I started playing the oboe at age nine in fourth grade. That was back in the days of Leonard Bernstein’s “Young People’s Concerts” on TV. My parents would point out the instruments to us, but I never did quite catch which one was the oboe. The closest I got was thinking it was what in fact is the English horn. There was nothing provocative, like, I was enamored with the sound of the instrument or anything remotely like that. My older brother and sister played instruments (flute and horn) and I wanted to do so, too. So when my folks said, “How about the oboe?” I replied, “Sure, what’s an oboe?” My dad, then a junior high band director, showed me how to put it together and honk my first note. The rest is history.
how do you feel about the music you're playing?
When I play, I feel like I am just the interpreter of the little ink blots on the page. These feelings are most strong when I have the ink blots of Beethoven or Brahms in front of me. When I perform, I deal with nerves by concentrating on the notes on the page and bringing them to life, preferring not to see a specific face in the audience while playing, for fear of being distracted from this goal. I constantly tell my students that to simply play the correct notes at the correct time is just the beginning. When they have the correct notes, rhythms and articulations down, they can begin to start making music. Playing merely the correct notes, etc., is like reciting Shakespeare in a monotone. That doesn’t make it great poetry. The music may look great on the page, but it is the performer’s job to bring it to life. The lesser known composer deserves this attempt from me as much as the masters, for how else is one to know if their work is good or not if it is not given a good performance? Notes are like words; they are strung together making phrases and sentences. A good actor recites the poetry with inflection, conveying meaning from the words on the page. A good musician must also play with inflection and give meaning to the notes on the page. When each and every note on the page is played as if it could only go to the next note, as opposed to the correct notes being played by mere chance, then a musical phrase is born. This is my duty—giving shape and life and direction to the notes, creating a musical line, and teaching my students how to do the same.
My two greatest loves/joys in music are the act of striving to do justice to the music and feeling that I have succeeded to a reasonable degree, and conveying my knowledge of music-making to others. I love seeing the light bulb go on in a student’s head when they suddenly grasp a concept. I love sharing what I know with others, and often feel like any payment received is for my time, or some inconvenience, or, in my college teaching, for all the non-music things I have to do. The music and knowledge of music which I share I give freely (well, relatively speaking!). My mentor at the Eastman School of Music, the late Robert Sprenkle, once said to me, “You can never hurt yourself by helping someone else.” I strive to live by that thought in my own teaching.
hobbies? how do you get all your class work done and still have time to prepare for concerts?
Ummm… I don’t?? In addition to my fellow musician husband, trombonist and MU low brass professor Steve McEuen, there is a six-year-old living under our roof. No matter how dedicated one is to one’s career, priorities change when given the right reason. Davey, the aforementioned six-year-old, is the priority for both of us, as he should be. I enjoy having time to spend with him reading a book, playing a game, helping with a “project.” I’ve taken time to read to both his kindergarten and first grade classes, and this fall I was the assistant coach of his soccer team. Between being a mom, a teacher, and a performer, there admittedly isn’t time for much else.
So, if you stop by our house sometime, don’t be offended by the clutter, please! Getting school work done and finding time to practice (and make reeds!) is an ongoing dilemma. I pretty much didn’t miss a day of practice for a good twenty plus years; I’ve been spending that investment for much of the last six! And on a sunny day, when our son is happily running around the neighborhood with his friends, you may find me digging in the dirt somewhere in our moonscape of a yard.
