Which means that rather than rely soley on the fly-in-fly-out visitations of artists from further afield (which is no doubt important, but shouldn’t be the whole picture), a loose collective of artists create a growing bond with and between members of the local community, at a much higher level (in every respect) than traditionally has been the case.

[The UK has always had a large number of outstanding musicians in all areas of the country, and perhaps it’s a much more competitive environment as a result, even in regional areas. But in the USA, the standard of artistic work outside of major metropolitan areas has not always been so consistent. This can have a detrimental effect on musical life in an area, because when musicians become uninspired, so do audiences…]

This also provides considerable new possibilities for the employment of musicians in a sustainable way that maximises their creativity and performance skills (not even a job in a top orchestra can do that). Deployed widely, this kind of setup could really do wonders for the development of cultural and educational possibilities at a community level.

Additionally to this, and from the performer’s perspective, I believe that if this happened more consistently throughout the world of classical music promotion, the possibilities for touring of concerts would be far easier, more artist-led, and decisions would be informed more by the art itself, rather than commercial allegiances and obligations.

I’ll blog more on how this model actually works sometime soon, but in the meantime I’d be very pleased to hear from anyone who has created similar structures in their own communities.

A key part of what I’m going to be doing imminently with this tech startup I’m involved in is identifying what’s lacking at community levels in terms of the infrastructure and resources that are needed. Then, the challenge will be to try and find a way to build an international infrastructure to help create the solutions that will solve those problems. Hopefully I can try and find a performer’s perspective on that, anyway.

Most people don’t seem to know how to use New York properly. Almost everyone I meet here seems to fall into one of two categories: either they’re engaged in that cliched daily material-struggle, desperately trying to live up to what they think the city demands them to be. Or, they’re way over-engaged, hoovering up experiences without allowing the space and time for them to be savoured properly (I know I’m often guilty of the latter).

When we have infinite choice, infinite opportunity, infinite information (digital world), it takes great strength to start to choose between things and narrow down the focus of your experience, but there comes a point at which the need for quality of experience over quantity of experience demands that choice.

That’s the beauty of a big city; there is so much choice that when you do finally decide what you want, it’s there, ready and waiting.

But the beauty of a big city is also its downfall; infinite possibility can become a trap, not an opportunity.

Same is true with music.

Did you ever read any of my old blog posts? See the first few paragraphs of this one: http://www.simonhewittjones.com/blog/2007/11/15/creative-tension-in-free-markets-long-post/

OK some of it is perhaps pretentious waffle. But have you seen the stock market indices of the last few weeks… are they not the most perfectly thrilling structures, full of uncontrolled adrenaline, like a 1^st year undergraduate virtuoso rushing through their end-of-year recital exam with brilliant, earth-shattering technique, yet not a shred of musical humility or stylistic integrity?

I bet you any seriously good musician who had enough time on their hands could have predicted last weeks’ market crashes, if only they had been able to sit down with the last few years’-worth of data from all the various companies, housing markets etc etc. Even with a layman’s knowledge [ha! Lehmann. No pun intended!], and without being able to explain it properly, they could have sensed it, and also sensed roughly when it would have occurred.

Let us hope a little proportionality is now introduced back into this world…

I’m in New York briefly, to lay down the groundwork for some future projects, and then I’m relocating straight away to Berlin. I’ve been very fortunate to gain the support of the Leverhulme Trust, and so I’ll be attaching myself to the Universität der Künste (University of the Arts), to research things there whilst continuing to develop concerts and recording projects in the UK.

There are also some bigger projects that I’m working on - contributions to infrastructures far bigger than my own little violin-orientated sphere - that will hopefully have a big impact on the future of Classical Music. I’ll tell you more about those things in a few months once they’re fully up and running.

***

I spent the summer travelling; working with young Palestinian musicians in London, going to the Dartington Festival, playing to fascinating violinists and musicians both at home and abroad, and doing preparatory work on new projects for the forthcoming year.

These kinds of opportunity always open your perspectives further, and I’m really pleased to see that the overarching trends of change in music, certainly in the Classical tradition, are becoming ever clearer. We are finally beginning to see, as a result of the uptake of new technologies, a new set of social dynamics that are transforming the way that social cultures are created and consumed. And it’s all good, so far as I can see.

Over the next few posts, I’ll begin to explore further what that might mean in practical terms for Classical Music. I’ll also be thoroughly attempting to understand the trends and relationships - as personified by the arts and especially music - between the UK, the USA and Europe (using London, New York and Berlin as the benchmarks). In particular, the relationship of Berlin to Germany and indeed to the rest of Europe is going to be a fascinating one.

The thesis of the scholarship itself is that there are emerging contrasts and similarities between international and local trends in classical music, including how it’s performed, presented and consumed, that are constantly changing, in no small part due to technological innovation. The idea is to understand how the cultural life of Berlin has been, is being, and will be affected by the social and economic upheaval that’s been going on since the wall came down.

That unique situation (particularly when the economy there is taken into account: a long stagnation that may possibly begin to see some growth in the next year or three) is going to present a load of interesting possibilities for music’s role in society.

These possibilities will be especially interesting in terms of how they relate to the German tradition (which, though one of the richest cultures, does have a tendency to embrace bureaucracy and small-c conservatism). Or rather, how they are able to integrate and balance contemporary international influences with the best of the existing traditions, and how painful a process that will be for those involved!

Anyway, more on that soon.

Anyway, sorry if you didn’t get the webcast. But we did tape it, so highlights may/will follow.

No guarantees - this is purely a test, so there may be transmission problems - and there’s only one camera too. But assuming everything vaguely works, do tune in at 7.30pm UK time (2.30pm EST) for piano trios by Kenneth Leighton, York Bowen and Frank Bridge.

And of course if you’re in or near Edinburgh this evening, do come along! St Mary’s Cathedral, Palmeston Place, 7.30pm - www.cathedral.net

In the meantime, I’m delighted to announce that the Imogen Holst CDs will be released very soon, but early copies are now AVAILABLE (yes! really!) so if you’d like to be one of the first to buy one before we release them to the world in general, just click on here: http://www.imogenholst.com/

It’s early Sunday morning here, and our (American) artistic director just came into the office (Sunday’s a working day here!). He’d gone out for a morning run, and ventured a little further down the road than normal, past a Palestinian checkpoint and down a beautiful country lane.

Unknowingly, he passed an Israeli army camp, and within seconds, he was surrounded by young army-ites, who beat him with their weapons and marched him at gunpoint to be interrogated. Thankfully, one of the young Israelis spoke English and cleared up the situation very rapidly, but thank goodness it wasn’t more serious; ‘beat first ask questions later’ could so easily be ’shoot first ask questions later’.

You do wonder though, quite how stupid/stressed/unstable these poor young guys must have to be to feel the need to attack an unarmed white guy who is quite obviously dressed in running gear.

But ultimately the people who suffer the most are the Palestinians trying to get on and live. I can’t overemphasize how normal it seems here, when you forget about the occupation. This isn’t some weirdly un-understandable ultra-arabic place where everyone walks about in long robes chanting religious things! It’s a perfectly ordinary city, with shops, taxis, people, familes, children, banks, companies, hotels, schools, etc. etc. etc.

And a great big wall.

What so many people don’t seem to understand in the west is that there isn’t just ONE wall or border. Almost all of the ’security barrier’ is inside - ie dividing - Palestinian territory, as are the checkpoints and the illegal settlements, and it cuts up the land, all but preventing peoples’ freedom of movement . People can’t move about their own country. And when they try, they are subjected to racist apartheid by unfortunate young Israelis, most of whom are losing three years of precious youth to enforced ignorance.

Until the walls fall within Palestine and racism and apartheid is ended, there will never be normality here. Yet the walls are still going up, even today. The world has not learnt from South Africa and Berlin. Unfortunately, the educated Palestinians; the businessmen, the teachers, the doctors, the lawyers, and all those who actually understand how to do good things, and work towards positive integration of new social structures, cultural and educational development, and all kinds of economic development projects, do not have the power or ability to change things, because of the obstacles that exist.

Security for the beautiful and wonderful state of Israel is an unalienable right of every Israeli and it should be upheld without question, so that every citizen can live in peace and prosperity. Those who threaten the security of a nation should be hunted down and brought to justice. But I am struggling to see how creating racist policies and abusing the human rights of another race whilst violating international law is the most productive way to do it.

Why are they the most direct? Because music engages people emotionally AND intellectually. For most people, that’s difficult to escape. You can’t give children the same intensity of creativity-orientated experience with an educational system that doesn’t include the arts. [I refer you again to Ken Robinson]

It took me at least half an hour with the first student to realize that calling the strings ‘G, D, A, and E’ wasn’t going to cut it. It wasn’t just that the student didn’t speak English; the problem was that they are all trained in solfeggio - C is ‘Do’, D is ‘Re’, E is ‘Mi’ etc. etc….

With the help of a translator (and not a little use of my favourite two languages, Gesture and Euphemism) I finally cracked the communication difficulties, and with some of the older students - whose english is excellent - there were no problems.

What irritates me and what becomes immediately clear, is that many of the young musicians are not taught to practice - they are only told ‘how to hold this’, ‘how to play that’. That’s not teaching. What people need is to be able to think for themselves and solve their own problems. Violinistic and musical principles should be imparted as part of that process of awaking and becoming aware of possibilities.

[It’s not a problem unique to this place, of course. Brainwashing creativity-free teaching of this kind is rampant in the west, even in many top conservatoires. People are just not focused on anything other than the details of the ‘how to’. If you concentrate and practice hard, you can get all that done very quickly. What makes a musician is the power to question, to search, to pursue understanding. Teaching of music should be primarily about that, I think.]

Resources are getting much better now at Al Kamandjati, but it’s still a hand-to-mouth survival; funding grants tend to be specific and time-sensitive, and there’s not always budget for the things students need. Almost every violin bow that came into my teaching room was in desperate need of a rehair, but without access to money, skills or the hair itself that’s not going to happen. One of the students didn’t have a shoulder rest as he couldn’t afford it.

I’m wondering if creating an international partner program with the help of Classical Music UK wouldn’t go amiss. A kind of peer-to-peer network for individuals to donate instruments, accessories, and other much-needed things to worldwide music organizations, and in return see the great effects of their work at first hand via multimedia content on the internet. It could be a place for exchange of ideas and best practices too, of course. Any ideas welcome; my email address is on the left.

Nice to see they’re laying down arms for a bit. Hopefully that means that some of the 1million Gazans will have at least something to eat/cook/fuel/treat diseases with…. I’m very hopeful that it will last… for at least 24 hours . Place your bets now…

Cynicism aside, I am struck again by the buzziness, the relentless optimism, the unfailing quest for musical dialogue here at Al Kamandjati . So little bitterness, so much positivity, so much energy. What are they on? I want some!

And yes… consensus here says it WILL be worth the wait.

I believe this is actually a recording of me playing when I was very young, though I don’t remember who the pianist is or where or when it was recorded. How it has turned up on some weird animation mashup beats me.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/7400109.stm

Wine can affect the way music is played too.

I was talking to someone the other day actually, about an event, and I had to explain that I was attending in a ‘professional capacity’. They didn’t seem to understand what it meant, so I defined it as being able to play in tune after five glasses of wine.

If you’re wondering why I’m such an itinerant blogger, well… I’ll tell you the full story some day. But some month soon, I’m going to commit to it full time. It’s not for everyone, I know. But it works for me. So let’s talk again in a bit.

He loved the way they turned. He loved the way they parked. He loved the way they moved gracefully in the hands of the right driver.

As soon as the boy was old enough, he learnt how to drive, and started to work for the local bus companies when they needed an extra driver. He was very happy. He worked and worked and saved as much money as he could, and eventually - with some help from his friends - he managed to buy his very own bus. Now that he could work for himself, he started to build his own set of regular customers. Some of them gave him tips about his driving, some of them helped to maintain the bus on his days off, and some of them helped to spread the word and find him even more passengers. Many of his passengers became friends, and he was very grateful.

As the years passed, the man (for he was no longer a boy) got better and better at driving. Every few years he would trade up to an even bigger and more powerful bus. But the more he found out about how to handle powerful buses, the more the man felt that something wasn’t right with the roads.

Why didn’t the roads take into account the needs of modern driving? Why didn’t the people who fixed the roads talk to the people who made and ran the buses? What was the point in having such a nice bus if the roads weren’t advanced enough for him to use it properly? The more questions he asked, the more questions he found: Why were the traffic cameras not linked to the bus shelter timetables? Why didn’t the people who made jeeps and luxury cars swap ideas with the people who made the buses? Why didn’t the passengers get a say in what was happening?

After a while, the man realized that if he was going to get the best out of his bus, he was going to have to fight for the best roads he could find. But the thing was, he didn’t want to leave his roots. Sure, he could drive over to a country where they did have the most modern roads and the most sophisticated traffic systems. But then he’d have to leave his passengers, and all the experience and knowledge of the local area that he’d built up over the years. Besides, he loved his area so much that he couldn’t bear to see it get left behind whilst all the other countries bounded ahead.

Figuring that he wouldn’t be alone in his frustration, the man made a ridiculous decision. He was going to build his own roads. Everyone told him he was crazy, but the man thought otherwise: if he built new roads in his area, soon the other bus drivers would see what he was doing, and they’d start to build their own roads too. If they were good enough, soon all the drivers in the area would start building their own roads. Then the council would have to take notice and put up financing for all the new roads, and then the rest of the country would decide to switch to the new roads too!

The man’s regular passengers were divided. Half of them told him he was crazy, stupid and naive. "You start building your own roads" they said, "and we won’t travel on your bus again". "Fine." said the man, pulling over to let them off. He figured that if they really meant that, they probably didn’t appreciate his driving anyway.

The other half of his passengers - including his friends - said to the man: "What on earth are you doing? It seems crazy and we don’t understand it. But if you really believe it will work, we’ll help you try". The man saw they meant it, and was very happy.

The man started work on the new roads the very next day. But he was still young, and he hadn’t trained as a road-builder. And of course he had to drive his bus during the day, and keep it well maintained too. He ended up building roads during the night, so that he could be ready to drive his bus the next day.

As the man started to work on the new roads, he got very very excited. He started to see how amazing the new roads could be. They could have the latest technology to improve the bus ride even more than a more powerful bus could. They could incorporate some of the new discoveries that road builders in other countries had made… without affecting the local ‘identity’ of the roads. He was convinced that the roads would change the way the local bus services ran forever.

But because the man was a bus driver, and not a road-builder, he soon ran into problems. He didn’t have enough money to get the raw materials to build the roads, but he managed to win some sponsorship from a local company, who liked his ideas. However, although he knew how to manage a bus, he didn’t know how to manage a team of road builders! So by the time he had bought all the tarmac for the new roads, he didn’t have enough to pay the road builders, and the new roadbuilding came to a halt.

"I know," said the man, "I’ll put on a big bus fayre to raise some money". He thought it would be a good chance to show off the new roads, too. All the local passengers and bus drivers turned up, and they had a great day out. But because the new roads weren’t finished, they looked just like the old roads, and several people didn’t even realise they were using the new roads. Not only that, but the bus fayre had cost him far more than he had hoped for. The man was frustrated.

For the next year, the man realized that he couldn’t make the new roads happen just yet. He was sad, but he didn’t give up. He knew the new roads were good, and he knew that one day they would catch on. So he kept on honing his driving during the day, and tweaking his designs for the road at night.

As his plans for the road developed, he noticed that he was starting to drive in a way that would suit the new roads. A couple of his passengers started to comment that his driving was developing in a strange manner. They didn’t like it. They just wanted to get from A to B. "Don’t worry," said the man, "one day we’ll all be driving on the new roads. I’m just getting ready to make sure I can drive really well for when the new roads are finally finished". But some of his regular passengers didn’t like it, and some of them started drifting away.

The planning for the new roads was going very well, and the man had started to hear from bus drivers in other countries and other regions who were also working on similar ideas. He was excited - the ‘new roads’ had momentum! But because he had to pay for running his bus, he still didn’t have enough money to do all the work on the new roads that he’d like to do.

He knew that before long, he’d have to get the new roads out to a wider audience, otherwise nothing would happen. So he decided to put on a roadshow. For nearly three weeks, the man drove up and down the country talking to people about the new roads, and showing them all his ideas from an exhibition he had put up in his bus.

But almost nobody listened. Noone knew the man, and noone knew anything about him. Who was he to turn up and tell them about ‘new roads’ when they had perfectly good old ones? The man was starting to get worried. He had spent a lot of money on the new roads, and yet still he couldn’t make it work.

But the man wouldn’t give up. For a start, he knew his ideas were amazing. But also, the people who really had listened to the roadshow - just a few people in each city - had really loved it. Really, really loved it. He still had hope. Besides, his regular passengers from home (who had become friends) had sent him some beautiful messages of support. They still believed in him, and it gave him strength. Even though it hadn’t worked out this time, he decided to persevere.

The man went back home and started again on his work. Not long after, one of his regular passengers phoned. There was some interest in his new road designs from the council department who maintained the old roads! They didn’t completely understand the new roads, but they’d heard about them… and they really wanted him to come and work with them for a few months and see if he could help them improve the old roads with some of his ‘new road’ ideas!

The man was happy to hear this, and said he’d come straight away.

But as before, things didn’t quite work out as the man had hoped. The effort he had put into the new roads and the roadshow had taken its toll, and there was no money left once he had maintained his bus. He couldn’t pay any of the roadbuilders to bring the new road ideas to the council in time for their deadlines. And not only that, but the mechanic who usually kept his bus on the road was ill, and the man just couldn’t make anything happen.

By now, some of the man’s old passengers had drifted away, and although the bus companies he did freelance work for were still very supportive, he realized that without any more funding, he just couldn’t get any further with the new roads. But despite this, he was still hopeful. Some of the man’s best passengers and closest friends had really understood what was going on with the new roads, and they kept encouraging him. ‘Get through this’, they said, ‘and somehow you’ll find a way’.

And the man knew they were right. Because at the council, and at the bus companies, people were beginning to listen. He knew the new roads were good, and for all the pain and frustration and difficulties and challenges that had been thrown his way, his dream of driving his ideal bus along the most advanced roads in the world kept growing stronger and stronger.

So once again he gritted his teeth, got back in the driving seat, and went back to work.

Whilst there, he also contributed to Town Creek, a horror film that’s set to appear sometime between now and Halloween.

There was a little leftover bit of the Town Creek soundtrack that hadn’t been finished, so we went to play on a final few seconds of it at a beautiful studio in Covent Garden.

Here’s Tommy setting things up in the control room.

Jackie Chan: The Forbidden Kingdom (www.forbiddenkingdommovie.com) is on general release on 18 April (11 July in the UK), and Town Creek will be out in late 2008.

The old guard is competitive.

The new order is collaborative.

Sure, it’s a vast generalization, but it is often true.

The fusty old professorcrank passes on his trade secrets to his favoured students. His folly? Scarcity = value. Back then, maybe. Not now. The real truth about his ’secret method’ of creating extra resonance for the staccato on an upbow when playing at a moderate to fast speed (or whatever)? Noone knows about it, so noone gives a damn.

The cheery old professor is generous with his knowledge, and feeds ideas to anyone who will take them. He always raises the bar for himself; he has to keep looking for something new to pass on, even though he’s in his eighties. His abundant approach echoes ideaviruses through the generations that follow him. People become inspired.

Those people fighting to keep the rights in the old declining record industry? They’re like the fusty professorcranks. As for the technologists breaking down the barriers - they’re not a new breed. They’ve been there all along, in the form of the cheery and the generous people.

But for the first time ever, the structures of technology favour the side of abundance.

That doesn’t make it easy to jump ship, though. Especially for those who are used to the scarcity mindset, and who have succeeded with it in the past. The potential unknowns are more frightening than the failing knowns. It’s too tempting to stay with what you know; to look for a quick fix, not a complete refigurement.

Deep, profound change isn’t just a question of flexibility; it’s also a question of courage.

[audio:http://www.simonhewittjones.com/mp3s/VV-news.MP3]

Anyone want to licence it out for your Radio or TV station? Get a bit of VV on your airwaves!

In many of London’s beautiful little churches, great traditions go on. I played Mozart’s Mass in D today in the tiny minstrel’s gallery of a church in Central London where as a special treat, the full baroque mass was being served, complete with all the trimmings of violins, trumpets and a timpanist. It was a chance to play one of Mozart’s Church (’Epistle‘) Sonatas too - the buoyant K278 - for the departing congregation.

This must have been the kind of setup enjoyed by the musicians of the Baroque and Classical eras, where the weekly church service - with its ad hoc, last-minute rehearsal to sightread fresh masterpieces - served as the regular outlet for composers’ latest works. I find it amusing to imagine what a similar arrangement with the contemporary composers of today might elicit…

A first time visitor to this particular church might be taken aback by the frequent, ominous rumbles that gently shake the building during a particularly dramatic sermon or musical interlude. But it’s not an ominous sign from above; the building lies a few metres above the District Line.

Student: I’ve brought Massenet’s Medication.

I’ve a new role: Artistic Director of Music And The City. It starts on 17 April in London, and you’re invited!

MATC is a musical evening for amateur and professional musicians, inspired by the salon culture of 1920s Vienna. Think of it as a musical meeting point; an opportunity to explore, discuss and play music with others - a place for discourse, and the exchange of ideas.

We’ll explore a wide range of music, beginning with the chamber works of Mozart on 17 April. For amateur participants, there’s the chance to play chamber music with friends old and new.

Read about it here: http://www.musicandthecity.org/

We only alter the frame when it presents the picture in a better light. Otherwise it’s just a distraction.

I have created a completely original viola joke!

Q: Why don’t violists make good policemen (or women)?

A: They can’t stay on the beat!

The schedule is finally updated for the Spring … do take a look here to see all the new concert listings.

But don’t worry, if you’ve missed this opportunity but would still like to write something for ‘Two Screeching Violins’ (as we have been known to call ourselves in private!), then don’t forget we have plenty of concerts coming up later in 2008, and we’re happy to receive submissions that didn’t make it to SPNM in time. We could likely take on another work as well as the one that we eventually go for from the SPNM shortlist (I think they will select a final three, which we’ll then help choose from).

We don’t have much time to learn new repertoire though, so it has to be an amazing composition in order to get our attention Even more importantly, it should really show what the violin is capable of - a brilliant fusion of lyricism and virtuosity. Oh and throw a few tunes in would you? I like tunes.

Here’s all you need to know:

CITY SHOWCASE COMPOSERS CALL 2008
Date: Tuesday 04 March 2008		Category: General
Deadline: 10 March 2008 Forces: Two Violins What to submit: Example of work (including CD if possible), short CV and covering letter.City Showcase is looking for composers who are interested in writing new works for violinists Simon Hewitt Jones and David Worswick. Simon and David perform together as the ‘Virtuoso Violin’ duo, in concerts featuring thrilling virtuoso music from Paganini to the present day. They have appeared throughout the UK at major festivals and concert series, and have performed for Classic FM and BBC Radio. In addition to their extensive virtuoso repertoire Simon & David have a particular interest in contemporary music and work closely with composers on new works.The selected composer will be asked to write a piece for Simon Hewitt Jones and David Worswick for performance as part of City Showcase (http://www.cityshowcase.co.uk) in June 2008. The new work will be no more than 7 minutes and will be premiered on 5 June. Composers are asked to create a work that is inspired by the great virtuoso tradition.Send submissions to: Nanette Rigg, City Showcase, PO Box 2212, RH20 2XJ marked “TWO VIOLINS”.

However routine and normal and environmentally damaging air travel becomes, it will never lose its magic for two reasons. Firstly, for every second of the journey, your life is in someone else’s hands. But secondly, you cannot help but realize how small and meaningless you are. It’s so deeply humbling to see massive amounts of stuff below you. And so uplifting to gain a ‘real’ sense of perspective.

Every time we step into an aeroplane it is a privilege, and it always will be.

But in fact there is a valid place for multiple streams of information, beside those that provide an opportunity to focus on one single thing for an extended period of time.

A Symphony is no more or less valid than a miniature, it’s just something different.

The point at which demands on our attention become a problem is the point at which an enforced imbalance occurs. We no longer have the time to focus or concentrate on bigger structures, because we are increasingly obsessed with shorter, smaller, more varied sources of information or experience. We don’t see the metaphors that represent the bigger picture, therefore we don’t see the bigger picture.

It’s fine for a trader to react to many different graphs and screens and flashing information portals all day, so long as he has the opportunity to escape to the theatre (or whatever) in the evening. It’s fine for the teenager to spend time messaging and IM-ing and facebooking and myspacing and texting and phoning if they have the opportunity to spend 30 minutes studying Shakespeare during the school day.

Why? Because on the one hand we need the ability to concentrate and contemplate, in order to maintain the ability to focus and develop the many complex aspects of our lives that unfold over a long time period. On the other, we need to exist in harmony with the increasingly fast and fragmented trends that shape our world.

The problem occurs when information overload makes us feel we have to keep ‘up to date’, all the time. No one can do that, and why should they? Even Presidents and CEOs need downtime.

If we define ourselves by the amount and speed of information we assimilate without allowing for extended time and concentration on a single experience, we are limiting ourselves to the superficial. By doing the opposite, we are shutting ourselves away from the nature of the modern world, and self-indulgently declaring that we have no need to gain deep understanding of our fastmoving environment.

Neither is true.

Just as we can’t allow ourselves to become hyperactive information-seekers, we equally can’t ignore contemporary trends or fight against the organic development of our society.

Once again, the balanced integration of long and short forms seems to be the most worthwhile.

Extreme he may be, but the new mainstreams often start life on the fringe of what’s normal, and work their way in. If you think closely about what Gilles Apap does, you come to realize that the fusion of styles is deeply authentic - it respects tradition by combining novel ideas in a way that doesn’t dilute their core value.

And it’s a moving performance too, despite the stylistic juxtapositions. I challenge you not to laugh at 03:48. See? It’s genuinely affecting playing.

Menuhin certainly believed it. Here’s his message to Apap:

“The different folklorique music, particularly that of people who, sadly, are on the path of extinction, it’s up to us to assimilate it, it’s up to us to be inspired by what it has to offer, by its characteristics, and to grant this music a new resurgence by way of the creative imagination of musicians who are able to play anything. For me, you are the example of a musician of the 21st century. You represent the direction in which music should evolve; on the one hand, the patrimonial respect of the precious classical works, presenting them in the correct style and with the intense communication that was appropriate to their time; on the other hand, the discovery of contemporary [popular] music and its creative element, not only in the improvisation, but also in the interpretation.”

And you know what? That fits hand in glove with the technologically rooted social changes that we see now. And the possible effects that those changes will have on musical culture.

So I’d say he’s a prophet, albeit an idiosyncratic one, rather than an iconoclast. Which is why he revels in bad reviews, and why those who criticize his ‘inauthenticity’ don’t get it.

Oh, and if you want a laugh, visit his website

I mentioned, before my last blogbreak, that I would try and catch some of the Barenboim Beethoven Cycle in London. Sadly for me, it was sold out so quickly that I just couldn’t get in. I did manage to get to most of the talks that Barenboim gave, however.

(If the American guy who kindly offered to send me his notes for the talk I missed, but forgot to, is reading this…. please, I would be most grateful!)

I will write more about this in due course, but, as with so many big principles, much of what Barenboim says can be distilled down to one snappy epithet:

Everything Is Connected.

Barenboim evidently believes that involvement with music has a large part to play in contributing to the kind of rise in human consciousness that will increase the momentum of human development. I think he’s right, and I’m moving more and more towards that search myself, particularly through this blog.

I think Barenboim continues certain traditions of thought established by musicians such as Casals, Menuhin and Leonard Bernstein. I think we’ll see a lot more of the kind of artistry that Barenboim represents in the future. I certainly hope so.

What isn’t yet being discussed enough - ironically, as we’re talking about interconnectedness - is the reflection of certain principles cross-disciplinarily over a wide and global range of sectors. For instance, the underlying drive that propels Barenboim incessantly forward would resonate remarkably well with Googlers, or other socially-aware technologists, I bet you. But as of today, there still isn’t enough cross-sector confluence, particularly regarding mutual awareness of the creative process.

But as technology continues to develop, so depth of information access will increase, and so awareness will increase, and so this will improve.

More on this soon.

How does that affect your preconception of Bach? So famous are the painted images of the composer, that many of us think of an austere man in a wig just as soon as we think of the word ‘Bach’.

Which isn’t necessarily how Bach really was.

Until Pablo Casals came along, many of those who played and listened to Bach were still tied to the mistaken idea that he was ‘not an emotional composer’; he was seen to represent a ’sacrosact’ musical perfection, and any reading that was free-spirited, unpredictable, or infused with interpretative vitality, would be a disgraceful defacement.

What makes an image iconic? What are the dangers when things become iconic in a misrepresentative way?

http://uk.news.yahoo.com/rtrs/20080228/ten-uk-germany-bach-6ea0823.html

So, if a Robot could create an emotional response in a listener, regardless of whether it is experiencing emotion itself (which it isn’t, because it’s a robot), would that make it a musician?

In particular, it will be interesting to see whether these musical differences reflect the cultural differences between such two very different societies, and whether we can learn anything from a comparison. And what about the future? As supposedly opposing cultural forces such as globalized Capitalism and fundamentalist Islamism (to name but two) begin to orbit one another, you can trace these ideas back to the societies where they originated, and compare the corresponding cultures (including the arts cultures) of those times. At the point where ideas begin to diverge - and how such divergance is reflected in the pursuits and indulgences of the times - perhaps there will be interesting lessons to learn.

Who knows? But these questions are lurking, and I will quietly be researching, and let’s have this conversation again in the summer.

One thing that is apparent, and certainly isn’t exclusively of interest to the Middle East, is the idea of ‘Artist as Leader’ - that point that hundreds of small cultural projects initiated by artists and arts supporters can contribute largely to the direction of a society (particularly once a Tipping Point is reached). I know Daniel Barenboim is talking to this effect in London in February, and I’ll try and get to some of those talks myself and relay ideas here.

Tel Aviv Airport

But they were bothered about everything else. You see, the moment you mention you’ve been in the West Bank to the pre-check-in security people, things start to happen. It starts with a bristling movement in the face of the security guard you’re talking to. This is usually followed by a subtle raised eyebrow towards a group of back-up staff a few metres away. This in turn begins a chain of small spontaneous gestures and looks of mutual understanding that flit between the security team and the security supervisor, and lead to an ‘informal’ and fairly ‘relaxed’ interrogation as you wait to have your luggage pre-screened.

Once the words ‘West Bank’ have been mentioned though, it’s not really a question of whether you will be searched to within an inch of your existence, but of for how long they will draw out the process, and how uncomfortable and guilty they can make you feel at the same time.

The answer of course is not very - they’re mostly young and well-meaning people, similar to their army colleagues, and they’re all just doing a job. They do not embody the policies they carry out. Some are more or less incompetent than others. But the orders are strict, and however politely they’re carried out, a full search means a full search. As my British and American colleagues and I are separated from each other, we’re siphoned off into mysterious side-rooms marked ‘WARNING: DO NOT ENTER’, and given the Full Monty. Well, not quite — I don’t get the full strip search, thankfully, but everything bar my shirt and trousers is given a complete and thorough analysis. I note to the enthusiastic young guy who returns my personal belongings that my iPhone has been well and truly played with. "We have to give everything a thorough inspection, Sir", he says, smiling. As he escorts me back to the luggage checkpoints, he is full of questions about it, for it has not yet been released in Israel, and he appears to be something of a technology nut. Evidently, he has thoroughly enjoyed the last 10 minutes

If you’ve been to the West Bank, expect to be incarcerated in isolation for at least 10 minutes whilst security people pick apart every one of your belongings!

My violin has its own difficulties with the security staff. After making a big scene about it, they insist - utterly pointlessly, and they know it, for they must see hundreds of violins a week pass through the airport - that they need to put the instrument through the x-ray machine… without the case. Which they can’t do. Because obviously I won’t let them. After much melodramatic silliness and yet more explosive-tracer wipes on the violin’s varnish, someone mildly more senior agrees that the violin is not too great a risk, but gives me an ultimatum: either I let them x-ray the violin without protection, or I play them a tune to prove the violin works.

I don’t need any further encouragement. I’m through the Violin Player and well into Paganini’s 24th Caprice by the time they insist that I shut up before their supervisor comes and tells them off. If that weren’t absurd enough, they then ask me to drink one of the Palestinian beers in my suitcase, to prove it’s not dangerous. Violin, beer, a free massage from the security lady… I’m having a great time! Perhaps, as Bethlehem resident Alastair Mitchell quips, I should come here more often…

Taking covert photos of security people doing silly things is one of my favourite pastimes

You have to give it to them… you can’t argue with the effectiveness of security this thorough. I couldn’t have smuggled explosives onto this plane without having swallowed them. This depth of security works. And so does the fear and potential for discrimination inherent in it.

Finally, the party was over. The security hawks moved on to other targets, and I was free to go. Free in the broadest sense of the word of course; any visitor who has had the whole ‘You were in the West Bank?‘ treatment also gets a personal escort all the way through to the departures area. And then, Sir, you can please Enjoy Your Flight.

Ben Gurion airport has a very beautiful and imposing departure lounge - a masterpiece of design. Water falls from the centre of the ceiling to the pool on the ground creating a placidity and calmness rare in such a place as this.

So that left me with an hour to stock up in the duty free. Equipped with several large glass bottles, I waited until the plane had taken off, then smashed the bottles, rampaged murderously around the aircraft, fought my way into the flightdeck, and hijacked the aircraft.

I didn’t really. But you get my point. All walls are permeable. It just depends on how much effort is needed to break them.

Or dissolve them.

Mira, Yamen, Ferras and Mahmood with teacher Nabeel Abboud Ashkar

For now, I’m not going to write too much about what’s going on in Nazareth, other than to say the educational strategies being created by people such as Nabeel (a true enabler - one of those brilliant people who can encourage a child never to lose the art of asking ‘Why?’) are second to none. If such effective and thoughtful teaching can be built up throughout the communities of the West Bank too, then the musical future of this part of the world is bright. And by comparison, if little schemes such as these can be generated across all artforms, and all education sectors, like little cogs in a very large machine, then eventually the machine will equal the sum of its parts. The transferable skills children will be learning will benefit every aspect of their lives, and thence, through many thousands of individuals, their whole generation’s future.

There’s a bright future here for those who want it and who are allowed the freedom to pursue it. Even if war returns, and especially if it doesn’t, the roots of an exciting future have been sown for many. Whether they will receive it depends on the people in power having enough courage to effect the right kind of change.

The Taybeh delivery drivers leave up to two days before their bottles are due at hotels, shops and other stockists in Israel (and in some of the further parts of the West Bank too), because they know their wait time at checkpoints can be indeterminable. Soldiers often make things very difficult for traders bringing goods into Israel, and even when deliveries succeed, they can be massively time-consuming. Therefore, just the act of trying to deliver the beer becomes a gesture of defiance.

I am always uncomfortable to hear programs I am involved with described as political, and would be nervous to accept a description of a concert series such as ours as ‘pro-Palestinian’, for fear someone might interpret that - wrongly - as ‘anti-Israeli’. So you try to minimize any overtly political gestures. But at the same time, it cannot be denied that a strong culture and a strong economy are part of a successful state, therefore any attempt to contribute towards such basic parts of society - whether it is a cultural or economic contribution such as performing a concert or making beer, or whatever else - is an attempt to provide more positive steps in the direction of a stable and developing society, be it deliberate or not.

We were given a guided tour of the brewery (drinking before a concert? eh?!) by David Khoury, the mayor of Taybeh, and a member of the family who own and run the business.

The small brewery is an all-in-one production centre, storage shed and visitor centre!

The small bottling machine processes 3,500 bottles an hour

David, our guide, showed us how the beer was processed

Holiday decorations in Taybeh

The brewery also collects olive oil from local farmers to bottle and sell. The tradition started when a local priest offered free education for the children of farmers who could not afford to pay … in return for olive oil, of which they had plenty! The priest ended up with 800 gallons of olive oil, and after a few phonecalls with the brewery, business began…

The stench of death filled the air

Most other shops were shut. It was Eid, the Muslim holiday, and the streets were deserted. Many stores had still been open as we drove home the previous night, welcoming straggling shoppers well after midnight. But now the cars and street hawkers were gone. Taxis were sparse and meek; for once, nobody honked.

Ramallah’s central square under a dark cloud, deserted during Eid

A deep peacefulness had descended on the town, and muddy rust-brown puddles lay in the street following a cathartic bout of rain. Of the few places open, the falafel shop was briskly trading. They knew my face well enough, so I sat quietly, transfixed, as the falafel oil sizzled and popped in the cast-iron cauldron. Men and boys from local families brought in stacks of plates to be filled with hummus, lentils and a variety of colourful sauces, which they bagged and took away, in happy anticipation of the celebration feasts.

Falafel sizzling in oil

Tony Blair was in Bethlehem earlier this week, supposedly as a tourist. "Bethlehem is safe" was his message. And he’s absolutely right - at the present time, there is nothing the West Bank tourist trade needs more than visitors, and it can offer an incredible touristic experience. Travelling is not just about package holidays and relaxation, and the culture of the West Bank is certainly not the place for your average holiday. But for a first hand experience of a very individualistic and rapidly developing culture, this is as fascinating a destination as you will find.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/7147784.stm

To be sure, you shouldn’t come here unprepared, and might find it difficult without a guide. It is very undeveloped in some ways, remnicent of what I’m told the 1950s were like in America, but in an Arabic setting. There are many precautions that must be taken, and some places in the north and of course Gaza best remain off-limits (our Nablus concert has sadly been cancelled - this is one of the towns that is a hotbed of activism and best avoided without people who really know their way around and know what’s safe and what’s not). But as a whole, people here desperately want to engage, and the unheard majority want resolution, prosperity, and hope for the future. The best way for this to happen is for them to connect with the outside world, and for people to realise there is a Palestine; a Palestine with a rich heritage that needs to be seen by the world.