Lock, Stock, and Cheese Barrels

This is stock order season. That means that over the next few weeks, our shelves will virtually explode with new stock - particularly from Hal Leonard, Alfred, FJH, and Peters. So come by the store and check it out!

I like the seasonal nature of our business. We can trust that, come September, the store will be full of parents and eager ten year olds, as the instrument rental season begins, and bright youngsters get to unlock their undiscovered musical talent. Then around mid October, the world comes looking for Christmas music. And we stock every kind there is, from the easiest piano arrangements to carols for brass quintet. November is when people start thinking about Christmas itself, and come in seeking presents. Of course, some know just what to give, and others have no idea.

I still remember the time, maybe ten years ago, when this woman came in to get a present for her nephew, a teen who was in a rock band. I must have recommended some current band's guitar collection, but she left with a scarf and a mug, both with musical designs on them. I've always wondered how that nephew felt about his gifts. I've pictured him, all in black with a nose ring or two, opening packages on Christmas morning. "Gee thanks, Aunt Kathy - just what I've always wanted!" But, like they say, it's the thought that counts.

So even though we are now battling the heat of July, it's nearly time to stock up on Christmas titles. Strains of Frosty the Snowman will soon drift through the air, as customers in shorts and tanktops play through music and think about snow. And candy canes. And cheese barrels.

Happy Holidays!

Ron B

From the Capitol Music Folder

It's definitely time for a change. Do you ever get the feeling that you are heading for some big life change, but you don't know what it is? It's like that. It's time to reassess, clean house. Radically change what I eat, or the work that I do, or my circle of friends. I don't know what, but something.

I suppose I should start by literally cleaning house, dusting the shelves, throwing out old files. That would help clear the way for whatever new thing this is that I feel waiting for me. I tend to keep everything. My fifth grade science notes might come in handy someday, right?

But the very fact that I still have fifth grade science notes tells you that I've been this way for a long time. I can imagine all those ten year olds, dumping out the contents of their lockers and running down my school's hallways yelling, "I'm free! I'm free!" And as they ran past, I must have gathered the pages of my report on kidneys and tucked it carefully into a manila folder marked, "Kidney Report."

Habits like that don't die quickly. I still file everything in manila folders. In fact, on my desk right now there are eleven of them - helping me organize the web orders I have processed. I'd be lost without my folders.

So as big as this change may turn out to be, it won't include letting go of manila folders. That would be too much stress. And stress can wreak havoc on the adrenal glands. And the kidneys. I should know - it say so in my report. See, I told you it might come in handy someday!

Ron B

Passing Torches

Since September, I have served as assistant manager here at Capitol. Funny thing, though. There has never been a job description. I basically do the things that Steve, our manager, doesn't. Mostly, I process web orders, make all publisher contact, and answer customer e-mails. And of course I also help our customers, like I have all of these years. It's rewarding work, but I don't suppose I will always be Capitol's assistant manager, so I have been starting to write a manual for whoever might take my place someday.

It's an interesting exercise. You need to step outside of yourself and look at your process in a new way. You have to break down each thing you do into its most basic elements. The goal is to be able to hand someone your manual and say, "Here you go - you're on your own now." Make yourself obsolete, as it were.

The same thing happens with the creative process. Me and my friend Marie have written an original musical together. We're very proud of it, and we want to get it produced. So far, it has been just me and Marie creating together, plus our arranger, Paul. As we expand that circle, we will have less and less control over the process. We can describe our concept to the producer, and participate in production decisions, but we can only share so many of our thoughts with the cast and crew. At some point, we will have to let go and trust that they will honor our vision and create a show we can all be proud of. And when everyone adds their own ideas and talents to the production, it may even surpass our original concept.

Well, I hope someday our next assistant manager will appreciate the guidance of the manual I am writing now and will do the job well, and I hope the producer of our show will grasp our intentions and produce the wonderful show we have imagined. But it will be in their hands. All we can do is pass the torch, and hope it stays lit!

Ron B

Playing our Parts

So I just discovered this online site where you can read full scripts of movies. I never knew such a thing existed, but there they are, hundreds of scripts. It's fascinating to read the script of a movie that you've seen before, and to compare the bare framework the actors had to work with with the rounded characters they created.

Music is like that, too. The composer writes, say, four eighth notes in a row, but doesn't mark which beat is strong and which weak. We let our past experience and our intuition tell us how it should be played. And of course every composer is different, so the more music you experience, the more you can say, "Ah, Dvorak! I've played Dvorak before. These should be played like this," and be fairly certain that you are honoring his intentions.

If only he was there with you, giving you little pointers! I remember once at summer music camp we were reading a new work, and the young composer was actually there himself. We poor violas were struggling with a part that showed his understandably limited knowledge of the viola. We took the bold step of complaining to the maestro himself, and he surprised us all by saying, "Oh! Okay, I'll change it." We are rarely so fortunate. We usually have to interpret the part that is in front of us without the composer looking over our shoulder.

Like life. We follow our scripts and play our parts, but really we are making most of it up as we go along. And since no-one can tell us how our parts should be played, we just hope for the best
and play on!

Ron B