Crescendo: Prelude to a Moment in Time
Six days in the life of a Musical Mountaineer
Dear Kula Diaries,
By the time that this post goes ‘live’, The Musical Mountaineers will have performed on stage at Benaroya Hall. In concert with the NW Symphony Orchestra, we are performing at a very special concert benefiting the Washington Trails Association called ‘Crescendo: A Symphonic Celebration of Washington Landscapes’.
Our performance features a never-before-seen video of a sunset serenade on the summit of Vesper Peak in the Cascade Mountains. We filmed this video last September, with our friend Mitch Pittman. You can read what I wrote about that climb, right here:
Instead of quickly trying to write a post about the entire experience… I decided that I’d keep a journal all week long… in the days leading up to the concert. This is for three reasons:
If you come to the concert on Friday evening, I hope it will be interesting for you to read about the week leading up to that one moment on stage.
I’ve never kept a journal leading up to a concert, and I’m hoping that this will be a meaningful exercise for me … as well as a fun memory vault for me to look back on in reflection.
It’s a completely shameless excuse to share a lot of fun photos and videos!
So… here goes.
April 21st, 2024 - 5 days before the concert
It’s Sunday the 21st of April, and the concert is officially 5 days and a ‘wake up’ away. In 6 days Rose and I will wear gowns and we will walk out onto the stage at Benaroya Hall and we will perform a never-before-heard arrangement of a piece called Forest Hymn. It’s a piece we’ve played many times before… but this is the first time that the world will hear it in this way, because Rose took the notes… and turned them into a beautiful duet for violin and piano.
This piece is not new to The Musical Mountaineers — in fact, we’ve been playing it for a very long time…
That recording was from November 2017, which was only 2 months into our adventures as The Musical Mountaineers.
We shared another video of the same song in 2019, in the North Cascades:
And I wrote this poem to accompany our music:
I walked into the forest one day Thinking I could get away Escape from it all, I said Leaving the world behind In the dust of my footprints The birds chirped cheerfully The trees waved their needles The gentle forest hymn Wrapped me in its embrace And as I walked I found I was not away But rather within A place that exists under a thousand of the tallest Firs Or in the shadow of just one An aliveness that can be felt When you simply open your heart And notice it is there ❤️
Today, I am not wearing a gown. I woke up at 4:30 am and I went on my walk, and I drove to Rose’s house at 8am to rehearse our music together. I’m wearing baggy cargo pants and a fleece and my hair is frizzy because I slept in my pigtails overnight. I have no makeup on, and I look like I’ve been on a backpacking trip for the last few days — even though I haven’t.
Over the past few months, I’ve listened to this song so many times that I have started to feel it in my bones. When I walk in the morning, I find myself humming it. I can close my eyes, and it seems to appear from nowhere. It’s hard to believe that the concert is only 6 days away.
Rose opens her laptop and we play a video that our friend Mitch Pittman filmed of our sunset serenade last year on the summit of Vesper Peak in the North Cascades — we want to make sure that our tempo is ‘dialed in’, so that the video lines up with our music. As I watch the video, I imagine what it will feel like on stage in a few days — and I also imagine what it will feel like for the audience, who has never seen this video before… and, most likely, never experienced a Musical Mountaineers concert in the wilderness. It’s an experience that is hard to capture in words — but the intersection of nature and music is a special place that seems to evoke a feeling that most people can understand, but not describe.
I’m really looking forward to the concert — I’m really looking forward to sharing this very special piece of music with so many people — and I feel so incredibly grateful to have this opportunity.
April 22nd, 2024 - 4 days before the concert
Today, I went for my normal walk at 4:30 am… and I imagined performing my song for a deer. I saw a deer lying in a small patch of grass as I was hiking, and we stopped and stared at each other for awhile. I closed my eyes and hummed Forest Hymn… the deer just watched me and chewed on some grass. As I was walking, I talked to myself out loud about how I wanted to feel during the concert. I didn’t record it, but this is (mostly) what I said:
I walk out onto the stage, and I feel excited and at ease. I’m relaxed and at peace and I feel so thrilled to be able to share our music with so many people. The spotlight is bright, but I can hear the applause and I know that so many wonderful people that I know are sitting in the audience. I feel present and happy — it feels like a fun opportunity to share love with a lot of people. As Rose starts playing the piano, I lift my violin… place my bow on the strings, and I start to play. The music comes easily through my fingers and violin and heart. I close my eyes and I allow myself to love every moment of being there.
I practiced again today — this time, in my guest bedroom. I have to close the door when I practice, because my house is very echo-y, and the cats don’t like listening to me practice. I stood in our guest bedroom and I walked around as I played the Forest Hymn… over and over again… making sure that my fingers and ears were friends with each, delicate section. When I was a kid, I used to play my violin standing on one leg, and my teacher told me that I was a bit like a flamingo. I don’t know why I did that, but sometimes I still do. My violin teacher took me to see a violinist named Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg when I was very young, and she was the most animated violinist I had ever seen. As she performed, she stomped around the stage and moved wildly — as if being tossed by the invisible energy of the music itself. My teacher took me backstage to meet her after the concert, and I remember being in awe of her — this wild woman who played her violin with reckless abandon. I, on the other hand, was stiff as a board when I played — I was never able to feel the music, and I didn’t understand how anybody could move when they played.
Gradually, I discovered my own voice when I played violin — and gradually, I lost the feeling of being self-conscious about moving. Today, when I practiced my violin… I walked around the room and I moved and spun in my socks on the hardwood floor as I played. I won’t do that on stage in a few days — but it felt fun today. The piece felt easy as I played it — and I can’t wait to share it with everybody!
April 23, 2024 — 3 days before the concert
Last night, Rose texted me to tell me something very exciting:
When we performed at Benaroya Hall in 2018 and 2019, the ‘orchestra’ section of the concert hall was filled, but the upper tiers were not. Today, I googled the ‘Mark S. Taper Auditorium’ at Benaroya Hall, and I learned that the entire concert hall has 2500 seats. That’s a lot of people… and the thought of performing to a nearly sold out crowd at Benaroya Hall is unbearably exciting! When Rose and I perform in the mountains, we usually ‘share’ our concerts with… well… nobody. Sometimes, the occasional marmot or pika join in with some squeaking, but otherwise… it’s just the quiet and stillness of nature — punctuated by our notes, which gradually dissolve back into the ether of the universe. The most common question that we have been asked during our time as The Musical Mountaineers is, “How can we hear one of your concerts?”. We’ve never announced our concerts, because we never wanted to create a ‘spectacle’ or a disturbance in the mountains — and, honestly, it was never really about that for us. But we do love sharing our music — and this will be a way that we can do that with so many incredible humans.
This morning I went on my normal walk, and I listened to the Forest Hymn on my earbuds as I was walking… I moved my arms over my air violin, and I ‘played’ the piece for the sunrise. As I walked, I thought about the joyful experiences that I’ve had with my violin: the performances at Hopewell Furance National Historic Site and the opportunity to perform my violin as a Park Ranger on the Hood Canal. In the evenings, just before dark, I’d wander the campground and I’d play music for my campers — which, as I discovered, was the best possible tactic for soothing them if they were getting a bit too rowdy.
Today, I practiced the piece again in my guest room. It feels good. It feels like an old friend that I’ve always known. When I walk on stage on Friday, I want it to feel like the days in the campground. I want to close my eyes and smell the familiar smell of campfire smoke… and feel the excited energy of the people around me — who weren’t quite expecting to hear a song that day. It isn’t just them and me… it’s all of us, creating a moment together — and sending that gratitude out into the universe.
When we performed at Benaroya Hall in 2019, I did something a little bit ‘off the cuff’. We played the ‘Ashokan Farewell’ as an encore, and I spoke out loud before we played it — much to the chagrin of the sound person at Benaroya Hall, who had no idea that I was planning on saying anything. I remember being about 1/2 way through my first sentence, when I could tell that (very suddenly) a microphone was amplifying my voice. I announced to the audience that as they listened to the piece, I wanted them to think of a moment or a person or something that was very important to them — I wanted them to cultivate the feeling of love… and then, at the end of the piece, I wanted them to send that love out into the universe.
As I sit here now, writing this little journal — I can still feel the love from that night… and so I know that it must have been very powerful — because it came from so many people. I’m looking forward to feeling that love again — and to sharing it with so many others.
April 24, 2024 - 2 Days Before the Concert
It used to make me embarrassed to see people play the violin with their eyes closed, and I’m not sure why. For some reason, I couldn’t understand how somebody could be so ‘OK’ with themselves that they could close their eyes and not care what anybody else thought of what they were doing.
I’m glad that went away for me. When I close my eyes and play the violin, I don’t think much about anything — my fingers move in a way that I can’t explain, and I don’t even know ‘how’ I know the music that I know — there isn’t any specific thought for me as I play a piece of music… rather, it appears to me in images and ‘chunks’ of music… it’s like my fingers know where to go, without me needing to consciously make a decision about where to place them.
When my eyes are open, I can more easily be distracted, but when I close my eyes, I can be more present and I can focus more on my breathing and on making each note sound more delicious.
Today, I practiced in my guest bedroom again, but this time I recorded it… so that all of you could hear one of my practice sessions. The first piece is called Forest Hymn by Bill Douglas — and this is an original arrangement of the violin part by Rose Freeman. If you scroll back up and compare this to the original videos, you’ll immediately be able to hear the difference in the melody … and it sounds even more amazing with the piano part.
We are also very excited, because we get to play an encore piece at the Benaroya Concert! The first year we performed, we played Hallelujah as an encore… and the second year that we performed at Benaroya, we played the Ashokan Farewell. This year, we’ve chosen to play Pure Imagination as our encore. This is a special piece, because I have been obsessed with Willy Wonka since I was a little kid — and I love the words to the song. I used to think that the lyrics were cliche… but, now, I realize … there is a lot of truth in them.
Come with me and you'll be In a world of pure imagination Take a look and you'll see Into your imagination We'll begin with a spin Traveling in the world of my creation What we'll see will defy Explanation If you want to view paradise Simply look around and view it Anything you want to, do it Want to change the world? There's nothing to it There is no life I know To compare with pure imagination Living there, you'll be free If you truly wish to be
April 25th, 2024 — the day before the concert
This morning, I went on my walk and it was raining, and I talked to myself about the concert and about how I wanted to feel. I thought about my days as a park ranger — how I used to tell stories through my violin and how I felt a sense of closeness with the people who were there in those special moments. That’s how I want to feel tomorrow — I want it to feel like we are telling a story… because, really… we are.
Our music tomorrow tells a story that I probably couldn’t write down in words. It’s a story of friendship… of love… and of reconnection. The last 7 years have felt like a roller coaster at times — and yet — The Musical Mountaineers has remained a constant presence in my life. I don’t need to carry my violin to the summit of a mountain in order to feel the magic of The Musical Mountaineers — I can find it right now, and more than anything, we want other people to be able to feel that magic too.
Today, I drove to Rose’s house and we had our final rehearsal together in her piano studio. It felt right. It felt good. And I feel ready and excited to share this special piece with so many people. Tomorrow night, we will be performing this song on stage at Benaroya Hall under the watchful gaze of a Vesper Peak sunset… but today, it was just for us… and just as special. Here’s our rehearsal of ‘Forest Hymn’ by Bill Douglas, arranged by Rose Freeman.
And here’s our rehearsal of Pure Imagination by Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley (1971) … and we talk a little bit about how we want to feel at the performance too:
Note: in the video, Rose mentions ‘ST1’ — that’s our nickname for the location of our very first concert ever. If you want to watch the video of Pure Imagination in an ‘ice cave’ — you can find that right here.
I wrote a poem when we performed in the ice cave that seems fitting for today:
Let go and you’ll see The things that can be All that you will find Is not in your mind It’s there all the time It’s yours and it’s mine The blue sky above Holds the promise of love
Today I’m working in the Kula Cloth office, but tomorrow I will go to get my hair done at noon… and we will travel to Seattle. We will get coffee at Storyville Coffee, and then we will do our sound check on stage and then we will put on our gowns and wait backstage… and then, at some point, the door will open. We will walk out onto the stage and the spotlight will be so blinding that I won’t be able to see anybody — only hear the thousands of people who have showed up that evening to share music together. And then, it will grow very quiet — and that’s when we will play our notes… notes that we have often left in the wilderness, but notes that have never left our heart — because they are always waiting to be given to anybody who will receive them.
April 26th, 2024 - Day of the Concert
I woke up at 4am today, and went on my normal walk… I didn’t want to do anything that felt like it was ‘out of the ordinary’. I led the Dance Experiment at 6:30 in the morning… ate breakfast… did some Kula work at home… and then headed to the hair salon with Rose. We’ve done essentially the same routine for all of our Benaroya concerts:
hair salon
drive to Seattle
coffee at Storyville Coffee at Pike Place Market
Walk back to Benaroya Hall
Have a soundcheck/rehearsal
Wait around for the concert to begin
Our last Benaroya Concert was in 2019, and as we went through our ‘routine’ — it felt very surreal, but also different. For one, I hadn’t started The Dance Experiment back in 2019, so I think I held ‘nervousness’ in my body more, and didn’t allow it to flow. I didn’t feel bad nervous for this concert… I felt excited nervous… so being able to move my body freely to allow energy to flow through me felt so much better than just sitting in my nervous energy.
When we walked out to the stage for our soundcheck, I shrieked a little bit. Walking out onto the stage at Benaroya Hall is a feeling that is quite unlike anything else — it’s just this massive sea of seats, and it is so exciting to feel the energy of the room. While we did our soundcheck/rehearsal, I couldn’t help but seize the once in a lifetime opportunity to play one of my favorite songs in the space:
The funniest part of the rehearsal was when the sound technician came up to me and said, “Well, you definitely do dress the part of a mountaineer.” I was wearing my high-waisted carpenter pants… hiking boots… and a lumberjack-looking flannel shirt (because we were supposed to wear a button down shirt for the hair appointment).
“Oh!”, I laughed, “I’m changing into a gown!!”
I don’t have a video of the concert itself — but Aaron did take a little video of our rehearsal. What I can say about the concert is that I felt more calm than I ever have in my life on stage. On my morning walk, I had talked out loud (as usual) and I said this:
I’m the calmest I’ve ever felt. I feel relaxed and at ease. It feels like I’m playing my violin for a group of friends.
And do you know what? It did. Because I was. It doesn’t matter if you are playing music for nobody or for 1700 people. What matters is what you put into the music — because it will always find the people who are meant to hear it.
For me, the best part of the concert was being able to share that moment with all of the people who were there to be a part of it. Rose and I usually play concerts for nobody — and so, having the opportunity to experience the collective energy of love that we all generated together, was indeed, quite special. I feel so deeply grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to stand on stage at Benaroya Hall on three separate occasions. Most violinists won’t have that opportunity once in their entire lives — and I certainly never fathomed that I would be included among the ranks of those who have.
The first time that we performed at Benaroya Hall in 2018, I was caught off guard and a bit disoriented by the spotlights: when we had our rehearsal, the spotlights weren’t on, so I wasn’t prepared for their overwhelming brightness when we walked on stage. Looking out into the audience that first time, I remember thinking to myself, "I can hear applause… but I can’t see anybody.” It was a surreal feeling — as if we were alone on stage, separated from the experience by a blazing wall of light. This time, however, it felt very different. Yes, the light was there… and yes, it was bright — but I could see through it this time, because I was looking for something different. I wasn’t needing to see the people or hear the applause in order to know that they were there — I just needed to feel for the love, which was shining brightly around all of us, together.
Friends — thank you all so much for being here and for reading, this has been such a fun post to write all week. I also want to thank all of the amazing humans and friends who were at the concert this past week, I can’t even tell you how much that meant to me — and I’m so truly grateful to you for being there! I hope that you enjoyed it as much as we did. A few people came up to me the after the concert and asked about the video that we filmed on Vesper Peak, Specifically they wanted to know, “How did you get up on that mountain?” So, I wanted to share a few ‘behind the scenes’ clips from our climb up Vesper Peak Last September. The simple answer is this: we walked, one step at a time.
Sending you all so much love today, and all days.
Every video, every word and music brought such joy to my heart and tears…and even though I was 3,000 miles away my heart was with you and Rose💕 thanks for sharing how you got to Concert day!
Music is the extension of one’s SOUL, and it sounds as if you have a truly amazing one!
We love to read about young musicians sharing their SOULS with others.🎵✌🏽👍🏼☮️💜🙏🏼🎶