April, 2007        Rhonda’s biographical musical journey thus far…

Recently, I was asked to share my thoughts for an upcoming magazine article about 'how I got on my particular flute path' in life, and if there were 'any lessons in it to pass on to other flutists'. Since I have been traveling for concerts this month, and most of my writing time has gone into this article, I decided to post it on my web-page. What appears here, of course, is the un-edited version (I apologize to the reader in advance...).
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The happy coincidences that that have led to my taking what one might call “the musical road less traveled” have certainly not happened by any calculated planning on my part! It has been by the serendipitous and timely acquaintance of many people in my life, as well as the evolution of quiet inner thoughts that have been my guide all along the way. All of this has resulted in a broader musical palette from all over the world, which has become my path. 

 

I clarify this path as more broad, because I started out with the myopic belief that classical music was the only real or so-called legitimate music out there...I was completely immersed in, and dedicated to becoming a classical flute Soloist. Therefore, if you wanted to be a Soloist, it would be in the classical world---I never questioned it. Had I questioned it, I would have noticed the fact that the classical music I was most in love with was the Symphonic/Orchestral music (though I had no interest in becoming an orchestral flutist). I loved whatever piece from the flute repertoire I played, but there was a wide gulf between what I perceived as the “meaningfulness” of this music compared with that of the Symphonic repertoire. At first glance, one might think it is a given limitation of any repertoire including only one instrument with piano, but I couldn’t help but notice this was not true with the repertoire for violinists or pianists. We just did not get the “meat” that they got, musically. This concerned me, and became a paradox in which I knew I had to live and breath.

 

I was also concerned about what I could not help but notice was the wide chasm between classical music lovers, and the rest of the world. Unless one was brought up with classical music, or was ‘taught’ to acquire a taste for it, there seemed to be no understanding of it, let alone its ‘emotional’ relevance like other music genres seemed to deliver. As just one example, my own parents: they appreciated what I was doing on the flute, but I could tell that it did not have any relevance in their daily lives, as it did in mine. It didn’t particularly ‘affect’ them. Somewhere deep in my heart I wanted to make the kind of music that might be more inclusive, for the ‘wider public’ where it might have a larger impact. After all, the desire to be a soloist was my wanting to bring something positive to whomever would come to hear, and I wanted to be “relevant” to the time I was living in, not just loyal to the great icons of the classical literature. I wanted music to have a larger role than simply “performance” or “entertainment”. I wanted it to SERVE the listener on the level of the soul.

 

Another reality that has most likely contributed to the particular path I now find myself on is that I try to perform from memory as much as possible. I believe this has helped in composing pieces---though I will be honest in saying I do not consider myself a Composer, with a capital C. I am simply someone who has a need for challenging flute repertoire, a need for it to be accessible to a mixed audience (at least to the degree I am able), and a catalyst for my own soul’s expression. Those needs have resulted in coming up with pieces of music, which I have “written down”. It is more like ‘flying’, where you catch the wind currents here and there---and then it eventually becomes a 'piece of music'.

 

Playing from memory has also contributed greatly to freeing my playing because I’m not staring at notes the whole time I’m playing, and in this way demonstrates how improvising my way into new compositions has happened. I made the decision to perform from memory because I was concerned about becoming “bored” with the few classical pieces I would indeed be performing for the rest of my life. There weren’t that many pieces to choose from, so it was going to be a lot of repetition. How was I going to keep them fresh? Solution: perform everything from memory! This way, I couldn’t get bored, as playing from memory forces one to fully concentrate on every single delicious note, every phrase, in a way that I adore. It becomes so much a part of your soul, it doesn’t matter WHO wrote it, or what ‘genre’ it was in. It is simply ALIVE in the moment!

 

These aforementioned thoughts were nearly subconscious ones that I carried around for years, and in some form I could not “afford” to look at them because I didn’t have a clue as to how I would make my music life any different than what I already knew: classical soloist. But as life is always so full of surprises, these inner thoughts became a dim guiding light, pointing the way toward the unfamiliar. As I continued walking by that hint of ‘light’, I would have to say it has become brighter and brighter as time has gone on, though I still would not be able to tell you where it is going to lead me next!

 

With all of these percolating thoughts, I was now in my last year of my University experience in Moscow, Idaho, studying with Richard Hahn. I was absolutely ready for anything. Ready musically, technically, and hungry for experience. I had just won the NFA Young Artists competition the previous fall, and I was hoping to walk out of University and onto the World’s stages. Ironically, I did do this, but not in the form I had “planned”…

 

LIFE BRINGS THE CHANGE: In the month before I graduated from the University of Idaho, a group called the Paul Winter Consort was scheduled to perform. I was already completely aware of this group and was a fan of their music. I discovered them while I was still in high school, and got my whole family enjoying their music (to my surprise, they all related to it). These were seasoned musicians, making music on the highest levels but with a “new” kind of music. That afternoon, Paul Winter gave a music-making workshop. Basically, an improvisation workshop, but he knew better than to ever use that word around classical musicians (they all get scared!). It was interesting, but what really happened was Paul Winter hearing my playing in the groups he assembled, and he quickly took to me. After the class was over, he asked about my playing, my future, etc. 

 

To make a long story short, it happened that a week later I was to come to New York City on the University of Idaho’s alumni tour with their President. They were bringing me along as an example of “here is one of our students”. As things like this tend to fit like a hand to a glove, Paul Winter was artist in residence at New York’s Cathedral of St. John the Divine in NY. I mentioned the plans of coming to NY, and we agreed to meet up while I was on the east coast, and come to the Cathedral “to play”. 

 

I knew then that this was some kind of “audition”, but the word was never used, as it was really a natural evolution, not an ‘official’ one. The day of the Cathedral meeting, Paul Winter was there with his Sony Walkman tape-recorder, something he has never left home without. He introduced me to the pianist from the Consort, Paul Halley, who was also the Organist and Choir Master at the Cathedral. Meanwhile, large groups of tourists were swarming the place, particularly from Asia, walking around taking pictures of the magnificent cathedral. With instruments in hand, wondering what we were going to do, Paul Winter said, “Just start playing”. This was a defining moment: I knew he wasn’t asking to hear my latest Paganini, he was saying “make something up”. To a classical musician, those can be paralyzing words….but I am the kind of person who will try something new and unknown rather than take the humiliation of admitting incapability, so I knew I had to do it….

 

The Sony walkman captured every note. My life could never be the same. There was no going back into only ONE kind of music---classical music, as it was. For the first time in my life, I created some kind of melody/music that I had no idea existed inside me. When I began playing, I was enjoying the sound in the cavernous Cathedral, but as I played, something larger than ‘self’ took over, and I gave over to it. After a phrase or two, I suddenly heard the organ from the loft join in on a chord that at once made my notes more meaningful. I had forgotten that Paul Halley had gone up there, and he has near-perfect pitch, so he started to play along. Paul Winter joined in on his soprano sax toward the end of the “piece” we were making up. It was beauty, hope, surrender, ecstasy, freedom----everything of this positive nature had just been created out of “nowhere”, simply because we tried it. It was for me the first time ever that I had made---created---music that was not from another (usually deceased) composer.

 

I walked out of the University the next month and began 7-plus years performing and touring with the Consort world-wide. The Consort opened up a new way of making music, improvising as we did at least once in every concert (where every player was making up his/her part in a group setting). I was exposed and immersed in traditional village music from Russia (my first tour with them), music from Africa and Brazil, and using ‘seeds’ from classical repertoire to develop pieces. It enlarged everything in me, musically. What was taking root in me was my ability to create music that I liked, mainly out of pure necessity, as I mentioned earlier.


The Paul Winter Consort in Siberia, Russia, 1986


The Consort at the Dead Sea

 

I knew precisely the time when I needed to graduate from the Consort, and did after those seven years. I knew that whatever had been developing inside me, musically, would no longer wait. The first thing we did was create “Free as a Bird”, my first solo CD. I remember being desperate to finish it, because “then I will know what it is I do”. I really had no idea what music I “did”, as I was now playing all kinds of music and styles, and it was like one large pot of stew, cooking slowly over the years. This was the time when I acquired my first ethnic flute, which was soon to become a definite passion of mine. I now have a large variety of flutes from other countries and eras, each compelling their own music, much of which is yet-to-be-written!

 

Before that recording, I had never ‘written’ a piece of music in my life. Before we were finished with the CD, I finally completed my first piece, “Lament”. It helped that this was the emotional state I was in at the time, so the music flowed from my soul. Quickly on the heels of that piece came, “Movin’ On”. Again, music deeply related and connected to the very life I was living. This illustrates that I was, accidentally, beginning to actualize that desire I had for ‘relevancy” for the time I was living in, musically! It was of my own heart and my own “need” to express whatever needed expressing. 

 

I continue to this day following this path. It is literally the path of “following my heart”. Though that might sound trite, it is the honest truth of what I am doing. Since this is the method, I have no doubt that it is also available to any flutist who wishes to say yes to this same ‘inner listening’ of what to follow, musically. Following my heart means paying close attention to what I am “moved” by in music from around the world, close attention to feelings in general, and a commitment to experiencing life events as honestly as possible in order to have them ‘digested’ and given back out in the form of new music. 

 

As things have developed for me over time, I have been very clear in my desire to live a full, real life FIRST, with music as the very path in which to enable my doing so. Many have described my particular path an ‘ambassador’ role in music. I think it at least summarizes the desires I already have in my heart, putting music to “serve” people, and contribute to mankind in some positive way. Music is that big for me. Whether it is an audience of one or of thousands, I want to give something back that is REAL to the human heart. This refers back to my original concern of being ‘accessible’ and ‘relevant’ musically. I’m not interested in fame, I’m interested in EFFECTIVENESS. In making a contribution, not just being a ‘consumer’ while I live.

 

Just such an ambassadorial example exists for me right at this moment: I am currently living in Palestine, just 15 minutes outside of Jerusalem, teaching flute lessons to the most adorable and beautiful human beings—from age 10-27. These are people who have been through endless suffering, day after day, and are quite literally “locked in” to their world as the circumstances have created this tragedy. I have come here so I might “help” in some way. I am helping by teaching these students, and by absorbing into my being an entirely different culture and way of life. It is spectacularly fascinating, with every aspect being ‘foreign’, which I fully embrace. Sure, it has taken a lot of courage to say ‘yes’ to something so unknown, but I see this as the approach my life has always asked of me: having the courage to say ‘yes’. It so happens that I have been in love with Middle Eastern music for years, so hopefully, by the end of finally digesting everything here, I can come up with some new music as a result…

 

In summarizing, if I had any advice for others, it would be the same advice illustrated here. First, be ready for ANYTHING (be technically prepared on the flute for any musical ‘serendipity’ that crosses your path). Secondly, pay attention to what music you really, honestly like, and how you would like it to be for the people around you (your audience). Thirdly, act with courage even though ‘fears’ are always present: say “yes” every time something challenging or new comes along, as much as you can. You never know where it may lead you. Sometimes you will only get the smallest HINT of a clue as to your next step, and sometimes it will be quite loud. You have to be willing to weather both extremes. I tell all these students this, too: it is ok to be afraid to ‘take up your musical calling’, but just don’t let the fear stop your actions. That is what courage is: action in spite of fear of the unknown, or even fears of success! Keep doing the work that needs to be done (practicing, learning HOW to improve your flute playing, which improves your very Self at the same time, etc.). Finally, on a technical and musical flute level, start trying to write your own music! Just START. One phrase, one measure, one pattern---just try ‘making it up’. I believe that flute players are some of the most alive musicians I have encountered, and I believe we ought to be writing our own music. We know best what we like to play, so why not create it? We have to put the time into practicing, why not practice “inventing” phrases? Then, sew them together. 

 

As I mentioned, I have no idea where my ‘path’ of music will lead me next. But I know it will most likely be a complete surprise. This is why I love living this particular course so much---it is always unpredictable, and full of goodness which continually expands my being. Even my husband Lee has come to recognize this, and embrace it---not an easy thing to do for a non-musician, I suspect, but he has that kind of heart, also! I feel that I’m one of the most fortunate people alive to be able to DO whatever it is I’m doing with music, living this Artistic Life! It isn’t about how much money you can make (as for some), it is about how EFFECTIVE you can be on a larger, human-kind level. At least it is for me.

 

 

---Rhonda Larson

April, 2007

Ramallah, Palestine

Eugene Friesen Russ Laundau (now writing music for CBS's "Survivor" reality show Rhonda Larson Les Kahn, sound engineer Paul Winter with his wife, Chez Paul Halley Ted Moore Glen Velez, percussion Paul Winter, founder and sax player Rhonda Larson, flute Paul Halley, keyboards Eugene Friesen, cello