I Brought My Accordion to the Party

…but no one asked me to play

It was common practice for studios to conduct yearly recitals. Bettie conducted hers
at the Torrance Municipal Auditorium. The highlight would be the guest artist. I have
a program autographed by Myron Floren with two critical words of advice, “keep
practicing.”

A milestone in my early accordion years was a guest artist appearance by Johnny LaPadula, who had
just won the Coupe Mondiale. I had never heard anything like it. The largest hall at the Municipal
Auditorium was filled nearly to capacity. They announced his name and this insanely fast bellows-
shake in a sequence of chromatic chords started behind the closed curtains.

Tito sat back and let his students be the star. With Oakley, he was the star,
but it was cool because you were studying with him. Later, Galla-Rini was a
star, but it was totally cool if you were one also. And finally, with Don
Balestrieri, the whole star thing was really pretty insipid.

In all my years at West Point I had never played a single serious performance, but in 1978 I
decided that I would perform for one of the interludes of the Cadet Glee Club’s Graduation
Concert. Eisenhower Hall Theatre is huge. Seating over 4,400 people, it was certainly the
largest auditorium I have ever played accordion in. The music that had channeled into my
soul on that late night when I wrote the Sonata now exploded back from the accordion in the
nd
opening of the first movement. After the reflective 2 movement, the final movement,
starting from a place of deep unrest builds to a relentless conclusion. One thing I know, I
can’t take credit for how the music entered my soul the night it was given to me or how it
reinvents itself during a performance. It is a gift.

The accordion only had one mission – to bring joy to its player and to the people gathered to listen –
whatever and wherever the occasion. And the accordion had accomplished that mission perfectly.

In an Email thanking Joan, Jim made a comment that “it were as if Julio reached out from the grave
and gave Bill another accordion to play.” I don’t know when I have ever felt such great excitement or
gratitude; not only for the instrument, but for the opportunity to play again.

William Cosby

page i
 Table of Contents

Prelude x
In the Beginning 1
Tito 11
Oakley Yale and El Camino 24
The Early Galla-Rini Years 28
UCLA and Mixed Venues 41
The Sinatra Competition 51
Gregory Stone 56
The First End of an Era 61
The Second End of an Era 74
The Journey Home 81
Postlude 87
Saved Rounds 88
Introduction to Saved Rounds 88
Why another blog? Then and Now 89
A new name for Connie 90
Journey to Albany 91
Choreography - Part I 92
Return Home 93
Jo Ann Castle 94
Accordion Lessons 95
Alternating Basses 96
PPB 98
But what will you be doing in 20 years? 99
The ASO 101
Great Comments 102
Dark Eyes 103
Logistics 104
Countdown to the new CD 106
Accordion's Bad Boys? 107
Countdown 108
Accordion Position May 110
Can you fix that? 112
Countdown Zero 114
One Down 114
No Fear 116
How Did We Ever Survive 118
Only by the Month or Pay as You Go 119
Fast and Loud Competition 120
Standardization 121
Accordionists and Teachers Guild 123
Recording 124
Fries With That? 124
Aftermath 126
Accordion Heroes 127
 Table of Contents

Double Queens 128

The Record Album 129
It's a Small World 131
Married and the Mistress 132
Drama and the Accordion 133
The Studio Queens 135
Sly June 136
Songs Without Words and Integrity 138
Sleeping in the Nude 139
Valets and Goof Balls 141
Transcriptions 142
With Reckless Abandon 144
The Early Bird, Musical Craft and Judge Judy 145
The Accordion and Sex and the City 146
Accordions and Bondage 148
I Remember Grandma 149
Gypsy Shawl Dance 150
Shapeshifters and Humoresque - Rachmaninov 150
A Musical Quickie 150
Rally, Rally 151
Motorcycles and the Craft 153
Rhapsody in Blue 154
I brought my accordion to the party but no one asked me to play 155
Fireworks and Making Love 155
Musicology and the Fucia Society 156
Who Moved My Rice Bowl? 158
A Gushing, Orgasmic Diatribe 159
Before the PC and Original Manuscripts 161
Celebrating Anthony Galla-Rini 162
Happy Trails 163
York, PA, More Than the Home of HD? 164
Stradella-fest and Other Decisions 165
Guest Blog by Amy Jo Sawyer on Anthony Galla-Rini 168
The Ultimate Left Hand System 169
Accordion Bands and the Dog Show 171
Out of Pocket 173
Saved Rounds and Sylvia Prior 174
The Gift of Music 174
No Tabourines 175
Gramps Birthday 176
No Fault Teachers 177
Details 178
Celebrations 179
The Army Way 179
Point of Reference and Non-Musical Foreplay 181
Diversions and Oakley Yale Launched 182
 Table of Contents

Tito and Fabian Return 182

In the Loving Hands 183
General Bill and the Ducati 184
Cool Points 186
When No One Says You Can’t 187
Repaired With a Single Stroke 188
Totally Cool 190
The Great Adjudication 191
An Accordion Float 192
A Night to Remember and the Mystery Guest 193
A Language More Powerful Than Words 195
Destruction of the Modern Accordion 196
Over the Waves and the Harley Davidson 197
A Great Musician, a Great Visionary 199
Old Dog, New Tricks 200
So Are You Ready to Play Tonigh? 202
On the Van Again 203
General Bill 203
Another Monday 204
Connecting Memories 204
Comments on the all-bassett 206
Split Pea Soup and Time 206
Marching into the New Year 208
Extending the Bass 209
To What End 210
Let’s Go Into the Backyard and Put On A Play (Part One) 212
Perhaps Julio Had It Wrong 214
A Special Audience 216
Stepping Up to the Accordion Barre 217
Stepping Up to the Accordion Barre, No Honking Allowed 219
The Bright Stream and Gregory Stone 220
Brazilian Carnival Gregory Stone 221
More Ston(e)ing and Validation 222
Rules of Engagement 224
White Silk Glove and a Cigar Butt 225
An Accordionist Without a Neck 227
Bassetti Dreams 228
Warming Up for the Fireside Concert 230
The Accordion Barre and Self-Assessment 231
Interstate Route 40 232
When You Don’t Get a Second Chance 233
Because It Is So Wickedly Fun 234
A Very Special Honor 235
The Bias of a Generation 236
What’s Talent Got To Do With It 237
Something Old, Sonething New 238
 Table of Contents

Checking In 239
Goodbye to a Friend 239
Galla-Rini Comes to the Barre 240
From Liszt to Liszt 241
This is (not) the End 242
Some Things Die Hard 244
Waiting 245
The Journey Home 246
That was 1961 246
The System 248
Waiting in the Wings 249
All Warriors Aren’t Big 250
Saved Rounds 252
Prodigy 252
Bound for Greatness 254
Integrity 255
Hurricanes, Earthquakes and Tornados, Oh My! 256
When Size Does Matter 257
Music, Music, and More Music 258
Rain and the Hazards of Musicianship 259
Learning to Bellows-Shake on Piano 261
GLB 798 263
A Master Class and a Thousand Steps 265
Wringing it Out 266
Our Innermost Secrets 267
Nautical Portholes 269
Words and Music 270
Long Lines and Anticipation 272
Play for Pay or Pay for Play 273
Am I Being Heard? 274
A through P (minus E through O) 275
Taking the Accordion to the World 277
Wrist Protectors and Dog Chews 279
All Downhill From Here 280
Religion, Politics and Doing the Dish(es) 281
Break on Through 283
Finally, something good 284
Introducing Ms. Stradella 286
Do You Want Butter With That Accordion? 287
The Accordio-phile 289
Wotan 290
Accordion With Garish 292
Running WFO 294
Early One Morning 296
Something Old, Something New 297
Does Anyone Really Know What Time It Is? 299
 Table of Contents

Into the Groove 300

The Little White Accordion 302
Some Wicked Secrets 303
Ambience 305
Just Too Hot 307
Old Dogs, No Tricks Required 309
Tradition and War Stories 310
But How Much Does It Weigh? 312
This is the End 314
Planet of the Ape 315
Walking Among the Angels 317
Things Left Behind 318
When Free is not Good 320
No Grown-ups in the Baby Band 322
Not a Paid Political Announcement 324
Listen and Learn 326
Fun and Games With Alphabet Soup 326
Too Starved to Eat 328
Accordion Shakes 330
A Day at the Ocean 331
Translator Not Required 333
Waiting and Italian Heritage 334
When the Party’s Over 335
Industrial Ear Protection and the Concert Accordion 337
Could You Please Say that Louder (revisited) 338
So What’s the Point? 340
He Said What?? 342
A Birthday Wish 343
The Blog Returns 345
The Loss of An Accordion Hero 346
The Beauty of Inperfection 348
Frank Marocco - the Loss of Another Accordion Hero 349
Accordion and the Adult Learner 351
The Equalizer - It's not an adventure, it's a job 352
It's Not a Competition - Or Is It? 353
Personal Values and Finding the Toilet 355
Randy (Arase) Revisited 357
Limited Visions 357
Let's All Use Really Big Words 359
A Diversion 360
Expanding Horizons 362
Goodbye to a Friend 363
Plug and Play 365
A Blast from the Past 366
What's In A Name 368
Beethoven and the Sopranos 369
 Table of Contents

Today's Recommendation 372

Old Dogs, Old Tricks and Meaningless Rants 372
Bored Again, Or 374
The Studio System or Why I Hated High School 376
Who's Your Buddy? 378
Supersize that? 380
The Golden Age of Piano 382
Technology 383
Hard and Fast or Slow and Long 385
Self Imposed Limitations 386
A Confusing Title 389
Countdown 390
Does Anybody Know What Time It Is? 392
Repelling Off Dimes 392
Single Digit Midgit 394
Perceptions 396
Tantivy 397
Standing on the Corner 399
ACCORDion Moms 400
RiderCoaches and Stage Moms 401
Final Countdown 403
Retirement -- Finally! 404
Standing in the Center of Chaos 406
Evaluating Failure 408
30 Days and Still Counting 410
Dance Moms DC 411
Early to Bed 412
Curiosities 414
Old Dog, New Tricks / New Dog, Old Tricks 416
The Blog Returns - Enter Jackson 418
The Wagner's Ring Cycle and the Accordion 420
Bellows-po-luza 421
Barnstorming Accordion Boogie 422
He's Back 424
On the Steps of Concertgebouw 425
The Perfect Duet 427
Ensemble Playing and Basic Skills of Musicianship 429
Rewind - Rhapsody in Blue 432
Never Enough Time 433
Finally 435
A Storytelling Rhapsody 437
A Silver Wheel Power Stradella 438
Gradus ad Parnassum, Tico Tico & Rhapsody in Blue 440
Choices: th blog or ?? 442
And Wanda's Quilting Party 443
Something to Get Excited About 444
 Table of Contents

One Pill Makes You Larger 447

First Steps 448
CPB 449
Stage Two 450
Take 427 451
Ambience 452
Achieving a balance 454
What's Natural Ability Got To Do With It 456
Enough is Enough 457
 Part One
Anecdotes
Prelude

Prelude
I have several purposes in my writing these anecdotes about my personal
relationship with the accordion. First is to share some of the culture that surrounded
the instrument’s immense popularity during the 1950’s and 1960’s as seen through
the eyes of an enthusiastic youth. Second, to reflect on some of the accordion’s
greatest artists and personalities I had the opportunity to study and perform with.
People like Anthony Galla-Rini, Tito Guidotti, Donald Balestrieri, Glenn Stead, Bettie
Thomas, Tom Owens, and Oakley Yale. There are many others that became close
friends, influenced me, or I was just privileged to know; people like Julio Giulietti,
Don Bonham, Leon Sash, Stephen Dominko, Randy Arase, Donald Hulme, Johnny
LaPadula, George Mandala, Sylvia Prior, Bill Palmer, there are just too many to list!

This book is not about chronology – in fact, I will guarantee that much of the
chronology in this book is inaccurate. Chronology isn’t what this is about. It is about
the people. It is about details that defined their personality, the way they
approached music, things that were important to them, how the accordion fit into
their lives, and how their lives fit into the accordion. If you or a family member ever
played the accordion, I hope some of this will resonate and bring back personal
memories. If you have never been involved with accordion, this might provide a look
at a phenomenon that had an enormous impact on a many people’s lives.

I occasionally poke fun at almost everyone and anything, especially myself. There
are other times when I am deadly serious, an attitude that more closely reflects my
true self. My intent is not to offend.

I literally abandoned the accordion from 1978 to 2009; almost 30 years! I wouldn’t
touch one and would become irritated when people even tried to talk to me about it.
I have only recently started to play again. I am not the only person who has followed
this path. Our ranks include some of the most brilliant accordionists of all time.
People often ask, why? For me, it is not a simple answer. As an interest progresses
from a pastime to a passion and ultimately becomes an obsession, it can assume a
deep and complex position within everything about us. Internal and even external
expectations become all consuming, especially when they aren’t realistic. It is no
longer fun! It is no longer spontaneous. Fun and spontaneous may be two of the
accordion’s strongest characteristics. Maybe that is my personal realization as I
have started playing again. These writings are also part of that process.

I have discussed this with others who have followed a similar path, but I must let
them tell their own stories if and when the time is right. It is my responsibility to
respect their anonymity.

So this is my story. And for now, I think I will stick with it…
In the Beginning

I was born in September, 1945, three months too early to be a ‘baby boomer’. World
War II had just ended and my father was finishing his commitment to the Navy. My
first five years were spent in our family home in El Segundo. We lived next door to
my grandparents who had split their lot when it had come time for my parents to
build their first house.

When my Dad decided to stop teaching and went to work for the Torrance Unified
School District in 1950, he quickly decided he did not want to make the daily 9-mile
commute. We moved into a new tract home in Torrance Gardens, one of the many
new housing developments in a city that was exploding in post-war population. We
were the second or third family to move in on our block. There were many young
families and a lot of kids. It rapidly evolved into a close-knit neighborhood.

I had two older brothers. Larry was 5 years and Phil was 3 years older. We all
started school at Fern Greenwood Elementary School. I started in first grade.

Two years later, a door-to-door salesman knocked on the front door with a 12-bass
accordion in hand. Accordion had become immensely popular in the early 1950’s.
Lawrence Welk and Myron Floren were household names. At 7 years old I certainly
had no idea that I wanted to grow up to be a professional accordionist, but as a
typical kid I easily became excited about something new – like taking accordion
lessons. Of course, Phil wanted to take them too – so after some negotiation with
the salesman, we would share the rental accordion and would both take the
introductory 8-week course.

Music was not new to our family. Larry had started violin in Elementary School in El
Segundo. Aunt Helen had generously provided the violin. He practiced bowing for
nearly a year before he was allowed to take the paper out of the strings. We all
understood why when the fateful day of paper removal finally arrived.

Phil had many interests and had a great amount of natural talent, but things came
too easy for him. He quickly became bored with almost anything.

So early on one Saturday morning, we were dropped off downtown Torrance at

Ferraro Accordion Studios. Ferraro was a big operation with studios all over
Southern California. There were probably 10 or 12 students in the class and Phil
immediately started helping getting the 12-bass accordions out of cases and
strapped to the kids. Unfortunately, they were all upside-down. The situation was
quickly corrected and we started.

The music consisted of individual pages reproduced from a mimeograph machine.

There was a simplified system of notation with a single staff with the right hand
melody. There was a chord name at the start of each measure. The teacher
explained that you held the right-hand note while you played bass – chord – chord.
He demonstrated. We played. It was a mystical state of musical cacophony,
providing the mental foundation for many subsequent years in accordion bands. I

Page 1
In the Beginning

get the same sense of ‘coming home’ any time I am near an oil refinery or dairy as I
lived close enough to both in my youth to have those smells permanently imprinted
in my senses.

At first, I had a hard time grasping the oompah-pah concept and was confused about
what to do when I would try to practice at home. Phil would come to the rescue. He
would patiently demonstrate and I would imitate until I could play the songs. It was
too easy for him. Phil’s demonstrations were so effective that even my mom could
do it.

After several weeks, I finally started to figure it out. We progressed from Skater’s
Waltz which was 8 bars of dotted half notes to Cuckoo Waltz which had a complex
mixture of dotted half notes, half notes, and quarter notes. However, there was still
no specific written notation for the left hand.

Toward the end, Phil stopped going to the lessons, but I was having a great time. At
the end of the 8-week course, I was scheduled for my exit audition with one of
Ferraro’s musical directors at Ferraro Central. We packed up the 12-bass, made the
short drive, and I found myself playing for some guy sitting behind a desk. My proud
parents sat behind me. I guess I was fabulous as the audition segued into a sales
pitch. In short time, I was holding a ‘Universal’ 120 bass accordion, trying to find my
starting notes. There were a lot of buttons and more treble keys. The price was a
mere $350 (or something like that) and it would most certainly be the start of a great
career.

At the time, my Dad was a purchasing agent for the Torrance School District,
understood profit margins, and knew a high powered sales pitch when he saw one.
My parents often described the disappointment on my little face as we left without
the new accordion or even the 12-bass. But they said we would figure something
out.

A few days later, we drove up to Los Angeles Music, a music store familiar to both
Aunt Helen and my dad, and I got my accordion. It was a white Soprani. It had a
black case with a blue lining. I remember selecting the white accordion as I was
certain mom would also want to play. We left and once we were home I spent the
rest of the day playing it. When I got up the next morning, one of the pieces of trim
had come loose from the grill. I was crushed that I had already damaged my
accordion. My dad drove back up to Los Angeles Music and exchanged it for
another one.

The next issue was lessons. Bettie Thomas Accordion Studio, Home of the
Torrance Accordionettes was only 3 or 4 blocks from home, on the corner of
Torrance Blvd. and Crenshaw. We contacted Bettie. Her first reaction was concern
that we hadn’t bought the accordion from her. She said it wouldn’t match the sound
of the other accordions in the bands, but nonetheless, she scheduled me to study
with Marguerite Seneshaw. The mimeograph sheets were replaced with Book IA of

Page 2
In the Beginning

the Sedlon Accordion Method. She wrote her name in the front of the book so I
would remember it.

Marguerite explained that we would need to step back a little as I needed to learn
notation beyond a melody line. She was very thorough and an excellent teacher for
beginners. She taught me to read music and count.

I started playing with Bettie’s Bands almost immediately. As far as my accordion

blending, it didn’t prove to be an issue at all. Everyone was made to feel welcome.
Everyone was given something to do. I remember one little girl from another studio
who had learned Merry Widow Waltz (Bettie’s theme song for all bands) in a
different key. She would play along in the key she had learned it, creating a very
strange parallel organum. Bettie also included children with disabilities. Music was
something to be enjoyed by everyone!

There were some other things about Bettie that had a life-long effect on my musical
future. The bands performed a lot; probably a minimum of once or twice each week.
Performances included community centers, garden societies, market openings, tree
dedications, senior citizen centers – everything. The Torrance Accordionettes also
had a weekly radio show that was broadcast live from the studio. Bettie’s studio
included a rather large room with a stage and lights. The bands rehearsed on the
stage – so you got used to being on stage right from the start. The larger section of
the room was used as the studio for dance classes. Everyone played solos. You
never knew when you would be called, but you would. And all the music was
memorized. These were great skills that were introduced from the start – before you
realized they were anything special or unique. No one ever had a problem playing a
solo, memorizing, or adapting to any given performance situation.

During the summer months, Bettie had a float, and we performed at parades
throughout Southern California. She pulled it with an old yellow Jeepster – and we
would play, dance students would dance, and others would walk in front twirling
batons or carrying a banner. There were costumes. There were routines. The
Accordionettes were very patriotic. Our parade songs included the Caisson’s Song,
Anchor’s Aweigh, and the Marine’s Hymn. There were even parties to paint the
float.

Early in my career as a Torrance Accordionette we made a multi-day tour to Catalina

Island. We all stayed in a couple large houses and made numerous performances.
I was one of the youngest members on the trip and stood at the end of the line when
we posed on the pier for our picture.

Bettie didn’t charge students to play in the bands. Students were also welcome to
play with any of the more junior bands. There was a chart board for each band that
was refreshed at the start of each year. The chart listed your name and the name of
all the songs you had to play to complete the requirements for that band. You
performed each of your songs as a solo at the band rehearsal and your

Page 3
In the Beginning

accomplishments were recorded on the chart with a star. Each year you repeated
the entire repertoire – from Baby Band (the actual name of the band) up through the
Professional Band. So in addition to everything else, you learned a lot of music.

There were often surprises in Bettie’s shows – like when she put the entire band on
roller skates, playing a march while executing a ‘grand march’ formation. More than
one student crashed to the floor on top of their accordion.

Audiences were entertained with the shows. The shows weren’t polished and
certainly not high-art, but people enjoyed seeing so many young people having so
much fun. And the kids did have fun. Bettie turned out a large number of very
versatile, competent musicians and entertainers.

About a year after starting lessons with Marguerite, she decided the drive from her
home in Whittier to Torrance was just too far. The time required to teach was
competing with obligations to her family. For the next year, we made the weekly
drive to her home so I could continue taking from her. However, I still participated in
all the studio activities.

A hero at the time was Bill Luzon, a neighbor who lived at the end of our block. He
had a very old accordion, decorated in the obligatory art deco mix of rhinestones and
yellowing mother-of-pearl. I loved listening to him play, which he did with great
enthusiasm. On one occasion, Marguerite had assigned ‘Tinker Polka’ from the
Sedlon Accordion Course. ‘Tinker Polka’ introduced the dotted-quarter note, eighth
note pattern and she cautioned me not to become frustrated as it would certainly
take several weeks to master this important rhythm. She wrote the counting in the
book, ‘1’ ‘a’ ‘&’ ‘a’, ‘2’ ‘a’ ‘&’ ‘a’ which I was to recite aloud while playing; which
became an even greater challenge when you added the bass notes which were
played on the beats. I remember my folks hauling me and the small Soprani down
to the end of the block and sitting across from Bill as he worked with me on the
rhythm. Rather than talking about how complicated it was, he said it was really quite
easy and worked with me with the ever-present smile that was always there
whenever he put on his accordion. All the while, life in the small tract house roared
on with the normal commotion. Marguerite was shocked at my next lesson when I
tore through the dotted rhythms in Tinker Polka.

Maybe this was the foundation of something else I carried forward years later when I
taught, be it music or people learning to ski or ride motorcycles. If you don’t tell
someone something is hard, they usually won’t think it is. It is especially helpful if
you can demonstrate. “Here, try this!” Not a lot of explanation about what it is – that
all can come later.

I was progressing quickly – and became envious of some of the larger accordions
other students were playing. At the time, Bettie was selling Frontalinis. Her
personal instrument was a full-size model that had an unusual mute that consisted of

Page 4
In the Beginning

five large chrome clamshell-looking devices that stuck out of the grill. I never saw
another one like it until many years later on Ebay.

But the time was right for me to graduate from my Soprani to a mid-size Frontalini.
With the addition of a piccolo, I now had three reeds in the right hand. I remember
playing through all my songs and basking in the color the additional reed added to
the sound. The push of switch added an entire new dimension to my repertoire. The
Frontalini had the round ‘port hole’ shifts.

About this time, Bettie made a new addition to her teaching staff. Tom Owens was
one of her former students who now studied with Myron Floren. At the time,
Lawrence Welk had introduced a ‘junior band’ on his show and Tom was the
accordionist for the group. In addition to accordion, Tom played organ at church and
had a summer gig playing the calliope at the Bird Cage Theatre at Knott’s Berry
Farm. An incredibly brilliant and gifted musician, he ultimately graduated with his
PhD from UCLA in musicology and remains a faculty member at El Camino College.

My folks and Bettie decided I was ready for a change, so I started lessons with Tom.
A quiet person by nature, Tom was musically and academically disciplined. I must
have been a challenge as I was starting to come out of my shell and was ready to
take on the world.

Armed with our near-matching black Frontalinis, Billy Kanu, Jerry Roberts and I
started playing as a trio in Bettie’s shows. We also started making some of our own
solo appearances. Billy was very quiet. Jerry was much more gregarious. I was the
youngest. We wore the obligatory satin shirts with big puffy sleeves (Bettie provided
the patterns for the mothers) and a sash. There was a good natured
competitiveness and we all had a good time. We also had parental support. In
addition to hauling us around to play, our parents would critique our performances.
One thing in particular that my dad detested was for us to ‘sway’ in unison as we
played. It was just something that would sort of happen.

It was common practice for studios to conduct yearly recitals. Bettie conducted hers
at the Torrance Municipal Auditorium. The highlight would be the guest artist. I
have a program autographed by Myron Floren with two critical words of advice,
“keep practicing.” He also commented on the Billy, Jerry, Billy trio after listening to
us play at one of the studio recitals, writing, “Work on dynamics and keeping
together, Myron Floren,” on a small piece of paper. Myron had great energy and the
warm personality that came through the television was even more evident in his
personal appearances. He was always very supportive and made students and
parents alike feel comfortable.

Bettie had a way of involving the entire family in the studio. She could literally find a
way for every member of the family to participate. Phil took tap lessons at Bettie’s
and Larry was occasionally hired to do miscellaneous chores and even fix
accordions.

Page 5
In the Beginning

Billy faded out as we got closer to high school and academics took on an increased
priority. Jerry and I continued as friends into high school (he was a year ahead of
me), but our musical paths changed as he expanded into musical theatre and I
remained more focused on accordion.

A major event that happened in the early years was the Western States Accordion
Festival. I will never forget the first one. The year was 1956. It was held in the old
Long Beach Municipal Auditorium, located in the center of the Rainbow Pier, and
next to my favorite place on earth; Nu Pike, the obligatory seedy amusement park
that was the home of the Cyclone Racer rollercoaster.

The first festival was a one-day event. My dad was on one of his few business trips
so Gramps took my mom and I to the festival. I don’t think anyone had ever dealt
with 5,000 participants in a single festival. At 8:00 a.m., it seemed every single
contestant and their parents were at entrance waiting to get in. In addition to one
magnificent photo op, it was a mess beyond belief! I remember Pietro Deiro Jr., the
familiar face from so much of my sheet music concluding his remarks at the evening
concert that “some festivals on the East Coast think they are big with 1,000
participants, but they haven’t seen anything like this!” The guest artists included the
Tito Guidotti Jazz Quintet and John Molinari.

Locating the competition rooms was a challenge, requiring navigating through the
constant blare of noise from students practicing in the halls, on the balconies, and
everyplace else. There was also an endless journey up and down the Municipal
Auditorium’s long ramps that lead from floor to floor.

My dad had returned from his business trip by the time we got home that night.
Mom nearly collapsing from exhaustion told him it had been quite an experience.

By the second year, the festival was well organized. Schedules complete with times
and site-maps were provided ahead of time, helping stagger arrival times. Practicing
was not permitted in the halls, bathrooms, or any other common area. There were
categories for every classification of solo, duet, trio, combo, and band. The
competition among the studios was heightened as the winners and studio names
were announced in the downstairs auditorium, followed with a proud procession to
the sea of trophies that literally filled the stage. Parents and students alike would
cheer wildly for their home studio.

Another highlight of the festival was the vendor displays, where you could get
pictures of famous accordionists, the latest manufacturers’ brochures and try the
different accordion models. Over the years I built quite a collection of autographed 8
x 10s, framing and hanging them with a carefully selected hierarchy in the sun
porch.

Page 6
In the Beginning

Toward the end of my time studying at Bettie Thomas Studios, I made another
accordion change. This time it was a Crucianelli, a student-level line made by
Pancordion. Myron and Tom both played Pans, so the Crucianelli was obligatory.
The Crucianelli had ‘flipper’ switches similar to the Pan. I remember my dad
commenting on one particular performance of Tango of the Roses, and how my
interpretation convinced him I should have a new accordion. I also got my first
accordion amplifier, a blackish-gray Gretsch with a single 15” speaker. Accordion
had become the center of my life.

At one point, Bettie Thomas worked with the local Ford dealer, Oscar Maples, to
sponsor a television show; it was my first television appearance. This was long
before the use of tape; shows like this were ‘live’. I am sure the producers found
working with Bettie’s organization a challenge – I remember Accordionettes ducking
down to cross in front of the camera and not quite making it. A short time later,
Oscar Maples was bought out by Vel’s Ford. Perhaps Oscar should have sponsored
more shows.

The festival brought the greater Southern California accordion community together;
and it was a large, active group. Around this time, my parents sensed there was a
discipline lacking in my musical studies. Though they thought the world of Tommy,
they could see where he didn’t have the experience, or perhaps the desire, to corral
an enthusiastic, musically rambunctious pre-teen.

The next thing I knew, I was scheduled to audition for Glenn Stead. At that time, he
was teaching at the Music Center in Long Beach. I still remember that Saturday
morning. The Long Beach Music Center was very different than Bettie Thomas
Studios. Whereas Bettie was a relaxed, ma and pa-type family operation, Long
Beach Music Center was all business. The sheet music was neatly organized in
racks and accordions were in display cases. It was music, but it was also pure
business.

From day one, Mr. Stead was always the consummate gentleman. At the time, the
Music Center operation was being split into individual schools, and Mr. Stead was
going to lead the Compton store. That is where I started lessons.

There was a shift in the musical emphasis. I started working on technical exercises,
scales, theory, and a carefully selected repertoire. The teaching atmosphere was
much more formal. Students call teachers Mr., Mrs., or Miss. Mr. Stead was much
more pedantic about fingering, playing the right notes, phrasing, and developing an
‘even’ technique. The metronome became a critical practice tool. Every detail of the
printed page became important. There was a small plaque on his desk with an
inscription that I never understood. It went something like ‘when in this room, speak
in low smooth tones, …or else I will become irritated.” I never had the nerve to ask
what it meant.

Page 7
In the Beginning

I also played in the bands. In addition to playing some of the regular accordion band
schlock, we also did some traditional jazz band arrangements. We played these
from the original parts – trumpet, trombone, sax, or clarinet, requiring us to
transpose the part so it would sound in the appropriate key when played on the
accordion. Mr. Stead thought the capability to transpose was an important skill for
any musician. Despite his enthusiasm for the jazz charts, the results of this
endeavor must have been disappointing for him. I remember working on an
arrangement of ‘Take the A Train’ for quite an extended period of time. It kept
getting painfully worse with each passing week. Somehow students have a way of
figuring such things out.

There were also report cards that evaluated the progress in both private lessons and
in the band. ‘I’ stood for improvement, ‘S’ for satisfactory, and ‘O’ for outstanding.
Whereas Bettie played all the patriotic military service songs on the float, Music
Center was sometimes more like attending military music school.

Mr. Stead smoked his pipe during the lessons, filling the room with a pleasant
aroma.

A highlight of the early Stead years was an audition and subsequent performance for
Ted Mack on his Original Amateur Hour. Ted Mack brought his weekly talent show
to the Moulin Rouge in Los Angeles for two or three weeks. We prepared Dance of
the Buffoons. Unlike the bands at Bettie Thomas where everyone played in unison
(which was good because you could use band repertoire for solos), the Music
Center Hit Paraders played band arrangements written in parts. We rehearsed and
rehearsed and finally the audition day came.

The audition took place somewhere in Los Angeles. There was every imaginable
act. For some reason, Glenn Stead always insisted on amplifying the Hit Paraders
so there was this ritual of plugging all the band members into a single amplifier.
Glenn had a mixer that sat on top of the amplifier and there was a mass of wires
running from each of the accordions to the mixer; a totally bizarre practice that
certainly didn’t contribute to the overall effect of the band. Glenn would have each
student play a few notes and adjust the level for that accordion. For me, he would
always make sure that I hadn’t turned the accordion’s volume control down, only
later to crank it up. He would instruct me to play at a natural volume as he
suspected that I would play quietly during the electronic tune-up only to play with
considerably more gusto once we actually started playing. A panel of screeners
listened to the acts to determine who would perform on the show. It was a 1950’s
version of American Idol, but without the cameras and comments.

After sitting around most of the day waiting for a call back and additional screening,
we were told we would play and Glenn Stead went to work with the producers on the
content and length of our performance. Dance of the Buffoons was reduced to a
shortened version of the introductory theme followed by an immediate segue into the

Page 8
In the Beginning

second half of the trio of the ‘Music Center March’, concluding with an 8-bar
ensemble bellows-shake. The entire bit was well under two minutes.

Over the next several weeks we did a lot of rehearsal which culminated at the Moulin
Rouge for the live television appearance. We had some very though competition.
The returning winner, well on his way to being one of the year’s finalists, did a
whistling gimmick with his stomach painted like a face, using his naval as his mouth.

We spent a very long day at the Moulin Rouge rehearsing for the ‘live’ show. Ted
Mack finally arrived right before the actual broadcast and read the introductions from
cue cards. Getting the band on stage and getting all the accordions plugged in
during the length of a commercial was a challenge. The performance went
moderately well up to the bellows-shake where it became somewhat of a race, but
we ended together. At the end, Ted Mack enthusiastically commented, “Well, well,
well… from Compton California! The Hit Paraders!” In retrospect, it was the
ultimate high camp, mainly because we were trying to be so serious. But the singing
navel continued his winning streak.

Larry was at home with one of his early girl friends in charge of taping the show on
our Pentron tape recorder. I don’t know if the show or the conversation with the girl
friend was more entertaining.

I did another live television show, this time for one of the local stations. It was a
feature show, and this time I played Art Van Damme’s Meadowlands as a solo. The
jazz arrangement was prepared with the same rigid attention to detail that would
have been applied to a Mozart sonata, which in retrospect I find totally somewhat
amusing!

A milestone in my early accordion years was a guest artist appearance by Johnny

LaPadula, who had just won the Coupe Mondiale. I had never heard anything like it.
The largest hall at the Municipal Auditorium was filled nearly to capacity. They
announced his name and this insanely fast bellows-shake in a sequence of
chromatic chords started behind the closed curtains. There was a Magnatone
Amplifier with two external speakers placed on each side of the stage.

The curtains opened as the bellows-shake segued into Dizzy Fingers played
flawlessly with impeccable clarity at a blindingly fast pace. I had never seen
anything like this. This was followed by transcriptions of the Mendelssohn Violin
Concerto and von Weber’s Konzertstuck, the piece he had played to win the Coupe
Mondiale. I remember Johnny announcing that, “he would stand on the easy ones
and sit on the hard ones.” If there was ever a single event that convinced me I really
wanted to play accordion, this was it. Nothing had ever had this effect.

My parents had taking me to numerous concerts and workshops by accordion’s

greats, John Molinari, Anthony Galla-Rini, Charles Magnante, and Tito. I had been

Page 9
In the Beginning

influenced and impressed, but none of those cause the gut-level reaction of
Johnny’s performance.

Many years later, the things that came closest to hitting me that hard in terms of
pure technical displays were a performance of the Barber Concerto with John
Browning, the Brahms’s Bb with Sviatoslav Richter, and an encore performance of
Chopin’s Grand Polonaise by Arthur Rubinstein after a Los Angeles Philharmonic
performance that had the Beethoven Emperor before intermission and the
Tchaikovsky 1st after. I still place Johnny’s technical impact on me at a pretty high
level!

The Music Center Student Recitals were much more structured than Bettie Thomas.
I have recordings of playing Finlandia and Magnante’s arrangement of Concertstuck.
Glenn Stead had a lot of students and many different groups. The concerts were
marathon affairs.

In the 8th grade, I had a major tragedy. It was a Saturday night and I was having a
hard time deciding if I wanted to practice some more or go roller skating. I had
skated with strap-on street skates for years, but the attraction of the Torrance Roller
Rink was something entirely new. I finally decided I would go skating. My folks
dropped me off and I joined some of my friends. An hour or so later, I caught a
skate on someone else’s skate and fell. Looking down I realized my right wrist was
offset by almost an inch and a half. I was taken into the office and the management
called my parents.

Dr. Stetson, or family doctor, said, “Isn’t this the accordionist?” and called an
orthopedic surgeon. I had surgery that night to set the wrist. I was put in a traction
cast and came out of the anesthesia in a lot of pain. I think my parents liked to tell
the story of the choice between skating and practicing – and the result. And in true
trooper fashion, I would spend the next 8 weeks concentrating on improving my left-
hand technique.

I was already on my way to being pretty neurotic about the entire music thing
realizing years later that it wasn’t until I went into the Army that I had never built the
strength back up in the wrist. But this didn’t effect my playing, and at the time that
was all that was important.

When everything was said and done, Mr. Stead helped build a solid musical
foundation; introduced me to a more disciplined concept of technique, and ultimately
sold me a Dallape Super Maestro. It was the accordion brand de’ jour and I had
finally graduated to a full-size instrument.

Page 10
Tito

The Dallape Super Maestro had more mechanical problems than any of my
previous accordions – actually, more than any other accordion I have ever owned.
The keys would stick; binding on the pivot rod that secured them to the key bed. It
was back to the repair man over-and-over again right from the start. The first couple
of times he carefully disassembled the keyboard and individually cleaned the hole on
each key with a hand-held drill bit. Later, he resorted to attaching a high speed
electric drill to the end of the rod, spinning it vigorously for several minutes. In any
event, neither approach had a long term effect.

The shift mechanism was also problematic. The right-hand registers did not fully
return to their upright position when another switch was depressed. The result was
a set of switches that looked like teeth needing serious orthodontic work. When
activated, the wrist master would almost align the switches, but there was still the
mechanism itself. Whereas the keyboard would become sticky, the shift mechanism
would bind. I am not surprised I didn’t bend something trying to change registers.

The Dallape was my first accordion with a double tone chamber. Despite the
mechanical problems, it did have a great set of reeds. The acetone was a dark gray
rather than the traditional black. We had purchased the Dallape from Glenn Stead,
at the Compton Music Center Studio. Even with the trade in, the cost was
substantial. For a family with a limited income this was a large expense, especially
when my dad managed all the purchasing for the Torrance School District and knew
the wholesale costs of musical instruments.

But when Mr. Stead sold his first Giulietti to Mary B. – one of the rare triple-tiered
Super Models, it grabbed my attention. As a side note, all the parents used to
remark at the generous size of Mary’s breasts – they were quite large – it was
excellent fodder for studio gossip. However, they never did anything for me; I was
more interested in the accordion.

But there is another part leading up to studying with Tito. That was George Mandala
– the young virtuoso who had just won the Top Amateur category at the Western
States Accordion Festival. George had phenomenal and unrelenting technical
prowess – and a two-tiered Super. I still remember him making his obligatory
‘champion’s performance’ of “Concertstuck” at the festival’s gala concert. The
Giulietti had a razor sharp precision and tone and I could tell it was obviously an
instrument void of sticking keys and registers. George’s father taught accordion (as
had his grandfather) at their home in Cucamonga. His older brother, Tony, also
played. Whereas Mary B. had never captivated my attention, George did – along
with the desire for a two-tiered Super. I learned that Tito had become George’s
teacher about a year previous to the competition – and this also got my interest. Mr.
Stead was a well-educated, conservative teacher. He spent a great deal of time
trying to keep me in check – making me fit in with the accordion band – learning to
be a team member – making me capable of being a good citizen in the accordion
world. I just knew that there was something in Tito that that was going to be the

Page 11
Tito

different. I could sense that from listening to George. George sparked the same
kind of gut reaction that Johnny LaPadula had.

Sometime around the time I got my Dallape I got my first Magnatone amplifier –
influenced by both Johnny LaPadula (1958 World Champion who had been the
guest soloist at the Western States Festival) and George Mandala. The 280
Magnatone had stereo vibrato which may have been the best friend the amplified
accordion ever had. I eventually had the two external speakers that could be used
to spread the sound across the entire stage. They greatly enhanced the impact of
the vibrato. Magnatones were the amplifier of choice for accordionists – much as
Fenders were the amplifier of choice for guitarists. Originally made in Inglewood,
California, the factory later moved to Torrance, my home town. Over time I got to
know Don Bonham, the inventor of the stereo vibrato, and continued the relationship
until I moved to New York in 1969.

I already had a crazed desire for technique, virtuosic showmanship, and romantic
passion. But rather than feeling a need to channel it – to mold me into the
respectable musician that could eventually teach accordion to the neighborhood
children – Tito acted as a catalyst for that spark inside me and wanted to see just
how far I was willing to take it. Ultimately, many years later, I recognize that as the
quality of a true artist – someone who is not afraid of challenging the limits of talent –
and someone who knows how to accelerate that process. Tito did all that – and a lot
more – and the impact lasted a lifetime. But that is to come.

It was a period of change; a change of accordions, and also a change of teachers. I

think my Dad saw how once again the two could work together. Mr. Stead had the
Giulietti Accordion Corporation ship a Super for me to try. I had it for a week. My
Dad thought the tone was tinny compared to the Dallape, his ear being influenced by
dollar signs and impact to the wallet. Though I thought the Giulietti was the best
thing I had ever played, I sadly returned the accordion to Mr. Stead after the trial
period.

I had always stayed in contact with Bettie Thomas. If there was something Bettie
liked to do, it was selling; but Bettie also loved to barter. She somehow got the
Super from Mr. Stead to ‘show to a customer’ and I had my hands on it again. It
didn’t take the Giulietti Accordion Corporation too long to figure out it was the same
customer – and Giulietti was very conscientious about protecting their dealers and
prices. Bettie was asked how she could be selling me the accordion when Mr. Stead
said we couldn’t afford it. She said it was simple – she was taking back a piano she
had sold us several years earlier and selling us the accordion and an organ. We
traded in a Kimball Spinet and the Dallape for the Super and a clunky old
Connsonata (a product of Conn musical instruments)
http://www.usd.edu/~mbanks/CONN16.html#research that had come from some
church. The organ displaced my permanent Lionel Train set-up.

Page 12
Tito

In short time, I was at my first lesson with Tito armed with the Super. I had entered
a different world.

Tito taught at his home at 1818 Thurman Ave. in Los Angeles, a hundred feet or so
from Venice Blvd. I remember my first lesson and meeting Sylvia Prior, Tito’s wife.
Tito taught in what had originally been a bedroom in the front; Sylvia taught in a
porch-type room in the back. Tito had a well-worn spinet piano and we sat facing
the piano – music on the piano. Sylvia taught at an old white upright piano in a
porch-like room at the rear of the house.1 I had arrived at Tito & Prior Accordion
Mart.

Sylvia ran the business. I am sure it was she that explained the price structure for
lessons. The student pre-paid a fee for the month. The ‘lesson’ month had four
weeks. If there was an extra week in a given month, the fifth lesson was ‘free’. If
you missed a lesson in a four-week month, it would be rescheduled – but not if it
were a five-week month.

Whereas Mr. Stead smoked a pipe in lessons, Tito chain-smoked cigarettes. The
ash tray overflowed. Whereas Mr. Stead was quiet and reserved, Tito always had
that spark that came from confidence in his creative capabilities as an artist. There
was absolutely no arrogance. He was a member of one of the small percentages of
successful accordionists who did not use the title of ‘concert accordionist’. Tito had
enjoyed enormous success as a ‘jazz’ accordionist; and he had achieved the well-
deserved reputation of taking this genre to artistic heights. I would caution against
comparing someone like Tito with a wedding band accordionist – someone who
performs music originally done by someone else with a goal of sounding ‘just like the
record’. That would be like comparing the main character in the “Wedding Singer” to
someone like Mariah Carey or Barbara Streisand. Should someone think that by
definition a ‘classically trained’ musician is a greater artist than a jazz musician, they
are very mistaken. I always think of my friend Franco Richmond (equally proficient
in both classical and jazz piano) who used to tell of the Julliard graduate who, when
asked, couldn’t play Happy Birthday in the key of F because he didn’t have the
music.

Studying with Tito was as much about life as it was about music. It was with Tito
that I started to understand how each one affected the other. It is hard to be a true
artist without being willing to embrace both. With Tito, there was passion about the
music – how you performed it – how you related to it – how you made the tone – the
shape. But Tito didn’t talk about those things. He exposed you to them. You tried
something, and then you were provided with corrections and suggestions. Your
success as an artist would ultimately come from how well you pulled it all together,
and how you found a way to make it all part of the art. It is something you can’t fake.
Tito shared his genius. If you haven’t been there, done it, or don’t have it, it is
something you cannot share.

1
Sylvia’s father, Syl Prior, had operated one of the original accordion schools in Los Angeles.

Page 13
Tito

For Tito, your technical template needed to include a complete facility in scales,
arpeggios, and harmony. In addition to working on some standard stradella
repertoire, Tito grilled me on the ability to play the various scales with equal facility in
every key. We also went through the chords – with every conceivable alteration – in
every key and in every inversion. He wanted your fluency with chords to be second
nature – something you didn’t have to think about or figure out – intuitive mastery of
every imaginable chord was a crucial part of one’s technical facility.

At that time, Tito was exploring 12-tone ‘harmonization’ in jazz. Not the traditional
‘tone row’ of Schoenberg, Webern or Berg, but building harmonic structures under a
melody line that could use any chord (or variation thereof) that worked. This
provided nearly limitless ways to add harmonic structure to a melody line. The
success in this style was your ability to sequence the chords – build tension – add
emphasis – surprise – add humor. But most importantly, this wasn’t an exercise; it
was designed to evolve as a craft.

The other thing Tito emphasized was rhythm. I have often heard conductors rant
that vocalists are typically the world’s worst musicians, followed in a close second by
pianists or other solo instruments. Why? Because they can’t count. The excuse
usually tied to this claim is that vocalists and those who predominately play solo
instruments do not have the inherent requirement from their musical birth to play in
ensemble with other instruments.

Because of the careful teaching of Glenn Stead, I certainly could count. But it wasn’t
until Tito that I started to understand rhythm. He used exercises in his book on jazz
rhythms to teach it – but I soon realized it applied to all that is music. Basic rhythm
wasn’t something one mastered in one or two lessons – it was also something that
needed to become intrinsic. We spent hours – weeks – months. With Tito, it wasn’t
something you could fake. You had it or you didn’t. The student needed to be able
to tell the difference. He balanced enthusiasm with patience.

Rhythm also exists in different ways in various levels of the music. There is the
actual beat, but there is also harmonic rhythm, and finally the ‘shape’ of the larger
work. Each is important. I began to appreciate how the true artist balances all
aspects of rhythm.

Some 20 years later I was in a piano master class with Edith Oppens and one of her
advanced students was having a difficult time with a transition in the first movement
of Schubert’s Wanderer Fantasy. All the notes were there and it was technically
perfect, but it just wasn’t working. To me, it seemed a conflict between an indicated
ritardando and the harmonic rhythm. I suggested he try building the shape (the
largest application of rhythm) of the section from the harmonic rhythm. Edith asked
if I could demonstrate. I played the melody adding the harmonic structure just as I
would have done from a ‘fake book’ – another skill I learned from Tito. – I certainly
didn’t have the sight-reading capability to play that section of the Wanderer. The
student said it was the first time it had made sense.

Page 14
Tito

Tito never sat me down and said: I am now going to teach you about tempo and the
relationship to harmonic rhythm and shape – and then you can be on your way.
Completely the opposite. He demonstrated; sometimes at the piano, rarely with an
accordion, and most typically with his own version of scat singing. He helped me
explore – let me discover and feel what worked. To him, it was intuitive. For me, it
was a door that was opened and a skill that took a long time to master.

During my first year with Tito, I was playing my stradella. He helped me prepare for
the summer’s competition and we ultimately were successful with winning the Rocky
Mountain Top Open Competition, Top Open Jazz Competition, the Western States
Top Open Competition, Top Open Jazz Competition, and the California Festival Top
Open Amateur and Jazz Competition.

This was a fun year. With my Giulietti in hand, I was ready to take on the world. My
technique had come together and I was finally able to play the big competition
pieces with confidence along with a large amount of the standard accordion fare. I
listen to some home recordings from that time and am amazed at how I tore into the
music with reckless abandon. There was certainly no fear.

Being the son of a super-athlete, competitions were the part of my musical

endeavors that my dad understood best. He was extremely competitive and that
sparked my competitive side. It also helped that I was winning.

One year earlier when my father inquired about a flyer posted on the Compton Music
Center’s bulletin board announcing an accordion competition in the Rocky
Mountains, Glenn Stead had replied that, “someone from the West Coast would
never have a chance in that competition.” The gauntlet had been cast.

A year later, when my dad mentioned to Tito that he thought we might go to Denver
to compete in the upcoming competition, Tito said he thought it was a great idea.
The Rocky Mountain Accordion Festival would be my first competition for the
summer.

The logistics involved in traveling to the site of the competition were another matter.
In today’s world, our experiences would have been an excellent script for a reality
show, in some ways alarmingly similar to the road journey in the movie, Little Miss
Sunshine. Coming from a family with a relatively modest income and parents who
had survived the depression, money was always an important consideration. For
years, family vacations were tent-camping trips at Yosemite and later in the
Redwoods – but in 1956 or so; my parents had purchased a 15’ Field and Stream
travel trailer. Small travel trailers enjoyed popularity about the same time as the
accordion boom. For the 1960 Denver trip, I had my own sleeping quarters and
practice room under the cap of the 57 ford pickup. We were off. I was convinced I
could practice in the back of the truck while my dad drove, but the constant bounce
from the highway’s expansion joints and the dual glass packs my brothers had

Page 15
Tito

installed on the pickup made this impossible. I had to practice after we stopped for
the night, and my parents never hesitated to have me perform for anyone in the
trailer park or camp ground who wanted to listen. It was an adventure! The trip
home was most enjoyable after my victories. My dad even wrote ‘Champion’ in the
dirt that was covering the back window of the Field and Stream, often causing the
people in passing cars to stare at us. He would tell me I had ‘moxie’, and explain
this was a term used to describe a boxer with spirit.

The Western States Accordion Festival was the second event of the summer. I
didn’t realize how much my life would change after the gala concert for the
competition in Long Beach, California where I played my winning piece, a
transcription of Mendelssohn’s Capriccioso Brilliante. Earlier in the day, Tito had
introduced me to Julio Giulietti, President of the Giulietti Accordion Corporation,
insisting that he listen to me play in both the open jazz and top open competition.
Julio obliged and sat in the room, more like a proud parent than one of the world’s
greatest accordion builders. In all the years I knew him; Julio never intimidated a
player, but rather had a relaxed presence that made you play your best. And from
that standpoint, it didn’t matter what you were playing or what accordion you were
playing. It was as if he were savoring ever note, every sound that came from the
instrument he truly loved, and a love for the person playing it. It could be a
beginning student on a beat-up 12-bass, someone playing polkas, or a virtuoso.
You were all equally appreciated.2

After the gala performance, Julio invited me and my parents up to his room to see a
new style accordion. Prior to this time, he hadn’t said anything about it. This
instrument was going to represent the future of all serious accordion work. It was
called the free bassetti system.

I remember going to his room and getting my first look at one of the original
bassettis. He had brought it with him from Giulietti Headquarters in New York and
was en route to Northern California where it would be personally delivered to its new
owner. He handed it to me to play.

The first bassettis were physically huge and very heavy, but the size gave them a
rich, deep tone. They had 5 rows of stradella (the fifth row doubled as both a 7th and
diminished row by leaving out one of the notes) plus three rows of individually
pitched notes arranged chromatically (the makeup of the stradella is a bass and
counter bass row and typically four rows of chords – major, minor, 7th and
diminished 7th arranged around the circle of fifths). I can still remember Julio
explaining, “With this instrument you can play piano music the way it was originally
intended by the great masters”. Julio’s warmth and enthusiasm were infectious and
little did I know we would become close personal friends for several decades.

2
There were a few exceptions – mainly people he thought were more interested in promoting
themselves than the instrument. Some of the accordion ‘greats’ came on and off his list. Along with
some of the other young ‘Exclusive Giulietti Artist’s, I generally found this part amusing, and it also
expanded my knowledge of Italian.

Page 16
Tito

The Giulietti bassetti would evolve technically over the next several years, and from
a player’s standpoint, one of the most important improvements was a reduction in
size and weight. The original instruments used pedestal buttons for the bassetti
section. The standard bass (stradella) and bassetti didn’t share reeds, so there
were a lot of reeds in the left hand side of that instrument; thus the size.3 But as it
retained the stradella system, you could still play all the music you already knew.

However, there were no methods or protocol for the chromatic left hand keyboard
(bassetti). Another ‘free bass’ was on the horizon, the ‘converter’, was being sold
primarily by Titano. The ‘converter’ also used single tones, but the stradella chord
rows changed over to parallel rows of single notes. The argument in favor of the
converter was that it didn’t require learning a new keyboard – though you had to shift
rows to change octaves. So the free-bass war was on!4

I remember waiting several months after the festival for my bassetti to arrive. My
dad built me a mock left hand keyboard from a piece of wood and dowels. I wrote
the names of the notes on the tops of the wood buttons and practiced scales and
chords. I took it everywhere and tried to become familiar with the new keyboard.
My dad showed the crude practice keyboard to Julio and several months later he
produced practice keyboards for both the bassetti and the right hand keyboards.

The call finally came from Sylvia with good news – the accordion had arrived – and
bad news – it had been damaged in shipment. The top back corner of the left hand
side had a crack close to the rim where it attached to the bellows. Though it is
probably justifiable to attribute some of this to UPS freight handling, it also turned out
to be a problem with many of the large bassettis; one that went away with the
eventual reduction in size. The accordion was playable, but it would eventually need
to go back to New York for repair. We picked it up and I couldn’t get enough of it.
My Super ended up with Floyd Nightingale (he later changed his name to James)
and eventually was refitted with a bassetti left hand.

The concept of the bassetti, something really new and different, scared many
accordion teachers and performers alike. It would take time to learn to play it and
what were you to do with it once you did? If anything, in the early free bass years
there was a greater preference for the converter – at least in concept. With people
such as Galla-Rini, who had already perfected the ability to use registers in the left
hand (actually both hands) to change the octave, the converter made more sense.

3
The reduction in size came from using the same reeds for both the bassetti and stradella systems.
The Hohner Gola continued to use separate reeds. Julio’s logic was that both systems wouldn’t be
used in the same range at the same time. From my experience in concurrent use of both systems, I
generally used the bass and counter bass rows as a pedal tone while using the middle range of the
th
bassetti section. Examples can be heard in my recordings of the Liszt 19 Rhapsody, Rhapsody in
Blue, Toccata and Fugue in Dm.
4
The Titano-style free bass later became known as the ‘quint’ system.

Page 17
Tito

But Tito’s attitude and approach were different. Many people write music at the
piano. You play a single note or chord, depress the damper pedal, and the room is
filled with harmonics and overtones that spin and change as the notes decay. It stirs
the imagination. People improvise on the accordion, especially jazz or pop, but I
have known few people, short of very accomplished musicians, that actually
compose at the accordion. Success in realizing the tonal capabilities of the
accordion requires an intuitive sense that few people have. Things that work on a
piano often sound ridiculous on an accordion. A chord that would bring a chill when
played on the piano can sound totally obnoxious on the accordion. The accordion
can be less forgiving than a piano as there is a very limited ability to articulate
individual notes within a chord. But the accordion has some wonderful orchestral
capabilities the piano lacks. (However, I would caution against an intellectual
competition on the superior instrument, especially if available repertoire is the
ultimate measure. As silly as that sounds, the collective mentality during the
accordions hey day – at least on the part of many accordionists promoting the new
left hand systems – was bent on comparing the two. This was unfortunate, as
attention to the things an accordion did exceptionally well was buried.)

Composition has at least two major parts; both may contribute too, but not
necessarily ensure, artistic value. First is structure, the second is the use of the
tonal palate. Success will most likely be realized with some level of balance
between the two. When you combine questionable structure with a complete lack of
understanding of the instrument’s tonal capability, you have defined a large part of
what is called classical accordion repertoire. Personally, sometimes it would be
much more fun to hear the transcriptions or the Pietro Overtures.

Tito understood the accordion the same way Mozart understood an orchestra. The
bassetti merely offered an increased capability. The music was created in his mind
(I doubt he ever touched a free bassetti with the intention of playing it), it was up to
me to figure out how to technically realize his vision.

Perhaps I was lucky to have Tito at this time of my professional life as he was
artistically relentless – but in a positive way. It was like, “if you don’t say you can’t,
you can.” Tito didn’t ‘explore’ the possibilities of the bassetti, he immersed himself –
and that provided a challenge for me to keep up. There was no ‘testing the water
with a big toe’. I was forced to develop fingering systems, relearn the all the chords
in the left hand – in other words, keep up. With anyone else, I don’t know if I would
have kept the motivation – but with Tito, I didn’t have a choice!

Julio picked up on the synergy of our work and sponsored a trip that included mini-
workshops in Seattle, Portland, and San Francisco. Tito would talk about the
musical capabilities and I would demonstrate. This gave me a chance to see
another side of Tito – in his true element – unbelievable confident – comfortable --
Tito the artist. It is probably the hardest thing about him to describe. There were
other small things I remember – like when we walked into the plane for the first part
of the trip. There was some music playing quietly from the speakers. I probably

Page 18
Tito

wouldn’t have even noticed, but I still vividly remember Tito smiling and pointing to
the speakers saying, “isn’t that nice – listen to those strings”. Music truly was the
center of his life.

Well, almost. First, you never knew who might be at the house when you arrived –
but regardless, it was never boring. The students acted differently than what you
might encounter at a typical studio. There was always some type of genuine
enthusiasm over something – and whatever it was, it was generally fun. Tito and
Sylvia thoroughly enjoyed life and the fun things that were there to be enjoyed. Like
George and Tony Mandala helping them select the engine specifications for their ’63
Chevy Super Sport Impala – dual carbs on a high-performance small block (many
musicians are motor heads – or at least the ones I always hung with). Even Galla-
Rini; with his Rocket 88 Olds and later his 383, high performance Mopar. I can still
see Adrian watching as all this passed by and Sylvana seemingly unaffected by any
of it. Adrian and Sylvana were their daughters. Tito also introduced me to Don
Loper shirts. Tito didn’t to make any pretense to being hip – he was hip. Another
wonderfully amusing memory I have is sitting at an AAA banquet table in one of the
big New York Hotels. Dinner was over and they had brought out trays of cookies for
dessert. I remember him repeatedly dropping various ones onto the small dessert
plate in front of him, cocking his head as he carefully listened to the different
sounding ‘clunks’. All this was spontaneous and so much fun!

As far as bassetti, we started with Rhapsody in Blue – an Italian gray-market

arrangement by Flavio Flogi (U.S. copyright owners would not permit an accordion
arrangement). Though Tito had played for years with Paul Whiteman and
thoroughly understood what was necessary musically, it was nearly 23 years before
I felt comfortable performing the piece. I performed it in competition and at a couple
of concerts in the mid 60’s, but that was it. Maybe Tito had taught me enough to
know it didn’t work – yet. It was also a question of mastering the technical
requirements. But by 1978 – I finally knew it was right.

The real fun started when Tito wrote Jazz Scherzo – which he later incorporated into
Hollywood Fantasia. Jazz Scherzo launched into what was comfortable on the
bassetti – it fit – it worked. I used it in the American Accordionist’s Association’s
(AAA) National Jazz Category the next year.

We continued on the Rhapsody in Blue and also worked on Mendelssohn’s Rondo

Capriccioso in preparation for the upcoming Accordionists and Teachers Guild
(ATG) National Competition and a special International Competition that was being
hosted by the American Accordionist’s Association (AAA) in Carnegie Hall. It was at
this time Tito was working on the Hollywood Fantasia.

The Mendelssohn demonstrated that “playing exactly from the piano score” really
wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. A composition of moderate technical difficulty on
the piano could be very difficult on the accordion – and the musical result didn’t
justify the effort. Another such effort was the First Movement of the Prokofiev 7th

Page 19
Tito

Sonata. Though I remember preparing it as a competition piece, I don’t remember

performing it (though I may have). Playing something by a composer who inculcated
the percussiveness and sonority of the piano as a part of his overall effect was even
further off mark.

The insanity of this concept was extended even further with the perceived need to
play every note of a piano piece exactly in the octave where written. This was made
even worse by selecting potential repertoire that was some of the most difficult and
pianistic piano repertoire. One of the first recorded examples of bassetti was
Christian DiMaggio playing Ravel’s Jeux d’eau. Naturally it needed to become a
part of my repertoire. Ravel is extremely challenging for even the most
accomplished pianists. He also thoroughly understood the piano’s capabilities. In
addition to being challenged with a new left hand system, I was attempting to play
every note in the right hand at pitch, which required hundreds of registration
changes in the right hand, most in the middle of scale or triad passages. This drove
the concept of playing off the original score exactly as intended to total absurdity!
Sometimes I wonder how many of us survived.

Transcriptions are one area where accordionists like Galla-Rini or Bill Palmer had a
better view than Tito. Galla-Rini would have written a transcription (which he did for
me with the Tchaikovsky Concerto #2). At one of the NAMM shows, Judith Linder, a
student of Bill Palmer, was playing Clair de la Lune on the converter system. I
remember Bill explaining the necessity of compensating for the lack of the pedal on
the accordion – such a critical part of Debussy’s pianistic style.

On the other hand, Jazz Scherzo and Hollywood Fantasia were on the mark. For
me, this was where the bassetti first came alive. Frustration was replaced with
accomplishment.

These were very intense years for me given the requirement to learn an entirely
new keyboard in the left hand. A standard accordion has two different keyboard
systems, one for each hand. A free bass accordion required you to use two
unrelated keyboards with just the left hand – sometimes at the same time. Adding to
the challenge – it is not practical to use the left hand thumb – so you did everything
with the four fingers. On a piano keyboard, the thumb is a pivotal reference that
allows one to play smooth melody lines that span more than several notes, given its
ability to cross under the fingers. This created an imbalance in my technique
capabilities between the hands. Whereas my right hand could literally play almost
anything, the left hand required a high level of concentration. The left hand
keyboards are also out of ones line of sight – all reference is tactile in relationship to
the left hand strap. Finally, the bellowing necessary to produce the accordion’s
sound places everything in motion. The free bassetti accordion is a complicated
instrument to play.

In contrast, some might say the standard accordion is relatively easy to play –
especially at the elementary levels where the primary concentration is on the right

Page 20
Tito

hand. The left hand is used mainly to provide mindless accompaniment. As the
accordionist advances, there are increased challenges on the left hand, but it is rare
that these ever approach the right hand. Accordion arrangements by Galla-Rini
were often considered more difficult than others. The primary reasons were the
requirements he placed on the left hand, many being the smooth use of registrations
to play the proper octave. So the path for new frontiers, mainly the use and
capabilities of the accordion’s left-hand section, had been identified decades before
the free bassetti emerged. However, I doubt that Anthony Galla-Rini, Charles
Magnante, or any of the other legacy concert accordionists would have gathered at
an accordion summit and come to the agreement that the solution was a new left
hand keyboard – or agree on any kind of standardization. Ultimately, right or wrong,
good or bad, it was driven by the manufacturers under the guise of making the
accordion a legitimate musical instrument; something that could be taught in the
schools. (As a note, I do not know of any solo instrument that has ever been part of
a school’s music program.)

The accordion took its toll on my secondary education. I was much more interested
in practicing accordion than in going to school. Something had to give, and it ended
up being school. My parents supported my decision – even though my dad worked
for the school district. I would have severe cases of bassetti-itis. As I approached
graduation, I was at the minimum number of attendance days required to meet State
requirements. I had no interest in high school.

In my opinion, looking back at all this some 40+ years later, I am not sure all the
attention on free bass didn’t hurt the accordion more than it helped. With a small
group clamoring to the ‘legitimate’ music world (a world that only really existed in the
accordionists minds), “we are now legitimate, we are now legitimate”, they
succeeded in convincing others that they had been illegitimate. A lack of repertoire
and accordion bands didn’t help either.

Tito was the exception. I doubt he ever thought the free bassetti accordion would
become the panacea to all endeavors musicale! That it should be a part of every
school’s music program. Instead, Tito had already spent years playing the
accordion in all kinds of jazz groups. He knew how the instrument could be used to
compliment – rather than compete. Now, through a series of students, he saw how
he could use the free bassetti accordion as a solo instrument with expanded
harmonic and technical capabilities.

Hollywood Fantasia was Tito’s first concert piece for the bassetti. Written for
competition, it was evolved from Jazz Scherzo and utilized a number of shorter
sections – a structure that might best be described as free style. To be an effective
competition piece, it needed to present opportunities to display both expressiveness
and virtuosity. The final presto was non-stop section of 16th notes in the right hand,
punctuated with percussive sections of counterpoint in the left.

Page 21
Tito

I had planned to perform Hollywood Fantasia in the AAA’s Invitational International

Competition and to perform the Mendelssohn several days later at the ATG
Nationals. Based on the reaction to the Fantasia at the AAA event (I came in Third
to Mario Tacca), I decided to also perform it for the ATG Nationals.

The judges reaction at the ATG competition was mixed. Two of the judges loved it.
The third considered it blasphemy that I had switched from the Mendelssohn, and
suggest that were I to play jazz, I select someone like “Gershwin, who at least went
somewhere with their music.” If memory serves me correctly, Donald Hulme won
the ATG that year playing Liszt’s Spanish Rhapsody on a special Hohner converter
that didn’t convert – it was always free bass, but with the two-row stradella system. I
thought the original bassettis were big, but this thing was huge. It was possibly the
largest accordion I have ever seen, and probably even seemed bigger given
Donald’s smallish frame. When he finished, it took a couple aides to lift the
accordion from his spent body, which by this time had flopped to the back of the
chair in a heap of exhaustion. Thank goodness he was able to play the test piece on
a standard accordion. Donald played flawlessly. I always wondered if he had ever
played anything else on this behemoth, but always forgot to ask him. Donald was an
early pioneer of wireless mikes and I remember him using one combined with an
amplifier that had a rotating speaker – not like a Leslie with a rotating horn on a
speaker and a rotating drum on a bass speaker – the speaker actually rotated. I
don’t think the taxi dispatcher was intended to part of the act, but he was certainly far
ahead of his time!

Julio loved the enthusiasm of accordionists who embraced the bassetti, so I soon
became one of his favorite subjects, to include being named an “Exclusive Giulietti
Artist”. That was quite a coveted position for a 15-year old as it meant you got a big
box of 8 x 10 black and white photographs and an equal number of wallet sized.
You had your picture in the ‘question mark’ poster that was made up of Giulietti
artists and was displayed at special concerts; and you occasionally were featured in
one of the Accordion World Advertisements.

Given the immense popularity of the accordion (though it was starting to decline by
this time), the National Association of Musical Merchants (NAMM) convention was a
major event. Many of the manufacturers sponsored concerts featuring their artists –
and this was not limited to accordionists. At that time it alternated between Chicago
and New York. 40 years later, the big NAMM show is in Los Angeles. I was a
fixture in the Giulietti display – demonstrating the bassetti to anyone who would
listen. Accordion events were often held at the same time as the conventions and I
actually met more of accordion’s greats at the NAMM conventions in Julio’s displays
than anywhere else. Many of these meetings developed into friendships. Naturally,
everyone cruised by the rooms or displays of the other manufacturers. I remember
being allowed to actually play Charles Magnante’s La Tosca – and noting to myself
how different it was from their regular line. When we were in Chicago, Leon Sash
often visited the display and would play. We also traveled as a group to hear his
quartet in Kenosha Wisconsin after the NAMM had shut down for the evening. It

Page 22
Tito

was a challenge following directions that had been provided by a blind man – but we
got there and Julio somehow talked my way into the club. It was through my
association with Julio that allowed me to interact with so many of accordion’s greats.

I had no idea that my association with Julio would also contribute to a falling-out with
Tito that still remains a low-point in my musical career. Some time after our trip to
the Northeast and the experience at the trade shows, I used my trusty tape recorder
to institutionalize my bassetti ‘sales pitch’. I talked about the instrument – talked
about the music you could play, and included musical samples. I put it all together
(you could hear every splice) and sent Julio a copy. Home recordings (unless you
were Charles Magnante) were nothing compared to what they are today.

I don’t think it has ever been a secret that the accordion field had some very strong
personalities (both with the players and the manufacturers) and there were some
long standing turf wars; but at that time, I didn’t fully understand too much of that.
Some of the confrontations could become quite volatile and resentments often lasted
for years.

A short time after I sent the tape to Julio, I received a promotional kit that contained
an album that had been made from the tape, a transcript of my narration, and other
sales information on the bassetti.

Several days after that I received a certified letter from Tito saying that he was
terminating me as a student. I had used his materials and those of others without
permission; and this was unprofessional and unacceptable. I later came to fully
realize how wrong I had been, and how I had placed myself in the middle of Julio’s
passion to make the bassetti successful at any cost (which might not always result in
a positive outcome) and my teacher.

Many years later I was able to reconcile with Tito, apologizing for what I had done. I
also worked with him on performance details for American In Japan and Concerto Di
Bravura that he had written for Randy Arase. We spent some time going over errors
in the autography and then worked on what he had intended in the compositions.
Working again with Tito was one of the most rewarding experiences I have ever had.
It was also good to reconnect with Sylvia – who has continued a lifelong dedication
to the accordion and what is right.

It was an instrument that could make music, and he began exploring the
possibilities.

Page 23
Oakley Yale and El Camino

After being fired as a student by Tito I wandered about aimlessly for a while. I had
graduated – barely – from Torrance High School and enrolled at El Camino Jr.
College. When I had my mandatory interview with my counselor, she said, “We
have to take you, but we don’t have to keep you.” My high school grade point
average was abysmal. She didn’t think I had much of a future in higher education. I
started Jr. College under academic probation. Without a 2.0 (C) average the first
semester, I would be gone.

I hated high school. I started each year with a new enthusiasm, but I soon became
bored – much more interested in practicing accordion. With the exception of band
and choir, there were no music courses. At El Camino, I could finally enroll in music
courses. But my real motivation for higher education was to stay out of the Army.
The draft was alive and well in 1963 when I graduated from high school. The only
hope of avoiding going to Viet Nam and carrying a rifle was a 1SC draft classification
which required staying in school.

I thrived in the new environment. I was surrounded by a new group of people and
the condemnation of high school was gone. With an exceptionally low cost
(something like $5.00 per semester for an administrative cost) there was quite a
wide mix of students at the junior college. Some of my best friends were women
returning to school after being over the initial amusement of marriage. There was
also a vast difference in the interrelationship between faculty and students. At
Torrance High School, with several exceptions, the faculty stayed at arms length
from the students. If there was a genuine care for the intellectual progress, it was
often buried behind closed doors. In other cases, there seemed to be a fear of
loosing some kind of control. In any event, the general atmosphere at THS was very
calm.

At El Camino, my music world quickly began to expand. I only returned to my

original counselor one time – turning in a high B average after my first semester.
She was surprised, but it was the last time I saw her. The members of the music
faculty became my mentors.

I remember each one of them with amazing clarity, though it has been nearly 45
years. Dr. Robert Haag taught music theory, history, and was an accomplished
pianist. At that time he was preparing to perform the 32 Beethoven Sonatas – so we
listened to him perform each one of them during class, while he discussed the form
and theory. Dr. Haag and his wife also had a group of season tickets to the Los
Angeles Philharmonic, and were always hauling students to the Los Angeles Music
Center. Through Dr. Haag, I started to understand repertoire. Instead of studying a
single sonata (as I might have done had I been studying piano), I learned to
appreciate the broader scope of a composer’s work; the sequence and how it all fit
together. I also learned how it could reflect the social and political atmosphere. Dr.
Haag also introduced me to a different genre of professional musicians – an
individual with a vast repertoire. My world was primarily directed toward preparing
for a competition or series of competitions with a very limited repertoire. This might

Page 24
Oakley Yale and El Camino

have lead to a higher level of technical perfection in performance, especially in the

younger years; and some pedagogues think this is important. But I started to realize
there was a balance, and I needed accept the responsibility of deciding where to
place myself in that balance.

June Lusk Nelson taught most of the piano classes and was a student of Lillian
Stuber at USC. Her specialty was impressionism and she regularly performed at El
Camino. She had a superb technical proficiency and was a master at nuance and
tonal control. I enrolled in Piano 1B (second semester elementary piano) but ended
up in the Advanced piano class the next semester. I quickly discovered that despite
the fact that the accordion uses a piano keyboard and a similar written notation,
there is very limited carryover between the two instruments. Ultimately, a true
mastery of accordion technique is most likely a detriment to playing the piano.
Starting at El Camino, I continued to study piano off and on for many years and was
fortunate to work with some of this country’s great pedagogues. Though I
possessed amazing finger dexterity, there were some handicaps I was never able to
overcome, most noticeably stiffness in both wrists. However, studying piano gave
me a greater understanding of the accordion – not in terms of actual technique, but
in how to approach technique. There were many concepts I could apply to
accordion, and for me, the best way was often to quantify and qualify. It’s just the
way my mind works. June Nelson would have argued against the quantify and
qualify concept – whereas Dr. Haag would have supported it. However, many of her
students realized she was the master of what she would have argued against – and
the result was a stunning pianist.

Dr. Gordon Orme taught the voice classes. It was a requirement for all music
students – even for those like me with a less than modest vocal gift. The voice didn’t
matter (unless that was your instrument) – but knowing basic vocal technique,
phrasing, and repertoire did. In all the music courses I ever took, it was here I was
most uncomfortable. I didn’t want to listen to myself and also felt uncomfortable
having others forced to listen in the classroom. Thank goodness I was only required
to complete one semester of voice.

Jane Skinner Hardester conducted the El Camino College Chorale and taught
conducting. I eventually sang with the Chorale and served as the instrumental
soloist – provided a break for the singers in the concert program. Jeannie Weaver
Fuller was one of the librarians, but was also an outstanding composer.

Though the school did not officially ‘recognize’ the accordion (whatever that means) I
performed on numerous programs and recitals at El Camino. My musical world
continued to expand. I also expanded my realization of what repertoire I could adapt
to the accordion. I gained a better appreciation for what wouldn’t work, and saw
possibilities for things that would.

El Camino was located on Crenshaw Blvd, several miles north of my parents’ home
in Torrance. Oakley and Melba Yale and their family lived a bit further up Crenshaw,

Page 25
Oakley Yale and El Camino

within the city limits of Los Angeles. It was also the home of the Yale Accordion
Academy.

The Yale’s were a musical family. Though they all played accordion, piano, or both,
they were well versed in orchestral and piano repertoire with a fluency that was
unique for the accordion schools in the Los Angeles area. This aligned quite well
and complimented my expanding knowledge of repertoire. I especially enjoyed
Oakley Jr. and Paul.

The Yale Accordion Academy also was the home of the Yale Accordion Orchestra. I
don’t remember exactly how it all came about, but I was soon taking lessons from
Oakley and playing in the ensemble. Oakley asked my parents what we had been
paying Tito for lessons as it would be unethical for him to accept less. Oakley was
familiar with the bassetti system. He personally had two Hohner Mornio bassettis –
both of which were as large as the original Giulietti. I once asked Oakley why he
selected the Morinos as they seemed much less refined than the Hohner Golas. He
replied that he liked the narrower black keys on right hand keyboard – you could get
your fingers between them; and also that the instrument had a brighter sound.

The music studio was in a separate building behind the house, but the family’s pride
and joy, a Steinway B, sat well protected in the living room.

Lessons with Oakley were interesting. He always emphasized the need to “raise the
fingers high”, just like it said in the front of the Hanon Exercises. Though there might
be some value in building digital strength for piano technique, I never really
understood how this would help on the accordion. The only result I could see was a
lot of unnecessary motion and a ‘noisy’ hand.

Tito sat back and let his students be the star. With Oakley, he was the star, but it
was cool because you were studying with him. Later, Galla-Rini was a star, but it
was totally cool if you were one also. And finally, with Don Balestrieri, the whole star
thing was really pretty insipid.

In addition to doing most of the conducting, Oakley performed with the orchestra.
He postured himself as a renaissance musician, often performing long-lost musical
feats. One of these was improvisation; compositions based on a series of notes
requested from the audience. He also played solo transcriptions of things people
said were impossible, like Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain, which was the tour
de force for the concert accordion orchestra that claimed virtuosic status.

Oakley’s wife, Melba, did her best to hold her own; generally showing more restraint
than Oakley. All of the progeny were extremely talented and accomplished
musicians. And they were all fun. Oakley also introduced me to some urban legend
that was beyond the scope of the average accordion school. One such story was
from his experience in music school. Students would tell each other they had no
time to practice and were achieving astonishing music fetes based on pure talent,

Page 26
Oakley Yale and El Camino

when in fact they were all practicing their rear-ends off. (Sorry, it probably lost
something in the translation.)

I have never been a big fan of accordion bands; always being more into solo
performance. My experience with the Yale Accordion Orchestra didn’t change that
sentiment. The group rehearsed one night each week. The group also had several
unique things. One was the use of two Hohner Transachords, a one-note-at-a-time
electronic instrument housed in an accordion shell with fake bellows section that
pivoted at the bottom to control the volume. The Yale’s used these to reinforce the
brass parts. I would compare the sound to an electronic locomotive diesel air horn
that played impeccably on pitch but with absolutely no vibrato or other articulation
other than overall volume. And they were loud! Another was a standard Hohner
Clavinet that was used on an arrangement of Debussy’s First Arabesque. And
finally, they had the largest bass accordion I think I have ever seen – a Hohner
played by Darryl, the Yale’s youngest and largest son. I think the keys were even
extra large.

The repertoire was challenging and every band member’s private lesson would
always have a certain length of time devoted to perfecting the band music. Some
band members used to refer to band rehearsals as the “Monday Night at the Fights”
(or whatever night it was) as arguments between Oakley and Melba were not
uncommon. The group would sit quietly while Oakley would follow Melba as she
stormed into the house to solve a musical (or some other) difference.

One unique claim to fame was utilization of the Yale Accordion Orchestra as a
Community Concert’s signature performance for a local community. It was the stuff
publicity materials were made of.

The Yale’s were a wonderful part of the Los Angeles accordion scene for many
years and did much to contribute to the musical education and enjoyment of many
people.

Page 27
The Early Galla-Rini Years

I was thoroughly enjoying new found adventures, combining my passion for

accordion with my early years in academia; however things were to change again
– on several fronts.

First was my weight. I had been overweight for years. The weight, or more
accurately my perception of it as it related to my self worth, didn’t help my
popularity in high school. But looking back at it, I didn’t like any of the other kids
in high school anyway, so it didn’t matter. However, I liked the other students at
El Camino. Maybe I thought that I would fit in even better if I weren’t so fat.

But the actual decision about weight – the one that stuck – happened at an
accordion competition. I remember watching a fellow competitor who was an
extraordinary musician, but very obese. I told my folks that I didn’t want to look
like that – and stopped eating. Literally.

It would be an understatement to say that I have a compulsive personality.

Compulsive personalities are the things 8-hour practice days are made of. So
my obsession de jour became loosing weight. When it was all done, I had gone
from about 212 lbs in high school to about 122 lbs during my final year at El
Camino. During that year, I was also a member of the El Camino College
Chorale, conducted by Jane Skinner Hardester. I was recruited more for my
ability to perform accordion interludes during breaks for the chorale than my
vocal talent, though with perfect pitch I could sight sing about anything. Another
nice boost was being elected the President of the group. It was the first time I
had received recognition from my peers outside my accordion world.

Dr. Haag’s influence probably contributed to my decision to prepare the first

movement of Beethoven’s Waldstein Sonata as my next competition piece. I
may have even started working on it with Oakley Yale, but then Julio entered the
scene.

Julio was not happy about me studying with Oakley. Oakley was probably one of
the few accordionists who had not been a Giulietti artist during his career, but I
doubt if that had anything to do with it. What Julio saw was a lack of direction, or
more accurately, he saw the possibility of Oakley interfering with his influence.

Julio called my folks. It was no secret that Julio was not a fan of Galla-Rini – the
baggage between the two of them had deep roots, extending through decades.
Julio said on more than one occasion that Galla-Rini should stop playing – that
his performances were pompous – and he should turn it over to the younger
players.

Julio was probably sincere in expressing his lack of love for Galla-Rini – even
though he would always preface his remarks with some reference to a
connection with his wife, Anita, through marriage (though I don’t remember the
exact connection). But I think Julio was being sincere with my folks when said he

Page 28
The Early Galla-Rini Years

had respect for Galla-Rini. “Galla-Rini is one of the best teachers there is. He
[Bill] needs to stop futzing around with Oakley Yale. Galla-Rini is who he should
be studying with. I want to call him and ask that he take him as a student.” And
Julio assisted in setting up our initial meeting.

Since his introduction of the instrument, Julio had continued to improve the
bassettis. By the time I was preparing to meet Galla-Rini he had replaced the
bass side of my accordion with a mechanism that was cut back from the bellows
to a normal depth. This meant the left hand did not need to extend as far to
reach the buttons – giving better bellows control and making the instrument much
less cumbersome. The bassetti pedestal buttons, which had an inconsistent
action and a tendency to bind, were replaced with a more traditional button. This
resulted in a greatly improved feel. The stradella section was restored to the
traditional four rows of chords. Also, the lowest note was extended from G to E.
However, because the bellows and the overall size of the instrument were still
large, the accordion retained its rich sound. The large bellows also permitted
extended phrases.

Galla-Rini had played the three-tiered-switch Supers for a while – at least long
enough to have one of the “Giulietti Artist” pictures taken. But soon after, he
opted for his own accordion, the Gian Scala, which was imported into the country
by Petosa. Petosa was located in Seattle, and interestingly enough, was made
in Castelfidardo by the same factory that made Giulietti.

The Galla-Rini model Gian Scala had 45 keys in the right hand – but rather than
the usually 45 key range of E to C, it extended from F to C#. Though I thought
this strange, Galla-Rini had remarked that you never knew when that C# would
come in handy. Not only that, you get the extra note without the extra length of a
white note. Julio would mutter under his breath from time to time about the
absurdity of Galla-Rini needing his own ‘brand’ and the extra C#. This makes it
even more interesting that the Giulietti Steven Dominko is holding on his album
cover picture has the high C# right hand configuration. But I digress.

Based on years of listening to Julio’s ranting, I expected Galla-Rini to be a

pedagogical tyrant. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I found him
to be a warm, gentle, sincere, and very talented musician who rarely said
anything unkind about anyone. He had remained faithful and attentive to his first
wife, Dina, who had finally become institutionalized in her battle with cancer. The
only time I ever saw her was several years prior at the Western States Accordion
Festival in the Long Beach Civic Center, where I had seen Galla-Rini carefully
escorting her through the crowd. Now, he visited her regularly. There was a
single 8 x 10 picture of her on a small table in his living room. It was signed, “to
my loving darling”. He rarely spoke of her. But he used to take bananas when
he went to visit. Later on, she no longer recognized him. He also had a son,
Ronnie, but he rarely spoke about him until some years later, after we had

Page 29
The Early Galla-Rini Years

developed a very close personal relationship. He kept his personal life separate
from his professional activities.

Galla-Rini lived in Glendale. His house was located on Colorado Ave., a busy
street that had developed into one of the cities commercial areas. There were
few remaining private homes on Colorado. Once again, the studio, which had
originally been a garage, was located in the back of his house. Colorado was a
four-lane street with heavy city traffic. You drove down a narrow driveway to a
parking area in the rear. The property was surrounded by a tall privacy fence, as
the widening of the street had all but removed what had once been a front yard.
The area between the studio and the house formed a small patio.

The studio had originally been a 4-car garage. It was now painted blue with
white enamel window and door trim. There were several old tympani (without
foot pedals) and other percussion instruments in the back. Galla-Rini also
occasionally indulged in the accordion orchestra. There were also several
pictures from various parts of his career. The ones I remember most were from
his vaudeville youth – a profile where he is surrounded by numerous band
instruments, and another one with family members and accordions. His bio
stated that he had been a musical prodigy, performing at an early age on a
variety of instruments. From some stories he occasionally told, I suspected his
father, who orchestrated the family act, was the real tyrant. As a youth, he spent
a large amount of time ‘on the road’ and eating in restaurants. He once related a
story from his youth about eloquently requesting ‘furr furr poe’ from a menu. His
father grabbed the menu to see what he was talking about. When he saw it was
fr. fr. pot. (an abbreviation for French friend potatoes), he popped him one.

Galla-Rini was always impeccably groomed and well dressed. He took good
care of himself. He remained a good looking man as he aged. He wore very
thick glasses that distorted the size of his eyes – but when he performed, these
were replaced with contact lenses. Contact lenses in those days were often
problematic, nothing like they are today. I am sure this is why he didn’t wear
them all the time. I don’t know if I ever heard him swear, and he was articulate in
his conversation. It wasn’t a put-on or arrogance; it was just the way he was.

Galla-Rini wasn’t the person I expected, and I today I wonder if I was the person
he expected. I was pretty full of myself in those days, certainly ready to take on
the accordion world! But it ended up being a great relationship.

Around the same time I started working with Galla-Rini, I was accepted to both
USC and UCLA. USC had the reputation as the performance school. UCLA had
the reputation for musicology and ethnomusicology. USC was in a bad part of
Los Angeles. UCLA was in Westwood, adjacent to Bel Air and Beverly Hills. I
had musical ties to both schools, but the ultimate decision was cost. USC
charged per semester hour and was very expensive. As a State University,
UCLA was affordable with a modest flat rate per quarter. Both Dr. Haag and one

Page 30
The Early Galla-Rini Years

of my early accordion teachers, Tom Owens, were UCLA Ph.D.’s and spoke
highly of the school. That also helped me with the decision, and those were
some of the best years of my life.

At the time, I was also becoming increasingly interested in piano. Piano didn’t
replace accordion as my instrument of choice at that time, but through piano I
rapidly expanded my understanding of technique. Though piano technique is not
related to accordion technique, philosophies and methods of achieving technique
and ways to quantify it are universal to any discipline that requires movement. I
started to learn ‘how to learn’ and how to accelerate the learning process. To
some people it is intuitive, but to most it is a skill that can be improved.

I never formally worked on technique with Galla-Rini. By the time I started to

study with him I had considerable technical facility on the accordion. I was
applying much of what I had learned about learning-to-learn in my ongoing quest
to master the left hand.

However, I also knew where I wanted to go; and knew it was going to take time
to get there. When I now listen to home recordings that were made shortly
before I started the bassetti, I recognize that I could just ‘go for it’. I didn’t worry
about getting through a difficult section or getting into something too fast. I could
push the physical limitations of the accordion or my own technical abilities right to
the threshold of insanity or just questionable taste. That was my goal with the
bassetti left hand. I have always been analytical in my approach to almost
everything and accordion was no exception. I tried different fingering systems as
I already knew that one critical key in learning to learn quickly and efficiently
involves using consistent fingering. One needs to use the same fingering every
time, and use a fingering solution that balances technical necessity and musical
intent.

One of the early selling points for migration to the 5-row bassetti (where the first
two rows are repeated after the third row) was the ability to play something in any
key with the exact same fingering. While this may be a possibility, the thought is
somewhat absurd. However, the absurdity of this highlights an elemental
problem, though not a show-stopper, with the chromatic keyboard used in the left
hand: physical reference points. The combination of white and black keys on a
piano keyboard provides excellent physical and visual reference points. You can
easily see and feel where you are on the keyboard. With the chromatic
keyboard, the only references are indentations on certain keys. One the first
bassettis, only the C’s are marked. On later models, both the C’s and F’s are
marked. Something that makes this situation even more challenging is the
similar size, shape and position of each button. The ‘strike’ zone allows a very
small margin for error, making the keyboard very unforgiving. In contrast, the
piano keyboard allows considerable latitude in finger movement where the
fingers are less capable of being precise. In fact, the entire hand position can be
adjusted. The tradeoff for bassetti technique is using the back of the palm and

Page 31
The Early Galla-Rini Years

wrist against the left hand side of the accordion, combined with a strap, to
provide a reference point.

Another problem stated earlier is inability to use the thumb. However, there are
useful characteristics of the chromatic left-hand keyboard. One is the ability to
play large intervals without using the thumb – typically two octaves between the
2nd and 5th finger.

I am sure I considered the advantages of going to a chromatic keyboard on both

hands on more than one occasion. I had also heard (though I have never
confirmed the source) that Chopin had proposed a chromatic keyboard for the
piano. Probably the first person I ever asked about switching was Leon Sash.
Leon did some absolutely outrageous things with his piano-chromatic (a
chromatic keyboard made to look like a piano keyboard) accordion. Leon was
against the idea. Likewise, Julio was adamantly against the idea. Julio said it
was nearly impossible to play a smooth melody line – Leon just said it was not a
musical keyboard. But with the impracticality of a piano keyboard in the left hand
(which has been tried with no success), the bassetti is one workable option for a
single note system in the left hand.

I eventually came to describe the right hand piano keyboard as diatonic and the
left hand bassetti keyboard as chromatic. Something that I started to understand
at this point was the value to apply the concept of diatonic fingering to a
chromatic keyboard. This, combined with a basic logic for fingering hierarchies
regarding crossing the fingers over or under each other, helped me develop a
musical/technical understanding of the keyboard that fit with what I wanted to do
musically.

I often discussed these things with Galla-Rini, especially diatonic fingering.

There is also the application of diatonic fingering on a diatonic keyboard. A good
illustration of this is to compare fingering and phrasing from different editions of
the same Chopin opus. In this case, the best editions are Schirmer as there are
multiple versions and they are generally cheap! Look at the phrasing (the
editor’s interpretation of the musical shapes) and compare it with the fingering.
For this illustration it doesn’t matter what is right or wrong, it merely shows how
phrasing can [should] influence the fingering. The third factor that must also be
included is the physical make-up of the performer’s hand.

A good illustration can be seen in the works of Debussy. Here the diatonic
aspects of the piano keyboard are taken to their ultimate end. Or for a practical
demonstration, practice the first 30 Hanon exercises in all the keys (with the
same fingering) – which one should do anyway.

Some years later in a late night discussion with Steve Dominko, we discovered
that we had independently come to nearly identical solutions regarding basic

Page 32
The Early Galla-Rini Years

rules of fingering and how we applied them to the bassetti keyboard; not bad
considering we had progressed independently on opposite sides of the country.

In retrospect, I am glad that technique was not a priority with Galla-Rini, as it

didn’t distract from the two things where he excelled – musical nuance and tone
production. The single word that comes to mind when I think of Galla-Rini and
tone production is ‘ping’. His primary solution to tone production on an accordion
was a percussive attack at the start of notes, imitating the initial attack and decay
of a piano. Naturally, there were countless nuances behind the basic concept. A
chord or note played on a piano will continue to decay. The piano is a
percussive instrument. However, the accordion has tonal control throughout the
duration of the note. The note can be initiated percussively (hence the ping), but
in terms of tone production, an accordion more closely aligns with wind
instruments. Given the bellowing, it also shares something in common with the
phrasing of bowed stringed instruments.

Anyone who has survived the early stages of someone learning to play a band
instrument has an appreciation for the grating obnoxiousness that can be
achieved with wind instruments in the hands of beginner. With the exception of
intonation and the occasional squawk, the accordion can hold its own in creating
unpleasant tones. Galla-Rini’s solution for avoiding unattractive sound,
applicable at nearly every level of technical competency, was the ping concept.
But whereas the concept is simple, the artistic application can take a lifetime.

At this time, Galla-Rini was teaching a good number of outstanding students. He

also had some notable colleagues. One who had major influence on me was
Gregory Stone, composer, conductor, and pianist. Over the course of a year, I
recorded Gregory’s entire works for accordion, though only the first album was
released. The first album had works composed for accordion and orchestra
including Concerto Breve, Fantasia Napolitana, and Blues for Nat King Cole.
The only solo work was Accordion Tzigane. Gregory played the orchestra part
on piano. Later albums were to complete his oeuvre with the solo repertoire that
included a many ethnic Russian pieces that were ridiculously technical and
difficult. These were probably the most fun to play, and the ones written for
stradella were the last things I did before switching to an all-bassetti instrument.
Given Gregory’s writing abilities in this style, many of these sounded even more
difficult than they actually were – which is always an advantage for the performer!
It is unfortunate these were never released, and I have no idea of the
whereabouts of the master tapes. But more on Gregory later. The reason I
mention this now is that in the process of learning the ping, it took a while before
I really understood it. On the Stone recordings, it was sometimes overdone
during the loud passages; to the point of exceeding the instrument’s capabilities
and coming close to distorting the musical shape. I finally came to realize the
ultimate ping was not necessarily a counterpart to Arthur Rubinstein’s airborne
lunge at the piano in loud sections.

Page 33
The Early Galla-Rini Years

One of the most valuable things about Galla-Rini’s teaching was his attention to
detail. On my own, I sometimes learned a wrong note or rhythm. Galla-Rini
never missed anything. He became intimately familiar with the smallest detail of
a score. Something that paralleled this was his sense of performance
consistency; not that variations in interpretation were eliminated or discouraged,
but that a student had a total mastery of every detail of the music. This was
accomplished with thoroughness in the preparation process that is the mark of a
true pedagogue and artist. It was a trademark of Galla-Rini’s students. It was
also reflected in his arrangements – he was known as an arranger without
compromise. This resulted in arrangements that were predicatively more difficult
than those of Magnante or others. He didn’t do it for the sake of being difficult;
he did it because he felt the music demanded it.

All this adds credence to his background as a musical prodigy. He understood

musical instruments – how they worked together to produce sound – the balance
required for good orchestration – the accuracy needed in a score. He
understood how all this worked in consort and what he demanded from the
accordion was a combination of all this knowledge.

Aligned with this is what I will call ‘posture’. From my Russian pedagogical piano
experiences, I learned that how you sit at the piano affects the sound. If you
hover over the keyboard you create a very small musical world that is shared
with no one. If you sit upright, like you are at seated at the world’s banquet table
eating a gourmet meal, you fill the room with sound – and likewise you share
every aspect of the music and yourself in the process. This can provide both a
power and intimacy beyond description. Galla-Rini’s approach to the accordion
was from this school. There was never anything tentative or indecisive about
anything you did. Though some might mistake this as being pompous, in reality
it is the ultimate humility. You can’t hide anything when you are open about your
vulnerability, because you are inviting your audience to share in who you are.
When you are this brave, you can play at your birthday celebration of 100 years
and people will want to hear you because you have something to say – both
about music and life.

I worked with Galla-Rini in preparation for three National Competitions and three
attempts at the Coupe Mondiale, UCLA’s Frank Sinatra Musical Performance
Competition several recording sessions, and a continuing venue of solo recitals
and performances. But partnership was not exclusive. At the same time I was
studying piano with Aube Tzerko, working with Gregory Stone on recording his
complete accordion works, participating in several choral groups at UCLA, and
was starting to explore underground rock music. Later, at Galla-Rini’s
suggestion, I was also studying baroque repertoire with Don Balestrieri. But
rather than distract, these all contributed to my experience with Galla-Rini, and in
some cases allowed him to venture into new areas.

Page 34
The Early Galla-Rini Years

Working with a variety of music, some original accordion music, some

transcriptions, and some ‘direct from the score’ provided the opportunity to more
fully grasp Galla-Rini’s understanding of the accordion. He treated each one
differently, but was consistent in the thoroughness of his preparation. With me,
Galla-Rini was more of a mentor or coach than a typical teacher. We explored
things together. Each piece required a different approach – first on
understanding the intrinsic musical intent, and then in knowing how to apply it to
the accordion’s capabilities.

At this point in my musical journey, I was interested in a larger variety of styles.

My repertoire included contemporary original works, such as the Ole Schmidt
Toccata #2 and the Trojan Cathedral in Ruins. Rather than playing the romantic
repertoire “exactly from the score”, I had come to realize that transcribing for the
instrument was often more necessary with solo piano literature than with
orchestral transcriptions. But at this time, transcriptions were again becoming
acceptable. Horowitz, who had a life-long fondness for transcriptions – much in
the spirit of Franz Liszt – had began to include them in his performances and
recordings.

There also was repertoire that was played directly from the score, most typically
baroque material. But achieving artistry in this genre required an entirely new
approach to articulation, and this was the reason Galla-Rini referred me to Don
Balestrieri. A comparison of the Bach inventions from my very first album and
the Handel Harmonious Blacksmith on the 1967 album or works from the Well
Tempered Clavier from the 1978 albums hopefully illustrates an increasing
understanding of the applying the style to the accordion.

Within each of these areas, Galla-Rini’s insight was invaluable. An example can
be seen by comparing the Ole Schmidt with the Trojan. The notation and
registration on the Schmidt was very specific, whereas the Trojan was not. The
Schmidt required close attention to the details on the printed page. The Trojan
had few details and required studying the tonal structure, almost as if it were a
reduction from a full orchestral score, and determining registration and phrasing.

I had already started working on the 1st movement of the Beethoven Waldstein
Sonata for the National competition prior to starting to study with Galla-Rini. In
retrospect, it was not a good choice. A totally new transcription might have
worked better, but that would have been a question of taste. Thank goodness I
didn’t attempt the transition or second movement. I have always been
particularly fond of the Waldstein. I must have had blinders to think I could
improve on Beethoven’s intent by playing the notes exactly as written. I would
not think it unfair for an aficionado of the piano to think it blasphemous, which
some did. After the competition, I don’t think I ever played the Waldstein in
performance and didn’t record it. Years later I learned it on piano.

Page 35
The Early Galla-Rini Years

Interestingly, I think Steve Dominko made a similar mistake with the Schubert
Wanderer Fantasy. Whereas the demonstration of his technical and musical
nuance are nothing short of pure brilliance, it suffers the same fate as the
Waldstein. The contrasting slow section which can be thick and muddy when
played on a modern piano is even worse on accordion.

In contrast, the following year when I performed the Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody
#19 the musical results were much improved. Galla-Rini was instrumental in
preparation of the Liszt and the approach was more a transcription than an
“exactly off the printed score”. It was inspired from Horowitz performance. I
would say the same thing for Steve’s performance of the 2nd Hungarian
Rhapsody. It was brilliant and certainly worked. Both were better choices of
musical material. It is interesting that Liszt is considered one of the greatest
performers and composers for piano of all time. And some may come to the
conclusion that maybe Liszt is who we should have been playing. However, I
would offer another thought. In earlier, pre-Galla-Rini times I had attempted
other Liszt works – to include Valse Obliee and several of the Transcendental
and Paganini Etudes. They were a total disaster. I don’t think I ever got to the
point of performing them. The Hungarian Rhapsodies were, by nature, more
ethnic and were better suited to orchestration or an accordion transcription.
Other successful Liszt transcriptions I can remember include the Spanish
Rhapsody (Donald Hulme) and the Hungarian Fantasy (George Mandala). I
always loved the Liszt Sonata and eventually learned it – but on piano.

Probably one of the ultimate tests came when I was performing for the UCLA
Atwater Kent Scholarship Awards. I included the Liszt in my program. One of
the judges was Aube Tzerko, the renowned piano pedagogue, who had never
heard me play accordion. After I finished, he approached me in the hall and
asked why I was studying the piano. He said that 100’s of people in this country
alone played as well or better than Van Cliburn – but how many could play the
accordion at my level? I don’t think he would have felt the same way had I
played the Beethoven. Years later, a friend who was one of the judges of the
Frank Sinatra Musical Performance Competition confessed that one thing that
had not helped me was including a Chopin Etude on my performance list. During
the last round of finals, the judges had called me back and asked me to perform
it. It was a tie-breaker, but the deciding factor was not that performance, it was
that it had been included in the performance list.

So another challenge in proving the accordion was a legitimate instrument,

worthy of a place alongside other legitimate solo instruments, was to know what
to play and what not to play. Galla-Rini helped in these decisions, and I had
great respect for his advice.

I think another lesson to be learned at this time was not selecting things that
were either too well known or were tied with a certain expectation. As we
searched for yet another competition piece, the Tchaikovsky Bb Concerto would

Page 36
The Early Galla-Rini Years

certainly be out, but the less-known G Major Concerto might be more acceptable.
By now I was in my third year with Galla-Rini and he started on a transcription
that was built from the ground up. Whereas the Beethoven and Liszt had been a
combination of printed piano score with sections of manuscript, Galla-Rini
penned every note of the transcription for G Major’s first movement.

Galla-Rini was meticulous in preparation of the piece. Once written, no changes

were necessary. He was accurate in both musical content and in what was
possible technically. The Tchaikovsky included some pianistic techniques where
chords were played with alternating hands in rhythmic patterns (rather than a
straight alternation of right, left). I had used an alternating hand technique in
both the Liszt and de Falla’s Ritual Fire Dance, but the section in the
Tchaikovsky was much longer and rather complex. Without the use of a pedal,
the musical result was different on accordion than on piano, but it worked. By
now I was becoming more comfortable with the instrument and felt satisfied with
the performance. The G Major did not remain in my long-term repertoire, but had
I continued to perform, I might have eventually returned to it, as with Rhapsody in
Blue.

I was also building a more varied repertoire and was playing quite frequently. In
addition to performing regularly at various venues at UCLA, I was guest soloist at
numerous studio recitals and local festivals. It was not unusual for Galla-Rini and
I to both perform at the same location and that was a treat.

We spent a good deal of time on repertoire. By now it was a mixture of styles;

with transcriptions, original works, and some free bass arrangements by Don
Balestrieri. Don was one of the pioneers of the Titano converter free bass and
was a former student of Galla-Rini. Over time he gained a high level of respect
from the music community, especially in baroque and contemporary.

Galla-Rini also had the obligatory accordion orchestra. It was a combination of

his students and some former students. My good friend, Dora Wahl (also the
drummer for my rock band) played percussion instruments. Playing in his
orchestra was not quite as painful as my experience in some of the others, but it
was still an accordion orchestra. However, the arrangements were very well
done and he had a good idea of what he wanted.

The main performance I remember was in the Shrine Auditorium was for his
Diamond Jubilee, which at the time was the largest venue in Los Angeles, in fact,
one of the largest theatres in the country. In addition to the traditional accordion
band schlock, featured guest artists were Christina Carol, an accomplished
operatic soprano, and Gregory Stone, composer and pianist. This was where I
really got to know Gregory, starting a partnership that culminated in recording his
entire works for accordion. The Shrine program included the von Weber piano
concerto with Gregory playing the piano part, Visa d’arte with Christina, the

Page 37
The Early Galla-Rini Years

Mouldau (another favorite of accordion bands), Wagner’s Reinzi Overture, and

the theme from Swan Lake.

I still could not tell you why Shrine was selected for the concert. Even with 2,000
people in the audience, it would look empty. By the mid 1960’s, the instrument’s
popularity had started to decline. I can’t see how the performance could have
been a financial success.

At one time I learned Galla-Rini’s first Accordion Concerto. It was easily

adaptable to bassetti and was quite fun to play. Galla-Rini seemed pleased that I
was learning it, and surprisingly we didn’t need to spend a lot of time on it. By
that time I had a good idea of what he was about musically. It was fun
performing the accordion part with him playing the orchestra part on his
accordion. I never did perform it. My friends, accordion or otherwise, were never
enthusiastic about the idea – something I never really understood. To me, it was
like the Brahms Bb. Sort of – in that it used the instrument well and was totally
playable. Something you could have fun with. Years later I played a movement
(the Gigue) from the Concerto with an accordion band at one of the competitions.
Galla-Rini was guest conducting an ensemble of accordionists attending the
event.

A requirement of the national competitions and the Coupe Mondiale was a test
piece – something each contestant was required to play. The test piece was
released on a date at a prescribed time before the competition so everyone had
equal opportunity to learn it. As time progressed and with more free bass and/or
bassetti instruments in the competitions, it was expected the test pieces would be
playable on both stradella and free bass instruments. At best, the test pieces
were tolerable. More typically, they were somewhere between forgettable and
hideous. In all the years I competed, I never remember having any desire to play
any of them after the competition. Sometimes ‘famous’ (at least in relationship to
accordionists) composers would be commissioned to write them. A few were
written by accordionists.

The only one I can actually remember was written by Charles Camaleri. Though
he was Maltese by birth, he had ended up in Canada. Danza Latina. However,
many of the contestants coined another name for the work, Danza Latrina. The
Coupe Mondiale was in Toronto that year and the organizers certainly raised the
bar when they had an ensemble of strings play an accompanied version of the
Danza by one of the composer’s students. A year later at the Coupe Mondiale in
Malta, I remember Charles saying that he had really challenged the competitors
because of the structure of Danza. With the bursts of quick rhythms, what was
not played was as critical as what was played, and many had difficulty handling
that. I still find it interesting that a person from Malta who had ended up in
Canada would write a Latin piece. Were I still playing today, it might actually be
one of the pieces I would play, but I think the sheet music eventually was lost in a
fire (in my fireplace).

Page 38
The Early Galla-Rini Years

On a more serious note, the Canadians were doing some really good things
during the late 60’s. There were some excellent musicians and the original
compositions represented a more musical presentation of the accordion. When
the obligatory accordion bands are replaced with string ensembles, something is
going on.

To give another picture of the quality of the test pieces in general, one was
released with two pages printed out of sequence. Other than the fact that there
was an unexplained 2 ½ octave jump in the right hand, I don’t know if it really
made any difference. I found out the morning of the competition as did most of
the other competitors.

I found it a challenge to engage the discipline required to learn the test pieces.
Galla-Rini was an asset as he would ensure I was playing the right notes and
following the dynamics and phrasing. I would have taken a much broader license
in trying to make them more musical; but that would not have set well with the
judges. But at least at the national competitions, it was unlikely that a judge
would have a counter in his hand clicking off each mistake. By that time, they
would be expected to do it in their heads!

Many of the performances I did in partnership with Galla-Rini were sold out.
However, there were others that were almost empty. In either event, it didn’t
matter to Galla-Rini. He performed every concert as if it were standing room only
– and never showed any signs of discomfort when he collected his fee.

Whereas my parents were survivors of the depression, Galla-Rini had himself

survived the great depression. For my family, money was always a factor. We
were careful when we selected restaurants – and when we ordered. It was
always a matter of what something would cost. That entire mindset was
thoroughly implanted in me.

Galla-Rini was the opposite. Whereas we would look for the best value on a
menu, he would always order the most expensive thing, or things regardless of
where we were. It didn’t matter if he was paying, or if someone else was (though
typically it was someone else). Perhaps it was what was expected from an artist
when being hosted by his fans. I have heard it said that musicians did very well
during the great depression. People still spent money on entertainment and
musicians and entertainers thrived. Julio (and others) said that Charles
Magnante made enormous amounts of money during the depression with his
daily New York radio show.

Now from my parents perspective, when you went to a place such as Denny’s,
you were better off with things they sold a lot of – like the hamburgers or patty
melts. They didn’t sell a lot of steak or lobster. So that might explain why Galla-

Page 39
The Early Galla-Rini Years

Rini’s meal was less than he expected at places like that. I still can’t say
because I have still never ordered anything expensive at a place like Denny’s.

On the other hand, he was more in his element when we went to a good
restaurant. Then the ‘special of the house’ was typically outstanding. But above
everything, he was a good sport. I am sure I was responsible for his first
experience at a McDonald’s. I can still remember him taking his food back to the
table and arranging it in front of him.

On several occasions, I stayed with Galla-Rini while I was preparing for

something special. It was a better option than dealing with the drive from
Torrance to Glendale. We would spend hours working together. I would also
spend a great deal of time in his studio practicing. These were rewarding times
and I don’t think many students had this opportunity. He was a very private
person.

I don’t know if Galla-Rini cooked much, as we ate out every night at different
restaurants in the Glendale area. He was well known in each of them. Though I
offered to help with the cost, he never accepted. I stayed in what had been
Ronnie’s room when I was there.

At the same time I was studying piano with Aube Tzerko at UCLA. Whereas I
never worked on technique with Galla-Rini, Aube spent weeks on how to sit at
the piano and some very basic exercises designed to strengthen the fingers and
build finger dexterity. I suggested to Galla-Rini that he might get a piano to use
to maintain finger strength, and soon after, the studio was graced with an old
upright. I showed him some of the exercises, and I know he did them at least for
a short while.

Galla-Rini was the perfect person for me at the time. However, unlike Steve
Dominko who studied with a single teacher from the age of ten, I was destined to
work with a variety of people. Galla-Rini was supportive of this.

Page 40
UCLA and Mixed Venues

By the time I started working with Galla-Rini, my musical world had expanded.
There was also an increased connection between my music and personal worlds.

World Competitions

My father was a very competitive and successful athlete. He had lettered in as

many as 5 different sports each year in college (seasons were much shorter
then) and in his final years was the Team Captain for at least three of these
sports. I don’t know how much he really understood or appreciated music or my
playing, but he understood what it was to be competitive. My Competitions
became milestones; something to prepare for, and something to measure
progress. With the exception of my rock band, my parents were totally
committed to supporting my musical endeavors.

However, my parents were concerned that I maintain focus. It was also obvious
they thought my focus should be on the accordion, or more accurately, on solo
accordion. A multitude of events come to mind that illustrate the strength of their
influence – even from the earliest years. My middle brother had a phenomenal
talent for anything physical and was accomplished at tap dancing. I thought it
would be fun, but my parents discouraged it. It would take time from my
accordion practice. In high school, I was asked to play accordion in a school play
– but that would cut into my practice time. When I was with the El Camino
College Chorale and our return flight from an MENC convention in Kansas City
was delayed for a day, there was deep concern that I was missing practice. After
all, I had already missed three days for the trip (it was one of the few times I
didn’t take the accordion with me). There was always the reservation about
performing with accordion bands – I was more a solo than ensemble player and
band practice time took away from solo practice time. Even many years later
when I was studying piano quite seriously – I might finish playing the Liszt
Sonata or the Brahms 2nd piano concerto only to be asked by my mother, “Don’t
you ever play your accordion any more?” My parents would brag that they never
had to force me to practice, that it was something I wanted to do. It was
something I wanted to do, but the basis for motivation might be open for
discussion.

Accordion competitions fit very well into this scheme. Competition required the
ultimate preparation for a given piece or pieces. From an artistic standpoint,
having experienced the artistry that ideally is the result ultimate preparation
makes it an achievement that can be repeated. But if one has never done it, it is
a concept that is difficult to explain and absolutely impossible to teach.

Thus, the actually competition becomes even more of an event. And if the
desired outcome is diminished with anything less than 1st prize, it becomes even
more complex. As with so many things, it is a matter of balance.

Page 41
UCLA and Mixed Venues

In addition to the actual performance, there is a social culture that surrounds the
competitive event. There was a distinct difference between the National
Competition sponsored by the American Accordionist Association (AAA) and the
competition sponsored by the Accordion Teachers Guild (ATG). There was yet
another culture associated with the Coupe Mondiale, which was held each year
in a different country.

In the 1960’s, the AAA was the more glamorous of the two. It had the aura of the
powerful East coast corporate sponsorship. The ATG was more like a Ma and
Pa operation; and it often seemed that Fred and Lari Holzhauer were that Ma
and Pa. It was said that they kept the ATG alive in spite of almost everything
else that happened around it. Though there were committees and elected
officers, Fred and Lari did the real day-to-day and year-to-year work. They were
an older couple and quite passionate about what they did. One distinct memory
was their dedication to Barry Goldwater. For a while, every letter would be
signed with a gold-colored ball point pent, and below the signature would be
written, “This letter was signed with Gold Water.” I don’t how they ever survived
the resounding defeat.

The ambience at the ATG competitions also seemed more somber than the AAA.
There were also fewer events that surrounded the ATG National Competition.
The AAA was a rather large festival with multiple categories and lots of prizes.
The ATG was primarily the single event of selecting the lucky competitor who
would have his or her expenses paid to the Coupe Mondiale.

A musical difference in the two competitions was sight reading. The Couple
Mondiale included 10% of the contestant’s total score on playing something at
sight. The ATG followed the practice. The AAA competition didn’t include the
sight reading.

If I remember correctly, at one point the decision was made that it was not
acceptable to compete in both competitions; probably a decision of the AAA. For
this reason the ATG competition generally trailed the AAA competition by one or
more days. In this way, the AAA would not now that you were entered in the
ATG. Generally, I don’t think very many people competed in both. For some
reason, I gravitated toward the ATG. It might have been because Galla-Rini was
President Emeritus, though he was also highly respected in the AAA.

Each organization also held a banquet and often a concert, or at least the
opportunity for the new champion to perform. At least in the ATG, the rules were
quite specific and I remember one occasion where the winner was disqualified. It
was 1977 or 1978 when I was serving as the head judge. Consistent with the
organization’s name, Accordion Teachers Guild, the competitor had to be
sponsored by a teacher who was an ATG member. In this case, the teacher’s
dues were not current at the time of the actual competition, which was
discovered after everything was done. Even with offers to pay the back dues, the

Page 42
UCLA and Mixed Venues

competitor was not allowed to keep his title. He was an exceptional talent and
had played the Liszt 19th Hungarian Rhapsody as his Choice Piece. Ultimately, I
think he became discouraged and stopped playing.

I remember playing in the competitions, though over the past 40 years the
individual details of each year have blurred together. The actual competition
generally took place in a meeting room of a hotel – often not acoustically
flattering. Relatively few people listened to the competition. In most cases, I
doubt there were more than 20 tops, though some of the competitors had a
following so people would be moving in and out between performances. Another
concern for many was the 10 minute time limit for the choice piece. I know of few
things more irritating than an egg timer being started when you play the first note.
You were instructed to stop at the end of the allotted time, though I never
remembering anyone doing that. I also don’t ever remember anyone being
penalized for going too long. The player had the option of standing or sitting (I
never saw anyone stand). I can’t remember if the music had to be memorized,
but I don’t ever remember anyone using music.

Each contestant was required to provide 3 original copies of their choice piece for
the judges. They would make marks on their score sheets as you played – some
would occasionally respond in some way, but most of the time they followed
along on the music. Sometimes the judges sat at a table in the front of the room
facing the audience, the competitor facing them with his or her back to the
audience. Other times, the judges sat in the front of room with the contestant
facing everyone. The results for the ATG were generally announced late in the
day and the winners would play that evening.

For the competitors, a major concern was always the temperature in the rooms
where they were to play. It was common for the rooms to be very cold. It was
typically a long day – and a year or more of preparation came down to the
performance of the test piece that had been selected for the Coupe Mondiale, a
short sight reading selection, and the choice piece.

I competed in three Coupe Mondiale and the one International Competition

sponsored by the AAA. The Coupe Mondiale followed the same basic sequence
as the national competitions with a few differences. First, you had to be
sponsored by a member country to participate. In the case of the United States,
they accepted two competitors, one from the AAA and one from the ATG. There
was a panel of judges. Each member country was allowed one judge. There
was some type of numeric scoring system that was used to average the judges’
scores – I don’t believe there was any discussion or a consensus process. Many
contestants thought that the some judges would score their person high and the
rest low – so if the judge from their country actually tried to be honest, that
competitor would be at a disadvantage. I don’t know if there would ever be any
way of knowing.

Page 43
UCLA and Mixed Venues

My first Coupe Mondiale was in Toronto, Ontario. Both of my parents went and
we flew from Los Angeles to Chicago, and then up to Toronto. The Canadians
did an outstanding job scheduling the activities for the event. There was a
program the opening night with a variety of performances, one including a small
string ensemble accompanying an accordion soloist. They skipped the obligatory
accordion band.

The actual competition was well attended – and it was one of the first strong
representations of the Giulietti bassettis. When the dust settled, Steven Dominko
had won the gold medal and I had the silver, so the United States had claimed
the first and second prizes. Steven’s parents were already talking about a world
tour Julio had been planning for the new champion. This caused my parents,
especially my father, to have some suspicion as to Julio’s motives and his role in
the outcome of the competition, but he didn’t voice it. And there was also the
underlying battle between whether the AAA or the ATG sponsored the top US
candidate. But despite any of that, I played well as had Steven. I never had any
resentment toward Steven. I played the 1st Movement of the Waldstein. The test
piece was Danza Latina.

I returned home to start digging in for the next year’s competition and to college
activities. By now Galla-Rini and I were in full sync and were collectively working
on the transcription of the Liszt 19th Hungarian Rhapsody. The 19th had the
reputation of never being finished by Liszt. Some sections more resembled a
musical sketch than a finished piano work. Horowitz had included it as a
transcription on one of his ‘returning-from-retirement’ recordings. I was
influenced.

Following the Coupe, Julio wanted an album – not like the one that had caused
the problems with Tito, but one recorded in a studio. The idea was to have
Steven do one side and I do the other. I started preparing with Galla-Rini.

One of the first decisions was where to record. Galla-Rini somehow made a
connection with Armin Steiner – possibly through Gregory Stone.

In retrospect, working with Armin was perhaps one of the most unusual things
that had ever happened to me, and perhaps even to the accordion. Armin was
an extraordinary string player who had done (and continued to do) a lot of work
with Lincoln Mayorga. Somehow along the way, he got involved with recording
and spent many years recording some of the top rock performers and later some
major motion picture scores. When I first worked with him, he had a studio set-
up above his mother’s garage, complete with a live chamber located somewhere
below the garage. He recorded a vast number of people there – as an example,
he was doing all the stuff for Dick Clark’s “Where the Action Is” with Paul Revere
and the Raiders. The place was totally sound proofed, but neighbors eventually
started to complain about people coming in and out at all times of the day and
night.

Page 44
UCLA and Mixed Venues

Anyway, we scheduled the recording session. For some reason, Galla-Rini didn’t
come to the taping, but we borrowed his Magnatone Bass Amplifier (this huge
thing with 4 12” speakers) and headed off to Armin’s.

The best recording engineers are usually excellent musicians as they need to be
able to ‘hear’. Armin was as good as they came, and was enthusiastic about the
session (though I think that is a requirement of all recording engineers – they
have to act like you are recording a #1 hit no matter how bad they really think it is
or if it is a style they cannot stand).

Over the years, both Armin and the sound from the studio above his mother’s
house became legendary, and the sound that he got from the accordion was truly
remarkable. We recorded the Liszt, the Ole Schmidt Toccata #2, Important
Event from Schumann’s Kindersehen, Mendelssohn Spinning Song from Songs
without Words, and a couple pop things that I had done: Tenderly and a Boogie.
It was all done in one evening and off to Julio almost the next day.

By the time Julio got the recording, someone had decided that Stephen should
have his own record, so Julio asked us to do a second side. Again, we went to
work. By this time, Armin was out of the garage and moving into Sound
Recording Studios on the corner of Yucca and Argyle. I was one of the first
people to record in the new studio – one of the first to have 8-channel recording
capability – though the album was still recorded in a live-to-2-track.

With some shifting and the additional material, the master tapes went back to
Julio. The album was the first on Neofonic – and had a cover printed on a gold
stock with red ink. It was not the most attractive album jacket ever done.
Additionally, whoever did the mastering in New York convinced Julio that all the
‘clicks’ from the registration changes needed to be taken out. They also did
some equalization changes to the tape which was unfortunate. I guess it was a
chance to make some extra money. In any event, the album was released. I
never made a cent from it, but it helped get me recognition and some gigs. Most
copies were distributed free-of-charge. Recordings were a marketing opportunity
for Julio. Neofonic 100 – the most exciting sound today!

I think there was a genuine sincerity in Armin’s like for the album and the
accordion. He started inviting me to special recording sessions he thought I
would be interested in. He had some friends with interest in big bands, and
some of the best jazz musicians in Los Angeles gathered to record great
arrangements of the big band era. I had always been interested in all types of
recording and this was a huge treat.

Stephen’s album came out shortly thereafter. The album design was basically
the same, but with blue ink. It was later redone with a new cover and some other
enhancements and released under the same number – Neofonic 101. I am now

Page 45
UCLA and Mixed Venues

attempting to get a copy of the first recording for over 40 years. I finally obtained
a copy of the second one. The services of Charles Magnante were enlisted for
the second release. An over-done electronic vibrato was used on some of the
slower sections, and even though an overall goal seemed to be making the
accordion sound like a stradella, it still didn’t hide the brilliance of Stephen’s
playing.

In 2006, I finally made a high-resolution digital copy of the original master tapes
from the first album. The tape had started to deteriorate and I had to carefully
replace every splice before I could play it. I had forgotten the rich, full sound that
Armin had captured. I don’t know if anyone has ever topped it. It was also
recorded on one of the big bassettis.

Competing in my second Coupe required me to compete again in the National

Competition. The choice piece was the Liszt. I don’t remember the location of
the National Competition, but the Coupe was in Malta.

I was to attend this one by myself as air fare was quite expense. However,
Galla-Rini was to meet me there, and naturally, Julio would be there also.

Malta was quite an experience. It was a wonderful place to visit, and they had
made some good creative choices in how they conducted the competition.
Getting there was the first part of the adventure. I flew over-the-pole on a Pan
Am 707 to London’s Heathrow and then down to Malta on a BEA Comet. It was
a long trip, and one of my first experiences spending an extended amount of time
in an airport.

We were treated like celebrities when we arrived in Malta. The Mediterranean

terrain wasn’t what I expected, though I really don’t know what I expected! There
were photographers at the airport and a lot of attention surrounded the entire
event.

Arrangements were made for the competitors to stay at a Catholic Retreat a

ways out of the city. There were concerns that the practicing would bother
people in the hotels – most of the hotels being resorts. I remember riding from
the airport to the Retreat with one of the Canadians and experiencing a strong
summer rain. The water was coming up through the bottom of the car, deep
enough to where the engine eventually stalled. I had to hold my feet up to keep
them from getting wet. I looked over at one of the homes and saw they had the
front and rear doors open, brushing the running water out through the front door.
The rain finally stopped, almost as fast as it started and eventually we were on
our way again – by this time in one heck of a traffic jam.

The staff at the Retreat, both clergy and civilian was as cordial as I have ever
met, as were the Maltese in general. We all ate in a big dinning room –
contestants, judges, everyone. There were people together that you wouldn’t

Page 46
UCLA and Mixed Venues

normally expect. I remember sitting at a large table after the supper meal one
evening with Dr. Hohner, Julio, Galla-Rini, and a couple Russians who didn’t
speak much English, eating and carrying on until all hours of the night, having a
great time.

The Maltese loved Americans. It was hard to walk down a street without being
invited into someone’s home for refreshments. We had the opportunity to see a
great deal of the Island. One night in particular I was riding with Jerry Cigler back
from a trip into town. One of the priests was driving. I don’t know if the Maltese
had ever really decided which side of the street they would drive on. Most of the
time it seemed to be more a game of chicken or application of the law of gross
tonnage. All I remember is that we were heading at a very high rate of speed
directly toward a large truck. It was a very narrow street – certainly not enough
room for both of us. At the last minute, the priest careened off into a ditch. Jerry
roared with laughter saying to the priest, “Father, you missed him!” Then Jerry
wanted to drive. That’s when I protested.

The young Russian competitors were fun. Most had studied English since the
earliest grades of school and were anxious to practice speaking it. Their ‘ice
breakers’ were very corny English jokes limericks which were too bad to even be
amusing. They liked to eaves drop on everything we were saying, but we soon
discovered that a bit of slang thrown in, or for higher security, pig Latin, and they
couldn’t understand a single word.

While it might have been the most genuine camaraderie I ever experienced in the
accordion world, I was disappointed with the outcome of the competition. I again
came in second. I don’t remember who won.

As soon as we returned home, Galla-Rini was working on the transcription of the

first movement of the Tchaikovsky G Major Piano Concerto. As I said earlier, it
was constructed from scratch – every note written. It was a technically
challenging piece to perform. I somehow made time in my college studies to
compete in the ATG National Competition which allowed me to participate in my
third Coupe in Versailles, France.

It was a very different atmosphere. There were some excursions, and the Palace
Grounds were impressive, but the competition was (for me) disappointing. The
winner played a version of von Weber’s Konzertstuck – something I had done as
a Sophomore in high school. I came in third.

My mother made the trip to Versailles with me, and after the competition, we
traveled to Rome for a few days with Julio and then on to Castelfidardo where
the accordions were made. Rome was fun. Julio spent a good deal of time in
Italy and knew his way around all of it. We ate at the restaurants “the locals ate
at”; stayed in non-tourist hotels, saw the Vatican, and Julio kept my mother

Page 47
UCLA and Mixed Venues

amused by tipping the cab drivers and telling them to ‘give her a thrill’. They
would have given her a thrill without him.

For some reason, we headed off to Castelfidardo a day or so before he did. He

insisted we take a train – and the one we took stopped at every small village and
places between. It was a long ride.

When we got to Ancona, we were to call Julio’s cousin to come pick us up. This
far off the regular tourist path, there were few who understood English. In fact, I
think some of the youths managing the shops didn’t realize there was a language
other than their own.

After some time I realized you needed tokens to use the phone. Then I had the
challenge of communicating with the news stand boy that I needed to buy phone
tokes. And after accomplishing all that and getting my number, Julio’s Cousins
little boy kept answering the phone, and when all he heard was my gibberish, he
would hang up. So I would start the cycle again. Eventually he came and picked
us up – said he had heard the kid picking up the phone and guessed it must be
us.

Visiting the factory was great. They were about 70% done with an all-bassetti
accordion that Julio was having made for me. But it was also great to stay with
his cousin, having a rare opportunity to experience the family life.

Another cousin owned a restaurant, and that is where we ate dinner and supper.
I have never seen people eat so much. After the noon meal, I was stuffed. I was
shocked when we went back mid-evening to repeat the process.

The workers in the factory were nice and gave the appearance of being
productive. From time to time Julio had explained how crazy the Italian
government was and how it affected the manufacturing process. Much of the
work was done as piece work in people’s home – such as reed blocks – and then
brought into the factory. There were piles of lumber that was being aged on the
side of the building.

Another sight that impressed me was the Farfisa factory. Whereas Zero Sette
was rather modest in size, Farfisa was huge – certainly an industrial complex.

When it came time to head back to Rome, I asked Julio why we didn’t fly. He
said he didn’t trust the planes going over the mountain – but agreed to fly with us.
It ended up being a small jet, and was much quicker than the train ride.

We flew back to New York on TWA; got in really late and had missed our
connection through to Los Angeles. But after a marathon race through Kennedy,
we got another flight and were home the next morning. Any trip with Julio is a

Page 48
UCLA and Mixed Venues

marathon. I was exhausted. But at least the entire value of the trip wasn’t solely
based on the outcome of the competition.

Once home, I started working with Don Balestrieri. The weekly drive to San
Diego was over 120 miles each way, but it was a most rewarding experience. At
the time, Don was publishing editions through Ars Nova that were setting new
standards in their accuracy to musical detail. Don had established a reputation
as both a performer and historian and his reputation extended beyond the
accordion world.

Don had been one of the pioneers of the Titano free bass, and urban legend has
it that technical problems with the instrument ended at least one performance
when the mechanism jammed in the middle of a performance. He taught in a
studio located behind his parents’ home. I remember the first lesson – a fan was
blowing toward my accordion and the turbulence was causing a strange tremolo.
He turned it off as soon as I started playing.

Don was another individual who had a very specific vision for tone production on
the accordion. Though it was initially difficult to comprehend, he demanded an
even greater level of finger/bellow articulation than Galla-Rini. With his extensive
knowledge of Baroque music, much that was written for instruments with
technical limitations, he understood the importance of how the articulation of
each individual note could be used to achieve the artistic intent. This required
finger dexterity with a higher level of bellows control than I had imagined.

I had been exposed to a similar concept when I first started studying piano with
Aube Tzerko. There was absolutely no part of the technical approach to the
instrument (how you played the notes) that was tentative. With Don, I came to
understand how this could be applied to accordion. Each instrument has its own
set of solutions.

In time, I was able to achieve the technical ability to apply Don’s concepts and
the results were dramatic. I need only to compare the 1965 recordings of the
Bach Inventions to the 1967 recording of Handel’s Harmonious Blacksmith or the
examples from the Well Tempered Clavier on the 1978 recording (there are a
couple additional WTC examples I didn’t include on the album that I may some
day release).

In addition to baroque, Don also established a reputation for his composition of

12-tone and other contemporary music. I never had the opportunity to play any
of them.

I must out Don for one thing, however, he did have the obligatory accordion
orchestra. I never played in it, but I drove to La Jolla with Galla-Rini several
years before I started studying with Don to attend one of their concerts.

Page 49
UCLA and Mixed Venues

In retrospect, Don provided a wonderful understanding of how articulation should

be used on accordion, especially for baroque repertoire. And what he taught
complimented and provided a new level of refinement to everything I had worked
on with Galla-Rini.

Page 50
The Sinatra Competition

Music at UCLA offered the advantages of a small department at a major

university. The University of California also required a wide range of course work
in disciplines both within and outside the College of Fine Arts. With the large
number of activities on campus, there was always something to do.

It was more convenient for me to practice at home than at school. It was a very
long walk to the parking lots with many stairs. Carrying my accordion that
distance would have been impractical.

As an undergraduate student, my area of concentration was music history and

literature. UCLA was known for its faculty in both historical and systematic
musicology (music related to anything other than music). Even though I wasn’t a
performance major and UCLA didn’t ‘officially’ recognize the accordion, there
were still many opportunities to perform. By the time I graduated, I am sure I had
performed there as many times as I would have as a performance major
anywhere else.

During my first year, I sang with the UCLA Concert Choir, conducted by Roger
Wagner. By agreeing to conduct the choir, Roger secured a facility where could
rehearse his Master Chorale. The Roger Wagner Chorale performed throughout
the United States in addition to regular tours in Europe and Asia. The group also
had enormous success with recorded albums. With over 100 members, the
Master Chorale was a much larger group with a subscription series at the
Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. The Los Angeles Philharmonic also used the Master
Chorale when works required a choral ensemble.

I eventually ended up singing in the Master Chorale. I didn’t have a great voice,
but I have perfect pitch and can sight sing about anything. If I got a bass to come
in on the right note and at the right time, I had accomplished my mission.
Through this group I experienced a wide range of repertoire, soloists, and
conductors. I also got to experience what a professional group can really be like;
and years later, some of the approaches came in handy with working with less
than professional groups with little or no rehearsal time.

Roger generally showed up for final rehearsals and performances; though it was
not uncommon for him to arrive at a dress rehearsal announcing that he only had
an hour or less and was going to go over the hard parts. He was often
conducting things he had never rehearsed. An assistant had the task of
rehearsing the group. For the Master Chorale, Roger used Paul Salomovich for
many years, and Paul had a well deserved reputation for his musicianship and
conducting skill. An assistant also rehearsed the UCLA Concert Choir, though
this was typically a graduate student subject to the tirades and wrath of Roger.

With the parts Roger actually rehearsed, he often gave the impression (at least to
me) that he had never looked at the music. Also, when he wasn’t indulging a
tirade with a soloist, or about a music critic he liked to entertain the group. At

Page 51
The Sinatra Competition

the time, Martin Bernheimer, the new music critic for the Los Angeles Times, was
ripping him to shreds. With the previous critic, Roger could do nothing wrong.
With Martin, he could do nothing right. Typically, less than half the time was
spent in actual rehearsal.

However, for the actual performance there was a transformation that is difficult to
explain. Roger maintained absolute and total control over a full orchestra,
soloists, and the Chorale. There was never the slightest doubt that he knew
what he wanted; knew every detail and nuance in the music; and had the
conducting skill to pull it off. The end result was far beyond the reading of the
score (something that can happen with too little rehearsal time). It was a
superbly polished product.

When he actually rehearsed, Roger was often critical with the ensemble and an
absolute tyrant with soloists – especially young ones. I have one particular
recollection of a young soprano who was having some rhythm problems in the
War Requiem (something he was actually rehearsing). In front of the entire
group, while the ensemble churned along, he was screaming at her that she was
stupid, and she could have the greatest voice in the world and it wouldn’t be
worth anything if she couldn’t count. (His exact words were much more colorful).
She went on to become a famous opera star that still performs. In her younger
years she also toured with the Chorale. While he was a tyrant, he also protected
the physical instrument of his soloists. He wouldn’t let them continually sing ‘full
out’. He made them practice discipline and conserve their voices.

This experience was quite different than any ensemble I had ever performed with
up to that time – where countless hours would be spent in rehearsal – trying to
perfect the performance. I have sometimes heard it said that a major difference
between an amateur and professional is the amount of time it takes to prepare
something. The amateur’s performance can sometimes approach the artistic
success of the professional performance, but it is often a time-consuming
process; a process that will quickly bore a person with a high level of technical
competence and low tolerance of musical mediocrity.

I think the same thing is true as one increases in technical competence on an

instrument. There is a growing stage where the student is expanding his
technical and musical capability. Learning a Beethoven Sonata or a Chopin
Ballade or Scherzo might take several weeks, or even months. However, Aube
used to say that a pianist should be able to learn the notes of either a Beethoven
Sonata or Chopin Ballade or Scherzo in an evening, though it would take time to
become comfortable with the musical intent. I took this philosophy to my study of
accordion.

Later in my musical journey through UCLA, Roger asked me join the Chorale on
an upcoming tour to Japan. I would perform as a soloist and also accompany
certain parts of the choral repertoire when there was an ‘Americana’ or folk

Page 52
The Sinatra Competition

theme. I got to interact with Roger numerous times, and it was quite an
experience. Once we were at his home in Bel Air, and he wanted to show off his
portative organ (used to accompany the Chorale on tour). It filled the back of a
truck, but when he was home it was housed in the bath house for his pool. He
fired it up and proceeded to tear through the Widor Toccata. Needless to say, in
that room the organ was absurdly loud and more resembled a calliope than an
organ; but it was great fun. Unfortunately, the Army cut my participation in that
tour. Also, the War Requiem was cancelled by the promoters. It had been
scheduled for the Shrine Auditorium rather than the Music Center given the
revenue potential of the increased seating. Someone had done the math and
figured that if every single seat was sold, they still wouldn’t make any money. So
they cancelled, and Roger was not happy.

Toward the end of my junior year, UCLA announced the commencement of the
new Frank Sinatra Musical Performance Awards. The head of the Music
Department claimed that Frank was trying to obtain recognition from an
academic institution (such as an honorary PhD), and thought this might be a
start. Perhaps it is urban legend, but it was suggested that he would have a
better chance had he been willing to donate the funds necessary to expand the
music building. One part is that is not urban legend was the school’s
requirement that Mr. Sinatra personally participate in the awards concert. And he
did that. In any event, UCLA has never been known for passing out honorary
degrees, at least in music. In fact, it is probably has some of the highest
requirements of any school, especially in musicology. This can be seen from the
relatively few number of PhD’s that the school has awarded in its history.

I was encouraged by numerous members of the faculty to enter the competition.

The rules and philosophy of the intended outcome for all participants were
different than any of my previous competitions.

First, the competition was designed to support for people who intended to make
a career in musical performance. But this was not limited to classical music – it
could be in any genre. It was also expected that competitors be versatile, they
could perform in different styles and adapt to requirements similar to what they
would encounter as a working musician. Finally, it was intended to provide an
opportunity for all finalists to get exposed to some of Los Angeles’s top
professionals. The judges included Zubin Meta (then conducting the Los
Angeles Philharmonic), Sonny Burke, and other top musicians and producers
who were often in the position to actually hire the contestants. Ultimately, many
were hired for studio and movie gigs within days after the finals.

Competitors were required to provide a list of repertoire. From that, they would
select something for an initial performance (though the judges could stop them at
any time). After that, the judges decided what they wanted to hear, and again,
this may or may not be the entire piece.

Page 53
The Sinatra Competition

By this time I had a good variety of repertoire and styles. For original material I
included the Trojan, Schmidt and a couple works by Gregory Stone. The non-
original included two Scarlatti Sonatas, several Preludes and Fugues from WTC
I, the Liszt #19, the Rachmaninoff Humoresque, and a Chopin Etude. I also
included several jazz pieces and was prepared to improvise.

There were many competitors in the initial round; some excellent players with a
wide variety of approaches and styles. The entire process extended over several
weeks. The group was reduced to about eight or ten players for the final
elimination (when the heavyweight judges showed up). We started in the
afternoon and went quite late into the evening.

Everyone had to stay around as the judges called different people back in to
play. There seemed to be no particular order. Finally the winners were
announced. I was second prize in the instrumental category – second to Gary
Gray, an extremely talented clarinetist who was in grad school. The first prize in
vocal was Xxxxxx and second prize was my good friend, Andrew Belling, who
was more a pop arranger and composer than a singer. I considered it quite an
accomplishment and it certainly demonstrated on the open-mindedness of the
University.

With the demands of preparing for the competition and the other academic tasks,
I was ready for a break. My grandparents always loved Las Vegas and made
regular trips there for as long as I could remember. In later years, it became
custom for me to drive them there during school and performance breaks as the
drive had become a bit too much for my grandfather. Granny had stopped
driving when the Packard was traded for the 1951 Cadillac. In any event, I
picked them up in my 1964 Dodge Dart GT and we were off for Vegas for a short
break.

We had been there for less than a day when we got the call that we needed to
return home immediately. Besides learning that I needed to return home, I also
learned that having the same name of an emerging comedian could be
problematic. When my folks called the casino and asked them to page Bill
Cosby, they said they couldn’t do that. It would cause too much commotion.
Though I don’t remember exactly, I believe they paged my grandparents. In any
event, we were scheduled for a press conference with Frank Sinatra and needed
to come home immediately.

One of the purposes of the competition was to provide opportunities for young
musicians. The press conference was another part of that process. It was held
at UCLA and was quite different than the greeting at the Malta Airport. Mr.
Sinatra had a high level of security. He also had no trouble handling the press.
When it was over, he waved his hand and said, “That’s it, guys,” and it was over.

Page 54
The Sinatra Competition

Next was the concert. In that we were the young up-and-coming musicians, it
was only appropriate that we did all the preparation. Arrangements needed to be
written, there was coordination with the school musicians that would make up the
show orchestra, and we needed to plan the actual program – all of it. With Mr.
Sinatra attending to make the actual presentations, tickets would be at a
premium. Guest lists and the post-concert reception were planned by the Music
Department.

Each contestant was allowed so many tickets. Each person on your list received
a personalized letter of invitation from the University. My guests included my
parents, grandparents, Galla-Rini, Irena Monter (a soloist from Antonio and the
Ballet de Madrid that I had been dating), and Florence Merzlak, one of my
favorite Instructors from El Camino College who taught German but was also an
accomplished pianist.

The concert was an event. I played the Trojan and the Schmidt as solo pieces
and did a couple jazz selections with Gary Gray and a small combo that included
Rand Forbes, an acoustic and electric bass player who later became a member
of the rock band United States of America and after that was a fellow band
member at the United States Military Academy. One of the highlights of the
evening was meeting Mia Farrow who made it a point to say how much she liked
my playing. The event received pretty good National press.

I planned on entering again the following year, but the University decided that
they wanted winners to take a year off. It is my understanding the competition
continued for about ten years.

Page 55
Gregory Stone

In my later years at El Camino and UCLA, prior to leaving California for New York, I
continued a musical relationship with Gregory Stone.

I met Gregory through Galla-Rini, though I don’t know how they originally met.
Gregory lived out in the San Fernando Valley – a place I tried to avoid as it was
usually too hot, too smoggy and the traffic getting in and out was horrible.

Gregory, Inge, and their two daughters, Christina and Tyranna, lived in a tract home
in Van Nuys. The living room was overcome with two grand pianos and music
scores piled nearly to the ceiling. There was hardly room to move. However,
Gregory could quickly locate whatever he wanted.

Gregory was always willing to share an interesting variety of rare musical treasures
– like the score of Mussorgsky’s original orchestration of Boris Gudanov. At that
time, the score was difficult to find outside of Russia. There were also many letters
from his friend, Igor Stravinsky. He talked of helping Stravinsky get contracts to
compose movie scores for the Federal Government for projects done under
agencies such as the CCC.

Gregory didn’t concern himself with yard work. The outside of the house had that
wild, overgrown look. There was also the family dog, Podarak (not sure of the
spelling). Gregory said the dog had been a gift and Podarak was the Russian name
for ‘present’.

My visits to Gregory’s home were to rehearse – either for the upcoming recording
sessions or for a performance. I was always amazed at his technical facility on the
piano. He effortlessly played even the most difficult passages with impeccable
accuracy. I doubt he practiced much; I don’t know where he would have found the
time. Gregory was the consummate working musician. One of his accomplishments
was writing Benny Goodman’s theme song, Let’s Dance. Gregory said this song
alone had brought him a good deal of revenue. Gregory knew how to use his wide
range of musical skills to make money.

Gregory’s approach to music and technique was pragmatic. There were no magic
words – no secrets; very similar to Aube’s approach. Their solution was an absolute
facility over the keyboard. In terms of technique, the keyboard was often
approached as a mechanical device – sometimes nearly void of any musical
consideration. Using this approach, exercises could be defined in mathematical
terms, combining every possible sequence of finger use, or combination of two
fingers, or sustaining any given finger while using the other fingers or combination
thereof. Combine this with mastery of all possible sequential (or non-sequential)
intervals – selected irregardless of the musical outcome – and master all possible
combinations therein, and you have the first component of technique; an ultimate
kinesthetic familiarity. The next requirement was knowing how to use the body in it’s
entirety to produce sound.

Page56
Gregory Stone

Though this, or at least some parts of the concept, sound logical, they are not a
universally accepted solution. I have had many spirited discussions with friends who
do not buy into this concept, but rather are opposed to it as being ridiculously
unmusical. At one time someone rewrote the first two sections of Hanon in an
accordion edition so that the exercises were symmetrical. This would be a step in
support of Gregory’s philosophy. I remember asking Aube about the concept of
symmetrical Hanon. He blew it off saying that it destroyed the musicality intrinsic to
Hanon.

So there are those who say everything should come from the music – the student
learns the required technique from the music they play. There are others who
approach technique as an entity unto itself – and the music comes from a technical
mastery that is without challenge, or ideally, even a cognizant activity. Realistically,
the answer is somewhere between the two, the student’s capabilities being a
determining factor.

Gregory once gave me a copy of his transcription of the Chopin etude in double
thirds that had been rewritten to double sixths. On the cover he wrote, “to Bill
Cosby, who can play anything.” I doubt there was any musical improvement to the
Chopin; however I would assure you that Gregory’s transcription was excruciatingly
more difficult.

It was probably through Gregory that I came to understand my concept of diatonic

fingering. If I were to approach technique exclusively as a mathematical problem, I
should be able to play a C# Major scale using the same fingering as I would for a C
Major scale. Though this sounds absurd, there are countless examples of music
that would demand alternate fingering to achieve a musical result.

Though Gregory had enormous technical facility, he had limits; and I found it fun to
challenge those limits. But I learned early on that turn-about was fair play. These
spontaneous competitions were usually done in performance; they would have not
been nearly as fun in rehearsal. I remember walking off stage after performing the
Fantasia Napolitana and Gregory commenting, “Bill, you are a young boy, and I am
an old man. Why are you are trying to kill me!” However, I remember him pushing
me to my technical limits on more than one occasion. And given the often wild,
gypsy characteristic of much of the music, I am sure it was great fun for the
audience as well.

We spent some time working on interpretation of the musical nuances, but for the
most part, it was intuitive. Gregory always insisted on crediting Galla-Rini with
phrasing, registration and fingering. Galla-Rini and I never discussed fingering, I
determined nearly all of the registration and Gregory’s comments helped determine
the phrasing, but it was some kind of professional courtesy that I never really
understood, nor cared to understand.

Page57
Gregory Stone

The two albums were a mixture of stradella and bassetti. With the exception of the
Brazilian Carnival and Prelude Arabesque 2, the solo works were older, published
stradella works. Many were traditional accordion ethnic fare, but could be quite
difficult when you played them at the intended tempi! But once you understood
Gregory’s concept of fingering (the fourth finger was nearly always the lead), they
became much more playable. With the exception of Concerto Breve, the works with
piano accompaniment had been written later and were for bassetti. Unfortunately,
only the album with the piano accompaniments was released. The only solo piece
on that album was the Accordion Tzigane.

Armin Steiner was the engineer for the recordings, but for scheduling reasons, we
recorded at Annex Studios. The recording was direct to two-track. The piano was a
particularly fine Steinway that had been temporarily moved into Annex to accompany
in the recordings of a celebrated cellist. Armin, being a highly recognized and
accomplished violinist, had secured its use for our recordings. He commented
several times that the quality of the piano on tape approached the sound that was
being touted by Horowitz on his 1960’s Columbia recordings. In typical Stone
fashion, the project was completed with utmost efficiency, most things being
completed with a single take.

Shortly after the Sinatra Musical Performance Awards, I did my second Neofonic
album for Giulietti. By this time, Armin had become completely engulfed in with the
success of Sound Recorders Studio. He recommended Alan Emig as the engineer
who could capture the essence of the accordion, and fate provided yet another
opportunity to work with an extraordinary professional.

Alan had worked for years as a senior engineer at Capitol Records, but when I met
him, something had caused his exodus from Capitol and he was working at Kent
Records on Slauson Avenue in one of the worst sections of Los Angeles. Kent
Records was a one-stop source for African American blues, rock, and jazz artists.
Clients included B.B. King, Howling Wolf, Ike Turner, and countless others. The
facility included a small recording studio that had to stop recording when a train
passed. It was typical to record an album in a 3-hour session. From the studio, the
tapes went to the mastering room in another part of the building. This was where
Alan spent most of his time. The mastered lacquers were then processed on site,
jackets were printed and the albums were pressed, stuffed, shrink wrapped, and
placed in boxes. Kent Records produced a finished product from a single facility.

There is a talent in those who can record, master, process, press, do artwork or any
other part of the recording process. Doing it to such a high level of success in an
environment such as Kent Records was the mark of true genius. This was not state
of the art equipment or facilities – no latest technology – no luxury of basking in
unlimited studio time. This was churning out completed albums. Alan did the
mastering in stride and was critical in keeping the recording and mastering parts of
the operation up and running. He knew how to tweak the RIAA standards, to keep
lathes working, all of it. Another person who worked with him as the engineer for

Page58
Gregory Stone

recording studio was Bill Lazerus, who later recorded the Music Emporium Album.
After leaving Kent, Alan worked on the design of Elektra’s new ‘state of the art’
studios. Bill evolved into one of Sunset Sound’s (one of Hollywood’s landmark
studios to the present day) most recognized engineers.

For the second accordion album, Alan scheduled sessions at Whitney Studios in the
San Fernando Valley. Whitney’s primary clientele were Christian music artists. Alan
intuitively knew how he wanted to best capture the sound of the accordion. Rather
than use any type of amplification to increase the depth of the bass, he placed a
vintage RCA ribbon microphone below and to the rear of the left hand. He used two
Neumann’s on the front of the instrument. One of my challenges was not hitting the
RCA with my left hand or with the accordion, so we had to occasionally do a retake
to eliminate a subsonic thump.

Alan was not interested in creating a ‘bigger than life’ sound. He wanted an
accordion to sound like an accordion. This included leaving in the sound of
changing registrations as well as the other mechanical sounds of the instrument. To
Alan, they were all intrinsic to the instrument. As with Armin, he also had an
incredible ear and was also a master at editing.

Alan was also graphically colorful and an outspoken personality. In his time at
Capitol he had recorded a wide variety of artists. He was also known for his
technical knowledge and hands-on skill with anything electronic. As an example, he
rebuilt an old mono RCA ‘hi fidelity’ counsel in my parent’s home. He modified the
tone arm with fishing weights, put in a stereo cartridge, added a phono pre-amplifier,
and modified the amplifier. The result was remarkable – even though it was still
mono.

The album was mastered by one of his old friend’s at Annex Studios. Though the
album was ultimately processed, printed and pressed at Kent, Alan said their
mastering capability was too noisy for the quiet passages. The mastering was
straight forward, not trying to re-guess the sound from the master tapes.

Alan supervised ever aspect of the album production. Bill Lazerus, who was also an
excellent photographer, joined Alan and I late one evening to shoot the cover photo
in front of one of the fountains at the Music Center. Alan wrote the liner notes. Julio
received his finished product. I doubt that Julio fully comprehended the
qualifications or contributions of the individuals who produced the album or the value
of the final product. Though anyone might have been able to contract their services,
their level of interest and commitment were something that couldn’t have been
negotiated.

Shortly after recording the second album, Alan began setting up the mastering
facility at Sound Recorders for Armin. I would occasionally spend time with him as
he explained the basics of cutting acetate masters and all the subsequent steps to

Page59
Gregory Stone

getting the best possible sound on the vinyl. By this time, Bill Lazerus was at Sunset
Sound.

The concept of recording was changing rapidly – at least in Los Angeles. Beneath
the ‘Sound Recorders’ on the marquee for Armin’s studio was ‘8 track’; advertising
the new technology. Though different methods of multi-tracking had been used prior
to this time, syncing 8 channels on a single machine was something new. It was
also possible to bounce channels, offering new capabilities in overdubbing. An
example of this is in the multi-tiered vocal tracks on the Yellow Balloon album that
was recorded in the earliest days of Sound Recorders.

Alan was at the epicenter of this technology, especially in designing rooms that
would maximize the new capabilities. He sometimes invited me to accompany him
when he visited different studios. He was contracted by Elektra to design their
studios in Hollywood, Hawaii, and New York. He would supervise nearly every detail
of the construction and installation of the equipment. And I am sure he had the
reputation as an absolute bastard in getting exactly what he wante.

Many years later, I was surprised that Alan never received much recognition for his
contributions either at Capitol or in later projects. It seems that only in very recent
years is there any mention of him – though old-timers certainly remembered him. I
remember Alan as a heavy drinker, smoker, and also knew that he quickly and
thoroughly embraced the drug culture of the 60’s. Alan owned a house in the
Hollywood Hills on Hollyridge Drive that had originally been built by Stan Kenton. It
had a spectacular view of the city and one of the prize possessions was a Piano –
in a time when no one knew what a Boesendorfer was. Alan had one of the
humongous Chrysler Imperials and his room mate had a Chrysler 300G. The place
was exclusively mine to use while he was out of town on the Elektra projects. Local
grocery and liquor stores kept an inventory of food and booze. There was also a
regular cleaning staff and gardeners. However, the major attraction for me and my
friends was the Boesendorfer. Alan had told us that Glenn Gould used to hide out at
his place when he was in town. No one would know he was there and he liked the
isolation. I have no idea if that is true or not, but I don’t know of any instances where
Alan was not painfully honest.

I still remember the last time I drove by the empty house with the unkempt yard that
had always been perfectly manicured and the For Sale sign. He died at a relatively
young age. I was never able to find out what eventually happened, what happened
to his partner, or to the Boesendorfer.

On the other hand, there is quite a bit of information about Bill Lazerus on the
internet.

Page60
The First End of an Era

I began worrying about the draft in high school. With two older brothers and
increasing conflict in the Far East, it was a subject of daily conversation.

My oldest brother, Larry, always wanted to be a farmer – literally. After graduating

from high school in 1958 he attended Cal Poly in Pomona. Phil, my middle brother,
really didn’t know what he wanted to do. After his high school graduation in 1960, he
sold everything he owned, with the exception of his surf board, and left for Hawaii,
envisioning a career as a professional surfer and instructor. That lasted for about 6
months or so and he returned home with a couple of LPs of Hawaiian music for
Grannie who had talked of going to Honolulu for as long as any of us could
remember. As my grandparents never owned a phonograph, we ended up with the
albums. After his return, he also enrolled at Cal Poly. However, unlike Larry, who
knew exactly what he wanted to do, Phil changed majors almost weekly.

His second semester came to an abrupt end after he went through the windshield of
a car one morning and ended up with well over 100 stitches in his face. A friend was
driving to class during one of California’s rare rain storms and offered him a ride. As
Phil was reaching down to put his books on the floor, the friend’s foot slipped off the
clutch and the car lurched up onto a fire hydrant. It was an old car and the
windshield had been replaced with plate rather than safety glass; the cuts to his face
were severe.

Phil had always talked of joining the Navy, most likely influenced from my father’s
WW II sea stories. My dad had been one of the Navy’s 90-day wonders, the name
for an accelerated Officer Candidate School (OCS) program during World War II.
Phil loved the Navy, at least for the first half of his 4-year enlistment. He did
exceptionally well in boot camp and in advanced training as a radar technician.
During initial testing he qualified to enter the prep school for the Naval Academy,
which had been his true love. Unfortunately he was 1 month too old for the statutory
age limit.

With Larry’s upcoming graduation from Cal Poly, he was accepted for OCS and a
commission in the Navy. He was finishing the last part of his senior year and when
he was called for his draft physical. The Navy told him to just take the physical –
though he was joining the Navy anyway. He failed the Army physical – on the spot –
something about sugar in his urine. They checked him several times, but ultimately
sent him out the door as a 4F (not fit for any military service). He called the Navy,
telling them of the experience. Though he had passed the Navy physical, they told
him he couldn’t serve having failed the Army physical. He never had any other
indications of the medical problem.

So I was constantly listening to all this military stuff going on about me. As I
mentioned previously, the main reason I went to El Camino in the first place was to
get a 1SC student deferment. Remaining qualified for the deferment was a strong
motivation to study and keep my grades up – though I thoroughly enjoyed college.

Page 61
The First End of an Era

If I was diligent about one thing, it was keeping the draft board informed of my
status. As my time as an undergrad at UCLA was coming to an end, I was looking
for new ways to stay out of the Army. I viewed military service as a potential end to
my musical ambitions and everything that was important to me.

After graduation in 1968, I enrolled in graduate school for the summer quarter. I was
interested in historical musicology and systematic musicology – music related to
anything other than music. In systematic musicology, I worked in musical therapy
and also was looking at other issues such as hearing loss caused from exposure to
high sound levels. The Dean of Fine Arts even wrote a letter to the draft board
saying that if I were working in the field I was studying, I would be exempt from
military service. I don’t know if that was really true, but it was worth a try. I appealed
my 1A classification and was scheduled for a hearing.

During my year at grad school I was exceptionally active in all kinds of musical
endeavors. I had an extensive schedule performing solo accordion, was in full swing
with my rock band, and was also performing at countless Italian weddings with a
local combo.

I don’t remember exactly how I got involved with the Mike Rugerio Orchestra, but I
went to his home for an audition one night and was hired immediately. Mike had the
corner on the Italian ethnic gigs in Los Angeles.

The ‘orchestra’ was a number of pick-up musicians that Mike would put together in
any number of combinations – typically a drummer, piano, accordion, and horn.
Though an accordion would have been adequate for the group’s harmonic
requirement, piano was always included as Gloria, Mike’s daughter, played. She
could bang with the best of them and every cent she made was going toward her
own wedding. Mike played sax and clarinet. As time passed, Mike’s clients evolved
into a group of friends and an invitation to Gloria’s wedding was obligatory. Many of
the players were excellent; as was the money. There were a lot of gigs. Over the
year or so I played with Mike, I recruited several of Galla-Rini’s other students as
accordionists for Italian weddings were always in demand. Eventually, Carolyn Lee
also started playing electric bass and doing vocals.

Mike had large 3-ring binders with all the music. We went through the songs in
order with little deviation. The repertoire included all the Italian favorites. In addition
to weddings and anniversaries, Mike also had the corner for all the special events
sponsored by the Italian Catholic Church in central Los Angeles – just north of the
Music Center. Most of these events were multi-hour marathons and were held in the
Parrish hall. The priests insisted there also be an attraction for the younger parish
members, so a rock band would alternate sets with Mike’s groups. The food was
excellent.

There were some sketchy things about Mike’s groups – usually contributing to the
fun. One was the booking and scheduling practices. For a larger or more expensive

Page 62
The First End of an Era

wedding, the preferred option was a larger group. Multiple events were often
happening at the same time; sometimes there just weren’t enough musicians to go
around. The solution was to use ‘ringers’ (my term) – a person who held an
instrument, but didn’t actually play it. One regular I remember in particular was a
very pleasant older guy who could sing two or three songs – one of them being a
large interpretation of Granada. The rest of the time he would hold a string bass,
pretending to play it, as we waited for the perfect moment to insert his vocal solo.
He would smile at the older women as he expertly spun the bass as he played, and
some would nearly swoon. There was only one problem: when he would get drunk
he would actually start playing the darn thing. An out-of-control bass can throw an
entire group off. But the string bass provided a big presence, so people would
certainly think they were getting there money’s worth!

There was nothing creative about the arrangements. Everyone typically played
melody in unison for every chorus. For the accordionist, it was best to play the same
chords that Gloria played or the results could be a harmonic mess. She is one of the
nicest people I have ever known, but I don’t think she understood the concept of
harmonic give and take with another solo instrument.

A more critical issue was the musician’s union. The AFL CIO American Federation
of Musicians union was extremely powerful in the 60’s and into the 70’s. A union
house would not dare hire a non-union group as the entire business could be shut
down if a union representative showed up and someone was playing without a
contract, or if someone was on the ‘do not perform’ list. Though Mike had been on
the ‘do not perform’ list for years, the orchestra played in many of the big union
hotels and catering houses. In protest to the union, he had joined some other
musicians and formed the ‘Guild’. The membership requirements and rules were
much less restrictive than Local 47, and though the American Federation of
Musicians didn’t like the competition from the Guild, they had not been able to shut it
down. I always kept a very low profile as I didn’t want to jeopardize my membership
in Local 47. Though Mike’s gigs didn’t pay quite as much as union scale, you were
paid immediately in cash, didn’t have the hassle of getting contracts approved by the
union, and there was a lot of work. I never did join the ‘Guild’.

I often played several accordion solos as a part of a wedding gig. The Italian
audiences loved the accordion. My last gig with Mike was for an anniversary in one
of the Music Center’s banquet rooms. Mike announced to the audience that I would
be leaving serve my country in the next several days and I ended up playing a short
recital.

A culmination of my career with Mike and the orchestra was Gloria’s wedding. It
was a huge, first class event in one of the largest and most impressive hotels in Los
Angeles. All of us who regularly played for Mike rotated in and out of the group. We
were also wedding guests. Mike always insisted the band had a table and were fed
at all the weddings. It was great fun and a memorable evening. Carolyn and Dora
(from Music Emporium) were also invited and we did some rock numbers.

Page 63
The First End of an Era

During my last year in Los Angeles, I was very active with Music Emporium and
worked on various projects, most of which never came to full fruition because of the
Army. One was a tour of Japan with the Roger Wagner Chorale. Another was a
potential gig with Spike Jones Jr. and the Toonerville Trolley, a contemporary
version of the father’s successful group.

Despite my clandestine performances with Mike Rugerio, I still hung out at the
musician’s union. It was on the union’s bulletin board that I saw letters announcing
auditions for the NORAD Band in Colorado Springs and the United States Military
Academy Band at West Point, New York. Both had openings for accordionists.

‘Special bands’ were the premier musical units for each service branch and had
some attractive options for musicians facing the draft. As a special bandsman, after
basic training you were guaranteed assignment to that band for the duration of your
enlisted service, be it 4 years or 40 years. With the draft hanging overhead, the
quality of the musicians was superb. There were also positions for all kinds of
musicians to include string players, keyboards, vocalists, guitarists, and in a variety
of applications from combo and rock players to soloists. The special bands required
a 4-year enlistment. So the tradeoff was 2 additional years to avoid going to Viet
Nam; however a more accurate view was four year immersion in an extremely
competent musical organization.

I played an audition for the NORAD Band at the union building and was accepted.
The NORAD had players from all the service branches. I was told I would enlist in
the Air Force as those billets were currently available. They explained band life and
that the NORAD Band toured quite a bit.

The USMA Band requested an audition tape, so I forwarded one to them along with
a copy of my latest album. I was also accepted there. George Secor was finishing a
four-year enlistment as the band’s accordion soloist. I had known George for years.
He played the Moschino Free Bass system accordion. George provided a personal
recommendation for me. Years later I found the envelope that contained my
audition tape and my accordion album; unopened in the band orderly room. From
many years experience with the band, I am sure I am one of the only people who
were accepted that didn’t audition in person – in fact, who didn’t audition at all. The
tape included some segments from Music Emporium and some smaller jazz
combos.

The USMA Band was a better option for me than the NORAD Band. They did not
tour and were close to New York City. In the acceptance letter, I was told that I
would most likely perform with one of the combos that played at the Officer’s and
NCO Clubs and work in the library or on the arranging staff. They also explained
that many band members took private lessons in New York City and there was
financial assistance available from the Army to continue musical studies. The entry-
rank for band members was E-5, which I would receive shortly after arrival at West

Page 64
The First End of an Era

Point. They asked that I delay my enlistment as long as possible as their current
accordionist, George Secor, still had several months on his enlistment. The letter
was signed by Lt. Bob O’Brien. Though I was still not excited about basic training
and leaving Los Angeles, it was certainly a better option than being drafted and
going to Viet Nam.

I signed up for the Army’s delayed enlistment program and passed the physical with
flying colors. I remember the first stop in the physical process where a young man
was taking blood pressure. He joked saying, you have a blood pressure, you are
good to go. I am sure that personnel at the reception station in Los Angeles had
heard every excuse and seen every possible antic for staying out of military service.
I had even discussed some options on how to stay out, but couldn’t bring myself to
doing them.

My day for reporting was Friday, June 13th 1969. Carolyn Lee and I planned our
marriage for May 24th, the same day as my grandparents wedding anniversary.
Knowing that we would be going to West Point after I completed basic training, we
rented an apartment from Bettie Thomas that was located above garages in the
back of her home. We traded in the ’63 Dodge 880 Station wagon and bought a
Plymouth Road Runner with a high performance 383. As we were driving home
from the dealership, I made the discovery that Carolyn had never driven a stick shift.
After several attempts and lots of tears we decided it would be better for my dad to
teach her. As she dropped me off at the reception station early on Friday the 13th, I
wondered how the Plymouth would survive as I watched her lurch away from the
curb. During basic, she would write me that Dora was also helping her get better
control which didn’t help build my confidence. Dora was well known for her full-
throttle power-shifts.

Basic training at Fort Ord was not as bad as I thought it would be. I kicked into
some kind of survival mode, did whatever I was asked to do without internal or
external questioning, and survived the process, sometimes with great amusement. I
was one of the people who came out of basic weighing more than I did when I
entered. I was also getting more sleep than I had in years and eating regular meals.
Carolyn continued to play and also worked at Fedco while I was in basic training.
Being surrounded by a bunch of guys who were ultimately headed for Viet Nam I
didn’t talk about going to West Point to play in the band. During the final days, when
orders were announced and handed out in front of the entire company, I remember
my drill sergeant saying, “West Point, screw up once there and you will be in Viet
Nam with the rest of us.”

Carolyn came up to Fort Ord with my parents for graduation, and after a few short
days at home, we packed our stuff in the Plymouth and were off for New York. My
parents had a big get together the night before we left, but rather than waiting until
the morning to leave, we wanted to get a head start and leave later that evening so
we could get across the desert at night. It was mid-August and the Road Runner did

Page 65
The First End of an Era

not have air conditioning. The accordion had been shipped ahead of time to Julio’s
factory. I had planned on picking it up when I got to New York.

Early the next morning as we headed out of Kingman, Arizona, on one of the last 2-
lane sections of old Route 66, I fell asleep at the wheel and woke as we hit a 1958
Oldsmobile station wagon nearly head on at 55 miles per hour. The car went
spinning out into the desert, the engine shoved back into the driver compartment,
the stick shift rammed all the way into the front seat. To this day I still remember the
violence and sound of the crash.

Being a motor head at heart, I had worn seat belts since they became available in
cars. I had even insisted on adding them to my original 1961 Ford Falcon Ranchero.
The Road Runner was one of the first cars to have shoulder belts, which were a
nuisance to wear as they had to be manually attached and adjusted. But Carolyn
and I were both wearing them. I am sure it is the reason we survived the crash with
relatively minor injuries. I bit all the way through my lip and the clutch pedal broke
several bones in my left foot. As the dust settled, I saw smoke coming from under
what was left of the hood and knew we needed to get out of the car. Both of the
doors were buckled from the crash and I remember having to lay on my back and
kicking Carolyn’s door (with the broken foot) to get it open. I got her out of the car
and away from the crash, checked on the people from the other car, stopped the
bleeding from my face, then got some coffee from our thermos and began the long
wait for the police and wreckers to arrive. I realized my foot was hurting and when I
took off my shoe my foot quickly swelled to the size of a football. The Olds was not
as severely damaged as the Plymouth and none of the passengers were injured.

At the hospital back in Kingman I had several stitches put in my lip. My foot was put
it in a temporary splint. They said the swelling needed to go down before they could
cast it. Carolyn was sore and bruised from the seat belts, but otherwise unhurt.

We called my parents from the hospital and they headed down to pick us up. The
next morning we went to the wrecking yard where they had hauled the Road
Runner. We moved everything to my parents Chrysler Station wagon and headed
back to Torrance. They said they didn’t know how we had survived the crash.

The next morning we went to the Naval Hospital in Long Beach. I was checked in.
After a day-and-a-half where I never saw or talked with anyone, a Navy medic finally
came by to get my personal information and told me it would be my million dollar
injury. I would be reassigned to the Navy and would be discharged. The Army was
not going to want me.

I called Lt. O’Brien at West Point and he told me to get out of there – whatever it
took. He told me to go to the medical clinic at Fort McArthur in San Pedro and get
them to send me to West Point as soon as possible. He told me that once I was out
of the Army’s system the Navy could keep me indefinitely, and it was common to use
people in my situation as long-term orderlies in the hospitals.

Page 66
The First End of an Era

I went to Ft McArthur and was shortly thereafter en route to New York, this time via a
Boeing 707. In those days, service members traveling with orders wore a uniform,
so I hobbled about in my Army Class ‘A’ greens. I would spend the night in New
York at a hotel close to Julio’s and get up to West Point the next morning.

As luck would have it, the airlines lost my luggage, so I headed to Julio’s with literally
the clothes on my back. I stayed at the old Algonquin Hotel and Julio made
arrangements for a ‘car’ to drive me the 54 miles up the Hudson River to West Point
the next morning.

The ‘car’ was a limo, and with my accordion other pre-shipped musical gear I left for
West Point.

I arrived at Thayer gate late morning and the guard directed us toward Bldg 685 –
the Band Building. The reaction to a limo on a military base with someone in
uniform sitting in the back was to salute – so I got saluted by everyone. They didn’t
realize I was a Private E2.

I arrived at the Band Building as the band was getting ready to march up the hill for
the Saturday Parade. It was August 30 – a big weekend for tourists. As I entered
with the limo driver carrying my accordion, I remember one of the band members
asking me if the limo was going to stay with me throughout my assignment. I signed
into the orderly room and climbed the stairs up to the barracks bay. There were very
few band members who lived in the barracks, but many had lockers where they
stored their parade uniforms. My hair was still ridiculously short and some guys later
told me they thought I was an undercover plant looking for drugs. Someone drove
me to the PX so I could get a pair of slacks a shirt, and some underwear – otherwise
I was going to be in my winter-weight greens for the rest of the weekend. Later that
night we went to the Park Restaurant – which became a favorite spot for the next 23
years. That Sunday night, I could hear the louder parts of the band concert and the
applause from the Trophy Point Amphitheatre in the barracks.

Sometime late in the weekend the airlines finally delivered my luggage. Early
Tuesday morning the band building came alive. I finally met Bob O’Brien, the
Band’s youngest commissioned officer. A Julliard graduate, Bob was the head of
the arranging section. I was told that I would work there as a music copyist. Bob’s
enthusiasm and sense of humor were infectious. The band was not what I
expected.

When I entered UCLA, the Dean of Fine Arts had gathered all the new music majors
together in one of the small auditoriums for an orientation. I remember his exact
words. “Look around you. Everyone is at least as talented, or more talented than
you are.” Be it arrogance, whatever, I never really felt that. As a member of the
USMA Band, I truly felt what the Dean was talking about. Having never traveled to
West Point for an audition, I hadn’t known what to expect. Though sometimes

Page 67
The First End of an Era

criticized for it, Colonel Schempf, the Teacher of Music at the United States Military
Academy and the Commander of the Band (a congressional appointment) treated
the Band as a musical organization first and military unit second. The band was also
well over 200 members the day I signed in, much larger than the authorized size of
157! This included a full string section, pianists, vocalists, arrangers, instrument
repair, sound recording technicians, librarians, dedicated rock musicians, and two
accordionists (counting me)! George had decided at the last minute to re-enlist.

The caliber of the players was astonishing. In addition to the concert and marching
band, there was the field music section, numerous chamber ensembles, a 17-piece
big band (there had been two several years before), three dance combos, and two
rock bands. In every sense of the word, it was an extremely active, working, musical
environment. It became a practical learning experience that equaled anything I had
done in my previous years. Over time I learned that band alumni played in nearly
every major symphony, at the Met, on Broadway, or were recognized as a head of
their special musical genre, whatever that may be.

I was assigned to the dance combo led by Chet Goscicki. Chet was a superb alto
sax player. The bassist and drummer were also exceptional jazz players;
unquestionably the best I had ever played with. We played at the officer and NCO
clubs at West Point and Stewart Field on Friday and Saturday nights.

I also played electric organ with the Mighty Incredible Vegetable Band, one of the
rock bands. The name was later changed to FTA (Fun, Travel and Adventure). FTA
played the Service Club on Wednesday nights and the NCO Clubs on Thursday
nights. Someone eventually realized the double meaning of FTA and we were told
to change the name. The rock groups also played for Saturday night cadet hops,
either in Cullum Hall for the Fourth Class or the Gym for the upper classes. The
core rhythm section for FTA had been recruited as a group from the suburbs of
Philadelphia and had that tight, funky R&B sound. There were always regular band
or field music members who had a bit of that rock and roll gene in them who would
augment the rock bands, either as horn players or as singers. With the popularity of
groups such as Blood, Sweat & Tears, Chase, and Chicago, horn sections were in
vogue. As with all the USMA Band members, the rock players were first rate. The
USMA rock bands occasionally appeared at Greenwood Lake, a resort area
relatively close to West Point that was known for its rock clubs.

There were very strict union rules about military musicians competing with civilians.
You could remain a union member when you were on active duty. You didn’t have
to pay dues, but there were limitations on when or where you could perform. Of
course, there were ways around this. Some band members traveled almost nightly
to New York City to play for Broadway Shows. Others played regularly in one of the
Catskill Resorts.

There was another benefit of being in the USMA Band. If a musical instrument was
part of your job, the Army was required to provide it. There was a budget that

Page 68
The First End of an Era

supported the regular replacement of instruments. The band had an old Excelsior
Concert Grand which was due for replacement. George had elected to play his
Moschino and I had my Giulietti. By the time I arrived at West Point, the combo’s
weren’t big on accordion. Chet preferred to have me play one of the Band’s RMI
electric pianos. In the rock bands I was playing one of the band’s Farfisa Organs.
So when the question of a new accordion came up, I opted for the Hohner electric
organ that was housed in an accordion shell – Electrovox. The bellows were
replaced with a pivoting shell that controlled the volume. For an amplifier, I chose
one of the large Leslie 900 Series 2-piece Speakers.

The Hohner made it possible to compete at any volume with the mere turn of a knob
on the foot control for the Leslie – and the sound was quite good for a portable
organ. But the visual image wasn’t well accepted by the members of the combo. I
don’t know if it was because it looked too much like a Cordovox (which were
considered hokey), or just like an accordion. And though the Hohner was superior to
the Farfisa, it didn’t fit the rock band image. So I continued to use the RMI and the
Farfisa – though I did use the Leslie.

Carolyn had joined me several weeks after my arrival at West Point. We moved into
an apartment in Cornwall on Hudson as there was a one-year waiting list for band
quarters. Stewart Air Force Base was closing at the time and was used as a
housing annex for West Point. After living in a apartment for six months, we moved
into housing at Stewart for another 6 months until we were assigned West Point
quarters at 422H Bailey Loop. The 13 mile commute from Stewart required a
commute over Storm King Mountain and could be especially difficult during winter
ice and snow storms.

The arranging department was an immersion into something entirely new. When I
arrived, the Band had 4 full-time arrangers – arguably some of the best in the
country. Lt. Bob O’Brien was an Associate Bandmaster and led the group. Arnie
Gross was another New York City working musician who could literally play any
instrument and was particularly quick and skilled in his craft. Arnie continued his
NYC gigs throughout his West Point career, acting as the assistant conductor for
several Broadway shows and playing keyboards for others. Tex Arnold and Bob
Brown rounded out the team. Tony DiCarolis, the guitar player/lead singer for FTA
and I were the copyists.

The arrangers provided a steady stream of arrangements for the concert band. With
the technical capabilities of the players and Colonel Schempf conducting,
commercial band arrangements often fell short in complementing the bands musical
potential. There were also special events, such as the Cadet 100 Night show, which
employed a Broadway-type musical score that included a full string section. The
band also played for football games – requiring spirit arrangements of current
popular songs. The department also provided special arrangements for the Cadet
Glee Club for performances that could include Ed Sullivan or Bob Hope specials.

Page 69
The First End of an Era

The arranging department was always busy, but would also peak in frenetic bursts
with special events, sometimes requiring all-nighters by the arranging staff.

Tony and I made our first trip to King Brand Music in New York City with Bob and
Arnie. In addition to supplying the staff-lined vellum paper used to copy parts, King
Brand had a selection of the specialized pens used for musical autography and the
indelible black lacquer ink. The pens looked like a regular fountain pen, but the tip
would expand to create the note head. I had always used a pencil with a ruler to
write music, but for professional purposes, this was too slow and did not create a
bold enough image. Parts were copied onto the vellum and then printed with an
oazlid process on heavy paper similar to that used for architectural blue prints. This
provided a durable, readable, long lasting part. The individual pages were about 9 x
12 and were usually printed 3 or 4 at a time. They were taped end-to-end which
allowed them to be spread out over one or several music stands.

There were many copying ‘rules’ that I needed to learn; things that made the parts
more readable for the players. Arnie and Bob emphasized mastering the craft was
easier when one increased the speed at which the parts were copied. Using a ruler
with a fountain pen would not work.

Mistakes on the vellum were corrected with a razor blade. If it was really bad, you
would cut and tape another section of vellum. I never mastered the art of
autography. In fact, I have never been good with any type graphic art. The parts I
copied were horrible. I don’t know how band members could read them. Tony’s
weren’t much better. Our accuracy also left much to be desired. It was not unusual
for the Colonel to stop the reading of a new score, have the parts collected, and
pass them back to the arrangers to correct. In contrast, the parts from any of the
arrangers rarely had mistakes. Their parts were top quality, professional
manuscript.

I hardly played accordion with the Band during my assignment at West Point. I was
too busy playing in the rock bands, the combos, and working in the arranging
department. Carolyn and I did trade an old amplifier for a pre-1900, 85 note
Steinway vertical. But there was a strange musical dynamic between us – almost a
resentment if the other person actually practiced. With everything going on at West
Point, we were easily distracted. Carolyn also started playing many West Point gigs.

Another critical distraction occurred at the start of the second academic year at West
Point. Colonel Schempf had been trying to back away from the Cadet Glee Club for
years as the Band requirements alone occupied almost all his time. The Glee Club
added two evening rehearsals and typically about 10 trips per year to his schedule.
It was decided that Bob O’Brien would take over the Glee Club. Bob knew of my
background with the UCLA Glee Club and Roger Wagner, so I was to become his
vocal coach. In reality, Bob didn’t like doing things alone. I was to be his side kick.

Page 70
The First End of an Era

I also became involved with the Cadet Hop Bands – so I was soon spending nearly
every night of the week working with either the Glee Club or the rock bands. Before
long, I was doing almost all the glee club rehearsals and developing a good
relationship with the cadets. I also worked on the 100th Night show – rehearsing
cadets and playing in the orchestra.

Toward the end of the academic year, my second year at West Point, Bob was told
he needed to do an obligatory 1-year tour in Viet Nam. He really didn’t want to do
that, and decided to resign his commission. After considerable discussion by the
Glee Club Officers’ in Charge with the West Point Leadership and Colonel Schempf,
I became the first-ever enlisted music director and conductor of the West Point Glee
Club. It was a very exciting time. Several years later I was given a direct
commission as a 2nd Lieutenant.

During this time, my accordion playing was during my many weekend trips to
Brooklyn to Julio’s house. Anita would cook; Carolyn and I would play for hours at a
time. I also made some road trips with Julio. Though Norma had finally gotten a
car, it would have been unlikely for her to drive Julio to Pennsylvania, DC, or
wherever. Julio was impatient in the car. He was accustomed to traffic in Italy; he
was always in a rush. He would urge me to speed up; he stated that he would pay
the tickets.

We also made trips to accordion events including a NAMM show in Miami and some
local competitions. I also spent a lot of time at the New York shop. The Giulietti’s
were my adopted family. We had many great times. One of my favorite activities
was to make the obligatory trip to Coney Island with Norma to ride the Cyclone.

One amusing exception to not playing at West Point was one particularly amusing
incident with George Secor, Bob O’Brien, and Colonel Schempf that happened in the
band building. William Tell Overture has always been a favorite of Cadets – used to
build spirit, especially when a game is going particularly rough. George and I were
playing a highly animated, spontaneous version on our two accordions as Bob
O’Brien, sweat pouring off of him, face scarlet red from the pure excitement,
conducted us using a pool cue. Colonel Schempf happened to walk in at the climax
and his face went initially into a blank stare. After the initial shock, he joined in our
amusement and was convinced that we needed to repeat this at Saturday’s football
game in Michie Stadium for the Cadets and the other 40,000 people who would be
there. It took Bob and George and I lot of fast talking to convince him that was not a
good idea (though the Corps would have probably loved it). The effect of the
weather would be too severe for the accordions.

Julio’s reputation in New York was far greater than just accordions. I remember
when Carolyn and I were going from Julio’s business on Park Avenue South to
Manny’s on 48th Street – possibly one of the most famous music stores in the world
in the middle of New York City’s music section. It was always a crammed with
customers, many of them very famous. It was nearly impossible to get anyone to

Page 71
The First End of an Era

help you. As we were walking out the door, Julio called someone at Manny’s, and
from then on, one of the two sons always personally greeted us and gave us
attention usually reserved for major rock stars. I once asked them how they knew
Julio and they told a story of how Julio had helped their father financially a couple
times in the early days, and always ensured they had an excellent assortment of
accordions during the instrument’s true hey day. On one of the days when it wasn’t
quite so crazy, I noticed that some of the autographed pictures were New York’s
most famous accordionists. Manny’s held Julio in high regard. Years later, Stewart
Manny would bring his son to West Point for football games.

Over the next several years, the Glee Club and other cadet activities consumed
more and more of my time. I had an office in the Office of Cadet Activities in the
center of the cadet area, far removed from the band building. For the most part, I
answered to the Glee Club OICs and the Cadet Activities officer. I played less each
year. However, an event had an impact on my accordion career nearly 38 years
later. It was customary for the Glee Club to sing Christmas Carols throughout the
housing areas shortly before the Holiday Leave. The event would culminate with an
appearance before Quarters 100, the Superintendent’s house, when the cadets
would be invited inside to sing for an assemblage of the Academy’s senior members.
I remained with several of the OICs after the cadets had left the first year and was
thoroughly surprised when General Knowlton brought out his accordion and began
singing Christmas Carols with his wife and Rabbi Soltes. They concluded with Oh,
Holy Night – in French! The accordion was a NY Excelsior Rocker Switch that I later
learned he had purchased in 1939, shortly before entering West Point as a Cadet. It
had followed him throughout his career.

A few days later I sent the General a copy of my last record, and he sent back a note
of thanks concluding “he would never play in front of me again!” Before the
academic year ended, I asked Julio if he would service the accordion for him as it
had not been touched in 30 years. He agreed, and the accordion went back to New
York for a couple weeks.

I had seen pictures of Rocker Switch Excelsior’s on the covers of countless pieces of
music from the 30’s and 40’s, but had never played one – and I never did get to play
the Generals. I had always thought of asking him to will the accordion to me, but it
wasn’t the kind of thing one would do with a 4-star Army General!

40 years later, General Knowlton passed away. After several months, I finally got
the courage to call his wife to ask what she was going to do with the accordion. I
explained that I was conducting the West Point Alumni Glee Club, and given the
instrument’s history of service to the Army, I would like to use it in some of our
performances. She said she was happy that I had called as she had not known
what she was going to do with the Excelsior. Her children didn’t play, and she didn’t
feel comfortable giving it to a school. She said she thought her husband would be
pleased that it was carrying on a relationship with West Point. It was the inspiration
that made we want to play accordion again after a 30 year absence.

Page 72
The First End of an Era

But after 1971, I hardly touched an accordion again until 1977.

Page 73
The Final End of an Era

The war in Viet Nam was slowing down even before I entered the Army. I ended up
having a high number in the lottery when it was applied to the draft. It is unlikely that
my number would have been called. But with the sequence of things, it didn’t
matter. I used to joke with friends about not having to worry about the draft any
more; now all I had to deal with was the Army.

With Viet Nam in full swing, the Army had been anxious to get people in. Moving
into the 1970s, there was now a push to get people out. The Army started a
program of early release, typically cutting 6 months off enlistments.

As I became more involved with the Office of the Commandant and Corps of Cadets,
I became less involved with the USMA Band. I was conducting the Glee Club,
working with the Cadet Hop Bands, and on other cadet musical activities. There
was also all the activity associated with the construction of Eisenhower Hall. The
very first time I ever publicly conducted the West Point Glee Club was at the
groundbreaking ceremony, which for some reason was held in Thayer Hall’s South
Auditorium. In size, the Eisenhower Hall Theatre is second only to Radio City Music
Hall. There were specifications to be written for the concert grand piano, rehearsal
pianos, Hammond Organ (often specified for rock concerts), choral risers, and
orchestral shell, in addition to requirements for the buildings extensive network of
sound systems.

I had planned to return to UCLA to work on my doctorate after military service and
had maintained close connections with the music department. Now I was torn. After
years of appearances on the Ed Sullivan and other shows, the West Point Glee Club
was probably one of the most well known TTBB ensembles in the country. With the
right advertisement, the club could fill nearly any major venue in the United States. I
was making my living in music, working with people I thoroughly enjoyed, and had
excellent job security.

I was the first enlisted member who had ever conducted the Glee Club. My
predecessor was Colonel Schempf. Glee Club Officer’s in Charge started working
with the academy on getting me a commission as an Army Officer. Though direct
commissions outside the battle field are extremely rare, they were successful. I was
sworn in as a 2nd Lieutenant in the Army Reserve in 1974. Their next goal was to
bring me into full-time active duty. With the cutbacks in the strength of the Army, this
was an even a more difficult challenge and ultimately did not happen.

I signed on for an early re-enlistment after two years to avoid the early release, but
at the end of my second enlistment, I informed West Point that I was going to return
to UCLA. However, they asked if I would consider staying as a civilian member of
the Staff and Faculty and I agreed. My total active duty service was 5 years and 3
months.

Carolyn and I had separated after two years. As a bachelor, I had to surrender the
quarters at West Point and was again living in Cornwall on Hudson. Life was a blur

Page 74
The Final End of an Era

of activity with a lot of travel. I hardly played accordion at all. I was more interested
in my Corvettes and skiing.

After leaving active duty and starting work as a civilian, I purchased my first home in
Cornwall on Hudson. This brought a different type of stability and I once again
started seriously practicing accordion.

The musical immersion at West Point had provided the opportunity for a fresh
outlook on music. I started to understand what it was to approach music as a craft.
I now head nearly 15 years experience with the bassetti system. The keyboard and
fingering were now intuitive and I could master new material quite rapidly.

I started playing for select friends, feeling confident playing compositions that had
terrified me years before, like Rhapsody in Blue. I expanded what I had done with
some of the big transcriptions. I did some new ones. There was a lot of Bach and
Scarlatti. I also had no reservations in determining which of the original repertoire I
wanted to play; not feeling obligated to play something just because it was written for
accordion.

One particularly rewarding experience was working with Tito on the manuscripts of
his original works on one of my trips back to California. We corrected mistakes in
the autography and discussed his vision and interpretation. He had separated from
Sylvia many years before and the spinet piano was now in an apartment rather than
at 1818 Thurman. But the ashtray was still there and he did his best to keep it filled.
It was the last time I saw him and I am sad that I was never able to display the
results of our final collaboration in some performance venue.

I also did some composition. First was the Sonata, High Energy. The inspiration
and the title came from my ongoing love of the raw energy in rock music, the
potentially savage progression of rhythm and harmonic progressions, and the
synergy between the musician and the audience. It took a long time for the first
movement to come together, but the second and third movements channeled late
one evening following a late-night cadet tribute on the darkened plain to a plebe that
had died as the result of boxing class. The music flowed into my mind and when I
returned home I took my accordion from the case and played. It was created in its
final form and I never felt I should change any of it. I heard one of the cadets refer to
the fallen plebe’s tribute as a ‘Silver Taps’, and that became my final album’s title
when I mastered my 1978 tapes to CD. I had never met Richard Mull, but dedicated
the Sonata to him.

In all my years at West Point I had never played a single serious performance, but in
1978 I decided that I would perform for one of the interludes of the Cadet Glee
Club’s Graduation Concert. Eisenhower Hall Theatre is huge. Graduation Week at
West Point is an impressive sequence of events and ceremonies. In those days, the
Glee Club performance was a highlight and was the only activity scheduled for
Sunday evening. Seating over 4,400 people, it was certainly the largest auditorium I

Page 75
The Final End of an Era

have ever played accordion in. I invited Cadet Mull’s brother, who was graduating,
and his parents to the inaugural performance of the Sonata. Using only a single
AGC Bonham amplifier that Don Bonham had modified especially for me I sat on the
empty stage in front of the 9’ Steinway. I had been in this exact spot many times
before conducting both the Glee Club and the USMA Band, but this time I sat alone
on the stage, facing the audience with the same Giulietti V2 that had accompanied
me ten years earlier at the Sinatra Competitions.

It is nearly impossible to describe the feeling from the podium when you conduct a
major symphony orchestra. You feel the strings in every part of your body, the
vibration from the double basses resonating up through the floor, the ultra low
frequency of the bass drum. I have heard it described as the ultimate addictive
musical experience. Something you will never forget and never be able to get
enough of.

I felt a similar experience that night. The music that had channeled into my soul on
that late night now exploded back from the accordion in the opening of the first
movement. After the reflective 2nd movement, the final movement, starting from a
place of deep unrest builds to a relentless conclusion. One thing I know, I can’t take
credit for how the music entered my soul the night it was given to me or how it
reinvents itself during a performance. It is a gift.

I will share an interesting anecdote that relates to the Sonata. On the night that I
realized the last two movements, I had finally put my accordion away. It was after
3:00 a.m. I had just closed the latch on the accordion case when the phone rang. I
wondered who could possibly be calling at this hour, thinking it might be a family
crisis. It was Loraine Warren, a well known parapsychologist, psychic, and good
friend who lived in Connecticut. I initially met at Ed and Loraine at West Point
several years earlier. She had woken with visions of me engulfed in red waves of
music and was calling to see if I was okay.

Shortly after the Sonata, I began working on Compendium of Descriptive Etudes.

One of my favorites is Celebrations, an etude that begins with the introduction of
melodic layers exclusively in the left hand followed by an allegro built on relentless
progressions of 16th note sequences. Another favorite is Cow pies, classical
accordion with a humorous country-western flair. If it were written for a piano
keyboard, Count Seven would only use the black keys in the left hand ostinato –
except with a chromatic keyboard, there is no such differentiation.

One of the first projects I undertook in the new home was gutting the bedroom and
offices that had been built in the basement. I removed everything, making one very
large room. I built in bass traps and incorporated heavy sound deadening materials.
I had realized a life-long dream and acquired several professional Ampex mastering
tape recorders/reproducers that I had coveted from early youth. I was finally able to
afford them as they were now ‘vintage’ and tube analogue equipment had not yet
gained the collectable status that again drove the price up a few years later. Thanks

Page 76
The Final End of an Era

to a good friend who worked at the Ampex East Coast Sales and Service Center in
Northern New Jersey, the machines were in perfect condition. I had a 351-2 and a
354. I borrowed two Neumann 47’s from another friend and started recording. I
recorded direct-to-two with no equalization or reverb, figuring I would do that later
when I mastered the tapes. Bill Turowski, the sound engineer for the USMA band
re-mastered the tapes at the USMA Band Building adding a bit of reverb. I also did
some additional recording with Bill in the Band Building.

Though not the ideal from a technical standpoint, it gave me the opportunity to get
the performances I wanted. There was almost no editing – almost everything was
played in single takes. From Bill’s masters I produced about 50 cassette tapes for
Julio in the album name of ‘Celebrations’. They were produced two at a time directly
from the master tape. By now, Julio was in Westfield Massachusetts and the tapes
were distributed almost immediately.

For some time I knew that Julio had the exact twin for my accordion. It was one of
the only times I had played two different instruments that technically were so similar
that I could switch back and forth with no adjustment. Julio claimed there only three
such instruments were in existence. I had one, Stephen Dominko had one that Julio
now had again, and this was the third. (I later came to discover there were certainly
more than three Giulietti Super Continental V2s.) But I was in love with the 2nd
instrument. Though it felt the same, the sound was very different. The accordion
was much brighter and had the fastest left hand keyboard I had ever played –
something that really made a difference on the Sonata and Celebrations. But the
brightness came at a price – the accordion used a lot more air.

I would play the accordion every time I went to his place in Massachusetts, but
despite my inquiries, he never made any indication he would part with it. I finally
convinced him to let me use it to re-record at least some of the tracks on the album.

I redid the tracks in short order. At the time I was doing some special projects at
Bearsville Sound Studios up in Woodstock, NY, and asked the Mark Harman if he
would consider remixing the album at their state-of-the-art facility. He agreed and
one afternoon we added some reverb – well perhaps a little too much reverb – and
some equalization. At the time, I was influenced with what Virgil Fox was doing in
his rock-style ‘electric’ organ concerts. With a LOT of amplification, the bigger-than
life sound was an important part of the experience. I sometimes also used a large
sound system, depending on the audience and room.

Having been at West Point for almost ten years and never having played any
accordion at all, I made up for it in 1978. In addition to playing at the Glee Club
Graduation Concert, I also did a benefit program in the field theatre at Camp
Buckner for the cadets and their guests and a solo recital as part of the Cadet Fine
Arts Forum Chamber Series in Eisenhower Hall. At Camp Bucker, I used a full-on
sound system. In Eisenhower Hall, I played with no amplification.

Page 77
The Final End of an Era

I also traveled to the ATG National Competitions that year where I performed at the
concert and also was the head judge for the Nationals. It was an interesting event.
Sometime in all this mix I also played a movement from Galla-Rini’s 2nd Concerto
with an accordion ensemble aggregated for the event. Galla-Rini conducted and it
was great fun.

During a warm up for the Camp Buckner performance I allowed someone to tape the
Bach Toccata and Fugue in Dm. Normally, I was vehemently opposed to anyone
recording my performances. Even when I won the Western States Accordion
Festival and played at the gala concert, I was emphatic about not being recorded. I
remember looking at Herb Hay right before I started to play, making sure his tape
machine wasn’t running.

In an early part of the Toccata, I was irritated as I had transposed one of the
dimished 7th patterns down one inversion in the left hand for two counts. I wouldn’t
even listen to a replay of the tape, but took it home and stuck on the shelf with my
other projects. Many years later I finally listened to it, and felt the rest of the
performance outweighed the incorrect inversion. I included it on the final version of
Silver Taps.

After 15 years, I felt I had finally lived long enough with the bassetti to feel as
comfortable with it as I did years before with stradella. It is hard to describe the
concentration that was required every second of every performance. And that
continued for a long time.

But things were to change. I became even more involved with my West Point Glee
Club commitments and also took on an even stronger interest in piano. I started
traveling twice a week to New York City to study with Edith Oppens and all my
discretionary time was devoted to piano. One of the main attractions was the
unending selection of repertoire. I could probably sight read 8 hours a day every
day for the rest of my life and never play through all of it. I revisited some of the
things I had played in the early bassetti days – like the Waldstein Sonata.

Something else that played into the equation was my general feelings about
accordion. The popularity of the instrument was continuing to diminish. I didn’t
perceive the accordion as being ‘cool’. I would no longer be the center of attention
sitting around the campfire. I was the butt of nearly every comedian and often the
subject of ridicule both on television and on the big screen. It was tiresome to
continually feel the need to explain why the instrument I played was different –
legitimate. To some extent, I had realized Julio’s prophecy. I could now play the
works of the great masters the way they had originally been intended. However,
now it meant I was playing them on piano.

A final element was expectation. I felt I would be expected to perform at a certain

level. That would require practice, which required a commitment of time. Falling

Page 78
The Final End of an Era

short of these expectations, my own, and my perceptions of an audience, was

another force pushing me further from the instrument.

I emerged myself in the same situation with piano that I had when I started learning
a new left-hand system. Other than notation, the technical and musical similarities
between piano and accordion start and end with the layout of the piano keyboard.
Many things that would be quite easy for someone with a background in piano were
exceptionally difficult for me; and have remained that way. One of the most obvious
is flexibility in the left-hand wrist and use of the thumb. And underlying everything is
the simple fact that the piano is a percussive instrument.

Performing on the piano presented the same challenge I had to overcome when
originally performing on the bassetti. I had to devote an enormous amount of
concentration on technique – I couldn’t visualize the music and know the technique
would be intuitive to whatever I wanted to do.

By this time, Julio had focused almost all his attention on getting the accordion
recognized in the school systems. One of the final results of hits effort was a full line
of bassetti instruments. Before I left California, I had ended up with one of the 12-
bass equivalents of the free bassetti. It was named the “Leader 1” and the one I had
was 001. I tried to teach several students the bassetti from day one. It was very
frustrating and I had no success. I can still remember the first song in a bassetti
method book, The Riddle. “Here is a riddle for the wise, what has three wheels and
also flies?” The song alternated hands around middle C, using 3 notes in each
hand. In small print toward the page, the book provided the answered the question,
“A garbage can.”

I also tried to teach several of my regular accordion students the free bassetti
system on one of the ‘Transformer’ models (stradella system with an imbedded,
chromatic bassetti in the middle of the chord section). For the students, it just
seemed to be so much more difficult for so little increased musical reward.

I even had one student who traveled the 3 hours each way from Philadelphia, PA, to
Cornwall on Hudson, NY for his weekly music lesson. He arrived at his first lesson
with one of the original Giulietti bassetti’s (the gargantuan dual system monster with
the pedestal bassetti buttons) he had purchased from Charles Nunzio. He traded
his musical career for an appointment to the US Naval Academy a couple years
later.

I still stayed in touch with Julio, occasionally traveling to his home in Westfield, MA.
One of the last projects was to work with Bill Turowski in recording a Neofonic album
for John Torcello after he had won the Coupe Mondiale.

I was beginning to see that the eras of Stephen Dominko, Donald Hulme, Randy
Arase, and even William Cosby were gone. I wasn’t real excited with some of what I
saw.

Page 79
The Final End of an Era

My absence from the instrument increased from days to weeks, then months, and
finally years. I played piano, conducted, wrote arrangements, composed, and
worked with new rock acts. But I grew further and further from accordion, feeling
that maybe the accordion had betrayed me, or maybe I had betrayed it.

Page 80
The Journey Home

Nearly 30 years have passed. I continued at West Point as the Instructor of Cadet
Music for 17 years. For the 5 years following that, I became the Manager for all the
Cadet Extracurricular activities, while continuing to play piano and organ at local
clubs and restaurants. I also helped acts prepare for demo recordings for Warner,
Atlantic and Bearsville. I left West Point to return to California for 5 years, working
for the Motorcycle Safety Foundation. When motorcycle sales hit a bottom in 1991
and most of the staff was dismissed, I returned to government service, working for
the Naval Safety Center in Norfolk, VA for 7 years, and then Headquarters, US
Marine Corps in Washington, DC for another 3 years. I ultimately arrived at the US
Department of Transportation in Washington, DC, in 2006 – hired based on
recognition as one of the country’s top subject matter experts on motorcycle safety.
Probably as far from accordion as I could possibly get.

With the move to California and the subsequent high level of travel associated with
the Navy and Marine Corps, I even found myself playing very little piano, however I
continued to compose while the accordion continued to become an even more
distant memory.

On the flight back to California to be at my father’s side as he was dying of brain

cancer, I found myself on my laptop writing a very troubled and angry article about
my feelings about the accordion. Even though I had positioned myself so far away
for so long and built a nearly impenetrable wall around anything that was related in
any way to the accordion, that gesture indicated how deep the instrument was
ingrained in every part of me. I had been unsuccessful in shaking it from me. Much
of my anger was directed toward what I considered failure. I had not been
successful at making it a legitimate instrument. The all-bassetti instruments were
difficult to play. Repertoire was severely curtailed. I had placed ridiculously high
standards on what I would consider acceptable technical capability and I felt I would
never be able to have enough practice time to achieve it – especially with my travel
schedule which had me on-the-road more than I was home.

The culmination was a decision to sell one of the accordions in an effort to help
some difficult financial times, or at least that was the excuse. I listed the older
instrument on Ebay, and though there were inquiries, ultimately there were no bids.
Though unquestionably two of the finest instruments Julio had ever built, there was
no demand. But you need to be careful what you ask for. Through the Ebay add,
John Torcello contacted me, interested in obtaining an instrument that matched his.
I agreed to sell it to him. In the shipping process, UPS lost that instrument in
shipment, so I sent the second instrument to him.

For the first time since 1952, I did not own an accordion. I had said that were I to
ever play again, I wanted to play a stradella – to have fun. A year or so later I
bought an old Excelsior off Ebay – but not having thoroughly read the listing
accurately, it was a mid size instrument and did nothing to spark my interest.

Page 81
The Journey Home

However, a series of events that started in 2007 led to a rebirth. First was a West
Point Glee Club Reunion that brought back over 150 graduates from classes
spanning over 50 years, over half of them having been members while I was the
music director and conductor. I was invited to participate as one of the guest
conductors and was delighted to reconnect with so many old friends.

All this sparked renewed relationships with West Point graduates in the greater DC
area and a year later we formed the West Point Alumni Glee Club of the Greater
Washington DC area. I was again conducting weekly rehearsals and directing
programs. Something I never thought I would do again.

Around this time I was contacted by Sanders Niejen regarding a book he was writing
on the Giulietti Accordion Corporation. For months we exchanged Emails about the
accordion and people who played them. I thoroughly enjoyed these dialogues.
They brought back memories of Julio and the joy I had found playing his accordions.
When he was approaching the end of his project, I met Sanders at DC’s Union
Station one afternoon on a trip he had made to the United States. The pictures he
shared reminded my of my visit to Castlefidardo and the good times I had shared
with Julio and his family.

The Coupe Mondiale came to DC. It was in the news, something that you could
hardly miss. I followed some of it and even talked to Joan Cochran Sommers about
some of the details. But ultimately, the Coupe came and went. I wasn’t ready.
However one thing I did was call General Knowlton who now lived with his wife in
Northern Virginia and tell him of the events. With his love for accordion, I thought he
might enjoy attending.

General Knowlton passed in late 2008. I often talked to my partner Jim about the
future of the General’s prized Excelsior, and even asked several senior members
from the WPAGC if they might consider contacting his wife for me. Something
inside me was very curious about the instrument’s future. Above all, it was a full-
size stradella and I felt some connection to the instrument.

Jim brought an end to one of these conversations when he challenged me to “just

quit talking about it and call her. What would be the worst she could say? No?”

I picked up the phone and dialed. She remembered me and said that she had been
concerned about what to do with the instrument. It had been such a part of his life
that she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of giving it to a school. I explained that I
wanted to play it as part of some of our glee club performances and she said that
she was sure her husband would have wanted a continued connection with West
Point.

I was on my way out the door for a trip, but said I would call her as soon as I
returned.

Page 82
The Journey Home

When I came back, I called and we set the date. We planned the meeting prior to
one of the WPAGC rehearsals and I went to her apartment with two of my dearest
friends, John Solomon and his wife, Mary Jane. A West Point graduate and retired
Colonel, John had been one of my first bosses when I was conducting the West
Point Glee Club. We had known each other for nearly 40 years.

It was a moment I will never forget. We rode the elevator up to her floor and found
her apartment. When we entered, it was one of those moments when you know you
are surrounded by greatness. The apartment was filled with mementos from a
lifetime of service to the Army and to the Country. It is still hard for me to
comprehend the responsibility and power of a 4-star general. I am sometimes
frustrated dealing with a complex business contact or personnel problem. Here is
someone who might not only have responsibility for an entire military post larger
than many cities, but also someone whose decisions could affect the welfare and
even the lives of the soldiers he commanded. I am sometimes criticized for placing
too much homage to the United States Military Academy and her graduates, but
when I am in the presence of greatness, I am immediately humbled.

The accordion had been placed close to the front door. There was a small piece of
paper on the top that had the combinations for the two case latches. After a tour of
the apartment, we were directed to the accordion. It was difficult getting the latches
open, but after a few moments, I held the Excelsior in my hands.

Maybe it was a moment of clarity, but I somehow intuitively knew what it was all
about. I had been going over what it would be like to hold the instrument in my
hands for the past several days – what it would feel like, smell like, the mechanical
sounds from the keys and bass machine.

But what I felt went beyond that. As I started to play some simple songs I watched
the expression in Mrs. Knowlton’s face. Here was an instrument that was an integral
part of someone’s life for nearly 70 years. A treasured possession that had
accompanied one of this country’s trusted servants through cadet years at West
Point, World War II, Korea, Viet Nam, service to Presidents, American embassy’s. It
was a companion that never failed him. Never had to live up to any expectations.
Never had to prove to anyone that it was a legitimate instrument, worthy of a position
among the other great solo instruments.

The accordion only had one mission – to bring joy to its player and to the people
gathered to listen – whatever and wherever the occasion. And the accordion had
accomplished that mission perfectly.

I began to realize that this was the vision I had lost. Accomplishment and other self-
imposed needs had ultimately undermined the joy. It had become no longer fun. It
had become no longer spontaneous. For me, all these had been replaced with
personal expectations that could never be met. And I had become angry with the
accordion, blaming the thing I ultimately loved, for my failure.

Page 83
The Journey Home

I also now realize that when I discarded the accordion I also invalidated a large part
of my life – going to music lessons, playing in the accordion band, going to the
festivals, collecting pictures, the thrill of a new accordion or amplifier, winning a
trophy. I am sure this conflict created much of the anger I felt.

From the time I got the Excelsior home I couldn’t put it down. The next morning it
was out of the case and in my arms. It started to come back to life. The General
had been sick for several years which had limited his playing. The last time I spoke
with him, he said he paid a high price in pain each time he would play.

The General wanted to play, but couldn’t. I still had the ability to play, but wouldn’t.

I started with some basic exercises in an attempt to regain some of my technique. I

was excited about the chance of playing with the WPAGC, and it meant I would
need to practice. I found myself enjoying every second of it. I decided I would start
with accordion music that would have been played around the age of the Excelsior.
Unfortunately I had discarded all my stradella music many years before when I had
made my life-long commitment to bassetti. And though Julio had rebuilt the
Excelsior, that was nearly 40 years previous and I was sure the accordion was
eventually going to need some work.

A few years before, I had copied the master tapes from my albums into a high
definition digital format. Through a co-worker from Department of Transportation I
knew there was a local aficionado and technician near my home in Fredericksburg,
Virginia. I don’t even remember the reason why, but I had contacted him about
something. On one of his return calls to the house he had enthusiastically asked
Jim, “Do you know who you live with? He’s the great William Cosby.” Jim had
replied that he knew I had played accordion at one time, but never would talk about
it. He also told him that I had sold my accordions several years ago, and didn’t even
own one. The gentleman offered a Dallape Super Maestro that I could play if I
wanted too – but I declined. At the time I was recovering from a broken ankle and
didn’t see how I could play when I was sporting a non-weight-supporting cast. I still
wasn’t ready.

But playing the Excelsior had sparked something. I wanted to play. I was playing
from a 40+ memory; I hadn’t played a stradella accordion since the early 1960s. I
thought that he might have some accordion music I could borrow. I was finally ready
and I called him.

With the Excelsior in hand, I visited Dale for the first time on a Friday morning. I
ended up staying most of the day. He not only opened his home to me, he offered
up his passion for the instrument. A gentleman came mid day to pick up an
Excelsior Symphony Grand that Dale had restored for him. The man had not played
for years, and I watched his expression as he took the accordion into his lap and
started to play.

Page 84
The Journey Home

Dale had a very large collection of accordion music. He had taken all of his teachers
music after his death and several other large collections and catalogued them. I
couldn’t stump him – he had almost every piece of music I asked for.

Looking through the file cabinets, the distinctive covers that marked various eras and
arrangers brought back memories. I would remember playing them as a youth.

He carefully machined some dowels to help compensate for the Excelsior’s non-
adjustable left hand strap. He gave me a set of modern straps and lubricated the
latches on the accordion case so they would open freely.

He asked if I would like to attend an accordion picnic he was hosting a couple weeks
later – and if I might even consider playing a couple songs. I accepted.

Armed with Nunzio’s Hannon and some of the old Pietro numbers and Galla-Rini’s
arrangement of Konzertstuck I headed home to practice.

I played at the picnic – overwhelmed with emotion as I started my first piece. A

young boy remarked when I had finished that I “was good enough to play at a
restaurant, or even an amusement park.” I told him I would rather play at the
amusement park – but only if I could ride the rides for free. I felt like I had come
home.

The Excelsior soon started to show the effects of being played a lot after a long
period since being serviced. Julio had once told me about what would happen with
an older accordion when it was played again, it would be fine for a while, but the wax
would start to crack. A couple weeks after the picnic, Dale confirmed this was
starting to happen as I was noticing some new, strange sounds coming from the
instrument. He loaned me a Sonola he had recently restored so he could work on
the Excelsior.

I knew I was going to need to find an accordion that would withstand my renewed
enthusiasm for playing. Many years previous I had said that if were ever to play
again, it would be a stradella. I knew I did not want an all free-bassetti instrument.
But I knew I would eventually want to play bassetti again. So my ideal instrument
would be one of the dual system accordions.

I quickly discovered that accordions with both a stradella and bassetti system had
fallen from favor and were considered by many to be old fashioned. Even Hohner
had stopped making them in their custom Gola factory. These had been replaced by
chromatic free bass systems where the chord rows ‘convert’ to a chromatic system.
Though the keyboard layout is the same, the physical location on the instrument and
relationship to the left hand strap was very different. My ideal dream accordion
would be to find one of the Giulietti Continentals.

Page 85
The Journey Home

A little over a month later I was again at Dales, doing a short performance for
attendees of a repair seminar. Jim mentioned to Joan Grauman, Historian for the
AAA, about my search for one of the Giuliettis. Joan said she thought she knew
someone who might have one, who might be willing to sell it. I thought, I have heard
this type story before.

But within 24 hours, I opened an Email to be staring in total disbelief at a 45-key

Giulietti Super Continental – my ultimate dream accordion. Within 24 hours she had
introduced me to the owner and within another 24 hours the deal had been made
and the accordion had been shipped.

In an Email thanking Joan, Jim made a comment that “it were as if Julio reached out
from the grave and gave Bill another accordion to play.” I don’t know when I have
ever felt such great excitement or gratitude; not only for the instrument, but for the
opportunity to play again.

The Continental’s owner told me that he had also stayed away for a long time – but
when he came back, he knew he would never want to leave again.

Page 86
Postlude

I walked onto the stage in the music building’s small theatre. It was mid-year of my
first year of college at El Camino. The occasion was the bi-weekly student recital
and I was to play the Debussy First Arabesque as my first public performance on
piano.

There was no feeling of internal connection with the 7’ Baldwin as I approached. I

carefully adjusted the height of the black artist’s bench and stared back at the cold
plastic keys. I quickly glanced at the position of my feet on the pedals. I then sat
quietly for a moment, finding my focus.

The silence was broken with a seemingly desperate whisper calling to me from the
stage wing. “Okay - - - you can play now. Go ahead - - -. Anytime now - - ” It was
Mrs. Nelson, the teacher of my piano class, no doubt wondering exactly what I was
doing.

And now that I am at the end of my story, I know – “it’s time to play now. I can play
now.”

Page 87
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Saved Rounds

Part II of this book are the anecdotes written over a period of about 3 years after my
return to playing. For the most part, these were written on my daily commute from
Fredericksburg, VA, to Washington DC, where I worked for the National Highway
Safety Administration, United States Department of Transportation.

The daily commute was a minimum of an hour and a half each way – given there
weren’t any traffic jams, constructions, or crashes on Route 95. With any disruption
in the traffic flow the trip could easily exceed 2 or even 3 hours. Rather than feeling
like I was wastting time, I sat in the rear of a 15-passenger van, notebook in hand,
as we careened back and forth on Interstate 95.

When Jim and I originally moved from Laguna Beach, California, to Norfolk, Virginia.
my primary goal was the shortest possible commute to the Naval Safety Center; our
first stop after moving to Virginia from Laguna Beach, California. I could literally
walk to work and rarely missed lunch at home. I traveled a lot then and the airport
was about 5 minutes away.

But alas, if I were to ever have any hope of increasing my GS step rating, I knew it
would be necessary to move to the DC area. I got the ratings, but the trade-off was
the long commuting distance. For the ten years I commuted to DC, discretionary
time was all but gone. As I got up at 4:23 every morning I would let my mind run
free, hoping for a topic for the blog. The discipline was to write, and once started,
the words would flow.

So I guess the ultimate measure of the time spent writing this blog will be measured
by the possible value it might eventually have. But I found to be not entirely true. As
I wrote I often gained a clarity in the given topic. It also provided the opportunity to
look at connections between the accordion and almost any other topic – ultimately
the most critical and central topic was music and musicianship.

Page 88
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Why another blog? Then and Now

04/21/10

I am sitting in my hotel room in Baltimore, MD – here courtesy of my day job. After

we finish on Friday I am off to Albany to pick up Fabian (the Giulietti 6/3) from Tony
Grieco, who has been doing some rather complex restoration (that is a long and
complex story – but not tonight).

All my accordions have names. Fabian was originally Connie, but renamed when I
got the 5/4 — who claimed the name of Connie. The new Giulietti Classic 127 is
Sebastian. The Excelsior is General Bill. You can see pictures of each of them on
the website. There are stories behind all the names. I also name cars. Some
names stick, some don't.

I am anxious for the return of Fabian. There are special things about
each accordion. Fabian can reach into your primal side, often exposing the darkest
parts of your soul. He can be savage, uncivilized. Don't even try to hide any part of
yourself. But I have also literally watched tears run down the cheeks of grown men,
retired Army officers, non accordionists, when playing single reeds with pp melody
lines. There is a sheer beauty of tone that is hard to describe.

Fabian is an accordion with a pedigree – but much of his past is unknown.

Somewhere in his early years (certainly before Frank Petrilli.), he was most likely
subjected to some very rough handling and some questionable repair work. But
even so, he still performed. He would sit crouched in his case, like a wild
animal daring to be set loose. But once engaged, he became your most trusted
companion.

So why another blog? To share some of my thoughts and opinions. Uncensored.

Returning from my 30-year isolation is like coming out of a time capsule. So as I
discover things, it is a chance to share my reactions with you. As I get warmed up, I
am sure to hit on a lot of topics – even though sometimes with a distant relationship
to accordions or even music.

Bill

Page 89
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

A new name for Connie

04/22/10

I was told by Jim that Connie (The Super 5/4) is not a Connie. Fabian was originally
named Connie after the Lockheed Super Constellation (close to Continental),
resplendent with the 3 tails (like the 3 rows of bassetti). Powerful engines running at
low RPM - TWA's "Queen of the Sky". I know, the connection is lame.

And though Fabian (originally Connie) and the 5/4 (Connie awaiting a name change)
are of similar Giulietti pedigree, the accordions are very different - far beyond the
obvious difference in the number of respective stradella and bassetti rows.

Whereas Fabian has an unknown and possibly dark past that very likely included
some rough handling and molestation by questionable technicians, the 5/4 existed in
a happy and secure environment - lovingly cared for by her original owner, Kim
Doogan, a university student of one of Canada's finest and most respected
accordionists, Joe Macerollo. The 5/4 is a very late instrument, and the finishing
work and detailing from the original construction are impeccable and basically
untouched.

Where Fabian is primal, the 5/4 is refined. She speaks with a wonderful clarity and a
certain purity. But there is no mistake they are both Giuliettis. A difference in
instruments is not foreign to high quality craftsmanship. In purchasing numerous
new Steinways from the Steinway in the New York City showroom (for myself, for
West Point, and even one for a neighbor) I was amazed at the differences in the
instruments. But there was never any doubt they were all Steinways.

I also find myself approaching each accordion differently. Sometimes you just know
immediately. Sometimes there is a process of discovery. You listen, you feel, you
respond. I don't think about what kind of reeds are inside or other details of
construction. I am more interested in what it does than what it is. Because if
it 'doesn't' - it doesn't matter what it is. But that is a topic for another blog.

Back to the 5/4. When you reach a certain level of refinement with an instrument, it
may not necessarily improve your playing. When you do things right - it will reward
you with extraordinary results. But when you do things less than right - it will likely
heighten that also. With that type of refinement and clarity - the interface is more
transparent. I would use the example of an American Steinway vs. a Hamburg
Steinway. To me, Fabian is more like the American Steinway. The 5/4 is more akin
to the Hamburg Steinway.

So she needs a name. Under consideration right now are Elizabeth or Margot.
Send me your thoughts or suggestions. Then Jim will most likely decide her name.

Page 90
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Journey to Albany

04/23/10

After my work was finished for the day I drove from Baltimore up to Albany to pick up
Fabian. I was lucky in terms of traffic, though I don't know if anything is as bad as
Washington DC - that being said by someone who grew up in Southern California!

Having lived for 23 years in Cornwall on Hudson, New York, it is always a little like
coming home.

So Tony is finishing up Fabian tonight and doing a few adjustments on Elizabeth (I

am going to use that name for now). Sebastian (the Giulietti 127) is home with
General Bill and Jim (who is now tearing into Palmer Hughes Book 2).

The next order of business when I return will be completing the 'stradella' album. I
will be recording it on Sebastian. It has been very interesting playing a true Giulietti
stradella after all these years. In some ways, the big bassettis don't make
particularly good stradellas - or perhaps more accurately, you have to approach the
music quite differently and run the risk of loosing something in the translation. I can
certainly work, but it requires a different playing style.

The first thing is in the response from the lowest bass reeds. The bottom is great in
the big bassetti accordions, but they take longer to respond. Big bass reeds also
use a lot of air. That changes the bellowing. There is also a difference in the
response of the chords. In my experience, the chords in a dedicated stradella
accordion have much more capability for a sharper or crisper 'punch'. I can still hear
Tito singing a 'bap' to demonstrate. That punch can be used to add percussive
nuances, not only in the many applications of 'Om Pah', but as accents in certain
jazz styles. Sometimes getting that percussive effect is more important than the
actual notes being played in the chord.

So combine an extremely tight compression, fast and quiet keyboard and bass
machines, great reeds with a wide dynamic range, good tonal and physical balance,
and fit it into a 26lb package and you have described Sebastian (the new Classic
127). Sebastian is physically very easy to play and extremely precise and
responsive.

The last Giulietti stradella that I owned was in 1959 - 1960. In the late 1970's I told
Julio I wanted buy a stradella without a bassetti system, but he was far from
enthusiastic. At the time I had been exclusively playing bassetti for over 15 years.
He would scold me, 'Why would you want to go backward?'

But today, while the Continentals fill certain expressive needs, Sebastian fills others.

Page 91
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

At this point, I see it is another part of the accordion's versatility. And perhaps the
biggest realization I have experienced in my return is that the versatility of the
accordion may be more important than proving the legitimacy of the accordion as a
classic instrument. Perhaps the versatility is the greatest asset - firmly establishing
the accordion's real legitimacy.

It has sure made it a lot more fun.

Choreography - Part I

04/24/10

Waiting to go pick up the accordions from Tony this afternoon - then the 8 hour drive
back to Fredericksburg.

After I finished writing about Sebastian last night I started looking at some online
videos of current accordion players in Europe. It brought up one of my favorite
topics - something I call choreography. I don't know how many people use the term,
but it has meaning to me. After reading some of my views and rants on the topic,
you may discover it is something that you have also observed, though you are likely
to have called it something else and have your own views and reactions. So I would
make a serious caution: this may change the way you view performances - forever.
I would also quote one of my professors from UCLA who for many years was the
music critic for the LA Times. "Throughout history, musicians have never supported
music." Of course, he was referring to the musical performance of other musicians.

Roll back a few months. I had not played accordion for nearly 30 years and was
going to play a musical interlude for a performance by the West Point Alumni Glee
Club in Arlington, Virginia. I was still acting as the Musical Director and Conductor of
the WPAGC at the time and the purpose of the musical interludes are to give the
singers a break.

After I had finished, Jim, who had never heard me perform in public, said he was
very surprised. He didn't know that choreography was part of it. It looked like I was
trying to convince the audience (or myself) that I really was into the music. I didn’t
think I was doing that much choreography, and wasn't giving it conscious thought,
but evidently there was enough for him to notice. I was as surprised by his comment
as he was by my choreography. He asked if choreography was part of a musician's
performance.

A word of background, Jim was a principal soloist in classical ballet with several
companies, and only stopped dancing a few years ago after completely ripping an
Achilles tendon several days after a performance with the Virginia Symphony
orchestra. Through many long discussions I have come to realize the close parallel
between his Russian training in classical ballet and my Russian training on the
piano. However there is one significant difference between musicians and dancers,

Page 92
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

a musician gets to hide behind an instrument. For the dancer, it is all on the line.
The instrument is the movement of their body.

As a young player, I quickly realized that I was not good at choreography. Even
after a year or so I recognized I didn't have the charisma required for the 1950's
accordion pop genre. Teachers could tell me to smile, be pleasant, be relaxed, and
my mother could make the requisite satin shirts with the billowy sleeves; but I knew it
didn't work. I was never going to have the stage presence or pizzazz of a Dick
Contino or Myron Floren. For me, I was going to have to play my ass off. That kind
of showmanship was not my thing and I felt stupid trying to do it. (Not that feeling
stupid has kept me from doing certain things in my life.)

So back to the online videos I was watching last night. The first thing that would
grab my attention was the choreography. I could be so drawn in by the
choreography that I could care less about the music. It could be a major distraction.
Choreography relates to the music, interacts with who is playing it, and may or may
not be part of what is required in the venue.

A while ago someone referred me to a particular online video to check out. As I

watched, I couldn't really focus on either the player or the composition as I was so
distracted by the choreography. The player was great but I hated the piece and saw
the choreography as the player's attempt to convince at least himself the piece was
worth playing.

Maybe I should have tried that on some of the Coupe Test pieces when I was
competing. I should have tried using choreography to convince myself they were
great compositions.

More to come.

Return Home

04/25/10

Got away late from Tony's home in Albany, New York. Didn't get home until almost
4:00 a.m. I used to late nights like that in stride, but it is rougher now that I am older.

Fabian is still the grand patriarch of the Giuliettis. For me, the 5mm key depth really
makes a difference. It was something that several of us encouraged Julio to do on
the bassettis. In contrast, Tito liked an extremely shallow action, most certainly
because of the jazz style. It was probably less than 4mm. For now, Fabian has the
fastest right hand keyboard, Sebastian is clearly second, and Elizabeth is third. But
here we are talking ultimate speeds – they are all extremely fast. Elizabeth needs to
be played in more. Sebastian has the fastest (and certainly the quietest) stradella
section. Elizabeth has the biggest bottom end (that doesn't sound right). Eilzabeth
is also an 'E' system. Fabian is 'G'. and Sebastian is 'A'.

Page 93
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

I want to get back to the topic of choreography. A parallel concept in dance would
be affectations - after all, how could you have choreography on top of
choreography?

So maybe what I am talking about is more appropriately labeled affectations.

But if choreography is 'acting' then there is the possibility of having both

choreography and affectations in musical performance. The entertainer part could
be the choreography that might be expected for a particular venue but there could
still be affectations on top of that.

More later... I'm tried and just finishing unpacking.

Jo Ann Castle

04/27/10

Back into the routine this morning. I am currently in the back of a 15-passenger
commuter van careening wildly up Interstate 95 on my 54-mile commute to work. I
like my job but detest the commute.

Several months ago I bought an accordion album off Ebay that was recorded by Jo
Ann Castle in the 1950's. In his quest to learn everything he can about accordion
Jim had uncovered some early performances on You tube by Jo Ann on the Welk
show and he insisted I bid on the album.

Upon playing the album, I must say I was totally blown away. Such an amazing
technical facility, so much fire, so much life. I was at once reminded of the absolute
brilliance of her artistry.

My next thoughts turned to 'Tito'. I remember sitting in Tito's living room one time
waiting for my lesson when Jo Ann dropped by to visit. Also, Tito's influence was
apparent in the improvisations for several arrangements and throughout the album in
the way Jo Ann locked into the groove of the rhythm. That is an acquired skill and
Tito took the time necessary with his students to master the technique. On the up-
tempo arrangements it allowed her to combine with the rhythm section with a driving
synergistic energy. This isn't about playing fast or loud. It is about locking into an
internal clock with a final result beyond any digital quantifying process.

Last night I called Sylvia Prior to confirm that Tito had, in fact, been one of Jo Ann's
teachers. Back in Tito's living room in the late 1950's 'teacher' may have been
mentioned, but Tito was not into self adulation. For him, it was always about the
music - and his approach to music was realized in his enthusiasm about life and all
the things to be enjoyed. Never once was there a hushed conversation about this
performance or that - the greatest accordionist or greatest accordion - or making the
accordion legitimate - or playing homage to someone. For Tito, everyone was

Page 94
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

accepted on an equal playing field - which in my experience is a characteristic of a

truly great artist.

So as I listen to dueling Libertangos on Youtube (mainly from Europe), I am

reminded of great American accordion entertainers of the 50's and 60's like Jo Ann.
In terms of pure talent and showmanship she was certainly among the best! It was
pure fun then, and it is certainly pure fun now. Jo Ann could certainly have taken on
any of today's pop players, and what a duel it would be. In fact, I am not sure she
couldn't still do it...

Accordion Lessons

04/28/10

Jim accuses me of being a horrible teacher. Absolutely no music-stand (bed-side)

manor. Mean. No patience. Always yelling.

Maybe all this is akin to teaching a family member how to drive. I remember when I
was getting ready to go into the Army. In our newlywed bliss Carolyn and I had
decided to buy a new car. It was May of 1969.

Our 1963 Dodge Custom 880 station wagon had close to 160,000 miles on the
odometer and had certainly served me well - but was it really up to a cross-country
trip and future New York snow-filled winters? The local Plymouth dealership had a
loss-leader sale on a Forrest Green Road Runner with the high performance 383
and the horn that went 'beep beep'. It also had a radio, but that was about it in terms
of options. Oh yes, it also was a four speed.

We picked the car up and were on the way home from the dealership when I asked
Carolyn if she would like to 'try 'er out'? It was then that she informed me she had
never driven a standard transmission. Though I had that moment in time when my
heart had stopped on cue, I calmly remarked that there was nothing to it and she
would be up and running in no time.

I pulled into an alley behind our apartment and she slid into the driver's seat. Any
motor-head worth his Pennzoil realizes that the heavy-duty Mopar 4-speeds from
that era were not user friendly. The stiff Hurst shifter would challenge a weight lifter
and the clutch was exceptionally heavy and unforgiving. After at least a half-dozen
stalls and some very erratic transitions between acceleration and deceleration the
lesson ended in some tears and some harsh words. Scariest thing; I was leaving for
Fort Ord in several days and I was certain there wouldn't be much left of the
transmission or the clutch by the time I returned from basic training.

My dad came to the rescue and calmly said he could teach her, and within a couple
days she could manage the stick with minimum stalls. The trade-off was some very
spirited departures from the stop position.

Page 95
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

While in basic training, Carolyn often told me in her daily letters all about her
improvements. I became more concerned when she told me that Dora (our
drummer from Music Emporium) was also helping her improve her skills. Dora's
incredible athleticism carried over to everything she did - whether it was playing
some form of baseball burn-out with one of the neighborhood high school kids or full-
throttle-power-shifting a car.

The tone of the letters gradually changed. Soon there were stories of shutting down
a Corvair, and eventually even to some Firebirds and Camaros. Dora had worked
her magic.

Perhaps the same cautions in teaching family members to drive should be applied to
music lessons. But I must say that Jim is progressing quite well in spite of me. He
is now starting to tear through Palmer Hughes Book II. Last night we started on
alternating the basses .

Alternating Basses

04/29/10

I goofed a bit in yesterday's blog about teaching family members to drive (or learning
to play an instrument). But drill down a bit further and you have the larger topic of
adult learning - doing something new - and in some cases, learning a new motor
skill.

I was a Chief Instructor / Master Train-the-Trainer for the Motorcycle Safety

Foundation's RiderCourses for the better part of 15 years. The core of the training
curricula is hands-on, so I had a lot of opportunities to participate in the process of
teaching adults new motor and mental skills.

Over the past several years the MSF courses have become much more centered in
adult-centered learning techniques. In earlier days the focus was on teaching the
skills in the classroom, first in theory and then through visualized practice. As the
training program progressed, it was found to be much more effective to have the
rider experience the complete skill, and then fine tune it.

I have played piano for many ballet classes. Often the teacher will demonstrate
something and tell the dancers to repeat what they did. There is no great
introductory explanation of the techniques or kinetics - just do it. After that it
becomes a process of refining their technique. As part of the process of refining the
technique there may be discussion of why this or that will improve performance.
Rarely does the teacher say something is hard. And bottom line, it may not be hard
for that particular dancer anyway.

Same thing in teaching people to ride a motorcycle. Skills are presented in a

sequence - you demonstrate - have them experience it - and refine their technique.

Page 96
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Nothing is really 'hard', though you may spend the rest of your riding experience
refining the skill. In fact, I may say something like, "this may look more difficult than
it is."

The other component of adult learning is helping the student discover his or her own
method that achieves the result. Let them learn what works for them, and use that.

So in teaching alternating basses or in almost any other physical skill, the first thing
(for me) is to have the student experience motor skill. Let them see what it feels
like. Then start providing the background and nuances as necessary. Perhaps that
is why I sometimes seem impatient. I don't want the student to spend a lot of time
'figuring it out' - just do it. I don't want them to confuse themselves with details that
will impede their progress at that point in time. However, I sometimes have to
remind myself that students learn in different ways and some may need to
understand more of the background at an earlier stage than others.

Another aspect of music is that it occurs in time. I have found the concept of rhythm
and (music existing in) time are the most difficult concepts to apply. Therein is the
baseline of ultimate artistry. So the concept of time and sequence needs to always
be part of the experience - to where it is integral to every aspect of making music.

40 years ago I was sitting in a hotel room with Stephen Dominko and a few other
friends. He remarked about one passage from the Liszt 19th that I had played earlier
in the evening as seeming nearly impossible. I picked up my accordion and played
the passage for him. It was a 5-note handset; something more common to piano
technique. He repeated it flawlessly on the first attempt. "That's cool; it sounded a
lot harder than that."

So remember, it's never hard.

Page 97
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

‘PPB

05/02/10

Ruthanne Schempf, one of my all-time closest friends, accompanied the West Point
Glee Club for many of the years I was the Conductor and Music Director.
Throughout those years we spent countless hours on busses traveling to concerts.
Spirited conversations helped pass the time and the mere mention of certain topics
could keep us going for hours.

The first was Wagner. Wagner has always been my second-favorite composer,
second only to Mozart. That Ruthanne and I did not share a common appreciation
of Wagner is an understatement. Another favorite topic was Hanon. I was raised on
Hanon and always thought it was an absolute staple, good while having the morning
cup of coffee or reading the morning paper. Ruthanne was more into achieving
technical milestones through challenges in the actual music. In recent years she
has finally started to appreciate the true value of Hanon, though I have yet to
convince her of the necessity of practicing the first 31 exercises in all the keys with
both diatonic and chromatic fingering. (As a side note, Ruthanne has a PhD in
musical performance on piano from Manhattan School of Music and has
successfully supported herself as a concert pianist and teacher. Her playing and
vast repertoire are technically and musically brilliant.)

Another favorite topic was PPB, or in laymen's terms, the dreaded 'piano players
butt; when years of practice combine with basic genetics to produce a rear end that
will challenge any piano bench ever designed. A counterpart is APB, or 'accordion
player’s butt.' And when it is all said and done, butts are always a much more fun
topics than Wagner (who can be way too political) and Hanon (which can be way too
boring).

Playing the accordion in the 50's and into the early 60's was totally cool. But the
steps I thought necessary to develop an acceptable level of competence were
exclusive of everything else. What was unusual is that I came from a family of
athletes. My father was a coach for many years. In college he had lettered in
football, basketball, ice hockey, track, and baseball; in his senior year being the
team captain in several of these sports.

But on the first day of high school gym class, I thought I was literally going to die
after a single lap around the track. I didn't think being in shape could coexist with
becoming a world-class musician. The day I entered the Army my life changed in
ways I could have never guessed. Staying at West Point for 23 years imprinted
these changes forever. Physical fitness was a critical part of the West Point
experience, for cadets and staff members alike. I remember one concert for the Viet
Nam Vets on Long Island. The morning activity was a 5-mile run with the Vets.
Several of the cadets completed a second loop and caught up with Ruthanne and I

Page 98
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

before we finished. But on that day, we had done our part to combat PPB or APB.
I embrace the value of staying in shape for both body and mind.

So today, staying in shape remains a top priority. I started with a 3-mile morning run
through the Fredericksburg Battlefields that are adjacent to my home. It is
something I do every day. I also know it is even more important when I don't see
how I am going to fit it into a day with a completely insane schedule.

But I am now facing a new challenge - man boobs; another gift that comes with age.
I find this issue much more difficult to resolve than APB.

But what will you be doing in 20 years?

05/03/10

I still remember most of the details with pretty good clarity, though it was nearly 55
years ago. I was talking to one of the neighborhood kids who was probably two
years older than I was. It was typical kid talk. I was most likely babbling about
something accordion, because even at ten years old, accordion had consumed most
of my identity. I was convinced I was going to become the next Myron Floren, or
next somebody. I knew accordion greatness was going to be in my future.

Leroy (not his real name) listened somewhat indignantly before replying, "But what
will you be doing in 20 years?" It were as if he had poked a hole in my bellows. In
my mind I could see Leroy and his parents sitting at their 1950's Formica kitchen
table on plastic-covered chairs with chrome legs, father saying, "All that silliness
about playing that accordion. Why would any parent let their kid waste so much time
thinking there was a future in it?" I am sure Leroy's mother nodded her head in
agreement as that is what 1950's housewives did. And Leroy sat there taking it all in
ready to repeat it at exactly the right opportunity. Even in my early years I knew
these thoughts were not from Leroy. But I was not influenced. I approached
accordion with even more vigor.

I experienced a similar reaction from my own parents during my last years in college,
when I had decided I wanted to be a rock-and-roll star. "Do you really think people
are going to want to hear all that noise in 20 years?"

Looking back, rock survived better than the accordion did - at least in the United
States. By 1979, when I snapped my bellows strap for the last time for 30 years,
there wasn't much interest in accordions. There was the occasional performance at
a festival, but even the interest in these had declined. In the early years of the
Western States Accordion Festivals there had been close to 5,000 contestants - all
at one place at one time.

In 1979 I had already been at West Point for almost ten years. In that final year I
played and judged at the ATG Nationals in St. Louis, the Western States Festival in

Page 99
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Santa Monica, CA, and played several full recitals in and round West Point. But that
was it. I was still playing casual gigs, but would face serious disapproval from other
members of the combo if I even thought about showing up with an accordion rather
than an electric piano or organ. At one time I even had one of Hohner's early
versions of an organ crammed into an accordion shell (Electrovox). But even that
looked like too much like a Cordovox, which carried its own baggage. As I saw it,
accordions had reached the height of being totally un-cool. They were the things
jokes were based on. I wanted to play music - not fight dragons and chase
windmills. It wasn't worth trying to prove something to people who basically didn't
care.

The world is a much smaller place now. I can watch what is happening world-wide
in real-time through the Internet. I can talk to people all over the world. I watch with
fascination at the accordion's popularity outside the United States. Maybe the
instrument never took the face dive there that it did here. Maybe there was a better
resilience, more reasonable expectations, whatever. But there is certainly a lot of
excitement. The accordion is certainly cool and there are a lot of cool and very hip
people playing it. It is such an exciting time.

An interesting note; I had started to play again before discovering all these things.
So maybe a deep seated love for the instrument had finally overcome a need to be
cool. I am also discovering a certain interest in this country - almost like an
undercurrent - but I don't know if accordions in the US have found their niche - yet

However, there is one thing I muse about; though I may not be around long enough
to see how it plays out. Years ago in the US there were accordionists who played
both classical and jazz or pop (I hate that word but can't think of a better one).
There were others who just played classical. There are still some survivors who
played primarily classical repertoire who still play classical repertoire. But when I
think of those who played both styles, I am having a harder time thinking of those
who played both who still seriously play classical repertoire - their focus seemed to
turn primarily to pop. As an example, Donald Hulme was a phenomenal player,
perhaps one of the most impressive I have ever heard. Ever. But after winning the
Coupe, I don't ever remember hearing of him dragging out that behemoth custom-
made-dedicated-quint-system 200-bass 49-piano key Gola to knock out a few from
WTC or a Liszt Rhapsody or two.

So I really wonder as some of today's young superstars demonstrate such brilliant

proficiency in various styles. What will they be doing in 20 years? But today, I am
not asking if they will be playing, but what they will be playing? I have some of my
own theories, but I am not quite ready to share them yet. I would rather hear some
of yours.

And does it really matter? Absolutely not; at least to me. It's all fabulous and it's all
cool.

Page 100
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

The ASO

05/04/10

As a young accordionist, and with a lot of time invested in practice, if I was going to
play, I was going to be heard. In the early years (before even my time), a chamber-
less, musette-tuned accordion could do pretty well competing in a dance ensemble.
But the groups changed and the sound changed. Musette tuning was replaced by
chambered bassoon reeds in modern jazz ensembles. Amplification also was added
to the equation so the accordion could be heard.

There were some great improvements in accordion amplifiers in the late 50's, early
60's. Tremolo, which worked well for guitar (especially in surf music), was replaced
with stereo vibrato, a very effective electronic replacement for the Leslie speaker
often used with the Hammonds. It was patented by Don Bonham and marketed
primarily through Magnatone and later through his own company, Audio Guild.
Amplifiers were also an important part of accordion manufacturers' catalogues and
you will still see Magnatones for sale on Ebay labeled as Giulietti, Pan, Titano,
Universal, and others. I can still see Johnny LaPadula's endorsement ad, "Make
Mine Magnatone." The ad should have read; "Stereo vibrato, something else that
can be overused, especially by 13-year olds!"

But while the accordion and accordion amplification was changing, amplification for
other instruments was changing as well. Accordionists got the Magnatone 280's and
480's but they were no match for the Vox (Jennings), Marshall, Acoustic Control, and
Sunn Amps. Even though I had a Vox Super Beatle with two cabinets (8 12's and 4
horns) feedback kept me from competing with an electric guitar playing through even
the smallest Fender. And in rock music at that time, size mattered.

I have mentioned an electronic Hohner accordion-like device several times in the

last few posts. My Hohner Electrovox was courtesy of the West Point Band to use
with the Concert band when they played for football games and for combo gigs.
Combined with the new solid-state Leslie speakers, it would squawk really loud.
There was a similar model from Farfisa called the Transicord. These were actually
combo organs in an accordion shell. They had no reeds. There were also no
bellows. The left hand pivoted as a volume control at a bottom hinge where the
bellows would be. When you weren't used to it, it quickly tired you left shoulder. But
it wouldn't feedback, and with the built in (though most likely unintentional IM
distortion) it would screech with the best of them. It was an opportunity for an
accordionist to compete.

Too many years working for Army, Navy and Marine Corps (I skipped Air Force)
have influenced my use of acronyms. In an earlier post I talked of PPB and APB.
You can see I am comfortable with making up my own new acronyms or adapting
from old ones.

Page 101
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

During my years with the West Point Glee Club, we performed in a wide variety of
venues; everything from world-class concert facilities to places like the parking lot of
Paul's Fish Market. The pianos that were provided for the performances were
usually similar to the venue. It was only natural we came up with code names that
broke them down into three basic categories. Respectively, there was a piano
(piano), a piano shaped object (PSO) and a piece of &*#% (POS).

A new acronym that may be on the horizon is the ASO. It would be another term
borrowed from our sister solo instrument, the piano. ASO - or "Accordion Shaped
Object". So now enter the ASO.

The obvious early ASOs (Farfisa Transicord and Hohner Electrovox) didn't even
have an accordion setting that I can remember. The Cordovox, CCs (Cordovox
clones) and some of the midi accordions have reeds, so they qualify as accordions.
Dale Wise has a wonderful bathroom medicine cabinet fashioned from an old
accordion. The reeds have been removed. So that would be an ASO.

But what about the Roland? It doesn't have reeds, but will play and sound like an
accordion? Is it an accordion or an ASO?

And what about the new digital anti-feedback technology? Can I finally make my
accordion compete?

Great Comments

05/05/10

Thanks to Hannah Tilt for her comments that she posted on the Guest Book page. If
you didn't see them, I am posting them below:

Dear Bill, I have just finished reading your highly interesting latest blog entry, and
having thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing I felt inspired to comment! From my
perspective, knowing all kinds of people who are playing classical accordion, jazz,
and 'pop' I can also say that I think it is all very cool stuff! I find it amazing to be able
to read this fascinating insight into the 1950's when the accordion was 'cool' and the
70's when it was 'uncool', I get a new perspective on the whole landscape: the
accordion's journey has now almost completed its own cycle – to find a new status in
the world, and now just about ALL of it's cool! Music ranging from
classical/contemporary, jazz, traditional, folkloristic, rock, (even heavy metal), is
played here in Europe - and practically all such styles are taught here at my college.
I enjoyed visualizing you in the 1950's kitchen with the chrome legged, plastic
covered chairs...it reminded me of 'Pleasantville'! There are so many cool accordion
players, Now its an instrument of increasing popularity ... and there are many cool
young players coming onto the scene all the time! Whether people do the jazz,
classical or 'pop' things are happening here. You take people like Richard , and see
what they are doing with the accordion, the more wonderful it seems! We have very

Page 102
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

cool teachers here - and just to mention two of them, we have Werner Glutsch, the
former world champion (and technical phenomenon), and my own teacher, Hans-
Guenther Koelz, a wonderful musician, and specialist in jazz study on accordion,
famous arranger and composer! This gives wonderful diversity! Therefore, we
students can actually choose our own eventual direction. From my perspective, the
whole accordion spectrum is like a Kaleidoscope! An Aladin's cave of possibilities –
and this is reflected in your historical musings! I want to play music from Jazz to Ole
Schmidt's Toccatas - and the fantastic 'Sonata High Energy' by Bill Cosby. PLEASE
could you tell me where I can get a copy!!!!? Love from Hannah xxx

To me, what Hannah is saying about the variety, scope, and enthusiasm of
accordionists in Europe is exciting. But what is more exciting is her enthusiasm. "A
Kaleidoscope - " such a great word. And she is young, and she is right in the center
of it. There are no doubts. No hesitations.

As I read her words I felt that same energy that I did too many years ago.

Hannah's words say more than I ever could about the energy of people like Tito
Giudotti, Anthony Galla-Rini, and Julio Giulietti. Though she never knew them or
may not even know who they are, the true nature of their spirit is alive in her. Those
of us who were lucky enough to know them will always have a respect and
admiration and we can wax eloquently until the cows come home; but within people
like Hannah lives the true essence.

So how do we get a new accordion generation in the U.S. to shove some of us old
turtles out of the way???

Dark Eyes

05/06/10

I have been busy preparing for the stradella album. It will be my first accordion
recording session in nearly 30 years. Some of the pieces have stories. Some of the
stories are amusing, at least to me.

Early Giulietti advertisements talk of an accordion builder who was an extraordinary

artist. An accordionist whose personal understanding of a professional
accordionist's needs drove the design of the accordions he manufactured - or
something like that.

There was always an extra spark in Julio's eyes when he talked to his young players
about his career as an Army musician. He told us his fellow soldiers called him
'Dark Eyes' because that was all he knew how to play. And though I never heard
him play a note with an accordion actually strapped to his back, I have no difficulty
visualizing what he would have looked like in his Army uniform entertaining the
troops or playing for a private party. I am sure it was highly dramatic and I am sure it

Page 103
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

was great fun, regardless of what he played. If there was one thing Julio loved as
much as life, it was his love for the accordion. There were other passions, but that is
another blog.

Anyway, from the onset in planning the stradella album I thought that Dark Eyes had
to be in there someplace. So last Sunday, I finally remembered to ask Dale Wise if
he had any arrangements. My original intent was to play the arrangement I originally
learned as a kid. Dale returned from his file cabinets with an entire folder of Dark
Eyes arrangements. If there ever were a search for the pre-1960's counterpart to
Libertango, Dark Eyes would make the short list. It seemed that every great and not
so great arranger had done arrangements of the piece and Dale had them all. There
were also accordion band arrangements. It was an absolute cornucopia of ultimate
camp. I selected the Magnante arrangement.

I once read that the best Franz Liszt ever played something was the first reading -
because after that he was always changing it. He was also known to change his
own compositions. I find myself making changes with much of the stradella
repertoire. Sometimes I like to add some small detail to the arrangement to see if
people are actually paying attention. Other times, I just rearrange it. And some
purist might blush to learn that some of the world's greatest artists have done similar
things to classical repertoire. I think of Earl Wilde re-voicing some of Chopin's
chords, others thinning out some of the bottom end of Schubert to compensate for
the increased thickness of a modern piano. Or even Wanda Landowska (one of my
absolute all time favorite musicians) interpreting Bach to compliment her 9' Pleyel
(not really in the accordion case of the Baroque players - something like Frosini
having a Roland or a Bayan).

So sometimes the most fun is the minor (or even major) adaptations of the stradella
repertoire. The goal is to make it work. Combine that with my memory that is filled
with a lot of years of trivia and other garbage. Sometimes there are other surprises,
planned or otherwise, especially when I have played multiple versions of the same
thing.

So right now Dark Eyes is a work in progress. It is even more fun as I can't stop
thinking about Julio when I am playing it. It has to be dramatic - and it has to be fun.

Logistics

05/08/10

There is always so much to do up and beyond practicing and playing. For the past
several months I have been dealing with the question of the best way to transport an
accordion.

Page 104
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

In the old days I would simply pack my clean underwear tightly around the accordion
and off it would go as baggage with my regular suitcase. The old cases
were relatively sturdy and the airlines seemed to show a general level of care.

But things are so different in today's world where TSI is opening baggage at will and
the airlines seem to pride themselves on how hard they can handle luggage; not to
mention the surcharges if you are over the established weight.

So as a start, I had an Anvil-style case made for the Supers (Fabian and Elizabeth).
After being professionally involved in motorcycle safety for the past 20 years I
applied much of what I have learned about the design of motorcycle safety helmets
and car crashes in general to the interior design of the case. The first crash - the
case impacts whatever it is going to impact; the second crash - the
accordion impacts the interior of the case; and the third crash - the result to the
internal parts of the accordion as a result of the second crash.

One primary consideration is total weight and size of the case. You have to be able
to get it around, and if it is too big, people might tend to thrown it around even more,
especially if you put fragile all over the outside.

Since I did the inside of the case myself, I went even further. I used mil-spec foam
that cannot hold moisture or mold. It also has an R-factor so it should keep the
instrument at a more constant temperature. It is also designed to reduce vibration.
The case is also designed not to put torque or stress on any part of the accordion -
something that does not happen in typical cases. The inside of the case fits the
physical shape of the instrument. This is easier said than done, but is essential
when you consider the crash factors listed above. At the suggestion of Tony Grieco,
I also used a lining that was not the typical 'faux fur' in most cases. He showed me
the inside of the keyboard bed on one of the Supers. As that fur ages and you put
the accordion in and out of the case a zillion times, it can end up in parts of the
accordion.

The older stock accordion cases seem to be heavier than the new ones. The Anvil
case is somewhat heavier than the old case, but not as much as you might think. I
also put handles in various positions on the sides so the case is easy to move
around. Time will tell how successful my efforts are.

I am trying a different approach with Sebastian (the Giulietti Classic 127). Sebastian
is going to get an actual SKB mil-spec molded case rather than the Anvil-style. The
interior and the overall weight will be about the same.

I have heard stories of people breaking the accordion in two parts and carrying on
the plane, or placing it in an overhead compartment. I personally worry about the
day I would show up at the gate and someone would refuse to let me on the plane
with the accordion. Also, my backpack will not fit in the overhead of a regional jet,

Page 105
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

and we are moving daily to a greater number of smaller aircraft. Another problem is
the length of the full-size 45-key piano keyboard on the Supers.

So as I have started playing again, cases are an example the issues that often
occupy a lot of time. Bottom line, Giuliettis have always been an exceptionally
rugged and durable accordion. But TSI presents new challenges. On a recent trip
for work, two of the team members opened their luggage when they got to the hotel
only to find the insides were drenched, like they had been opened and left to sit on
the tarmac in the rain. Whew!

Countdown to the new CD

05/09/10

A couple days ago Jim and I checked out the studio where I plan to record the new
stradella album. Having done many albums in the past in various genres as both a
performer and producer I have a good idea of what I want to accomplish with the
album.

After a few introductory niceties, we got down to the task at hand - discussing the
recording process. I handed the engineer a copy of the Silver Taps CD and had him
start one of the tracks. The first objective was to give him an idea of what a dry-
tuned accordion sounds like. Then I explained how the album had been recorded
and further explained that was not the sound I was looking for with this project. The
liner notes for the album give a more complete story, but in a reduced dialogue, too
hot, too 'in your face'. Originally recorded straight-to-two-track in my home in
Cornwall, New York, the album was re-mastered at Bearsville Sound by one of their
top 'rock' engineers. That was the sound I was after then.

I then handed him the Accordion Masterworks II that was recorded in 1968 - also
done straight-to-two-track, but with a much more accurate representation of what an
accordion actually sounds like. Alan Emig, the engineer for the recording, was in the
process of designing Elektra's new Hollywood Studio and also knew how to get that
edge in every part of the recording process, from cutting the tracks, to mastering, to
processing, to understanding what it would sound like when played over a 1960's car
radio. But he insisted that was not what this was about. It wasn't maximum SPL on
the tracks; it was clarity, dynamic range, and a quality control over the entire project
that would ensure a quiet pressing.

Like anything else, there are always trade-offs. If it is too pure, it can be really
boring. If it is too electronically hyped, the purists will claim you are making their
ears bleed. So my goal is to get the energy, but stay close to the true sound of the
instrument. That can be a bigger challenge than one might think.

In my experience, the accordion is a difficult instrument to record. The lack of

overtones in the actual reed and other physical aspects are acoustically

Page 106
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

problematic. Other instruments have their own unique challenges, but most
recording engineers are familiar with other instruments. Most will record pianos,
strings, guitars, etc., (at least in this country) with a much greater frequency than
they will an accordion. So the first thing I will look for in an engineer is a musician;
someone who knows how to use their ears; hence providing the two albums at our
first meeting. At our meeting the engineer immediately heard the difference and
defined the difference in sound without even being asked.

The second thing I look for is someone who can confidently use the facility available
to them; they are familiar with the room, their equipment, and how to get the sound
they want. This will more than compensate for the absolute latest piece of
technology or that hand-crafted leather chair for the producer. I think of my first
bassetti recording I did in about 1965 in Armin Steiner's original studio, a loft above
his mother's garage.

So after our initial sound tests tomorrow, I will know if we have a match between
accordionist, engineer, and facility. Some of my earliest experiences in recording
technology were at Kent Records in South Central Los Angeles. The studio was in
an industrial area and was part of a single-source production facility that recorded,
mastered, processed, pressed, did artwork, printed, and shipped. It was also right
next to a railroad track. When a train would pass they had to stop recording as the
mics picked up the rumble. I doubt any of the equipment was state-of-the art and
something demanded of all employees was to keeping it running. What they did was
truly amazing.

So with a studio that shares a building with a machine shop, I must say I feel
somewhat at home. P.S. Do a web search on Kent Records. Some of their artists
include B. B. King, Ike and Tina Turner, Woody Herman, Johnny Otis.

Accordion's Bad Boys?

05/10/10

While watching An American in Paris last night on DVD I was reminded of what I
have always considered the true genius of Oscar Levant. Move forward to 2010 and
one has the capability to hit the internet and immediately uncover details that fill in
the gaps of personal experience or knowledge on almost any topic. One comment
that immediately caught my attention about Levant was that the diverse facets of his
life often overshadowed his brilliance as a pianist.

My thoughts went even beyond that. His technical gifts are astonishing, but his
ability to capture the style is even more astonishing. He locks into the groove and
tempo with a precision and ferocity that when combined with his technique has the
power of a locomotive. I have heard some of the world's finest pianists play the
Gershwin Preludes to the epitome of technical perfection, but often something is
missing. It becomes somehow academic and something is lost.

Page 107
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

The accordion offers a huge versatility in its ability to play a ridiculously wide range
of musical styles; perhaps even a wider range than the piano when you look at the
total spectrum. So the accordionist faces an even bigger challenge to make different
styles work, especially when venturing into extended genres. And styles are
certainly not limited to jazz. They are a critical part of all music, each with unique
challenges.

For me, in the early years it started with the selection of mentors - though in younger
years that may have been more by chance. My parents didn't search out Tito
because they wanted me to gain a better understanding of styles that had become
intuitive to him. But by the time I worked with Don Balestrieri, Galla-Rini wanted me
to work with him because of his expertise in baroque repertoire. It was an evolution.

The other part is experiential. That's where you spend hours playing with a rhythm
section - hopefully a lot of those hours performing for people and with players who
are better than you are. Or you play in a real rock band, learning that a big part of
the challenge can be controlling enormous sound levels and locking in with the other
players. Or you learn the criticality of the subtle nuances of balance and articulation
of playing chamber music in an ensemble.

I am often criticized for being too pedantic, though usually by people more pedantic
than I am. It's funny how life works that way. I want to figure out what I want then
figure out how to get there in the quickest way possible. But the difficulty is usually
time. At this point of my life there will never be enough time to do all the things I
would like to do.

For me, it is also about my weapon of choice. I still love playing rock, but playing
rock is something I have typically not wanted to do on accordion. It is hard enough
competing with electric guitars with a Hammond. Though there are exceptions. I
love how Bruce Springsteen uses accordion in some of his performances.

But back to the title of this Blog. Who accordion's bad boys? Who are the true
renegades that are completely outside the box? Your thoughts?

Countdown

05/11/10

How does one really prepare for a performance? How do you ensure the technical
accuracy? How do you fine tune the nuances? How far are you willing to push your
comfort envelope?

For me, it is different with every venue. Years ago I was doing the tree lighting
ceremony for Rockefeller Center with the West Point Glee Club. There were a lot of
things happening all at once. In addition to a wide range of acts and celebrities, the

Page 108
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

event attracted a huge street crowd and was televised. Live. That alone can be a
nightmare.

One thing that stuck in my mind that day was watching the contrast between two
different mega-stars from two very different areas and eras - Roberta Peters, world
renowned opera star and Lilly Tomlin, comedian. I watched how each of them
prepared, how each approached the event, and how each controlled their time in the
spotlight.

Roberta Peters was singing with the Glee Club. It was a bitter-cold New York day
and we were outside. She arrived with her manager and remained huddled inside
until right before the performance. She had been absolutely stunning when we had
gone through the arrangements in her Scarsdale home several weeks before. The
day of the performance seemed to go on forever. Rehearsing for a live on-site
performance is a very complicated process, especially when televised. It was finally
our time to perform.

The Glee Club did the first section of the performance. I never told cadets
something was hard so there was little they could not do. Then Roberta Peters
joined us for the final selections, emerging from the warm building to the bitter cold
outdoor stage. She was obviously very uncomfortable with both the cold and the
setting. Unfortunately, she reverted to what she knew how to do - filling a large hall
with the power of her voice - being the opera star. I don't think she understood how
the microphone and amplification system were a critical professional tool in this
environment. Her voice was strained and I could see her backing away from the
stage monitors, not accustomed to her own voice blasting back at her. It was a very
vicious cycle and certainly not a welcome place for such an enormous talent. She
disappeared the second it was over. One could not blame her for this, she had been
put in a situation she did not understand and didn't know how to deal with it.

In contrast, Lilly Tomlin was present for the entire rehearsal and knew exactly what
she wanted. She understood staging, understood microphone placement, and knew
she was playing to two different audiences; the people gathered in the streets and
the television audience. When the time came for some technical decisions that
determined how she would come across to each group, she overruled the staff in
favor of the effect she wanted - cater to the television audience. She knew exactly
what she wanted and how to use technology to get it.

Before one would say this was merely a difference between a comedian and a
concert artist, I would point out a couple of examples from the Fine Arts Series at
West Point. In one example, one of the country's finest concert pianists had the
stage personnel reposition the piano several times until he felt he had the best
acoustical position in relationship to the shell and hall. In another example, one of
Europe's top symphonies changed portions of their program after arriving at the hall.
There were several contemporary works that would not work with the acoustics in
Eisenhower Hall Theatre.

Page 109
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

In days of such refined technology, many artists feel it has become increasingly
necessary to understand not only their craft, but how or when the use of technology
will help them more effectively reach their audiences.

I am in the countdown stage of preparing for the CD recording process. For me

there are differences in both the preparation and the execution of recorded tracks. It
requires a unique mindset. What may be acceptable during a performance may not
work on a CD. A live performance is an event that stands in a distinct passage of
time. But on a recording, the listener has the ability to listen to the same
performance as many times as they would like. Thus, one of the first considerations
is technical accuracy. I remember one recording engineer saying a razor blade
should be credited on the liner notes; perhaps even with a picture. In earlier times,
the engineer made edits by physically splicing the tape; now it can be done
electronically.

But whereas the razor blade or editing program can help make it technically perfect,
the trade-off is often a very cold or disjointed performance. As with many
technologies, over-use may ultimately produce a diminishing result.

Another thing is dynamic range. Dynamic range is the use of contrasts. A precisely
executed pianissimo will make even a moderate forte seem quite loud. There was a
guest pianist at UCLA one time that was quite small and was not known for having a
big sound. But with her skill and use of quiet playing and her careful use of
contrasts, her loud passages seemed more powerful and thunderous than someone
banging full-out all of the time.

Producing tone and volume is more complex on accordion than how hard you pull or
push the bellows. Intonation changes with the demands made on the reeds. The
unisons also change based on how loud the accordion is being played. Many prefer
an accordion that speaks pitch most accurately at lower volumes, as that is where
being in tune is most critical to the overall sound. I personally prefer to play at
slightly reduced total volume levels when recording. Generally the intonation is
better. An accordion can get really obnoxious when played loudly - especially with
bad tone production. Recording accentuates this. This was one of the primary
things Galla-Rini always emphasized.

So as I am in the countdown, my focus in practice is on details of articulation and

producing the right contrasts in sound. For me, recording is a love-hate
relationship. I love the technology and the flexibility, but sometimes I really dislike
what I hear, especially when the sound gets too obnoxious or when the phrasing or
articulation just doesn't work. For me, it is the yet another challenge. The recording
process is something I need to understand to know how to make it work.

Accordion Position May

05/12/10

Page 110
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

I read an article a short while ago on one of the accordion websites about the proper
positioning of the accordion and how it could help your playing. Accordion position
is something I will occasionally address in a workshop or master class, especially
when I see that the accordion position is causing a problem.

Anyway, I did a quick visual recon of artist pictures in that month's web site to see
how many of the players were holding the accordion 'properly'. There was only one.

Sometimes people will ask me about the way I adjust my straps. I usually preface
my comments by saying that it depends on the instrument I am playing, and what
works for me may or may not work for them.

In the old days (Tito and before - pre-bassetti), I held the accordion exactly as
described in the article; right hand keyboard directly under the chin, in nearly perfect
vertical alignment with the body. The straps were adjusted secure enough that I had
to loosen them if I played with a jacket or even a sweatshirt. I wish I had a picture of
George Mandala (one of Tito's students from the late 50's, early 60's). He was the
accordion position poster child. I sometimes find myself adjusting the straps more
securely with a dedicated stradella.

However, when I am playing one of the bassettis with the extended keyboard I
adjust the straps quite loosely. I move the instrument around as I play, sometimes
to accommodate a passage in either the left or right hand. I often hold the accordion
away from my body. I manipulate the position and balance of the accordion with my
chin and legs. It allows me to play with a much more relaxed upper body and to
facilitate bellowing and technical challenges. I am about 5' 8" on good day. If I were
6' 5" it might be different.

I have discussed this topic with chromatic-playing friends. Several said they play
with the accordion in a tight, rigid position. They do not manipulate the instrument
with their chin. Based on their comments I was somewhat surprised when I saw a
recent online video of Frederick Lips where he was holding his chromatic bayan in a
very relaxed position away from the body, similar to how I hold my accordion. But I
was assured by my friends that he was playing some relatively simple pieces.

When I lived in upstate New York I was an avid skier. Over the years I took a lot of
instruction and also taught ski classes myself. For a while I helped a friend with his
ski shop and was also a certified mechanic for mounting ski bindings. The trend was
to tighten the adjustment of the bindings as skill improved. However I had a very
enlightening moment in a class I took at Hunter Mountain one day where the ski
instructor had us loosen our bindings. His rationale was that you needed to ski the
skis rather than muscle them. If you were popping out of the bindings, you were
muscling them. It was something I carried over into the ski classes I taught. I have
also found I do a similar thing with the accordion.

Page 111
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

The simple act of playing an accordion is muscle memory and skills development.
The ability to create music from manipulating the instrument is another matter.

It is not surprising that basic muscle memory and skills development carries over
from one discipline to another. I spent a lot of my adult life training trainers on how
to teach the Motorcycle Safety Foundation's hands-on RiderCourses. In the last
revisions there were major changes in the methods used to teach the physical skills.
A rigid one-size-fits-all method was replaced with a learning sequence that helped
the rider develop the skill based on his individual physical skill and learning
capabilities. I think much of this concept can be applied to some, but not all, of the
physical aspects of handling the accordion. From that point a mentor can help the
player fine tune the results while developing an effective system of self-
assessment. And the level of a person's success at developing an effective system
of self-assessment in all aspects of playing will equate to achieving artistic success.

Actually, nearly all of what I share in the master class or private lesson is trying to
develop a player's understanding and application of self-assessment.

Can you fix that?

05/13/10

Roll back a little over 30 years ago, right before I stopped playing. Giulietti
Accordion Corps was still in New York City. Julio called one day and introduced me
to an accordionist in New Jersey who had just purchased a bassetti and was looking
for some help getting started. I met Frank (not his real name) shortly thereafter and
discovered we had some mutual contacts with ties to the musical activities at West
Point.

Frank was extremely enthusiastic about the bassetti. He had taken a medical
retirement a year or so earlier and had a lot of time to practice. I offered to help, but
as if often the case, he had his own agenda for learning the new left hand system. I
have always refused to argue with students (except for Jim) so I let him run.

The first thing he told me was that he was going to make everything he did as
difficult as possible. He was going to make his fourth and fifth finger just as strong
as his second and third. I would not discourage someone from increasing their
technical abilities or digital dexterity, but would suggest they start the process with
exercises rather than repertoire they were attempting to learn on a new system.

Frank also found it necessary to document his progress. He had worked for almost
a day to record the first line of the WTC e minor fugue and played the tape for me
and my friends on our 2nd visit. Bottom line I love watching compulsive / addictive
behavior in others, because I can do it so well myself.

Page 112
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

However, what I found most interesting, and perhaps more typical, were his constant
visits back to Giulietti for modifications to the accordion. The response of the left
hand reeds wasn't quite right. The back side of the accordion needed to be opened
up more so sound could get out. The placement of the microphones in the left hand
section needed to be repositioned. Julio accommodated his requests in good spirit.

Until the most recent years of my life, my friends were primarily bikers. Not the
yuppie Harley-riding wannabe's you meet today, but hard-core riders from the pre-
motorcycle-craze era we have recently been going through. They often would say
things I only thought, and one of the gems came from Mary (Mike's wife) as she was
absolutely annihilating Frank at Pong, an early Atari video game. She had never
played Pong before and he was spending hours each day perfecting his technique
(when he wasn't practicing accordion). "What makes you think changing that
accordion is going to fix your playing?" I thought it was a very insightful comment
from someone who had never played a note on an accordion.

The concept of manipulation is not unique to accordionists. I used to see it all the
time with the motorcycle instructor courses I taught. I used to get involved letters
telling how the motorcycle riding course should be modified, which was fine, except
the letters generally came from new instructors I had just trained who were yet teach
their first course. In contrast, Instructors who had taught for years might
occasionally suggest minor tweaks.

I used to see the same thing in motorcycle riders. I remember a young Coastie in
Hawaii who had extensive modifications made to improve the performance of his
Yamaha R1 (literally a race bike made barely street legal) to make it faster. I don't
think he had ever had the bike on a track and most likely had never been over 50
mph on the street. I watched him ride in the class and he had a very modest skill
set.

Julio made one-off's (a name I have heard used for one-of-a-kind efforts) over the
years. But the real test would be on how many of these ideas made it into
production. I don't know of any of these efforts where someone declared, "This is
what it must be and all future accordions will be made this way."

Through the years I have owned four Yamaha RZ350's; a water-cooled 2-stroke
sport bike imported into the US by Yamaha for a couple years. The bikes are still
highly collectable. All the ones I owned were highly modified by the time I got them.
Two-strokes are a unique riding experience; extremely narrow power band, light,
high strung, and quick. Not a bike for the novice. Peter Fassnacht, the Vice
President for MSF at the time, bought my last one. He got original parts from both
Yamaha and friends in Canada and brought the bike back to factory stock. I rode it
after he had finished and it was a completely different experience than the highly
modified bikes. It was still fast, maybe even faster, but everything about the stock
version made it more fun to ride. It was more responsive, had a more balanced
power delivery, and was not as quirky. The factory had known what it was doing.

Page 113
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

I think it is also best to trust the factory when it comes to accordions. There are
certain things that evolved into production over the years that I prefer - but they are
small details. One is the air button. In the early models several of us told Julio they
needed increased capacity to match the increased size of the bassetti body. We
weren't looking for a whoosh sound that could be combined with banging on the grill
to create an effect of accordion flatulence (you might guess I am not a big fan of
banging or beating on accordions, especially my own - but that is another blog); we
just wanted to be able to get the bellows in when necessary as quickly and quietly as
possible. Another was a slightly deeper key action. This offers greater articulation
and overall speed.

So for me, first find the instrument that does what you want it to do, then make the
instrument perform as best it can as designed (in my experience, reversing this
sequence will generally guarantee disappointing results). Then adapt to that
accordion and savor the unique characteristics. Those characteristics make each
accordion special. At least for today, I don't think I should expect an accordion to fix
any lack of competencies.

Countdown Zero

05/14/10

I start recording tomorrow, a little less than 12 hours from now. This will be the first
accordion recording session in over 30 years. The best thing - the studio is real
close to the house.

I did some home video when I was practicing a couple days ago and may see if I
can get some clips from that and from the session tomorrow to put up on the site. A
few friends have also asked if I would put up some audio files from some of my non-
accordion work.

Thanks for some creative feedback on the blogs.

So stay tuned!

One Down May 16 Sunday

05/16/10

Yesterday was a long day. It actually started the night before when Luke, our
Alaskan Malamute decided he was going to howl all night - non-stop. It seemed that
no amount of anything could get him to stop.

The session started at high-noon. After a quick warm-up it was off to the studio.
Being an exceptionally nice day made it even less enticing to spend the afternoon in
the windowless crypt. But all that being said, it was the time. It is always a

Page 114
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

challenge to sit alone in a room and generate enthusiasm without overplaying; and
to know the microphones combined with the design of the room will surely capture
every nuance.

The Classic 127 performed flawlessly. The studio environment will exaggerate any
flaws. It was my first opportunity to really listen to the instrument - with the exception
of occasional recitals by Jim with assorted selections from Palmer Hughes Books
One and Two.

I have talked about all of this being backward. I feel am a bit like Merlin. I stopped
playing stradella in about 1962 and made the migration to all-bassetti instruments
in1967. So after almost 40 years, I am back doing what I did as a pre-teen and early
teen. I must say that it is fun and something I missed. I am still playing the bassetti
repertoire, but the stradella is balancing it. I alternate repertoire on practice days.
So maybe I am in some type of second childhood. I also enjoy playing the stradella
repertoire on a true stradella rather than on the dual system bassetti. With the
exception of the works by Gregory Stone, I played most of the selections I am
recording before I was 14.

The engineer was first an excellent musician with a good ear, and second a highly
skilled craftsman. That is the perfect combination. It was fun telling him about my
favorite rock groups from the 60's, but when I was disappointed he didn't recognize
them he would remind me he wasn't even born yet. So I switched to telling him what
I thought about when I was playing parts of the songs. Like I Remember Grandma
by Gregory Stone where I imagine being on a Merry-Go-Round or on the horse race
ride at Coney Island's Steeplechase Park. And the end of Malaguena with the
sequence of C# Major Cords with the grace note where I am reminded of the cat
food commercial that went "Meow, meow, meow, meow."

I stuck a clip of the raw track of I Remember Grandma by Gregory Stone at the top
of this page. I recorded Gregory's entire works right before I left Los Angeles for
New York. Only one of the albums was released - the compositions for accordion
and orchestra where Gregory played the orchestra parts on piano. With the
exception of Concerto Breve, those were all written for free bassetti. The album with
all his stradella works was never released. Most of them were technically
challenging if played to the tempi Gregory wanted. I Remember Grandma would
have been on the second album. I don't know why, but I always found the title
wonderfully amusing and would have liked the song for that reason alone.

And this reminds me of a story - and perhaps there might even be a correlation.
While at West Point I was sometimes responsible for coordinating rock bands to play
for the cadet dances. Even though Eisenhower Hall Ballroom was a big room, there
was always concern and even contractual language about the sound levels of all
entertainment. Several of the staff members would remind band members of these
limitations before they even played the first note during a sound check, threateningly
waving a sound pressure meter in front of them. In contrast, I would wait for them to

Page 115
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

set up and start to do their sound check. After a few moments, I would stop them
and say something like, "you know, these kids like a lot of sound. Hopefully you
have more to offer than that." Smiles would come across their faces as they
cranked the amps up to 11. The ballroom soaked sound like a sponge and I would
repeat my request a few times. Drenched in sweat and with amps and voice coils
hot enough to fry eggs they would generally figure out what I was about and return
to a reasonable level.

That is probably what Gregory was doing to me. "But it really needs to be a bit more
spirited." I am sure he is sitting at his Grotrian-Steinweg in the sky with a big smile
on his face wondering if I will ever figure it out.

No Fear

05/17/10

Several months ago I was speaking with an old friend about starting to play the
accordion once again. He is on a similar journey. I remarked that my goal was to
play as well as I did when I was 14! He laughed and said he had the same goal.
We agreed that at 14 you just didn't have any fear. You just went for it.

I devoured music in those days. Today I love looking at the end-covers of old
accordion music - the place where publishers list other songs in the series. "Other
great arrangements by - [insert name here]." With few exceptions, I played
everything from the series. There was the purple and pink-covered Magnante series
with pieces like Holiday for Chords and Holiday for Bases. Another series had Dark
Eyes, Midnight in Paris. Another had the classical pieces. And that is just
Magnante. The lists go on forever. Dale Wise literally has file cabinets full of
accordion music with surprisingly few duplicates. Accordion music publishers must
have done very well in those days.

A good piano student will also devour sheet music, but with an enormous difference
in the selection of available repertoire. If I read the program notes correctly, Evgeny
Kissen played the Chopin Piano Concerto he was playing with National Symphony
Orchestra when he was 12 years old. His substitute for Holiday for Chords and
Holiday for Bases are Beethoven Sonatas, Chopin Ballads, and Liszt Hungarian
Rhapsodies.

I can pick up a Magnante or Galla-Rini arrangement today and sight read it. Is it
possible the technical requirements for those pieces parallel an accomplished
pianists' technical requirements for a Beethoven sonata?

When I started playing bassetti as a high-school sophomore I was literally learning a

new instrument. However, there was minimal thought to technical progression. I
took people like Julio Giulietti and Mort Herold literally at their word - being able to
play the great masters exactly as written; and it was my intent to do just that. I

Page 116
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

wanted to play Ravel Jeux d'eau, Liszt Transcendental Etudes, Chopin Etudes.
Right now. That was what I set out to do. When I switched from stradella to bassetti
I was playing some of the most technically demanding repertoire available at the
time and felt I needed to do the same thing with bassetti. But the thing I didn't fully
comprehend was that I had switched from accordion repertoire to piano repertoire.
Things of moderate difficulty on piano may be fiendishly difficult when played on an
accordion. Competition also reinforced the need to play the most technically difficult
music.

I am sure Evgeny can easily recall a piano concerto, Beethoven sonata, or Chopin
Scherzo. For him they are at a technical parallel to me picking up an arrangement of
Midnight in Paris.

As the years passed and the technical competency on bassetti improved, my

understanding of what was feasible and practical also improved. In the early years it
was not unusual to work a full year on a competition piece for the Nationals. Much
of that time was spent mastering the technical detail. Unfortunately, many times the
final product did not balance the effort. Tito changed that when he started writing
original compositions for the instrument. Galla-Rini changed that when he started
doing transcriptions for the free bassetti. Today I can work through the technical
requirements of a piece in relatively short order, though there will usually be a
maturation period before I am ready to perform it.

I consider myself a pioneer on free bassetti in the US. It is certainly a different world
now, and to be honest, I don't know if my US generation had that much influence.
But I sometimes think some of the things we attempted may have provided a more
thorough insight of some of the instrument's and player's ultimate limitations and
what it took to blast through those - whether or not the final result was worth the
effort or even sustainable.

In some ways, I just don't think there was any fear.

Page 117
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

How Did We Ever Survive

05/19/10

In preparing for the stradella album I mentally dredged back through a lot of music
from my past, though I have very few remaining copies of the actual sheet music.
Some was used by students and never returned and I gave the rest to someone
thinking I would never have need for it again. When your musical tastes have turned
to Bach, Scarlatti, Chopin, Beethoven, Liszt, Brahms, Mozart, Debussy, and even
some Stravinsky, how could you ever imagine a need for Magnante or Galla-Rini
arrangements?

The first accordion person I met when I started to play again was Dale Wise. The
first time I went to Dale's home I was thrilled to discover he had an enormous
collection of accordion sheet music. Titles started coming to my mind and he started
pulling them from well-organized file cabinets. Each title brought back a different set
of memories. I thought of the challenges that often accompanied a new piece,
where I might have played them, and the teacher I was studying with at the time.

I was recently talking with Lou Capolla about Rudy Molinaro, one of the East Coast's
grand pedagogues of the accordion. I knew of Rudy primarily through occasional
sightings at festivals and the obligatory Giulietti Artist 8 x 10 photos. He was also
Stephen Dominko and Lou's teacher. Julio used to talk about how Rudy would carry
on during the course of his lessons, ranting and waving his arms around like a wild
man. Julio's description usually was half in Italian and included a lot of arm waving.
Anyway, I wanted to ask Lou if this was really true. He confirmed that Julio had not
been exaggerating, that Rudy could become very animated.

Then we started talking about other characteristics of our teachers - things we didn't
give any thought too at the time, but are now the source of some great amusement.
They say the sense of smell is one of the most powerful in the recall of specific
memories. The smell of a new accordion always brings back a flood of pleasant
memories. But if there were a smell associated with much of my time spent in
accordion studios, it would be - - - smoke. I was reminded of that when Lou told me
about how Rudy could have several cigarettes going at the same time, especially
when he got really excited. He often forgot he had one already burning in the ash
tray and light another one.

Actually, only a couple of my teacher's smoked. The most memorable were Glenn
Stead and Tito. Mr. Stead (we were never encouraged to call him by his first name)
smoked a pipe. I remember sitting in my lessons, watching him go through the ritual
of cleaning out the bowl, filling it with tobacco, tamping it down, and lighting it, filling
the room with the wonderful aroma of pipe tobacco.

On the other hand, Tito smoked. Cigarettes. He sat next to his student before a
small spinet which served as a music stand. The ashtray overflowed. In contrast to

Page 118
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Mr. Stead, he could get the cigarette lit without ever missing a beat or interrupting a
hand gesture. It was part of his constant flow of energy.

I am sure this prepared me for the several years I played in bars. The most
memorable bar was in Woodstock, New York. The owner used to brag about the
state-of-the-art smoke filters but I don't think they really did that much. One night my
Hammond (I never took my accordions to a bar) developed some weird problem I
couldn't resolve on the spot, so I stuck it in the back of my pickup and took it home. I
unloaded it in the basement before retiring for the night. I woke the next morning
with the acrid smell of the bar permeating the entire house. What was most amazing
was that I don't know what part of a Hammond Organ would retain the smell. I
couldn't get it back out of the house fast enough.

Times have changed. In 2010 can't imagine a teacher smoking in a studio.

Only by the Month or Pay as You Go

05/20/10

Over the years I have taken private lessons with quite a few different teachers. I
have always found it interesting and sometimes amusing how they approach the
question of being paid for their services. It is also fun to recall how some interacted
with their students.

Some teachers charged by the lesson. You show up. You take your lesson. You
pay. You leave. The lesson environment is generally pretty consistent. Other
teachers charged by the month; and there was certainly the opportunity for some
variety here. My first teacher who charged by the month was Tito. In the 5-lesson-
week month you got an extra lesson for free. But if you cancelled, there was no
make up. If it was a 4-lesson-week month you got a make up lesson. Sylvia
handled the business details. Tito was pretty much oblivious to it all. He just
concentrated on teaching.

However, when I studied piano with Edith Oppens it was quite different. She
charged by the month in advance, but you paid for the number of lessons you would
take. None of this free-lesson stuff. And Edith took care of all her own business
transactions. It was interesting on how her view of your progress could improve the
week where you paid for the next month. There were always words of
encouragement, how much you accomplished; the rest of the time, not as much
enthusiasm. Non-music friends would ask how I could justify going to New York City
twice a week and pay such a premium price for lessons. After all, I could have
studied with Mrs. Gertsniffer (hopefully you realize this is not a real person),
Cornwall's local piano teacher for one-fifth the cost and with no commute. But the
time with Edith was worth the investment.

Page 119
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

I took my own shot at establishing a fee structure for lessons. I told the mother of a
prospective student that I charged by the mistake. I used it as an incentive for the
student to practice. I suggested that she send her son to the lessons with a bag of
quarters. He would be assessed a penalty for each mistake, and the amount
assessed would be determined by the size of the mistake. A small bloop could be a
mere twenty-five cents. A really big goof could be a dollar or even more. When the
money ran out, the lesson was over. I explained it was an incentive for the student
to practice. If he was prepared and made no mistakes, he could pocket the money,
or use it to buy additional sheet music or even a metronome. If he didn't practice at
all, he could be out of the lesson in no time at all and sent home to practice. I think
her son was disappointed when I finally told his mother I was only kidding. He had
already been thinking of ways he could spend the money.

Fast and Loud Competition

05/21/10

In my early years at West Point there was a Steinway C in a very attractive reading
room in the old cadet Library. It was a well-appointed room with relatively good
acoustics and the location for many chamber concerts. However, the Steinway had
the reputation of being a real beast. It had been a gift to the Academy many years
previous and was rebuilt by Steinway & Sons during World War II. As such, the
bass strings were steel wound rather than copper. The action was also one of the
heaviest and stiffest I have ever played. It was infamous to all who played it.

A wife of one of the permanent language professors had an international reputation

as a concert pianist, specializing in South American piano repertoire. She claimed
she actually cracked two ribs in the course of one solo recital.

Pianists with knowledge of the instrument's characteristics were careful not to injure
themselves during the course of a rehearsal or performance. But teaming with the
Glee Club's accompanist, Ruthanne Schempf, we decided there was also some kind
of additional challenge here; that we were destined to design a competition that
would truly challenge a pianist's ultimate strength and endurance; and it should be
named the "Fast and Loud" Competition.

Another influence in this agenda was Chuck Carter, who used to accompany me to
Edith Oppens’ weekly Sunday master classes that she conducted for her students.
After one of Edith's graduate students had completed a remarkable performance the
Schubert Wanderer, she was asking the group questions about the tempo he had
selected for the slow movement. She was fishing for someone to say that he had
played it too fast. No one was ready to say anything so she called on Chuck. She
knew he was never without comment. She asked him what he thought. Without
hesitation Chuck replied, "It was way too slow." The students gasped in disbelief
and there was a look of genuine surprise on Edith's face. He continued, "At that

Page 120
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

tempo it just takes longer to get back to the fast and loud parts. And that's all people
really want to hear anyway."

And maybe some of this is truer than we want to admit. Sometimes we sit through a
long boring piece just to see what the player will do with the double octaves at the
end of the coda. Or watch a gymnastics routine just to see the dismount. Or wait
through an entire act just to see the ballerina's fouettes.

So the Fast and Loud Competition is designed to cut to the chase. And it is certainly
something that could be added to the format of current accordion competitions. No
muss, no fuss, just get to the good stuff.

In addition to Fast and Loud there could be several sub categories. There could be
Fast. There could be Loud. For fast nothing under allegro. For loud, nothing
under fortissimo. There could also be a non-reed-noise-category, which could
include, but not be limited too: banging on the accordion body, banging on the grill,
making noises with parts of the accordion other than the reeds, and making noise
with the accordion using the reeds but without pressing any keys, which could be
called the reed-noise-without-pressing-the-keys-or-buttons category. The
possibilities are without limit.

See what happens to my mind when the second half of the recording session is
postponed for a couple days?

As a post script, the Steinway C was eventually rebuilt and moved to Eisenhower
Hall. The new cadet library has a Young Chang.

Standardization

05/23/10

I have a great time with eBay and have several items I watch regularly; Giulietti
Accordions being one of them. I was surprised to see two Giulietti dual system
bassettis appear on eBay within a matter of several hours a couple days ago. They
are from different parts of the country, and though they are both Classic
Continentals, just by looking at the photos one can see they are quite different.

This raises questions, some from a curiosity standpoint, and others from a practical
or even critical standpoint. Curiosity: you have some kind of interest in Giuliettis and
are killing some time surfing the internet. Practical: you want to learn to play bassetti
(and have made up your mind that you must have a Giulietti). Critical: you have
developed motor-skill proficiency on the bassetti system and are looking for a
weapon of choice.

When I started playing again about a year ago, it wasn't too long before I decided I
wanted to play bassetti in addition to stradella. At my age it is easier to recall

Page 121
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

ingrained muscle memory than developing something new - and the further back in
age one can go to draw upon learned motor skills, the better. I knew the closer I
could get to what I originally played, the faster the ramp-up time. So I started on my
quest to find a Giulietti dual system.

I started on one of the original bassettis Julio brought into the US in about 1961. It
used a mechanical system similar to the Gola. It had pedestal buttons for the
bassetti system. It also had a 5-row stradella instead of the traditional 6-rows. The
lowest note was G. The alignment between stradella and bassetti was straight
across for the C's. The second instrument had the new left-hand mechanism
design. The depth of the box was reduced. The stradella returned to 6-rows. The
low note was E. The alignment was the same. After that came the 5-row bassetti
with 2-row stradella. The alignment between the systems was the same.

One thing that was always consistent (or at least I think was consistent) was the key
size. 41-key, 43-key, 45-key. The size of the keys was the same, resulting in a
longer keyboard as notes were added. The newer instruments I have played with
extended keyboards have a reduced key-size to minimize the added length of the
keyboard. I would find that very hard to get used too.f

So I sometimes wonder at the variation in all these instruments, even among the
same brand. The relationship between left hand keyboards on my 6/3 Super is
different than the 5/4. If you are playing both left hand keyboards at the same time,
this does make a difference.

So I guess it comes down to a couple considerations. If you are only playing one
accordion it doesn't really matter. If you are playing a 5-row stradella, you adjust to
it. You intuitively know what you need to do. But if you are switching back and forth
between a 5-row and 6-row stradella, it can be a bigger concern. Change the
relationship between left hand keyboards and it adds another dynamic. And there is
also the element of technical proficiency. If you are clomping around looking for
notes in either system, it doesn't really matter. If you are higher on the proficiency
scale, you are relying on muscle memory.

The thing I am sorting out now is the ability to quickly recall different systems. Over
the years I have ridden a lot of different motorcycles. Prior to 1975, the shift patterns
and location of the controls were not standardized. I had bikes with right and left
hand shifts and different shift patterns - sometimes I would ride one to work in the
morning and switch to another in the afternoon. My mind and feet just adapted. I
never gave it much thought. But when I started riding as a teen, every bike I rode
had a different pattern. So that was part of the learned memory. Could one master
the ability to switch left hand systems with the same ease?

So what about the person who purchases one of the dual system bassettis off
eBay? Will they realize that one of those instruments is a 5-row stradella or is it

Page 122
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

something they will discover the first time they play it? Who will explain how to use
the 5-row stradella to them? But these are topics for other blogs.

Accordionists and Teachers Guild

05/24/10

I am scheduled to play at the 70th Anniversary of the Accordionists Teachers Guild at

the annual festival in Santa Clara, California, July 22-25. The last time I attended
the ATG festival was in about 1979. If I remember correctly it was in St. Louis. I
was the head judge for the National Competition and played at the concert with
Mogens Ellegaard.

I am quite excited as I have strong ties to the ATG. In 1964, 1965, and 1966 I was
the ATG National Champion and represented them at the Coupe Mondiale in
Toronto, Malta, and Versailles.

I always felt comfortable around the ATG. During my competition years I was
studying with Tony Galla-Rini, one of the founding members. But two other people
hold a prominent place in my early ATG memories; Lari and Fred Holzhauer.

In the 1960's, Lari and Fred were described by Galla-Rini as the fabric that held the
ATG together. They were an older couple and always made me think of Fred and
Ethyl on I Love Lucy. They provided an administrative continuity to the ATG through
cycles of numerous Presidents and yearly festivals. When Lari and Fred were
onsite, you knew things were under control.

As Galla-Rini is so fondly recognized the President Emeritus of the ATG, perhaps

Fred and Lari should be nominated as the Grandparents in Perpetuity. I have never
been able to figure out or uncover any financial motive that drove their desire to
support the ATG. They weren't selling accordions or promoting their own students.
But they were always ready to help - sometimes in ways beyond the call of duty.

One event I distinctly remember is when Lari tried doing a little match-making
between myself and a young player from Wisconsin. It finally culminated when she
flew out to visit me in California during summer break, cousin in tow. I was
disappointed when she showed up without her accordion. I thought we were going
to sit around and practice all day. She thought we were going to go to Disneyland,
Knott's Berry Farm, tour of the Star's homes, and the beach.

Another time I remember discussing travel reimbursement from one of the trips to
the Coupe. The accordion in the case was over the weight limit, but Lari was
convinced the problem was how I was packing my underwear. Being a true Virgo I
wanted it all organized and folded neatly, but she was insisted it was better to wad it
up and cram it in. I don't know how that would have reduced the weight, but in

Page 123
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

retrospect what I really don't know is how she would have known how I packed my
underwear anyway. Maybe it is one of those grandmother things.

But I did know that I knew things would be okay with Fred and Lari. As a young
player, they always made me feel comfortable and for many years I associated their
image with the ATG. But the sense of giving and doing what was right in support of
the accordion and the people who played it seemed to be the defining characteristic
of the ATG. It still seems like a good plan to me. And I still fold my underwear when
I travel.

Recording

05/25/10

It's back in the studio tonight to continue work on the stradella CD. I am glad this
session is in the evening as that is really when I like to play. I also like early
mornings, but most studios go too late for their staff to welcome that option.

Recording sessions are a real question of stamina - not as much physical stamina,
but the ability to maintain focused concentration. What can make this even more
difficult is the necessity to start and stop. Whether practicing or playing, I am
generally operating at a very high level of concentration and adapting to what I am
hearing or feeling kinesthetically is an extremely fast paced mental process. The
process is ongoing and has a synergistic effect. There are some real differences in
how each individual makes this happen. For me, it is a meticulously calculated
process.

Over the years, I have found one of the most difficult things to teach a student is
mental concentration that is sustained throughout a piece or even through a
sequence of pieces. But in a similar fashion to motor skills, the mental skill of
concentration improves over the years (if one works at it). Hopefully I am thinking of
a piece as a whole, how it fits together, the tempo, harmonic rhythm, the sequence.
I want to create the music as a result of what I am hearing in my mind. I am not
thinking about individual notes or the technical demands to play them. The technical
facility required to make it happen shouldn't really be a consideration. It is a given.

So for me, tonight's challenge will be in maintaining the concentration.

Fries With That?

05/27/10

My recording session two nights ago was cancelled. There was a scheduling
conflict with a rock band desperate to finish their album. So we are back to next
Saturday afternoon.

Page 124
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

A friend turned me on to his web site a couple days ago. The primary focus is food
and the site featured an assortment of great recipes and accompanying pictures with
a beautifully written blog. The look and feel of the web site was bright and fresh, so
completely different than the themes of black, orange and yellow on my own site.

There are countless anecdotes of the culinary abilities of many great artists, such as
Balanchine personally preparing dinner for Stravinsky. All one has to do is turn on
Martha Stewart to see every kind of celebrity imaginable triumphing with feats in
food.

In contrast, I once prepared a chicken only to have Thumper, one of my Chows,

refuse to eat it for 24 hours to wait and see if I died from it. And how many guests
would be interested in a main course that consisted of peanut butter and Doritos
sandwiches?

One time I was at my weekly lesson with Edith Oppens when she abruptly shooed
me out of her New York City apartment on Riverside Avenue. I was in the middle of
a Beethoven Sonata and she said to go get lunch and come back in an hour. When
I returned she asked where I had eaten. She was aghast when I told her Burger
King. "How can you go from playing Beethoven to eating at Burger King?"

I am lucky that Jim is such a superb cook and he likes to cook. However, food is not
that important to me. It is rare that I get excited about having a long, extended meal,
with or without friends. It's not that I don't eat well; I don't eat fast food - haven't
eaten at a McDonald’s in at least 20 years. I also don't like junk food. I also
don't crave variety. I can eat the exact thing every day and be perfectly content.
Eating is just something I want to be done with. There are too many other things to
do.

Many musicians are gifted in a variety of artistic venues. In addition to their musical
talent they also paint, cook, draw, design, or sew, whatever. In this regard I am a
total failure. I have no artistic skill in graphic arts (unless it is something involving a
computer), can't dress, have no sense of fashion, and am not allowed on a dance
floor - at least not more than once with any one person.

I have always been more interested in things that go fast, or make noise. I love
motorcycles, drag racing, and amusement parks.

I used to worry about all this. I would get concerned when someone would tell me I
really shouldn't wear my engineer boots with white tie and tails, or that jeans and a
Harley T-Shirt were not appropriate for opening night at Lincoln Center (unless it
was a Mahler concert).

I once did a one-year experiment when I was at West Point in reaction to a new fad
of ridiculously high-priced jeans. I wanted to wear a single pair of black Levis and a
black sweat shirt for one full year. (Obviously I had to wear appropriate attire when I

Page 125
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

was conducting). I kept them perfectly clean, washing every day when I needed
too - but I wanted to show that I could spend less than $25.00 for a year's wardrobe.
My experiment was cut short by one month when I left West Point for a position with
Motorcycle Safety Foundation - who had a dress code of shirt and tie.

So an appreciation of good food and fine dining is something I did not inherit from
Galla-Rini, Tito or Julio. I once got Galla-Rini to go to a McDonald’s. The way he
handled the greasy hamburger wrapped in fake wax paper and the salty fries in the
small bag was priceless. I would wager that he never repeated the experience.

Aftermath

05/30/10

We did the rest of the tracks for the CD yesterday. I am posting some pictures in the
gallery and on Facebook. Next comes the process of adjusting the final mix,
deciding on the sequence, and figuring out the remaining the details, like graphics
and liner notes.

This recording project has reinforced some of my earlier dialogues about stradella
vs. bassetti; not exclusive to the musical capabilities, but differences in the actual
accordions and how you play them. I don't have experience with the newer
converters, but with my dual system instruments, there is such an enormous
difference with the response in the lower reeds of the left hand, not to mention the
physical difference in size. Even if you are playing the exact same piece, the
approach is different, and the final result is different. Not better or worse, but
different. At this point I also can't see putting one up at the expense of the other. In
this regard, I don't think Julio was right, as his focus became exclusively bassetti in
the years following it's introduction. Free bass certainly offered some new musical
palettes, but was it worth denial of everything else the instrument was about?

As a kid growing up I was blessed to have parents who supported my accordion

endeavors. But being a family of relatively modest income, I was lucky to have one
good accordion. In the final years before I stopped, I finally got a second accordion;
but the two were nearly identical. Through the internet I have had a wonderful time
looking at the magnificent things young accordionists are doing throughout the rest
of the world. Many of them play several different styles, perhaps a bayan
(converter) and a smaller stradella, or a bandoneon. The potential versatility is
enormous. It is like what I was telling Julio I wanted to do toward the end of my
previous career in 1978 when I said I wanted a stradella to balance my all-bassetti
instruments. With the re-introduction of the 127 I can now have my Giulietti stradella
and play it too.

When I started playing again my initial craving was for a stradella. Only after I
started to satisfy that need did I realize I also wanted to play bassetti. It was
something else I wanted to do.

Page 126
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

I took Elizabeth to the session yesterday. When I had finished the final track on
Sebastian, I pulled her from her case and asked Jeff to start a new track and let it
run. I originally thought I might do something where I segued from one instrument to
the other, but it was too late in the day to experiment. I played Jerusalem and the
second movement of my Sonata. I am posting one of the tracks on the Accordions
page. Elizabeth is starting to open up; realize she has not been tuned in at least 25
years - so she is a work in progress. She is just starting to stretch her wings
(reeds?) and fly.

Accordion Heroes

06/01/10

After a great 4-day weekend, it is back to work this morning, complete with the long
ride in the back of the commuter van. But thanks to my netbook, it gives me a
dedicated time to write the blog.

I finished recording the CD tracks Saturday and was amazed at how drained I felt for
the rest of the weekend. Live performance has the opposite effect for me. Now it is
time to select a CD title that fits with the content, figure out the sequence, artwork,
liner notes, and all that other stuff. It's back to the studio tonight to do some final
editing.

A few blogs ago I talked about a visit from a young Wisconsin accordionist I had met
at the ATG competition. I thought we were going to spend the days practicing and
playing for each other. She arrived with her cousin sans accordion and was more
interested in the beach and local attractions. I was enormously disappointed.

In contrast, George Mandala had started lessons with Tito about a year before me.
Along with Johnny LaPadula, he was one of my heroes. He won the top open
honors at the Western States Accordion Festival the year before me and was a
spectacular example of the 'new breed' of young accordionists. His technique was
dazzling and he had it all; good looks, showmanship and stage presence. He also
played the entire repertoire - classical, jazz, pop - all of it. He was equally at home
on a concert stage or playing a wedding gig. George was originally taught by his
father along with his brother and sister before going to Tito. It was a musical family.

I spent some great time at the Mandala's home situated in the center of their family
vineyard in Cucamonga. In the mornings everyone practiced. It is just what they
did. In the afternoons there was some type of diversion, like bowling or wringing out
Tony's Hudson Hornet down some empty road in the middle of the vineyards. But in
the evenings, we returned to accordion, going late into the night. We played our
solo work and played together. We read at random from fake books; usually to an
audience of family and friends. I don't remember ever looking at a television. A
couple times George came to our home - where we basically did the same thing,

Page 127
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

except using an isolated road between the refinery and the dairy to exercise the
Hudson.

Like me, George was also influenced by Johnny LaPadula, but wanted his own
technical showpiece to start his performances. Johnny had already done Dizzy
Fingers, so George decided on Deiro's Quicksilver. I still remember him playing it for
us at an insanely fast tempo with impeccable precision and accuracy. I am
reminded of a comment Horowitz made to one of his students regarding the tempo
he had played a particular piece, "It was just wickedly fun!" Too few people ever got
to hear George play. The accordion world was changing, and unfortunately George
left us too soon. Quicksilver is on the album for George. Dizzy Fingers is on there
for Johnny LaPadula. And all three of us played Galla-Rini's arrangement of
Konzertstuck, which is also on the album.

Perhaps I should call the album 'Accordion Heroes'.

Note: From time to time I am posting various musical clips. Some friends have said
they cannot play them. If you are having this problem, drop me an Email and I will
send them to you.

Double Queens

06/02/10

The final studio work on the album was pushed back another day. That's okay as
the studio is close to the house. I was also exceptionally tired yesterday.

The summer activities are rapidly approaching. Included in my schedule this

summer is some adjudicating. Judging at accordion competitions is something I
have not done for a very long time.

The very first time was at the Western States Accordion Festival in Long Beach,
California. It was probably 1963 and given the size of the festival, they needed all
the judges they could get. The category I most clearly remember judging was the
festival's King and Queen Contest. With today's PC issues, I doubt this is something
I will see in 2010.

If I remember correctly, in the earliest years there was only the Queen contest. The
King category was added a few years later. It was a big deal - maybe even a bigger
deal than the Top Open category. The 1954 Miss Universe Pageant had been
broadcast live from the exact same Municipal Auditorium as the accordion festival. It
was the first live television broadcast of such an event and lasted ten days.

A real excitement surrounded the Queen competition, matched with a level of studio
support that was only equaled in the band categories. The required piece for that
year's competition was Gregory Stone's Accordion Tzigane, a technically

Page 128
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

challenging piece. There were a lot of young girls and some young boys who gave
up a lot of hours of afternoon television and who knows what else to achieve the
level of playing we heard that afternoon.

For this particular category I sat at the judges table flanked by two women teachers.
We sat facing the audience, the contestants sat facing us. For some reason, my
brother Phil, the lady-slayer of my family, watched the competition. The only other
time he ever attended anything accordion was at one of the National Competitions in
Chicago where he judged a similar competition. If women were involved, he could
become interested in accordion.

As we listened to the queen contestants, one of the judges sat with the obligatory
grocery counter clicking each time the contestant missed a note. At the conclusion
of the piece, she would read the total from the device and then place it on the judges
table before writing down the score. In addition to preparing their music, the
contestants had also spent a lot of time planning their wardrobe and doing hair. But
there was little conversation among the judges on these details. The enthusiasm
from the audience seemed to end at the judges table. It was all business and about
the playing.

It was a difficult category to judge, the level of playing was very high. But the energy
at the judges table changed when we judged the King Competition. I was now sorry
I was seated in the middle as the two women adjudicators wanted to talk incessantly
throughout the performances. The grocery counter disappeared. "Isn't he cute?
Look at that smile! Such amazing technique! He must really practice a lot." Studio
support for the King didn't match the Queen, the audience all but disappeared. But
that was certainly offset by the enthusiasm of the judges.

Crowning the Queen and King was the highlight of the awards ceremony.
Anticipation of the announcement took the audience to a feverish pitch that was
unmatched throughout the rest of the events. There were a lot of tears (mainly from
studio supporters) and even some short acceptance speeches.

Phil had appeared again and broke my concentration. After hearing the acceptance
speeches he quietly remarked, "I think maybe you got two queens."

And this entire story best fits in the category, if it isn't true, it should be.

The Record Album

06/04/10

I was talking with a friend yesterday about working through the final details of the
recording and he said someone had commented to him that all this was just so old
fashioned. My first thoughts - if we intended this project to be 'retro' didn't that make
it okay? But he wasn't talking about the concept or choice of repertoire for the

Page 129
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

recording, but rather the use of the word 'album'. Although some music is released
on vinyl, it has been a long time since I have seen a record album in Best Buy. In
fact, I doubt Best Buy ever actually sold a record album.

Records had a long run of success and went through several evolutions - from 78's
to Long Playing, HiFi and Stereo. Toward the end there were some hybrids, like
direct to disc, and ½ speed mastering. But CD's eventually replaced both records
and cassette tapes. Some other technologies had a shorter run, like 8-track and
DAT.

And as friends were talking about the antiquity of our use of the word record album,
Jeff (the recording engineer) and I had talked rather extensively about current
changes that are evolving in packaging and marketing and the eventual death of the
CD. Through the Internet, you can hear samples of songs and can (with some
exceptions) select individual tracks if you don't want to buy the entire album. This
changes the creative dynamic of deciding the sequence of titles where things like
tempo, dynamic, and even key signature were taken into consideration, or in earlier
days what should go on each side of the album. Gone are the days of trying to keep
the soft passages toward the outside of the record as stylus tracking was generally
quieter, and minimizing the distortion that could come from too much level when you
got to the inside.

But there were some decisions that needed to be made about our current project,
and these included the sound of the accordion. I spoke in earlier blogs of discussing
the difference between Silver Taps and Accordion Masterworks II when I originally
met with Jeff: Pure vs. bigger than life. Now that we had finished the actual
recording we talked about it again. The music on the album is fun; I also think a lot of
it is exciting. I hope the final sound brings a smile to the listener's face. I think we
hit a good balance, though the 'purist' may think it is still too hot.

An interesting note about this recording. There was no equalization in the recording
process. The sound came from the instrument and microphone placement. But with
Jeff's assistance and some of the benefits that come from new technology I think we
may have smoothed out some of the general difficulties in recording the accordion.
This has to do with microphone placement and in phasing. Though it is most
obvious in the middle to upper range, there is also a real difference in the lowest
notes.

Consider playing the lowest notes on a spinet piano then playing the same notes on
a 9' concert grand. It is the same note, but what a difference in sound - not only the
fundamental but the overtones. And when you think of it, the accordion has a very
small footprint for producing low tones. Also, unlike the piano and so many other
instruments, the harmonic structure is rather limited. In my opinion (and this is
strictly an opinion), this is one of the things that makes the accordion so difficult to
record. A combination of microphone placement and the room can create an

Page 130
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

intermodulation distortion that would remind one of an early Farfisa Combo organ (a
sound you will never forget). This is most apparent when you play loud.

When we had finished recording on Sebastian, I played a couple selections on

Elizabeth. In one of them I use open fifths in the lowest octaves to produce a sub
harmonic (something done with organs). When the phasing was correct it sounds
like some mysterious bass knob has been cranked up to ten; but there was no bass
knob. It was also interesting to discover instrument was producing the sub
harmonic, not the electronics. You could turn off the studio's sub, and the notes were
still there. And these were small monitors, probably less total volume than the
accordion shell.

It's a Small World

06/06/10

I remember a trip to either Disneyland or Disney World and meeting up with my

parents. There was one particular attraction my Mom insisted we visit. It was called
"It's a Small World" and you traveled in boats through stagnant water watching all
these dolls dressed in costumes from throughout the world singing "It's a Small
World" over and over and over. The languages and background kept changing, and
it seemed like the experience was never going to end. Disney had created the ride
for the World's Fair or something like that. Before I had made it through the cattle-
maze-line and into the boat I had tired of the song. Before we were too far out of the
launching area I was ready to start throwing things at the dolls, and as we
progressed, had this increasing desire to leap from the boat and start ripping heads
off. But I knew that would get me thrown out of the park and embarrass my Mom.
And the last time I had nearly gotten thrown out of Disneyland was on a paper route
sales recognition trip (I didn’t have a paper route, but had a lot of friends who did)
when I was ten or so and we decided to get out of the cars inside the Alice in
Wonderland dark ride to provide extra excitement to people on the ride. Security
didn't have much of a sense of humor.

I remember another trip to Disneyland (the park in California) during my youth where
a fellow student had secured a holiday gig playing accordion on one of the parade
floats. The parade was scheduled twice each day - the second time at night when
guests were encouraged to stay for the repeat so they could see the floats with all
the lights. The music was sequenced throughout the parade route in speakers
hidden in street lights. It was a similar concept that eventually segued into It's a
Small World. Diane Burke was an excellent player, and I was amazed that she
could repeat and repeat those 16 bars over and over again as the parade wandered
through the park. Was this what being a professional musician was about? Years
later I learned the music was sequenced for the parade route with a loop on a 24-
channel Ampex multi-track - quite a technical accomplishment for the day. But I
guess they had run out of tracks when it came time for the accordion. Anyway, it
gave her a job. And the families of all her friends battled the Christmas rush at

Page 131
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Disneyland to see those several minutes when she passed in all her glory - costume
and everything. After all, this was show biz and she was off to a great start. And
imagine playing at a place that had rides you could enjoy when you weren't playing?

What was fun was the support of a fellow student. We weren't the only family who
braved the holiday crowds (though for kids, Disney wasn't a hard sell) to see our
friend.

Today it really is a small world. I get to sit at my computer and see accordion events
going on all over the world. Friends are still supporting friends, and from the
Facebook photos, it looks like they are have a lot of fun. Hopefully new generations
will re-discover the accordion here in the US so there will be more events we can
attend in person.

The West Point Glee Club was invited to perform for the opening ceremonies when
Disney opened the EPCOT Center. The story was that Walt wanted the same
people who had performed for the opening of Disneyland in the 1950's to participate
when EPCOT opened. The Glee Club was of the original acts. So I had the
opportunity to conduct It's a Small World many years later as it was on the short-list
of greatest hits that were performed that day. And at a milestone event for Disney,
no less. Thank goodness Disney had a lot of hits so it was over quickly.

And as for my friend who performed for the holiday parade, she ended up getting her
PhD in Anthropology and went on to teach at a University in the mid-west.

Married and the Mistress

06/08/10

I sat one afternoon at the piano for my lesson in New York City with Edith Oppens. I
don't know what prompted her comment, but I clearly remember hearing her say,
"Your only wife is the piano." It wasn't an opinion; it was a statement of fact. It was
the spoken truth.

After my failed marriage, I had a couple engagements followed by some extremely

dysfunctional relationships. During the early engagements I was still actively playing
accordion. One of my fiancé’s once said, "I used to think you were ignoring me, but I
finally recognized that whenever you are doing anything with your music, you
become removed from everything around you." Close friends would sometimes
make similar comments after they had really gotten to know me. "We used to think
you were aloof, when really you were concentrating on music."

So is the concentration on the content of the music, or is it on the craft (and skill)
necessary to make the music? For me, it is on the latter, especially in the

Page 132
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

preparation phase. When the craft is well executed, ideally without physical
inhibition, achieving aesthetic quality in the music becomes possible.

When I hear that someone practices ten hours a day, I generally roll my eyes.
Probably because it is something I could never do. I could never sustain ten hours
of the concentration necessary to practice at a level where I would actually be
accomplishing anything. But that is not to be said it can't be done. For me, the
ideal practice time was about 5 hours. I tried to extend that, but generally with
results that were counterproductive.

Over the years, I have come to realize the expendable commodity is the
concentration, much more than the physical effort. After conducting several
rehearsals, I didn't have the concentration required to effectively practice accordion
or piano.

I write about lots of stuff here and generally try to stay on the light side. However,
through the years I have seen the marriages and relationships of some of my best
friends break up where the music was the wife or the mistress. Often there was little
resentment when it ended, but there was an inability to deal with the concentration to
the craft, and everything that entailed.

Julio Giulietti was one of the few people who ever challenged me on the depth of
some of my obsessions. Julio said the things I avoided in the name of dedication to
my craft would make me play better; that understanding and living life would make
the music flow with a renewed energy.

Sometimes I find ways to balance the two, and sometimes the willingness to
embrace something life offers will have a catalytic effect on everything I do. Until
that becomes an obsession.

Drama and the Accordion

06/09/10

I was in my first or second year of college and one of the music department's
salaried rehearsal pianists took ill. She was one of a highly specialized breed who
could sight read anything. It didn't matter if it was concert choir, advanced voice,
opera workshop, or a collaborative musical with the theatre department; she
magically appeared precisely on time to take her place at the piano. Her
competence, confidence and relaxed demeanor were her trademarks. There was
never any worry that she would hold up her end of the musical partnership, whether
it was a Schubert song or the Brahms B flat.

Anyway, on this particular morning she had called in sick. Though inconvenient,
most of the activities would survive. The second salaried rehearsal pianist was
slightly older, but equally talented. She spoke through a perpetually coarse voice

Page 133
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

honed by 30 years of chain-smoking unfiltered Camels. She could cover for some of
the classes. For the classes she couldn't cover the Professors would bang along at
varying levels of technical competence or simply provide a starting pitch.

But one unresolved commitment was the rehearsal for Most Happy Fellow. Nearing
production week rehearsals went from early afternoon until late in the evening. The
production was at the point where the accompaniment was critical, and the piano
score is difficult.

The head of the music department tapped me on the shoulder as I was leaving one
of my classes and suggested that I could play for the rehearsal on my accordion. As
he spoke I visualized the picture he had painted for the play's director. I would follow
him around with my accordion, the piano-vocal score precariously placed on a wire
music stand. Portable accompaniment. Music on demand. Any time. Any place.

I had been playing bassetti for several years but had stopped trying to stand and
play long before that. It was a big enough challenge to navigate from the accordion
case to the chair where I was going to sit worrying about banging the oversize load
extending from my body into a door jam or worse yet, tripping with it. Landing on top
of the accordion would most certainly break the case and certainly do internal
damage. Having it land on me would likely cause some type of personal injury. I
could visualize it in the daily rag, "Young man crushed by accordion in fall".

I did at lot of accompanying in my early years. As a member of the Bettie Thomas

Accordionettes we played for the student dancers on all our gigs. Bettie was also
creative in attempting different genres of choreography for our shows. One of these
experiments put the accordion band on roller skates, executing a grand march
formation as we played Washington Post. It went pretty well when we were marking
the routine in street shoes. We then progressed to the skates the idea was
abandoned after one of the younger players went off the front of the stage and
landed face down on top of the accordion.

Anyway, back to the rehearsal of Most Happy Fellow. I knew the director wasn't
particularly happy about dealing with an accordion for one of his final rehearsals.
The fact that the head of the music department had to 'sell' him on the idea
reinforced that fact. But I was the final option to rehearsing with no music or doing
some kind of lip sync to the record. I showed up, played, and somehow we all
survived the evening. There was no great revelation that the accordion was the
panacea for rehearsals where there was no piano or in limited space. There was no
great benefit to following the director in tow, accordion strapped to my back, hands
poised to play (mainly because that didn’t happen anyway).

In later years I did some accompaniment on accordion, both solo and with a piano.
These were well thought out and quite successful. I have even played for ballet
class a couple times, and that can work as long as you know what you are doing.

Page 134
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

But the piano will remain the gold standard as the rehearsal instrument. And that's
okay.

Over the years I have become cautious about accepting commitments with sketchy
details or playing in no-win situations. Today, if asked to play a rehearsal for Most
Happy Fellow or even Swan Lake, I would probably accept. I have a more
comprehensive understanding of a score's role and how to use the accordion to
support that role. I realize that no instrument is all things to all people to all
situations. What would Evgeny Kissen do if he showed up to play a recital only to
discover a Casio on stage? But on the other hand, Mozart would probably have a
grand time.

The Studio Queens

06/10/10

I am playing for the Accordion Plus Recital on Saturday. Preparing takes me back to
my student recital days.

There is a scene toward the beginning of the Movie Center Stage where the
company director is giving an orientation to a new class of students who have been
accepted to the American Ballet Academy (or something like that); the premier ballet
school in New York City (you should be able to figure that out). He asks for a show
of hands for how many were the best dancers in their last class? After a few
embarrassing moments the students begin raising their hands. He goes on to say
he knows each of them have envisioned themselves dancing Giselle to packed
houses within a few years. But in reality, few will make it.

From dance I have learned the term 'studio queen'. The dancer who has risen to the
top - dances the lead roles - is acknowledged by teachers, fellow dancers, and
parents as the best of the best. Or at least at that particular studio at that particular
time. But eventually the time comes to move on. Some end their careers at the
height of that success. Others move to a new environment with new competition
and higher standards to again repeat the process. The ones who are consistently
successful become the performing artists, only to compete in yet another level of
hierarchy.

Though not as formally structured as the dance world, there was a similar process
as I grew up with the accordion. Bettie Thomas (my first studio) exerted minimum
control over her kids. Every student was encouraged to follow their own path and
progress at their own comfort level. Each was treated equally. I was allowed to be
outgoing and charge through music lists and even act as the band leader for the
more junior bands. But handicapped students received the same encouragement,
and when everything was said and done, it all balanced out.

Page 135
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

At Glenn Stead's Music Center there was a much greater emphasis on control.
There were formal report cards. Students were formally promoted from one band to
the next higher level. Whereas students were encouraged to achieve musical
excellence, there was an equal emphasis on being a member of a team. There
was discipline, but perhaps at the expense of an ultimate artistic achievement for an
exceptionally driven student. There were certainly no planned surprises.

Tito didn't have a formal studio. There were no bands and very little ensemble
playing. As with Bettie Thomas, each student was guided in a direction that best
matched their talent. There was an extremely high level of musical discipline, but
there were no artistic limits. Students were encouraged to go as far as they could,
and when talent was combined with Tito's genius, there was often a synergistic
effect that would surprise everyone. The best part was that Tito enthusiastically
embraced all this.

I was the dance world's equivalent of a studio queen at Bettie Thomas, but certainly
not at Glenn Stead's - which may have been good at the time. The environment at
Tito's didn't produce studio queens. It was more like the movie. There was a lot of
talent. There was a competitive attitude, but students weren't competing against
each other, they were competing for artistic success and accepted that each person
was going to do that in a different way. And personal success was embraced by
everyone. It was an exceptionally healthy environment for musical growth.

By the time I got to Galla-Rini, I had entered a new phase. My worlds had
expanded. At the University I learned different facets of art and the socio-political
things that had influenced it over the years. I learned how to apply values to what I
think and gained an appreciation for how I relate all art to my life experience.

In the accordion, my studio had become national and international competition. I

could be the studio queen for a year when I won a national competition, and would
fall short when I came in second in the Coupe. But by this time, this was not the
center of my existence. It was just part of what I did. And at some point I just
stopped worrying about being the studio queen. I couldn't get Stephen Dominko to
stop showing up.

Sly June

06/12/10

Shortly before going to bed last night I was scrolling through the TV listings and was
drawn to a collection of 1960's Ed Sullivan rock performances on PBS. It was one of
the PBS funding outreach campaigns so the program was interrupted with dialogue.
I saw this program almost in its entirety previously and had been captivated by
several of the performances. Sullivan was a live broadcast with a wide variety of
acts. For the day it was a tremendous technical challenge. I am amazed at how
some of the acts retained their raw energy in this 60's television format.

Page 136
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

In my formative years on accordion I studied with Tito, one of accordion's

greatest all-time jazz accordionists. I learned to play in the jazz style, learned the
standard and altered chords, learned to play from a fake book, and learned how to
play with a rhythm section. I followed the jazz accordion players as well as classical
players and developed an appreciation for each unique style.

But around my third year in college I discovered rock music. It hit me like a bolt out
of the universe. Living in Los Angeles in the 60's offered the opportunity to hear
many of the greatest groups play live - not in huge stadiums, but in the many places
that catered exclusively to groups playing original music. Many didn't serve alcohol
as California's 21-year minimum drinking age would have kept much of the audience
out. Ticket prices were often low and it was not unusual to see three major groups
on a given night. During my final years in Los Angeles I saw groups such as the
Doors, Big Brother with Janis Joplin, Canned Heat, Rhinoceros, Love, Buffalo
Springfield, Iron Butterfly, and Illinois Speed Press, just to name a few. It was also
amazing on how different the groups could be when playing live vs. listening to their
albums.

I had enjoyed jazz, but I immediately developed had an insatiable appetite for rock -
not of the bubble gum, commercial, pop variety - but the stuff that slammed into your
innermost gut, the stuff that would rip your head off. It was sensual, it was sexual,
and it was real. I still played wedding and combo gigs on accordion to help pay
tuition for school, but soon decided I must have my own rock band.

Music Emporium evolved over a period of a year or so. I never had any desire to
play accordion in the band. My weapon of choice was a combo organ. After some
unfortunate experiences with lead singers, I ended up taking on that role also.
Almost all the music we played was original.

The band did not replace my interest in accordion or reduce my accordion-related

activities. In anything, it strengthened my playing. It was not unusual to play a rock
concert one evening and play accordion at a student recital at UCLA the next day. I
also started to notice some changes in my playing. The first thing was bringing a
new level of inner-intensity into everything I play - basically the same thing as
standard Russian pedagogical fare, but rock provided a the opportunity to
experience it in a different way. Another thing was overplaying. In rock you
sometimes work with enormous sound levels. It is critical to learn is how to control
that sound. It is also critical to learn the accordion's capabilities. Eventually you
realize you are most effective when you exploit the differences, rather than pushing
beyond the capabilities.

So when I watched that PBS special last night several moments took me back;
reminded me of what I liked so much about 60's (and later) rock. A particularly great
performance was by Sly and the Family Stone. It reminded me of the first time I
heard the group, on a week-day night at the Kaleidoscope. There are musical
events we never forget, and that was one of them. What often characterizes an

Page 137
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

event I never want to forget is when I experience something I want the capability to
do myself. I would diminish Sly's performance by trying to describe the energy, the
cohesion, and the connection the group made with the audience that evening.

But I came to realize the same result can happen with all types of music. I have
never had a desire to play rock tunes on accordion - but I do want to share that
energy, cohesion, and connection in everything I play. But you must have
experienced something to share it; and I learned a lot about energy, cohesion, and
audience connection in rock music.

And sometimes all those things are even more powerful when they are whispered,
rather than shouted.

Songs Without Words and Integrity

06/14/10

I was at a friend's home for dinner last night and found myself talking about integrity.
It's a word I seldom use; usually saving it for times I am trying to add a heightened
level of emphasis to something. And if I am trying to add emphasis, my use of the
word integrity is more likely linked to my opinion rather than some statement of fact.

We share our home with several Afghan Hounds and one Alaskan Malamute. The
Ghans are inherently an independent breed and most of the time they aren't
concerned with pleasing anyone other than themselves. I have never tired of
watching them interact. As the years unfold certain dogs will decide they can no
longer stand each other. In today's pack, two sisters would likely fight to the death if
given the opportunity. There are rules and hierarchies and when one of these is
violated a battle is likely to ensue. Sometimes the battle is short lived with lots of
posturing and noise. Other times it becomes serious and a dog can get seriously
injured and must be separated. This may be influenced by human intervention
(when one of us is successful in convincing the dogs we are the pack leader), but
most is inherent to the nature of dogs.

So to be blunt, my definition of integrity means you are willing to conform to my

interpretation of the rules. In my life I get to set the rules; or at least when I am
alone or don't find it necessary to convince you to follow behavior I expect. And
when you follow the behavior I expect, you have integrity.

I had a conversation with a friend the other day who considers himself an academic.
I brought up the topic of philosophy and he said he could see no value to it - there
was nothing empirical; and as a scientist (albeit a social scientist) his life was about
facts. What value was there to sitting in parks and arguing with people? I
commented that he had no understanding what philosophy was about. But I elected
not to adopt his interpretation and enter into an argument, though it would have been
in a living room rather than a park.

Page 138
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

For me philosophy is the true empirical science; it allows me to understand value

and apply meaning to things in my world. Without a sense of value, nothing can
have value. It is only information with no purpose or value. And to me, that is
academia's version of babbling in the park - engaging in activity that brings no
intrinsic value to anything.

Music and other art forms can bring value to life. But this should not necessitate
explaining or arguing in either a living room or on a park bench. It is when
something lets someone discover or rediscover something within them - apart from
what needs to be explained with words. Something that trying to describe with
words would immediately destroy. As some cultures would say; things that reside at
the non-talking self.

It is not white and black - even in the pack. There are challenges, there are
resolutions, and sometimes there aren't resolutions. It is the same with integrity.
And it is all perfect.

I consider myself a philosopher. But I prefer playing my accordion to arguing in

either a park or in my living room. Songs without words can go beyond musical
descriptions of dishwashers and babbling brooks.

I also try not to take myself too seriously. Perhaps I should study Luke (the
malamute) more closely. Unlike the Ghans, Luke is a big goof ball with entirely too
much energy.

Sleeping in the Nude

06/15/10

My musical career started in the early 1950's with a door-to-door salesman with a
12-bass accordion soliciting students for a local studio. "Think of the joy from the
sounds of beautiful music floating through your home," or something like that. Along
with other things, there were promises of an enriched living environment. In
retrospect the reality was quite different. The result most often was an abandoned
accordion in the back of a closet. The promise of beautiful music had been replaced
with constant nagging about needing to practice or the weekly investment in music
lessons.

But sometimes there were exceptions. The kid actually decided he liked the
accordion and ended up playing the darn thing. But the purchase of an accordion,
even a high quality 120-bass student model with extra special machine-stamped
reeds, mother-of-pearl keys, genuine leather straps, and a faux alligator hide
carrying case with crushed velvet lining does not instantly begat beautiful music
wafting through the house - even with a serious student. There will be an interim
period with countless hours of exercises, repetition, and constant honking
while attempting to master at least the basic fundamentals of tone production.

Page 139
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

My parents survived the early phase. By the mid to late 60's I was in college and the
house was filled with music - at least when I was home. And after over a decade
they had developed the ability to tune out the musical exercises and constant
repetition required for a virtuosic repertoire. And there were actual moments where I
would play. Perhaps the promise of the door-to-door salesman had not been entirely
fulfilled, but the result was something that was tolerable.

Some years later I decided I would rather play rock than jazz and my parent's living
room became one of our early rehearsal sites. The process started to repeat. My
folks had always enjoyed the 'jazz' and encouraged my exploration of that venue.
But they had much less appreciation of rock - both the music and the culture. A 120-
bass accordion, or a free-bassetti - even with an amplifier - was one thing. A living
room filled with Vox Super Beatles, combo organs, Fender Showmen, electric
guitars, and drum sets was something else. The music didn't float through the
house and waft through open windows for the neighbors to also enjoy; it shook the
foundation and cracked plaster. Being in the mild climate of Southern California
there was no insulation in the walls or ceiling, so the noise filled the neighborhood.

My dad was least tolerant of all of it with a dislike of rock music that was only
surpassed by a dislike of the entire rock culture. After a certain period of time he
would cut the power to the house from the circuit breaker located on the side of the
house. The sound would stop instantly, except for Dora who would continue
banging away on her drums for a few bars before realizing what had happened.
Without electricity our performance was over. It was usually a good time to move
the rehearsal as intermittent power can do serious damage to amplifiers and electric
instruments.

Several years later there was a similar situation at West Point while I was playing in
one of the Rock Bands. We had one of the larger practice rooms which was well
insulated, but at our sound levels it didn't matter. We could still bother about
everyone in the building. It was not uncommon for someone to cut the power in the
middle of a rehearsal. So one day we came up with an elaborate scheme - bringing
in an alternate source of power for the instruments from another part of the building.
We plugged a table lamp into one of the room's outlets so we could see when the
power was turned off so we could stop playing when the light went out. But after a
few seconds, we would start playing again. This must have caused quite a shock to
those who were trying to end our rehearsal as we would watch the room's power (as
indicated by the lamp) being rapidly turned on and off as we continued to play at an
even louder volume.

Years later I was in the process of rehearsing the Little Boy Who Flew With the
Dragons with Lauren Michaels. Early into the session there was a power failure and
we sat in silence as the midi controllers and synthesizers were useless for several
hours. No electricity; no music.

Page 140
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

And last summer after I had started playing accordion again the room suddenly went
dark as the power went off. I thought, how interesting, but continued to play. In fact,
I often practice with the lights off. Sometimes I like it that way - nothing between me
and the music. The beauty of an acoustic instrument. Kind of like sleeping in the
nude.

Valets and Goof Balls

06/17/10

When it opened in 1973, West Point's Eisenhower Hall had the second largest
theatre on the East Coast. The auditorium could seat over 4,400 people (large
enough to accommodate the entire Corps of Cadets). In addition to providing
cultural opportunities for the cadets, it offered an attractive alternative for residents
of the Hudson Valley who could avoid having to travel to New York City for
entertainment and concerts. Because of the seathing capacity of the Eisenhower
Hall Theatre, West Point could offer a list of acts that became the largest of any
college or university in the country.

During my years at West Point I was sometimes asked to clarify details in contract
riders - things required by the performer. My primary area of responsibility was
specifications for musical instruments; like having an on-site piano technician or
securing the right percussion instruments from the USMA Band. But those were the
easy things. Other contractual requirements could be more difficult, like demands
for exotic brands of bottled water, some obscure single malt scotch or the
temperature of the dressing rooms. When it got completely absurd, the academy
would finally say 'no' or tell the artist to bring their own. But for the most part every
effort was made to accommodate. And there were people who thrived on the
difficulty of successfully meeting the contractually-stated needs of an artist, be it 25
distinctly flavored varieties of jelly beans arranged in a shape of the US or merely
hot tea and a towel.

I played last Saturday night for a local recital and the audience included many close
friends. The program was in a church recreation hall and I was only a couple feet
from the front row. I had just started my third or fourth song when Shane, Cynthia's
service dog, took a brief break from his assigned duties to come over for a quick
pet. Normally I wouldn't have stopped playing, but when he started nuzzling my right
hand with his nose I really didn't have a choice. By now Cynthia had realized Shane
had abandoned his duty station and called him back. For me, it was the highlight of
the evening.

I was reminded of a performance in UCLA's Schoenberg Hall many years ago. At

that time I had a black chow who went almost everywhere with me. It was not
unusual for him to sleep back stage unattended while I performed. However, during
this particular performance a strange feedback from the audience interrupted my
concentration long enough to realize Kong had joined me on stage and had settled

Page 141
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

down next to me to resume his nap. When I would finish a song and the audience
would applaud he would raise his head disapprovingly and glare at them.

If I were to tell you that distractions don't bother me when I play I would be telling a
major lie. Typically I hate anything that interrupts my concentration. But I have not
reached the point where I can demand the room be heated to exactly 76 degrees,
my chair will have a black sheepskin cover, and I will have a scantily-clad personal
valet waiting for me with a towel when I walk off stage. And it is unlikely I ever will.
So I miss the opportunity to blame a bad performance on something other than my
break in concentration. But I do have the opportunity to embrace at least some of
these things as what an audience brings to a performance.

I was recently playing some new rep for friends in our home and one of our friends
suddenly got up and started doing some strange form of can can in the allegro
section of what was supposed to be a serious piece. I still haven't figured that out
and never asked.

Perhaps it is the accordion that attracts some of this behavior. Perhaps there is
some magic that brings out the inner child - or just the antics of a true goof ball. I
can't recall similar reactions while playing piano or even combo organ.

Transcriptions

06/19/10

Over the course of writing this blog I have touched on the topic of transcriptions
several times. Considering the difficulty I encountered in trying to locate music from
my early accordion days, I know that many of the older transcriptions are difficult to
find. It makes me wonder how much of a part they play, if any, in the development
of a young accordionist. I also wonder if something is being lost by their omission.

Transcriptions are not unique to the accordion, and the reaction to including them in
repertoire is also not unique. I recently read on a web site that provides downloads
of public domain piano works that transcriptions were often used to demonstrate
expanded capabilities of the instrument (piano) by some of history's greatest
pianists. Yet in the last century, pianists such as Horowitz were hesitant to play
them fearing criticism. Horowitz started including some of them in his later years.

As I prepared for the stradella album, I was playing some pieces I have not played in
over 50 years. These included some of the big 'warhorse' transcriptions that were
the mainstay of competition fare for quite a few years. Some of these are pieces
that were banned from my repertoire as I moved to all-bassetti instruments. "Why
would you want to play them when you can play piano scores exactly as written?" I
have even heard it said (even recently) that, "you put the accordion back 50 years
every time you play them."

Page 142
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

I was influenced by comments such as those in my mid to late teens, but am much
less influenced now. Today I consider such comments as ridiculously absurd.
Today I would be more likely to say that music played well is music played well;
regardless of the genre. I also wonder how much young students might miss when
their musical diet is void of such a wonderful plethora of opportunities to understand
both the music and how effective the accordion's unique characteristics can be used
to make them work musically. This is especially true when the transcriptions were
made by players who really understood the capabilities of the accordion.

As ironic as it may seem, musical maturity, some wonderful personal opportunities,

and nearly 50 years of hind sight make me feel even stronger in this regard. The
first time I was the guest conductor of a world-class symphony orchestra, the music
director and conductor told me the experience was something I would never forget.
He also said it would be the most addictive thing I would ever do musically. Nothing
else would ever compare.

I have played rock concerts in front of a wall of amplifiers and have conducted some
of this country's finest military bands and countless choral groups, but he had
understated the experience, if that is possible. The sound from a rock band blasts at
you - and at times the volume alone will nearly eliminate all other sensation. But an
orchestra engulfs you. The sound from the strings fills the room, the resonance from
the double bass vibrate up through the floor into every part of your body. I don't
know when I have ever experienced such ultimate power as standing on the
podium. And it is not entirely related to the dynamic (how loud the ensemble is
playing). It is also not an experience for the timid, especially when dealing with
professional musicians.

I have never had the same feeling playing a piano - maybe something close when it
all works, but it is still different. Choral groups are something altogether different.
And at the risk of irritating a lot of people, certainly not from an organ. There will
always be that detachment of articulation directly correlated to technical
manipulation.

But for me, accordion may come close. Maybe that is one of the things that has
drawn me back to the instrument with such a passion. I am not naive enough to
think I will ever have a major symphony at my disposal. But there is a similar magic
to playing an accordion. You experience it in your body - it breathes with you.
There are very few limits on articulation and nuance.

I think there is a lot one can learn about the instrument from playing transcriptions.
There is also the opportunity to experience some really great music, and there is the
opportunity to learn more about the accordion as you work through the musical
detail. One of the best descriptions I think I have ever heard of a successful
transcription is where, "It sounds like the music was written for that instrument." In
this case, someone was describing a performance by Stephen Dominko. Such a
remark is the ultimate compliment to both the instrument and the artist.

Page 143
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

This experience also relates to playing styles where one is playing from the actual
notation. In my last years in Los Angeles I was studying baroque repertoire with
Donald Balestrieri. We worked through a lot of WTC I - the goal had been to work
through all of it, but the Army interrupted that goal. Even though I was playing the
'actual notes', making it work stylistically was a huge challenge and Donald was a
great mentor. Strictly playing the notes at pitch as written could easily have
a disastrous result both stylistically and in terms of the accordion. I could quite
easily demonstrate that I did not understand the style or the instrument in a single
performance, even though I had played ever note as written. I am amazed when I
look at Don's detailed hand written notes on each piece and how different the
application of registration and articulation. Ultimately each one is a transcription.

With Reckless Abandon

06/21/10

My music world started in the early 1950's. We were one of the first homes in the
neighborhood to have a television. In the early days there were only three stations.
If you got up early enough, you got to see them sign on. And if you stayed up late
enough, you got to see them sign off.

I entered college in 1963. My professors often said the most serious shortcoming of
young musicians was not having a solid knowledge of musical repertoire. Students
didn't listen enough. With the LP a greater variety of music was available, but there
was still a limited amount of live performances Los Angeles. It wasn't like living in
New York City.

When Disneyland opened in 1955 it was hard to imagine that many of the things
they talked about in Tomorrow Land would come true; like a television built into a
telephone. But technology blasted past Disney's promises of 1955.
Communications, especially the internet, has made it a much smaller and much
more diverse world. There is almost limitless access to every kind of music from all
parts of the world.

In the last blog I spoke of accordion transcriptions and how the some of them were
the core of the competition pieces. I have spoken of how young artists like Johnny
LaPadula and George Mandala influenced me with their mastery of the technique
necessary to play them. They tore into them the way Sviatoslav Richter or Vladimir
Ashkenazy tore into a Chopin Etude. There was no fear or hesitation.

I got to hear some of the accordion superstars of the time in live performance,
players like Galla-Rini, Magnante, and John Molinari. These were some of the same
superstars who wrote the big transcriptions, and the same superstars that trained
the students who played them. But I never heard them play the big transcriptions.
They left that to the students - the new breed. The only exception I know of is
Oakley Yale.

Page 144
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Another dynamic to all this is way many of us approached music in our younger
days. In the early years there was no fear. Just go for it. Play at 130% and let God
sort it out. This was later replaced with worrying about what someone would think if
we missed a note. And at that age, the reputation from that missed note was going
to follow us for a long time. As we matured, we got more accurate technically, but
sometimes at a price.

I commented in my last blog on how seldom these transcriptions are played now, if
they are played at all. But a more interesting thought might be what if they were
played now by the same people who played them when they were 14? Especially if
the player had decided once again there were times to just go for it - that a technical
flaw might not outweigh some of the reckless abandon (or at least that perception)
that was so fun during youth.

The Early Bird, Musical Craft and Judge Judy

06/22/10

The audience sits in anticipation waiting for the concert to begin. The members of
the orchestra have been taking their places on the stage in no particular order for
some time now. There is an unorganized sequence of sound and motion as they
make their individual preparations for the performance. There might be some words
spoken between the players, but certainly not any real conversations. After
everyone has finally assembled, the players mold into a cohesive unit as they begin
the ritual of tuning as an ensemble and finally turn their full attention to the conductor
as he takes the stage.

There is the story of a young college student who received permission to interview
Igor Stravinsky at a performance he was conducting of Symphony of Psalms in his
later years. She caught him after he had exited his dressing room and was standing
just outside the orchestral shell, waiting for the orchestra to complete their
preparations and the audience to silence. She felt nervous in anticipation of the
pending performance; the excitement of one of the century's greatest composers
about to conduct a work already recognized by the entire world as a masterpiece. A
respectful awe permeated the stage and the audience. It was destined to be one of
those moments no musician or music lover who was lucky enough to attend would
ever forget. "Mr. Stravinsky," she asked respectfully, "what are you thinking right
now?" He quietly reflected on her question for a few moments before replying. "I
hope no one drinks my whisky while I am on stage."

I once heard someone once describe the difference between an amateur and
professional performance as the amount of time it takes to prepare. I think another
indicator is how different types of passion fit into all of it.

A short while ago I was going to conduct the West Point Alumni Glee Club at a
performance for the Washington DC Chapter of the Association of Graduates

Page 145
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Founder's Day. Our performance was after the banquet and it was unlikely we
would sing prior to 10:00 p.m., but my friend wanted to arrive early in the morning so
we could watch the set-up and become engulfed in the aura - savor ever part of the
event from sun-up to the afterglow.

Contrast this to another performance a long time ago with Boston Pops in
Providence, Rhode Island, where there was a rather serious argument about
encores and ending the performance by a specified time so the management didn't
have to pay overtime. And to be honest, I don't know if it would have been different
had Stravinsky had been conducting vs. Arthur Fiedler.

And years before that was a performance of the War Requiem with Roger Wagner
conducting a subscription performance of the Los Angeles Master Chorale that was
scheduled for the Shrine Auditorium rather than the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.
There weren't enough sellable seats at the Music Center to cover the cost of the
orchestra and soloists, and when the promoters realized they would only break even
if they sold out every seat in the Shrine, business triumphed over art and the
performance was cancelled.

On the other hand, amateurs will often devote enormous amounts of time to a
performance. The long hours of preparation are part of the reward and are part of
the joy of participation. They will show up at dawn to savor the entire process. They
will also relive the event for days, months, or even years after its conclusion. They
were part of something truly great.

So what is the balance between craft and passion? Does one exist at the expense
of the other? Aube Tzerko used to say that achieving passion involved thoroughly
understanding and articulating the music, which was always a meticulously
calculated process. When that process was executed properly, the composer's
intent and the audience would be satisfied. But this was said by someone (Aube)
who was known to bring an audience to tears playing a single note.

But for me, if it comes to a question of watching a crew set up banquet tables or
Judge Judy, I will opt for Judge Judy.

The Accordion and Sex and the City

06/23/10

Some time between graduating from high school and starting college I got to face an
unpleasant reality that was a part of life at the time - registering for the draft.
However the draft wasn't the real concern, it was spending two years in the Army
with the likelihood of a tour in Viet Nam.

There were options besides going to Canada or jail, and enlisting as member of the
band at West Point seemed like the best choice. I learned of this opportunity from

Page 146
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

the bulletin board at the Local 47 Musician's Union in Hollywood; but as helpful as
the union was in identifying alternatives to carrying an M14, once you donned the
uniform there were some rather strict restrictions on what you could and couldn't do.
During your active service, your membership went inactive. Dues were waived, but
with some well-defined exceptions, you weren't allowed to compete with civilian
musicians.

When I left Los Angeles for West Point, Local 47 was a beehive of activity. It was a
place to rehearse, audition new members, meet with recording and club
representatives, get contracts written, and pick up checks for certain types of gigs.
(When I returned in the 90's it was not much more than a ghost of its former glory -
times had changed.) Local 802 in New York was also a huge operation, and many
of the West Point Band members played regularly in the city.

But the union in Newburgh, New York, was tiny; a one-man operation. John Gizzi,
the local union president, worked full-time at West Point recording speeches and
official meetings on a portable tape recorder later transcribing these to acetate
masters (records) where they become part of the Academy archives. With the active
draft, many of the band members were world-class musicians, and the more
versatile ones often found playing civilian gigs a good way to supplement their
modest military income. There were ways around the restrictions (or maybe they
were simply overlooked) in New York City or in the Catskills. But in the towns
surrounding West Point, you were sure to get caught. And in addition to formal
union action (which could continue to haunt you once you left military service), there
was also a phone call to the band commander telling of your transgression.

Over the years John and I got to be good friends, and after my time on active duty
I sometimes played in the Newburgh area, which brings me to one of the most
bizarre gigs I ever played.

I had decided I wanted to break tradition and not play on New Year's Eve. This was
quite a decision as practically anyone who could hold an instrument played for triple
scale on that one night. In small towns players would start bragging about their New
Year's gig months or even a year ahead of time. New Years: the biggest night of the
year.

As an alternative, I planned a trip to California to visit family. I was able to get a

cheap fare by taking a red-eye back to New York early on the morning of New Year's
Eve.

I arrived home to frantic calls from John saying one of the union's keyboard players
had an emergency appendicitis and he needed a replacement. It was a duo,
accordion and drums, in a private home in Balmville, a very exclusive neighborhood
just north of Newburgh. I didn't know the drummer, but it was a short drive from
home, there was no snow in sight, and it promised to be an easy gig.

Page 147
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

I arrived and we set up in a large room that had been cleared out so guests could
dance. I made my first discovery on the first number. I counted off an up-tempo
two-beat, one, two, one-two-three-four, but the drummer came in with a loud 'boom
chicka, boom chicka' at his own tempo. Even though we were in a small room, he
was playing with sticks. He must have been partially deaf. As each song
progressed, he got slower and slower. As I got ready to end a song, I needed to get
his attention to stop playing, otherwise he would have continued.

The room stayed empty for most of the evening. I could tell they hated us. I hated
us. The only time the guests came in was when the party host appeared with his
trumpet in hand, which explained why he wanted 'live' music in the first place. He
played his few selections with us to the glee and excitement of the guests, then went
back to partying and we were again alone.

The evening went on forever. The drummer also drank, a lot, and as the evening
progressed he managed to get even louder and slower.

Shortly before midnight, someone came into the room to tell us we really had to see
this. The guests were gathered in the dining room where a woman (for all I know
she might have been the hostess) was lying nude on the dining room table covered
with Saran Wrap. Hors d'oeuvers were strategically placed all over her body and it
was certainly offering a titillating diversion for the guests. No one seemed to notice
we weren't playing.

And after a rather uneventful celebration of the New Year and Auld Lang Syne we
went back to play our last set. The few moments of excitement had been short
lived. By the time we finished at 1:00 p.m. nearly everyone had left.

I recalled this event watching the first Sex and the City Movie a few nights ago
where Samantha did something similar with Sushi for her boyfriend. After my
experience those many years ago, I became even more cautious about impromptu
gigs. And no one ever mentioned anything like that when I signed up for accordion
lessons.

Accordions and Bondage

06/24/10

Over the years I have been witness to various experiments. Some even involved an
accordion in one way or another. Some were successful, some weren't. Maybe
these will remind you of something you have seen - or even tried.

One of the earliest was at Bettie Thomas Studios in my very early years. Bettie
wanted a bellow-less, pump-free accordion. To this end she attached the hose from
her Hoover swivel-top canister vacuum to the bottom of an accordion. The
accordion would play, but the noise from the vacuum was so loud you could barely

Page 148
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

hear it. Had this idea worked, half of the reeds could have been removed from the
accordion as the push-pull air flow from the bellows action would have been
replaced with the simple suck of the Hoover. A bit later someone actually
manufactured an accordion that sat spread-eagle style atop a pedestal that housed
the wind supply. I can't remember who made but it looked like a giant 'T'. I haven't
seen one of these in a very long time, though eventually I am sure one will pop up
on Ebay.

Many accordionists (myself included) are fascinated with amplification. Sometimes

it is about finding an amplifier that compliments the sound of the accordion.
Sometimes it is about mobility. Sometimes it is a combination.

Donald Hulme played at one of the NAMM accordion extravaganza's many years
ago with a rig that featured a rotating speaker. It wasn't like a Leslie where the
speaker faces into a rotating drum or horn. On his, the speaker actually rotated.
And it wasn't hidden inside a cabinet. It was visible. But that was only part of it. His
accordion amplification system was wireless. It allowed him to move unencumbered
throughout the room. Donald was far ahead of his time! Wireless microphones
have become commonplace, but they are still not without an occasional problem.
And the Roland is opening yet another dimension.

There are also experiments that deal with how we play the accordion. Over the
years I have played with straps, back straps, strap harnesses, and even tried a
special waist harness that was separate from the straps. It was made of an ugly
white plastic and circled around the top of the hips and attached to the bottom of the
accordion; sort of like an accordion bondage.

There was a scene in "The Competition" (a movie about piano competitions) where
someone walked in on one of the competitors who was practicing in the buff.
Accordion bellows and bare skin are not a good mix, even though the minimal
approach may seem a good idea at the time.

I Remember Grandma

06/26/10

I am getting ready for a performance tomorrow night in Charlottesville, VA. I have

also been working on more details for the new CD, "Accordion Heroes". I posted an
MP3 I Remember Grandma written by Gregory Stone on the blog page.

This is one of Gregory's stradella works that would have been in the second (before
you get too excited, it long pre-dated CDs) album. This particular piece was written
in the mid-50's and was dedicated to Lawrence Welk. Many of Gregory’s stradella
works are technically challenging, but great fun to play.

Over the next several days I will be posting more tracks.

Page 149
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Gypsy Shawl Dance

06/27/10

Getting ready for a master class and performance tonight in Charlottesville, VA. For
one day only, I posted one of Gregory Stone's later accordion works – this one
written for bassetti and included on the Accordion Masterworks II album.

Shapeshifters and Humoresque - Rachmaninov

06/28/10

The program went well last night. It was in a small church in Charlottesville with
exceptional acoustics. It was my second program that was 'all stradella'. Maybe the
all stradella accordion is my equivalent of a bandoneon. Sebastian (the Classic 127)
is really coming into his own - waiting to challenge Fabian (the Bassetti 6/3) to an all-
out speed competition upon his return. Fabian is currently getting new key tops.

Now comes the big countdown - the really important thing. There are only two more
days until the release of Eclipse – the next in the Twilight Series. I typically write my
blogs on my 90 minute ride on the commuter van into DC from Fredericksburg. I
have a desktop background from New Moon on my netbook. One of my co-riders
made a somewhat snide comment the other day about the whole Twilight thing
(obviously from looking at my computer screen) and I asked him if he had seen the
movie. He curtly remarked that he was not a 13-year old girl. He went on to say the
real vampire series was Buffy – and that she could make quick waste of all the
Cullens. I wondered what the demographic was for Buffy and how different it was
from Twilight Saga - but I wasn't quick enough to bring that up. One of my
shortcomings is the inability to respond with appropriate come-backs. But maybe
that has kept me out of trouble over the years.

Anyway, I am more of a werewolf fan. I will send the first person who reads this blog
and sends me an Email a pre-issue test pressing of the new CD, Accordion Heroes.

Today's MP3 post is Rachmaninov Humoresque.

A Musical Quickie

06/29/10

We did a short master class on Sunday afternoon prior to the recital that evening.
Dale did a presentation on different types of musical cadences and how they tie
music together into a sequence of 'tension' and 'release'. He illustrated the concept
with a medley of US service branch songs.

Page 150
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Effective and patriotic in one simple example! In my typical (sometimes misdirected)

sense of humor I mentioned to the person sitting next to me that Wagner's Tristan
and Isolde would have made a much more complex example. In Tristan, tension
leads to more tension with an endless progression of harmonic suspensions that
seemingly never resolve. With the service songs, it's V (dominant) - I (tonic): wham-
bam-thank-you-ma'am. The equivalent of a musical quickie. No muss, no fuss, over
and done with. Throwing in a dash of nostalgia through use of the patriotic military
theme is like adding ketchup to your order of McDonald's fries. But it is all good and
God will certainly approve.

In contrast, you probably don't want to venture into Tristan if you have other things
you would rather be doing. You are committing to something for the long haul. If the
service song is the quickie, the Wagner is the all night counterpart. It is a sequence
of discovery, intrigue, suspense, and surprise. But there is also a potential dark side
to the Wagner. Whereas the service songs will most certainly bring on the warm
and fuzzy feelings of patriotism, there are those who cannot separate the
social/political part of Wagner, the person, from his music. In some cases I can
understand this. But to me, this part can also be seen as a reflection of life. It is a
complex mixture of love, lust, passion, power, sex, survival, need, and how we deal
with it - and it is happening on many levels at the same time. I would quote
Shakespeare, "for there is nothing good or bad, but our thinking makes it so."

So having finished my performance, there is a release. I see it as an event, a

cleansing, and an opportunity for self-assessment and renewal. But my life is
probably more like the harmonic structure of Tristan than Marines Hymn.

For one of my topics at the master class we discussed recollections of Aube

Tzerko's ability to bring an audience to tears playing a single note. How would one
do that? Is it the ultimate osmosis of internal passion, or is it a calculated process?
Then we took turns playing single notes and we listened; and we spoke of what we
heard. It is the start of self assessment.

Rally, Rally

06/30/10

About a year ago, while I was still conducting the West Point Alumni Glee Club,
we arranged a sequence of spirit songs to open the second half of the program. It
started with the club entering from all different parts of the auditorium while singing
"On Brave Old Army Team".

Then we got into discussions of how to introduce it. My view was, don't. If there is
meaning to what you are doing the audience will figure it out - and there will be an
element of surprise that will contribute to the overall effect. But there were
those with an opposite opinion saying, "No, you need to explain it. You need to set it
up."

Page 151
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

This was not the first time I had faced such a dilemma. I remember times both as an
accordionist and as a conductor where I felt this great need to explain the
significance of something before I played it. The audience needed to know what it
was - what it was for. There was one particular composition we did with the Cadet
Glee Club at West Point where the introduction was actually longer than the
composition. In retrospect, the introduction detracted from the performance.

During my seven years working for the US Navy, I was on the road for close to
seven months each year. The trips were long - sometimes 12 - 13 weeks. When I
was staying at a base in Japan or somewhere in Europe, I would go to the theatre
every night. Movies were free or very cheap, so I didn't feel bad if I felt the need to
walk out or if I fell asleep due to the time difference. I didn't look at movie titles or
advertisements in the foyer. I just went.

I saw a lot of movies I would have never selected on my own. There were times
where I was ready to walk out as there was no connection, but then something
would happen, it would make sense, and I would suddenly be transported into a new
dimension in a truly rewarding experience. There were other times where the
connection never happened. There were also times where the audience reaction
was as interesting as the movie. Sometimes it was a 2-hour cultural immersion.
Other times it was mindless drivel (which I also can thoroughly enjoy).

There is a point to all this. You can hype, you can brand, you can advertise, you can
even explain - but ultimately it is about the substance. I love to see young people in
the audience when I play or when I do a master class. I hope that I might spark the
same passion in them that players like Johnny LaPadula did with me. But as much
as the old timers love to hear war stories about Galla-Rini or Magnante, it may well
be the fastest way to loose a youth. I didn't want to hear Johnny LaPadula talk - I
wanted to hear him play. And I didn't want to hear him talk about what could be
played - I just wanted to hear it. As soon as I tell someone that something will be the
greatest experience of their lives, I have set expectations that can never be met. I
have introduced my own failure. And if I talk of something I cannot produce, I have
undermined my credibility.

So rather than coming out in a cadet bathrobe to explain that you (the audience) are
now going to be part of a spirit rally (figuratively), I typically start my programs with a
non-stop sequence of pieces across a wide range of styles. No explanation, no
introductions, just an immersion into the diversity of the accordion's capabilities. I
don't want my audience to think, I want them to experience.

For nearly ten years I was a master trainer for motorcycle instructors and operators
of emergency vehicles (police, fire, ambulance). The training courses are long and
difficult. In the early years I started with a good 20 minutes or so telling of my
background and qualifications for teaching the course. As time progressed, I
stopped doing this. I didn't tell them anything of myself. I might shake their hand
when they initially entered the classroom and say, "Hi, I'm Bill," but that was it. Long

Page 152
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

introductions didn't add anything to their ability to teach the curricula - and to be
really honest, they didn't care - and there was really no reason for them to care. It
was about the curricula and their ability to teach it. Another byproduct f this
approach; I was rarely challenged about the content or how it should be taught.

Just like the music, it stood best on its own.

Motorcycles and the Craft

07/01/10

If something is worth doing, it is certainly worth over-doing. Throughout life I have

validated this with many different obsessions de 'jour. There are even 12-step
programs for many of these as a last resort when they get completely out of hand.

In my life, many passions have followed a similar path. I would use motorcycles as
an example. I started riding when I was about 15, but really got into it after
purchasing my first home ended my ability to afford a collection of vintage
Corvettes. Motorcycles were less expensive and took less space. They were my
Spring, Summer, and Fall activity - winter was still reserved for skiing. But even in
Winter I spent many evenings in the basement, working on my bikes. On the best
winter days, I could ski in the morning, and if the roads were dry, could take a ride in
the afternoon.

Some time in the mid-80's I got into motorcycle safety. With the high number of
motorcycle crashes and fatalities, the Army started training programs for service
members and civilians. The training was required if you wanted to ride on base and
I volunteered to become certified as a Motorcycle Safety Foundation Instructor. I
saw it as a way to spend additional time around motorcycles. Within two years I had
become certified as a MSF Chief Instructor and was doing contract work for the
States of Connecticut, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Massachusetts in addition to
the work I did for the Army. I also started doing contract work for MSF and in 1991 I
left West Point to work at the MSF National Headquarters in Irvine, California. While
it was an excuse to return to California, my true love, it was also free factory loan
bikes and an opportunity to live motorcycles every part of every day. It was a
position coveted by many fellow motorcycle enthusiasts.

But in time the inevitable transformation took place. What had started as an
insatiable passion became a job. What I did with motorcycles became a craft.
When MSF downsized in 1991 I was ready to do something else, but I ended up
going to the Naval Safety Center where I spent the next 7 years traveling the globe
training motorcycle safety instructors along with train-the-trainers for police, fire, and
ambulance. A collection of personal motorcycles had been replaced with a single
obligatory bike - a 20-year-old 600cc Yamaha. Whereas I would enjoy a ride with
friends through the mountains around Mt Fuji in Japan, there was almost no

Page 153
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

recreational riding when I was home. It was no longer a passion. I didn't live for it. I
enjoyed teaching, but the interest was in the process, not the sport.

I have friends who are professional musicians of the highest caliber. I have
also studied with some incredibly skilled and talented teachers. There is passion,
but there is also craft. And confidence in ones proficiency to use the craft seems to
balance the passion - keeps it in perspective - keeps it from burning out. To me, the
difference between an amateur and professional is that balance. It is the ultimate
self-assessment.

I rarely remember sitting around with friends or teachers reverently talking in hushed
tones of the history of the accordion or a particular work. We talked about cars,
sports teams (faked that one), politics, and girls (faked that one too). Music was a
given - our craft - and the craft begat the expression of passion.

In retrospect, I don't know if my passion for accordion had ended when I stopped
playing, but there was so little opportunity to share the craft.

Rhapsody in Blue, July 2 2010

07/02/10

I have posted Rhapsody in Blue on the blog page today. Rhapsody in Blue is from
the Silver Taps CD. There are liner notes on the CD page of this web site.

I remember going with my parents to hear my first free bass a year or so before Julio
introduced me to the bassetti system. It was the 'old' converter system - now called
the quint. There was an enormous amount of anticipation and I had expectations
that I would most certainly be wowed, though today, some 50 years later I can't
remember who was actually playing . We sat waiting for the great moment to come.
Finally - the left hand was lifted up away from the buttons (there were stories about
the switching system jamming if any buttons were depressed when the left hand
switched to converter), and a magic switch was depressed that transformed the left
hand into the future of the accordion. There was a hush in the audience.

"Tinka, tinka, pling pling" and it was over. DC al fine and back to stradella. We
were under whelmed.

I don't know what made it so different the night Julio introduced me to his bassetti
system. But I do remember a Ricordi arrangement of Rhapsody in Blu somehow
came along with it. So much for any gradus ad parnassum. No "tinka, tinka, pling
pling". It was more like, "here's a completely new left hand system, here is music at
a difficulty equal to what you are currently playing using this new system, and
competitions are at hand." It was sort of like Rosetta Stone meets accordion. Total
immersion. But somehow it worked.

Page 154
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

In later years some students got to follow a progression that introduced the new left
hand. There might also have developed a better understanding of what actually fits
and what might better be avoided. But in those days, no one told us we couldn't, so
we tried!

Enjoy.

I brought my accordion to the party but no one asked me to play

07/04/10

I have decided to publish my book in monthly chapters on the web site. Hope you
have a chance to check it out.

Enjoy the 4th.

Fireworks and Making Love

07/05/10

The 4th of July is over without the dogs getting too freaked out by all the
neighborhood fireworks.

For some reason I just thought of Debussy's Fireworks, and it reminded me of June
Lusk Nelson who taught the piano classes at El Camino College in California.
Debussy was one of her specialties and she regularly performed the Preludes -
occasionally in a single concert. Her performances of Debussy were absolutely
stunning.

In the early years on free bass, no piano music was off limits - and in the tradition of
leaving no well-known piano composition untouched, Clair de lune was on many
short lists. Despite the fact that some serious humidity or poor construction can
cause accordion notes to stick, the instrument does not have the equivalent of a
sustain pedal - so Debussy can be quite problematic. It is one of the instances
where playing the notes exactly as written could have some strange results.
Fortunately (for audiences) I made the discovery regarding Debussy in short order.
However, at one of the 1960's NAMM shows I remember visiting the Titano room
where Judith Linder was demonstrating the converter system. Bill Palmer was there
discussing the instrument as Judith played. She did a version that was quite faithful
to the score - though in retrospect, it was yet another transcription, though nicely
done. I remember Bill carefully explaining to me how he had addressed
compensating for the effect of the pedal. He had it figured out.

But perhaps I was unique in being able to carry this problem over to scores played
on the instrument they were written for. I studied piano quite seriously for a long
time, though there were certain pianistic nuances I never mastered even after many

Page 155
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

hours practicing and a lot of lessons. Some (accordion) techniques die hard. I
remember playing one of the Brahms Intermezzi at Edith Oppen's Sunday afternoon
master class. Sometimes Edith could be quite dramatic, and on this particular day
she went into a long dialogue about the sensuality of this particular piece and how I
should play it as if I were making the most beautiful love imaginable. Sometimes
Edith could do high drama - especially during a master class where she might feel a
need to entertain the students or herself.

I played the Brahms, and when I was finished she sat in silence. She was breathing
hard, almost unable to speak. The class waited in anticipation for her words. She
finally spoke. "God, I hope you never make love to me." My friend Chuck (who
often came along and was never without response) replied, "Don't worry, you're
safe."

Musicology and the Fucia Society

07/06/10

I sat in a small reading room adjacent to the 2nd floor stacks in the music library in
UCLA's Schoenberg Hall. It was the summer quarter and Robert Murell Stevenson
had selected the topic of romantic piano repertoire for the session in historical
musicology. It was an unusual and unlikely topic.

Many consider Stevenson one of this country's top musicologists of all time. Though
now officially retired, friends tell me he continues to haunt the UCLA music library.
In the late 60's and when I returned to UCLA in 1985 for post graduate work he was
an on-site faculty advisor and lived in one of the student dorms. His standards for
himself, his colleagues and his students were fierce, and he had no tolerance for
inaccurate or shoddy work. I started graduate school in historical musicology and
Stevenson appointed himself my faculty advisor. For some reason he had become
a fan after the Sinatra Competition. As much as I admired him, I was always
cautious.

In one of the weekly seminar sessions, a fellow graduate student had started a
presentation on some very obscure piano works by Franz Liszt. She wasn't more
than two or three minutes into her presentation before Dr. Stevenson started. "This
is a graduate session in musicology, not a woman's club meeting. Can you tell us
something relevant?" She became more nervous as he continued interrupting, "Do
you actually have something of value to tell us? This is really boring and you are
wasting our time." She was in a cold sweat by the time he asked her to just
conclude her presentation. Without saying anything, he went to the piano, played a
short passage, then turned to the group. "What was that," he asked? There was no
response. He repeated this with two additional examples, asking the same question
after each one.

Page 156
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

When he had finished, he again turned his attention to the girl. "I don't expect them
to recognize those segments, but you should. Those are the three examples you
just cited in your presentation." He then suggested that she drop the seminar and
reconsider her future in musicology at UCLA.

The story seems severe, but as I look back, his expectations and reaction are not
that different than I have experienced in parts of my non-accordion career. I
specifically remember one time I was given a 30-minute notice that I would be brief
the Under Secretary of Defense on a topic of motorcycle safety. I could quickly have
become like that fellow grad student. It is hard to imagine the brilliance of senior
leadership until you face them one-on-one, especially with an audience. But in
quoting Defense Secretary Rumsfeld, There are things we know that we know.
There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don't
know. But there are also unknown unknowns. These are things we don't know we
don't know.

Sometimes in the real world the stakes are high - people aren't being difficult for the
sake of being difficult or just because they can. The agency or institution they
represent can come under criticism or loose credibility. I had also learned from Dr.
Stevenson that I needed confidence, and when properly prepared, it was imperative
to tell him when he was incorrect (which was very rare), and to be able to more
thoroughly explain my point.

So when I get a message on Facebook that Deiro did not write Tranquillo Overture
(which I have heard before), I don't start changing credits on CD liner notes until I
can verify it or know it has been verified and by whom. After all, if you believed
urban legend, three members of my rock band (including myself) were killed in
motorcycle crashes shortly after the group disbanded - yet I am obviously writing this
blog.

I would clarify one point - something I have said before. My attempt here is not from
a standpoint of historical accuracy. While it is important, it is but one perspective.
There is increased recent interest in what is called 'oral history' - giving things life by
telling them in the words of someone who was there. That is what my book and this
blog are about. Reading about how many articles Dr. Stevenson wrote for Groves
(over 300) or that his works include nearly 30 books or that in 1978 he became
founder-editor of Inter-American Music Review (regarded by many as the finest
periodical within the field of American musicology) is one thing - but this is about
telling a story of something that happened in that seminar one summer afternoon,
and how that continues to have an impact on my life even 40 years later - and
hopefully bringing that person to life. I don't know if Dr. Stevenson would approve.

As a parting shot, one of the things that impressed me the most about Dr. Stevenson
was that he could play. Impressively. Evidently no one ever told him that those who
can't, teach. And those who can't teach, teach the teachers.

Page 157
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Who Moved My Rice Bowl?

07/07/10

I don't like writing bios. I also don't like writing introductions; at least for myself.
Several days ago someone asked for a paragraph for an upcoming event and I
provided one. For such a seemingly petty task it set off a lengthy chain of Emails,
exposing the outer-shells of several topics with deep, and sometimes highly
emotional, roots.

Years ago a friend at West Point proudly gave me one of his newly-printed business
cards. At the time he was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army, but his life
accomplishments were nothing short of astounding. The son of hard-working
immigrants, he had excelled in high school, earned an appointment at the United
States Military Academy, was one of the most decorated officer's in Viet Nam, and
upon returning home earned a PhD (with honors) in only two years of grad school.
His contributions to both academia and the United States Army had earned him
national recognition as a soldier, academician, and research psychologist. The
typeface on his business card was the smallest I had ever seen; the only way he
could have ever included his many accomplishments. I don't know where he would
have put an Email or web address.

I gave him one of my cards. Compared to his, it was naked. "William Cosby,
Cornwall on Hudson, New York". No phone number. No business or home
address. I was in one of my minimalist phases.

I am reminded of the story of a group of young kids relating their vision of 'fame'.
One young man described it as riding in an open car with the Pope down the streets
of Rome and having people ask, "Who is that with Jimmy?"

Show me a person who says that technique isn't that important and I'll generally
show you a person with a modest amount of technique. Show me a person who
says that competitions have little or no value and I'll generally show you a person
who never won anything. Show me a person who says they never worry about
money and I'll generally show you a person who has more money than god.

In the military community there is a saying: 'guarding rice bowls'. They bowls can be
real, or they can be figurative. But if it is a rice bowl, there is this great need to
guard it. The term represents various manifestations of ego and power.

Someone recently provided an introduction at one of my programs saying that I was

"an International Champion". This person was later chastised by one of the concert
goers saying that I was not an international champion. Only the gold medal qualified
someone as an international champion. My silver and bronze medals don't qualify
me. So much ado (see the paragraphs above) and passion, and what is
accomplished?

Page 158
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

All this is not limited to accordion. I also do not like writing introductions for events in
motorcycle or traffic safety. I generally won't wear my name tag at a conference or
convention. Maybe I want to be the kid riding with the Pope. Now that is a big rice
bowl.

So back to the introduction. I was asked to write it. I wrote it. But I now incorporate
something new when asked to write something. I inform the person that they can
use it as written, but they cannot change it without my review. Sometimes this
creates strong push-back. More rice bowls.

It is difficult enough to reduce my life to a paragraph. And when I am asked to

participate in something as a performer or as a speaker, I try to include things that I
think will have value for the participants. Accordion and the people I worked with are
part of my musical background, but not the sum total. If I have something unique,
much is how I have related the accordion to other musical and non-musical
disciplines. I think that is an important message, especially for young accordionists.
It took me a long time to fully appreciate the value of diversity. So I get irritated
when someone uses a delete key to editorialize my self-evaluation or the message I
am trying to carry.

There was a similar situation for a performance of the West Point Alumni Glee Club
a year or so ago. They wanted a short bio for a program and I provided it. It might
have been three sentences at most. (I know you must find that hard to believe
considering the length of these blogs.) "Oh, it's too long - we need to shorten it." I
read their editorial suggestions, and then I shortened it. William Cosby, Music
Director and Conductor. And how much difference would it really make if we sing
flat anyway?

Okay, who moved my rice bowl??? And what difference would it have made in my
life if I were an International Champion?

A Gushing, Orgasmic Diatribe

07/08/10

It has been almost a year since I started playing accordion again. On the day I
picked up General Bill (the rocker switch Excelsior) from Mrs. Knowlton I had no idea
how quickly I would be engulfed. When you come back after an absence from an
addiction you don't pick up where you left off, you pick up as if you never had quit.
That seems to be true out in my return.

In addition to General Bill, which is actually on loan from Mrs. Knowlton, I now have
Fabian, Elizabeth, and Sebastian. I never had multiple accordions in the old days
(until the last year or so when I had two). There are now more places to perform,
and the internet facilitates a global network. I can watch performances from all over
the world on YouTube, explore Facebook, and visit individual web sites. In the

Page 159
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

1960's there was Accordion and Guitar World, but by the late 1970's most accordion
news was strictly word of mouth, usually from Julio.

I started writing "I Brought My Accordion to the Party, But No One Asked Me to Play"
as I started playing again. It helped put things in perspective - things that influenced
to my departure in 1979. But that part of the story ended when I made the decision
play again.

This blog is a living continuation; where I am presently. Sometimes I revisit an event

from the past, other times I try to pull together a new perspective. Occasionally I
even try to be funny.

When I started the book I didn't envision selling to a publisher hoping to make the
New York Times Best Seller list. I wrote for myself. But as I shared my story with
friends, many said it brought back memories and sometimes provided new insight to
their experience. Several suggested I publish the book. But I have made one
curious observation - as I provided copies of the book for review, people in Europe
actually read it: many in a single setting. With the exception of Jim, I don't know of
anyone in the US who has made it all the way through. I still haven't figured that out,
and if someone has an answer, I hope they will tell me.

For now, I am not going to publish the book in the traditional sense. Investing
money in printing, marketing, and worrying about ever selling a copy is counter to
why I wrote it in the first place. Instead, it will be for fun and for free on this web site
along with the blog.

Many years ago Julio produced record albums for several early bassetti players.
Quality albums were an expensive proposition back then; something none of us
could have afforded to do on our own. I don't know how many albums Julio actually
sold, and many would argue it was strictly a sales tool. But while I am sure he
wanted to market the Giulietti brand, I still believe he was driven with a true passion
to do something for the accordion; to elevate it to a new level. History will ultimately
determine if what he tried to do with free bassetti was good or bad, right or wrong.
But I still don't know of many who have surpassed the depth of Julio's commitment.
In the end, a young player walked away with something from Stephen Dominko,
William Cosby, Randy Arase, Joe Natoli, or Richard Romiti. Through this approach
Julio wasn't telling them about what the accordion was, he was showing them what it
could do.

For now I am trying a similar philosophy on my web site. I am not selling anything.
If someone wants a CD, they can get it from another site, though I generally have a
couple MP3's scattered about on this site and rotate them every several days. I may
eventually provide an opportunity for people to make a donation if they so choose.

So if Dark Eyes is in the Giulietti tradition, this web site is intended to follow another
part of the Giulietti tradition. And as I get more comfortable (or even older so I am

Page 160
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

even less concerned about how long bad baggage can follow me), and as you start
to understand my humor, I may even become a bit more candid. Rather than the
gushing, orgasmic diatribe about anything and everything accordion, I will promise to
call it (at least from my perspective) what it is - my own stuff included. That will
certainly be more fun.

Before the PC and Original Manuscripts

07/10/10

I was looking through my file cabinet yesterday for de Falla's Ritual Fire Dance only
to discover that I had 4 different copies and two versions. It was easy to find the one
I originally learned from as it was the most tattered, but the real treat was a page of
manuscript from the hand of Tony Galla-Rini attached with a paper clip to the last
page of the sheet music. It was an optional ending for the piece that I never used,
and for that matter I didn't remember he had written it. But looking at those few bars
was a reaffirmation of my recollection of Galla-Rini, the man and the musician.

Sharon Winklhofer, a graduate student at UCLA, had recently finished an excellent

book on Liszt's writing of his Sonata in B minor shortly before my return in 1985 for
post-graduate studies. I was learning the Sonata at the time (on piano) and her
research touched on the widest imaginable range of details on how the manuscript
was crafted. She wrote of the special manuscript paper Liszt had used
and the effort that was required to made corrections and changes. It provided an
interesting insight into the process he used that culminated with the finished work.
There were also correlations that could be made to Liszt, the pianist.

Even such a short sample from Galla-Rini provides much insight, and not only to the
musician, but also to the time. The page must have been written pre-1967 as it was
for stradella. By mid-1967, my accordions were all bassetti. Unlike Tito's original
bassetti compositions (jazz and classical) which were all free bass, Galla-Rini used
both systems when they were available. The manuscript paper was from Pacific
Music Papers; the primary source for musicians on the West Coast. On the East
Coast it might well have been King Brand.

Galla-Rini wrote without a ruler and used a very soft pencil - even softer than a
standard #2. This was likely a carry over from preparing scores on vellum (onion
skin / translucent) masters that were then reproduced on an Ozalid machine (an
ammonia process). The result was a very durable, re-printable copy that was the
industry standard when formal autography and offset printing was not financially
practical. Typically a special fountain pen with indelible ink was used on the vellum,
but correcting errors required the careful use of a razor blade. When I first arrived at
the USMA Band my 'additional duty' was working in the arranging department and I
was tutored in music copying. A good copyist using a pen can copy parts at an
amazing pace with an extremely high level of accuracy. That was not me.

Page 161
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Galla-Rini was meticulously accurate in his manuscript. The alignment was precise
and it was easy to read. That is the same way he approached his music. He was
thorough, he was meticulous, and there was a precise attention to detail. It was also
apparent in the way he taught.

In contrast, Gregory Stone's manuscript could be quite difficult to read, though he

was also meticulously accurate. I don't ever remember finding a mistake - but
looking at his manuscript you can see the music flew from his pen (though he
sometimes also used pencil) at a blinding pace. I am sure the music was complete
in his mind and then transferred to the score as quickly as possible.

Tito sat at the piano and composed. After completing a section that satisfied him, he
would transcribe it to score. His manuscript was also difficult to read. In his concert
works for accordion, his manuscript was copied by one of Hollywood's professional
copyists; relatively easy to read, but with many mistakes. I can't say how many were
Tito's and how many could be attributed to the copyist's inability to read his hand.
Toward the end if my first playing career, I got together with Tito for several days
and went through each note of Hollywood Fantasia, An American in Japan, and
Concerto Bravura annotating his corrections to the published scores. Some day I
would like to produce corrected editions.

I have several transcriptions that Galla-Rini did for me while I was studying with him
that were done with the Ozalid process. I am putting the Tchaikovsky 2nd Piano
Concert on today's the blog page. He did this for the 1966 ATG National and I
played it in the Coupe. I don't know how well it really worked (I promised I would be
more honest in my last blog) - but I don't know if that was because I was too
cautious at the time or didn't have the maturity to make it work. Sometime in the
future I may play through it and see what it sounds like. Knowing Galla-Rini, the
magic is probably in the score.

Celebrating Anthony Galla-Rini

07/11/10

In celebration of the upcoming International Galla-Rini Competition at the 70th ATG

Festival I have published "Galla-Rini" from my book.

I would remind the reader that this effort is structured on the concept of Oral History,
defined in Wikipedia as "the recording, preservation and interpretation of historical
information, based on the personal experiences and opinions of the speaker.

"It often takes the form of eye-witness evidence about past events, but can include
folklore, myths, songs and stories passed down over the years by word of mouth.
While it is an invaluable way of preserving the knowledge and understanding of older
people, it can also involve interviewing younger generations. More recently, the use
of video recording techniques has expanded the realm of oral history beyond verbal

Page 162
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

forms of communication and into the realm of gesture. Oral history can be
inaccurate and needs to be used carefully in order to confirm the accuracy of the
recorded materials."

For those who personally knew Galla-Rini, I hope these anecdotes bring back some
memories. For those who may only recognize a name, I hope this may serve to
bring some part of him into your life by sharing stories on how he influenced mine.
As I have said many times before, I will leave the chronologies to the historians.

Bottom line, it is really about the music, and for the next several weeks I will be
posting some of Galla-Rini's arrangements and even composition that was written
for him by one of his closet friends, Gregory Stone. These recordings scan a period
of over 45 years - from 1965 up to the present day!

Happy Trails July

07/12/10

Several years ago I was with Jim at a dog show a bit North of Los Angeles in
Victorville. On our route back to the Freeway (Interstate), we were somehow drawn
in to the Roy Rogers Museum that was in our direct route. We figured, why not?

It was quite an adventure. Perhaps more interesting than the actual stuff was the
amount of stuff on display. Roy and Dale must have never thrown anything away.
There was sheet music, records, clothes, and even the two horses from the
television shows, standing there in all their stuffed glory. Bullet, the wonder dog,
was there too. Everything was beautifully displayed, and the sweet sounds of their
music wafted throughout the museum.

I was looking through some of my remaining stuff last night looking for a picture with
Galla-Rini I could post to the web site. I clearly remember the picture. It was taken
at one of the ATG competitions. But unlike Dale and Roy, I have very little
remaining from my past. I used to go on these minimalist kicks, or I would move, or
whatever, and the stuff would disappear. I never found the picture. I guess I am the
anti-Roy.

But it was easy (more so for Jim than me) to get side tracked in the stuff that was
there. Most of it are things my parents stuffed into a scrap book that remained with
them until my dad died some ten years ago. One thing we came across were score
sheets from the ATG National competition in 1962. At the time I had only been
playing bassetti one year and was playing an arrangement of Rhapsody in Blue.
Just the thought of attempting something that was not only technically difficult, but
even more musically challenging in dealing with the pianistic styles, makes me
shudder. It was even more complex given the self-imposed necessity to play every
note at actual pitch. This added probably 100+ switch changes in the right hand;
most in the middle of rapid 16th note passages.

Page 163
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

I had no desire to play Rhapsody in Blue after the competition. I set it aside until the
late 1970's when I put it back in the repertoire and even included it on the Silver
Taps album. By then I could manage it both technically and musically. The judges
weren't particularly kind in their comments in 1962; but in retrospect, they were quite
accurate. In front of the score sheets for the 1962 ATG were the score sheets from
the Western States Festival the year before where I had won top honors. I had
plunged from the top of the stradella world into an abyss of uncharted bassetti
territory. But I was consistent, the judges didn't like the way I played the test piece
either, and forget stage presence. Sometimes I wonder what insane needs drive us.

After we moved from California to Norfolk, VA, I remember reading that the Roy
Rogers museum was going to close. I couldn't help but wonder, what happened to
the stuffed horses, Bullet and all that other stuff? Would it eventually make its way
to Ebay? I discovered during a quick follow-up this morning on the internet. The
museum moved to bigger digs in Branson, but finally closed. As for all the kitsch,
much will be auctioned by Christies. Parade saddles are worth big bucks and there
are hopes that Trigger (his Palomino) will bring between $100,000 - 200,000.
Maybe I should add Happy Trails to my repertoire.

York, PA, More Than the Home of HD?

07/15/10

It has been a hectic time preparing for the upcoming trip to the ATG 70th Anniversary
Celebration Santa Clara. I think the older you get the longer it takes to prepare. I
remember sticking my accordion in its case, packing all my underwear around it
(accomplishing two purposes), sticking some stuff in my suitcase - and it was off to
the airport. My, how times have changed.

I have mentioned many different people in both this blog and in the book (being
published on this site). Through Facebook and other social networking sites, there
is a wealth of opportunities to connect with people all over the globe.

When I first came to New York I used to occasionally drive Julio up and down the
East Coast - his time behind the wheel was quite limited. He told me that he always
wanted to drive like a race car driver and knew that would eventually be a disaster,
either with the police or with a crash. So I was the designated driver.

A regular stop was in the area of York Pennsylvania, to visit Howard Eppenheimer.
Howard did a lot of work for Julio - especially with the electronic accordions. I
remembered him as a very kind and gentle person - the consummate gentleman.
For years I wondered what ever happened to Howard. The other day I discovered a
new Facebook friend had studied accordion with Howard's wife had remained
friends with Howard up until he passed a couple years ago. She is still good friends
with his wife. I hope she will share some of her personal stories with us in the
coming months.

Page 164
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

I have been home for the past few days getting ready for the ATG. I usually write the
blogs during the commute from Fredericksburg, VA, to downtown Washington, DC.
So we are both getting a slight break.

However, barring anything short of a computer failure, I hope to be bring you up-to-
date reports from the ATG in Santa Clara next week!

Stradella-fest and Other Decisions

07/17/10

I am in the final days of preparation for the ATG. It should be an interesting time. I
am going to be playing an all stradella program featuring some of Galla-Rini's
biggest hits. I have the feeling some of these pieces will not have been played at an
ATG event in a very long time; but as I have not been to an ATG event since 1979,
that is purely speculation. But given the 70th anniversary of the ATG and Galla-Rini's
recognition both as President Emeritus and with this year's International Galla-Rini
competition, I think it is appropriate to honor the man with some of his music that
stands as a cornerstone in his contribution to accordion.

What may be even more ironic is that I have never played stradella at any ATG
event, and the only stradella I did with Galla-Rini was in preparation for recording the
complete works of Gregory Stone, which included some stradella pieces. I had
made the switch to bassetti two or three years previous to beginning to study with
him in 1963, and after 1967 had all free-bassetti accordions with only the two
fundamental rows from stradella that were used as pedal notes.

But I must say I have had a great time relearning the system, and an even greater
time regaining an appreciation for how well he wrote for that instrument. Now all I
have to do is decide exactly what I will play!

Galla-Rini also wrote some things for free bassetti - but I am saving those for
another day. And speaking of bassetti arrangements, as a closing note, I found
another piece of manuscript in his hand. In this one he had started to sketch out a
section of the Liszt 19th. What surprised me was that it was more like Gregory's
manuscript - obviously not done with a ruler and at much quicker pace.

Before Rap Compton

07/18/10

I posted the second half of Chapter 1, In The Beginning from Personal Anecdotes. I
included a couple clips that I hope you find fun. One is from Ted Mack and the
Original Amateur Hour featuring the Compton Music Center's 'Hit Paraders', under
the direction of Glenn Stead. Another clip is Art Van Damme's Meadowlands from a
local TV performance in 1956. The full stories are in the new chapter.

Page 165
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

ATG

07/21/10

After a full day of travel, we arrived last night at the ATG 70th Anniversary festivities
here in Santa Clara. It was extremely hot in Virginia yesterday - nearly 101 when we
left the Richmond airport, so it is nice change in weather.

Sebastian was shipping via FedEx and arrived in good shape. After hearing story
upon airline baggage horror story I decided it was the best option.

I am one of the adjudicators for the Galla-Rini International Competition that

commences with Round I in a couple hours. I saw at least one of the competitors in
the lobby and it brought back old memories. I will keep you updated in the blog.

In honor of the International Competition (but really more in honor of the man) I
asked several of Galla-Rini's former students to send me some of their personal
experiences and was delighted to receive some wonderful recollections from Amy Jo
Sawyer. I have been promised more and will start posting them as soon as I return
to Fredericksburg. Perhaps all this can be the start of an accordion Center for Oral
History.

The section from my book on Tito Guidotti will be posted in a couple weeks to
correspond with the AFNA's recognition of Sylvia Prior (Tito's wife and a founding
memory of the Accordion Association of Southern California - predecessor of the
AFNA). I am anxious to see some old friends at that event and will ask them for
stories on both Sylvia and Tito. I have often said that I consider Tito as one of the
accordion's most underappreciated all-time geniuses. Sylvia was an important
catalyst in Tito's life for many years but also built her own legacy that has continued
to the current day.

ATG

07/22/10

Finished the second round of the International Galla-Rini Competition today. One
more round to go.

The competitors are outstanding. For me, the scoring is difficult. For the
competition, each adjudicator scores independently and the results are based on
tabulation of final scores. So we will all be anxious to see the final result. Stay
tuned to the blog and to the ATG Facebook page for the outcome!

It has been great seeing old friends and meeting many new ones. My last time at a
National event was 1979. One great thing is being reminded of details from events

Page 166
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

in the book. I have asked several friends to send me their stories so I can add them
in their own words. So stay tuned.

ATG

07/27/10

My last accordion event before I stopped playing was at the ATG National
Competition and Festival in 1979. I really didn't know what to expect on my return in
2010, and presenting some of my thoughts is certainly going to occupy this blog for
a few days.

30 years ago festivals were almost exclusively about competition. The focal point of
the ATG National Competition was to determine who would go to the Coupe
Mondiale. That focus has certainly changed. This year's 70th Anniversary
Celebration included an International Galla-Rini Competition for Classical Accordion,
but there were no entries in the ATG National Competition. And there were only
three young competitors in all the other categories combined.

So what has replaced the competitions? In short, the ATG festival was
unquestionably one of the most thoroughly enjoyable and rewarding experiences I
have had in a very long time. It was great camaraderie among a widely diverse and
devoted group of people who share a genuine love and passion for the accordion.
And for all those in attendance, I don't think it could get much better.

There were some brilliant performances by both the competitors in the Galla-Rini
Competition and the wide variety of soloists. But some of the impromptu moments
really brought home the instrument's true diversity, which may be one of the
accordion's most valued characteristics. One of my favorite moments was an
impromptu version of Czardas played by Cory Pesaturo and Michael Bridge, a
young competitor in the Galla-Rini Competition, at the one of the evening concerts.

I don't know if I have ever heard anyone who can surpass Cory's fierce technical
facility and musicianship that is so brilliantly and spontaneously applied to a
staggering range of pop, jazz, ethnic, and classical styles. And to watch Michael
take him on, after three days and three rounds of 5 adjudicators scrutinizing every
detail of his playing, brought a smile to my face. It was over the top. I often tell of
the Julliard graduate who was helpless when asked to play Happy Birthday in F.

Another highlight was the last number of the final concert when Cory and Alexander
Sevastian (two Coupe winners) did an ad lib duel on the final sections of
Konzertstuck - which I had played the evening before. So much fun; the absolute
height of camp from two brilliant musicians. It certainly goes eons beyond Happy
Birthday in F. Brought to you live by the ATG.

Page 167
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

In the next few days, I will share more stories on the Galla-Rini Competition, the
special bands, soloists, and the ATG staff who worked so indefatigably to make all
this work. Also, some technical and musical observations from someone frozen in a
time capsule away from accordion for the past 30 years!

Guest Blog by Amy Jo Sawyer on Anthony Galla-Rini

by William Cosby on 07/28/10

On the occasion of the ATG 70th Anniversary and the International Galla-Rini
Competition for classical accordion, I asked several of Galla-Rini's fellow students to
share their personal memories of the this great man. Amy Jo Sawyer provided the
following. I hope to eventually post these in a special section in memory of the man
who contributed so much to the accordion in the words who were fortunate enough
to have studied with him.

Anthony Galla-Rini Was My Teacher and Friend

By Amy Jo Sawyer

I had the privilege of being one of Mr. Galla-Rini's students. He was a true artist with
a vast knowledge of the instrument with its capabilities and limitations. He learned
how to play it, how to write music for it, and how to instruct others to play it. His life's
work was devoted exclusively to the accordion. He was part of its development,
progress and history. He was truly a "living legend" in the world of the accordion and
I was very blessed to have studied with him.

I started taking accordion lessons at the age ten in Mesa, Arizona. Mr. Galla-Rini
knew my teacher, Henri Milano, and would visit in Mesa when the opportunity would
arise. Mr. Galla-Rini gave a concert in Phoenix that I well remember. The piece that
impressed me the most was "The Lord's Prayer". He became my idol and I decided
I wanted to become a "concert accordionist".

As a young student I would travel from Mesa, Arizona to Glendale, California at the
suggestion of, Mr. Milano, to take lessons from Mr. Galla-Rini.

After I was married and lived in Sacramento, CA, I would contact him and take a
lesson enroute to visiting family in Arizona.

Anyone that knew Mr. Galla-Rini knows what a wonderful sense of humor he had.
As my teacher, he was ever so patient and kind. He acted like he thoroughly
enjoyed what he was doing. I remember one particular lesson with him. The piece
was written in treble clef for the left hand. I don't remember the name of the piece
and it was undoubtedly a very early arrangement of an accordion original, as the
bass clef very soon replaced the treble clef for the left hand. I had misread some
notes - thinking of them in bass clef. He said "you know, treble clef - spelled t-r-o-u-

Page 168
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

b-l-e". We both laughed and I then read the notes correctly. This is but one
example of his humor and wit.

I did an arrangement of Cole Porter's "Night and Day" and asked him for
suggestions. It had lots of Jazz chords in it and Mr. Galla-Rini. said with a smile "I'm
sorry but I can't help you with this one. I am not a Jazz player!"

I played with Joan Sommer's Accordion orchestra on several tours. Most of the
music we played had been "transcribed for accordion orchestra" by Mr. Galla-Rini.
All of the parts had names that represented all of the instruments in the orchestra.
His arrangements were "master pieces" of the greatest composers, written for
accordion orchestra from the original orchestral score. I think he was the absolute
best in the world at transcribing for accordion orchestra. We performed a piano
piece entitled "Danse" by Debussy.

It was a marvelous arrangement. I happened to find a tiny error in my part and he

was so grateful to have the mistake corrected! He was an absolute perfectionist in
every sense of the word.

At his 100th Birthday Party in Los Angeles I played in the accordion orchestra that he
conducted. Upon arriving at the event, my husband and I met his son, Ron. Mr.
Galla-Rini was in a wheel chair. He turned to his son and said "this man's wife is a
world class accordionist". He helped me become the best that I could be and he
was kind enough to list my name in his book "Anthony Galla-Rini, on his Life and the
Accordion" by Ove Hahn. I will forever be grateful for my association with this
wonderful man.

The Ultimate Left Hand System

08/02/10

I spent much of my accordion past as one of the U.S. pioneers of the free bassetti
system accordion. I have talked extensively in the book and in this blog about
technical and musical paths and how some things worked and how others didn't.
The ATG experience was enlightening as it allowed me to hear some of the best
players playing a rather extensive variety of original and non-original music. It has
helped me understand what has happened over the past 30 years.

When I decided I wanted to start playing again I set out on a quest to find an
accordion; preferably a Giulietti with dual system left hand. It wasn't because I
thought it was the best system, it was because it was a system I had played many
years previous and I know enough about muscle memory to appreciate the
increasing difficulty of learning new physical skills as one ages. One thing I knew: I
did not want a left hand system that was exclusively free bassetti.

Page 169
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

One surprise was when I tried a new converter. When converted it was chromatic
rather than quint (the original style converter). Julio had experimented with a
Giulietti transformer in the 1970's, but limited to 3 octaves I never considered it a
serious alternative - but rather something for someone not entirely ready to commit
to the switch to free bass. My personal instruments since the mid 60's were all free
bassetti with only the two fundamental stradella rows which could be used as pedal
tones. But an additional reason for the two rows was to move the bassetti section
further away from the left hand strap so the left hand keyboard could be played
using the hand rather relying exclusively on finger dexterity.

As the years progressed after the U.S. introduction of the Giulietti free-bassetti, Julio
made many variations. To Julio, the two stradella rows were a compromise as he
didn't see a musical need for any part of a stradella system in the left hand. There
are many Giulietti's out there today that only have 3 or 5 rows of bassetti. They are
uncomplicated and relatively lightweight, but given the progression of free bass
instruments and the music played on them but they have not fared well - though they
seemed a good idea at the time. Even for a steady repertoire of baroque music,
most players would still view them as just too limited. Today, some of these
instruments are subjected to transformation into a stradella accordion. Others just
sit un-played.

As a pioneer, I still get questions from people asking my opinion on left hand
systems, but most often out of curiosity from people who do not really play one. I
doubt any of the competitors in the Galla-Rini competition have questions on their
left hand system. Bottom line for them: it isn't what it is; it is what it does - basically
the same thing as Julio's quote of 'trying an accordion with your eyes closed'.

Another reality is that the music (or at least the original music) has evolved in
consort with the capabilities of left hand - and the musical and technical application
is generally different than what we were trying to do in earlier years. Based on what
I heard at the recent Galla-Rini Competition (using the application of 'what it does')
Julio had it wrong with his efforts to completely eliminate the stradella. And as I
watched the converter and bayan players, I came to my personal realization that
(and this may be somewhat of an over-simplification) players use the converter like a
single note chord section on a stradella. Lower notes more than the adjacent octave
are typically played in the converter's two stradella rows. I rarely saw one of the
players use the lowest octaves of the chromatic converter section in anything other
than an occasional solo line. Sometimes this was at the sacrifice of the proper
sequence of pitch, but no one really seemed to call 'foul' even though the notes
might not be accurate to the score. The result was based on the outcome rather
than the notation, which in most cases has more musical validity anyway. (I should
note that the earliest arrangements and some original compositions for bassetti were
true to this concept, facilitated through the capabilities of the dual-system
accordions. However, all this changed with the migration to all-bassetti instruments.)

Page 170
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

Now it seems the primary decision is whether to have the left hand chromatic
keyboard inverted to the right hand (Russian) vs. parallel to the right hand. However
this would likely be decided by one's teacher or environment long before the student
would know enough to give it much concern. But in either way, the analytical part of
my mind sees this as what I would call a chromatic stradella. When combined with
the evolution of repertoire, perhaps the best of both worlds has evolved - the survival
of what might be considered one of the most critical 'core' musical elements of the
accordion.

If there is a limitation to this evolution or the technique required to make it work

(based on what I heard in the Galla-Rini Competition) it would be seen in
performances of repertoire more typical to what one would have heard in the early
U.S. bassetti days. Some might point out that many of these efforts would be best
forgotten anyway, but some repertoire of this type that was included (actually
required) in the Galla-Rini Competition was not the high point of a given
performance. However, it is interesting that the consummate Galla-Rini
performance (for me) was one particular Scarlatti Sonata - which demonstrated an
absolute pinnacle of artistic brilliance. In contrast, some of my least favorite
moments were other performances of Scarlatti and Bach.

Accordionists (to include Galla-Rini) talk (talked) of making the left hand an equal
partner to the right hand - but the question becomes what is equal? How that
question is being answered today is quite different than 30 or 40 years ago. Years
ago, equal meant (almost exclusively) the left hand could play passages with an
equal fluency to the right hand (something with a higher validity in works like
Scarlatti and Bach). Today, the focus is more on the hands complimenting each
other musically; each doing what works best based on the capabilities of the
accordion and the player's ability to manipulate it. But whereas this allowed the
accordion to catapult forward, new difficulties will certainly surface (the first of which
might be similarities in music as successes and musical formulas become repeated,
exploited, and eventually even boring) and the quest for new expressions becomes
more demanding. A precursor of this may be seen in the necessity for physically
manipulating the instrument through slamming, fist banging, whatever. However, as
most things ultimately cycle, some time in the future players may find themselves
one again looking at some of the technical and musical approaches in the left hand
used in the early days; but maybe this time with a more realistic balance.

Accordion Bands and the Dog Show

08/04/10

Something different at the ATG from many years past are the accordion bands. And
from looking at other similar activities on the Internet, the bands have become an
important part of many accordion events. But prior to the ATG I didn’t really give it
much thought.

Page 171
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

I was weaned on accordion bands starting at Bettie Thomas Studios where I was
officially a Torrance Accordionette - resplendent with my billowy-sleeved satin shirt
and sash. The sashes were color coded to the student’s level of accomplishment. I
was also in the Hit Paraders at Glenn Stead’s Compton Music Center, and if you are
brave enough you can hear evidence of that experience from a recorded
performance on Ted Mack and the Original Amateur Hour posted in the Anecdotes,
In The Beginning, Part II. There were also brief encounters with the Yale Accordion
Academy Symphony and the Galla-Rini Diamond Jubilee Ensemble.

Accordion bands were never my thing. First, I wasn’t terribly excited about playing
at someone else’s tempo and was even less excited about having to compete with
someone else to be heard. With Bettie’s groups there was at least some element of
sport as there was no formal conductor. Bettie, or whoever was leading the group at
that particular moment, sat at the end of the front row and decided both the program
sequence and determined at least the starting tempo for each song. Gail or Robyn,
Bettie’s older daughters sometimes led the groups, but eventually I also got a turn.
And that was fun.

Glenn Stead conducted his groups. He even used a baton. He was also pretty
determined you played at his tempo and followed the dynamics and he was often
successful in these attempts. It was obvious he thoroughly enjoyed the experience
– and most of his students were enthusiastic. We also played some of the music
from an original score, requiring us to transpose parts written for non-C instruments.
That could be a disaster, depending on how much we disliked the piece. It was less
fun than Bettie Thomas.

So at the ATG I once again came face-to-face with the accordion band. I played
with the Executive Ensemble conducted by Joan Sommers. Joan was very careful
to make sure everyone had their parts far in advance of the event and that there
would be a good balance parts to players. Seating position and every other
performance detail was carefully planned and meticulously executed. From my
many years experience conducting non-accordion choral groups and musical
ensembles, I have a deep appreciation for the amount of work necessary to make
this work. With a total of 4 hours rehearsal, time wasted solving logistical problems
can quickly reduce critical rehearsal time.

There are certain things one must deal with in solo performance, but the majority of
the responsibility is on you. In contrast, one reality of an ensemble is that the result
is dependent on the conductor’s ability to coordinate and control numerous talents.
Though I have performed almost all of my life, I have vowed I will never take another
one of my dogs into the show ring. Regardless of how well trained you think you are
(both you and the dog), you never know what they might do once in the ring, and
you would be amazed at how easily they can embarrass you. There is always a
similar possibility when you stand with your baton in front of a group. The potential
for surprise is even greater in an unfamiliar venue with players who don’t routinely
perform together.

Page 172
Saved Rounds A blog by William Cosby

But these are just the logistical challenges – and if you successfully survive them,
they can be the center of a good laugh when everything is done. Making music in
spite of all these is the real challenge. The first part is the accuracy of what is
written in the score. The second part is creating a musical consensus. For the
Executive ATG ensemble, Joan Cochran Sommers took responsibility for all of it –
logistics and music – and she was enormously successful in every aspect. As an
aside, it took me three days to get strains of the Video Games Medley to stop
playing in my mind.

Another wonderful surprise was the Galla-Rini Ensemble conducted by Esther

Lanting. Galla-Rini wrote and re-wrote arrangements in his later years for his band
camps, and the Galla-Rini Ensemble played several of them at the ATG. I heard the
group rehearsing and was overcome by the simplicity and beauty of the
arrangements. I often talk of Galla-Rini’s solo arrangements and transcriptions and
how these continue to demonstrate the accordion’s musical capabilities and
potential. When I heard the Galla-Rini band playing those arrangements, I realized
how serious my oversight in not fully appreciating or acknowledging his
arrangements for accordion ensemble and their importance. Through those
arrangements audiences can hear some very beautiful music. But perhaps the real
gift is for the players, who get to experience the music – music that is not only
brilliantly arranged, but also well written for the instrument. It is music that
encourages ensemble playing. You knew the players were listening to each other
without Esther having to tell them to do so. The result was stunning and powerful.

I often look at my past with some amusement. I have become perceptive enough to
realize that Bettie Thomas and Glenn Stead were doing their best to contribute to my
development as a musician through participation in the bands. Perhaps it was more
patience than gratitude for them to put up with me honking away trying to constantly
prove to everyone that I could play my particular part more accurately, faster and
louder than anyone else.

All I know is that when Jim said something to Joan about ‘sight reading’ the parts he
met with immediate resistance, “oh no, he is not going to sight read. He needs to
know the parts before he comes.” And I did. It certainly sounds like the voice of
experience to me!

Out of Pocket

08/09/10

I have been out of pocket for a few days working on annotations and an index for the
blog. I am even somewhat surprised myself at the variety of topics; some are rather
serious, others with an attempt to be amusing, and all kinds of things between.

Page 173
Saved Rounds

We leave mid-week for Irvine, California, where the Accordion Federation of North
America (AFNA) will be hosting a luncheon honoring Sylvia Prior on Saturday. I plan
to present Sylvia with a hardcopy of the Anecdotes and an annotated copy of the
blog.

Saved Rounds and Sylvia Prior

08/11/10

It has been several days since I have written in the blog having taken the last week
to index what has already been written. I am going to post what has been written in
the blog as the second half of Anecdotes under the title of Saved Rounds. Saved
Rounds is an expression I picked up during my two years at Headquarters Marine
Corps - a term sometimes used to call for final comments to wrap something up.

I have loved working playing computers since my first PC about 25 years ago. They
are like the world's greatest toy, especially when you are trying to figure something
out; like the task of indexing in Microsoft Word which had its own set of challenges
when it comes time to repaginate and print.

There are a lot of topics in the blog - some parts akin to oral history, stories of what
was happening as I started back into accordion, some humor, and some rants. I will
start posting in a new format to the web in the next week or so allowing the reader to
find topics of interest without having to scour through pages of web entries. For
those interested, I will Email a complete indexed electronic copy of either Anecdotes
or Saved Rounds (I have yet to index Anecdotes - but that process should be easier
having figured out the idiosyncrasies of the process). If someone wants to
contribute through a PayPal donation, that will help me cover costs of hosting the
website, but it is completely voluntary.

We leave tomorrow morning for the AFNA luncheon honoring Sylvia Prior. I
understand many of Tito's students from my era will be there, most of whom I have
not seen since the mid-60's. It will be like a high school reunion. I also love any
excuse to get back to California.

The Gift of Music

08/17/10

Jim and I just returned from Irvine California where we attended a special luncheon
honoring Sylvia Prior, one of the founding members of the Accordion Federation of
North America (AFNA). When it was founded in the 1950's, the AFNA had a
different name but was best known for sponsoring the Western States Accordion
Festival.

Page 174
Saved Rounds

In her remarks, Sylvia talked about the first festival in 1956, and I was one of the
5,000 + students waiting that day for the doors to open at the Long Beach Municipal
Auditorium. It was a challenging day for both contestants and the city, like a 1950's
version of Woodstock. However, in subsequent years, logistical problems were
resolved.

The message Sylvia related in her remarks at the luncheon went far beyond her
accomplishments with the countless organizations she has supported. She spoke of
a philosophy she has exuded throughout her life in brilliant simplicity as she urged all
parents to "share the gift of music with your children. It is something they will have
for the rest of their life, and it is something no one can ever take away from them."

I first got to know Sylvia as Tito's wife when I studied with him, but I became 'one of
her kids.' She still refers to us in those exact words.

I will always maintain gratitude to my parents for their commitment in support of my

music; lessons, accordions, rehearsals, competitions, and performances. But the
encouragement and other non-financial support was equally important.

However, as I listened to Sylvia's comments, I was reminded of another important

message. Sylvia and Tito loved life - they embraced it. Music was something that
enhanced life; it was not an ultimate 'end'. Music was something to be enjoyed, and
there were no rules or limits on how one could use it. They often shared this
philosophy with their students to help keep things (like winning or loosing
competitions) in perspective.

A mentor helps someone develop the technical facility to achieve a level of success
in playing an instrument; and the enjoyment really begins as someone can actually
play. And while the final measure might be the ability to entertain oneself, friends, or
even a formal audience (sometimes even with remuneration), there are countless
opportunities along the way to improve self discipline, and any number of motor and
mental skills. Parents' support of music can truly be seen as a life-long gift.

Participants in the AFNA's Sylvia Prior Concerto Competition attended the luncheon
as did many of Sylvia's professional and personal friends. A personal highlight was
at the end of the luncheon when Frank Marocco performed at Sylvia's request.
"With a Song in my Heart" was dedicated to Sylvia and there are no words adequate
to describe the magic created through Frank's artistry or the gifts Sylvia has given to
all "her kids".

No Tabourines

08/18/10

Several days ago I wrote that I was indexing the blog (new name: Saved Rounds).
Having survived that experience and now having figured out some of the

Page 175
Saved Rounds

idiosyncrasies of the software I have restarted the process. The Anecdotes and
Saved Rounds will now be combined in a single index. This effort provides some
unique opportunities; the first is seeing how much I repeat myself (especially in
Saved Rounds). Readers interested in a comprehensive index will soon be able to
request an electronic copy.

I am also looking at taking the theme of Accordion Heroes to a next level by posting
individual pages that will contain a collection of personal stories written by myself
and others about those who contributed so much to the accordion or to the people
who play it. As with the general theme of Saved Rounds and Anecdotes, the
emphasis is more on the spirit and character of the person than a chronology.

Attending Sylvia's luncheon convinced me even more of the potential value from this
effort. Sometimes it will be about a musical or technical detail, but just as important
are reflections from a life-long commitment to something they considered of value.
No tambourines on street corners here; just a repository where we can share stories
and continue to carry the spirit

Gramps Birthday

08/23/10

I finally have finished the first run-through in building the index for Anecdotes and
Saved Rounds. I have also made several changes to the web site. All of the online
publications now launch from a single portal. There are individual sections for
Anecdotes (the book), Saved Rounds (the annotated blog) and the Blog. An
additional section will be Accordion Heroes which will consist mainly of personal
stories and recollections.

There have been a lot of words written on this site in the last year. The primary
reason is the daily commute to work. It gives me the feeling of having accomplished
something for the 3 plus hours per day I spend careening up and down Interstate 95
from Fredericksburg, VA, to Washington DC. If I can ever sell my home so I can
actually retire, there will be less words and more music.

As a side note, I added an additional set of navigation links at the top of all the
publication pages. These are to help you escape in the shortest possible time
should you become totally bored.

Upcoming performances include the Washington Metropolitan Accordion Society

(WMAS) in September, with the West Point Alumni Glee Club in November, and at
the Florida Smash in November.

Anecdotes will continue to be posted in sections, however complete

electronic/indexed versions including both Anecdotes and Saved Rounds are

Page 176
Saved Rounds

available upon request. A Paypal contribution to help cover costs will be

appreciated, but is not required.

BTW, today was my grandfather's birthday.

No Fault Teachers

08/24/10

For some reason, this morning I am thinking about the variety of experiences in the
music lesson and music teachers in general. Sometimes it is that first lesson; your
new teacher follows you into the room and you have really no idea of what to
expect. Sometimes the dynamics with any given teacher will change based on how
many other students are within listening range or if it is that time of the month when
you pay for the next month's lessons. Suddenly your progress is remarkable, and
your selection of a teacher and the relationship with that teacher is returning benefits
to your playing beyond the fee you are paying.

There can be the insecurity of how well you have prepared, or if you are a hard
charger, the confidence that you had been assigned one new song but gone ahead
and finished the entire book.

Over the years I think I have learned how to be a pretty good student; and being a
good student is not limited to music. For me, the measure of being a good student is
how well I listen and how willing I am to release a predisposition to what I think I
should be doing or what I want to do vs. what the teacher is suggesting. With age, I
rarely argue. I know that when I leave the lesson I can do whatever I want to do
anyway, though I also know there may be consequences and I need to be willing to
own them.

I have some very close friends who are excellent music teachers. They have infinite
patience and they can always find a way to encourage or motivate a student. Rather
than burning-out from teaching they continue a lifetime of growth in their love of a
finely honed craft and what they can share. And above of all, they really know what
they are doing. They know what will work with each student. To me, these are the
musical saints - the ones you would want to teach your sons or daughters (or even
the adult learner) - as long as they have that one critical component: they know what
they are doing.

It is a big commitment to teach at that level, and in this sense level does not
correlate to a student's technical or musical proficiency. It is the teacher's ability to
meet the student's needs at a wide range of levels; to have an unending range of
solutions for problems, and the ability to capture even the smallest spark of
enthusiasm that may help build that bridge to a life-long enjoyment of playing. It is a
challenge that equals the commitment required to develop the technique required to

Page 177
Saved Rounds

perform a virtuosic repertoire; and the importance of these teachers cannot be

overstated - especially in the developmental years.

Some people will ultimately work with a virtuoso, but often this will be as a coach. In
this case, the virtuoso can share something that only experience can provide; be it
experience at mastering the most difficult technique or musical detail, or in dealing
with challenges directly related to performance. This will be different with every
student and every situation, but when the right things align, the world will be treated
to a great artist or an individual will experience a lifelong enjoyment of music.

Anyway, it has been quite a while since a someone has told me, "you really don't
have to tell people I am your teacher..."

Details

8/25/10

The excitement of my 'return' is leveling off and the time has come to settle into a
routine. From a personal standpoint, I have my home on the market and intend to
retire when it sells. In the past few months only three people have looked at it, and I
don't know if I can really count one of them as they barely walked in the front door,
turned around and left. I guess it isn't what they wanted.

Anyway, yesterday while working out at the gym at work I saw the announcement
that sales of existing homes were down 27% (or something like that) in the last
month; the lowest since 1995. That doesn't sound encouraging. It seems the two
times I have listed my home the market has suddenly come to a screeching halt.
But I guess time will tell.

So for now, my routine continues to revolve around a very long work/commute day.
I am lucky in that over the years I have learned how to get a high return from a small
amount of available practice time. I alternate days between stradella and bassetti. I
use the commute time to write this blog or do other basic correspondence, so I am
not quite as resentful about the amount of time I spend in the back of a commuter
van.

I have been posting Saved Rounds to the web site in segments. Saved Rounds is a
chronological presentation of the blogs I have written since completing the book.
Whereas Anecdotes (the book) is chronological, Saved Rounds hits a wide variety of
topics in no particular order. At times it adds to content in the book; other times it is
intended to just be fun. I have grouped all the narrative sections of the web site
under a section called 'online publications'. White type on black background can be
very tiresome to read, so I reversed to black type on white background; sacrificing
coolness for practicality.

Page 178
Saved Rounds

Occasionally I look at the statistics for the web site as I am curious how people
discover it. Many times it is the result of a search similar to ones I have made over
the years, wondering whatever happened to someone or looking for some details on
a particular event. I sometimes get Emails sharing additional information or asking
for more detail. This brought on the idea of building an index. I am currently doing
some final proof-reads and it should be available shortly.

For now, it is still for fun and for free. First, I don't know how much of a market there
would be for a hard-copy publication. Second, a commercial market strategy would
change the entire dynamic on why I have written it and continue to write. So if you
have stuff you would like to share, I encourage you to write. I also encourage you to
sign the guest book on the contacts page.

Celebrations

8/29/1010

I posted an MP3 clip of "Celebrations" from "Compendium of Description Etudes" on

the blog page of the web site. It is still is probably my favorite of the Etudes, written
about the same time as the Sonata. Today it is to celebrate a chronological
publication of the blog called "Saved Rounds". I am also nearly finished with an
annotated and indexed version.

The Army Way

8/30/10

On a Friday the 13th in June, 1969, I boarded a charter bus for Fort Ord, California.
On that day I headed off for basic training and every aspect of my life took a different
direction. Becoming a soldier required many new skills, but in retrospect, many of
the things I learned carried into my day-to-day life.

A critical part of basic training was bonding with an M14. Other than a few rounds
with my brother's 22, I had never touched any type firearm. I had (and continue to
have) absolutely no interest in guns. However, weapons familiarization and
qualification was a critical, go/no go requirement. I was expected to embrace my
passion for my weapon in the same way I would have felt about one of my
accordions.

For the first few weeks, we schlepped the M14s everywhere we went. We learned
how to stack them when we would go into the mess or into other training, and how to
rapidly disassemble and reassemble them. It was big stuff.

Finally it came time to shoot. My bunk mate developed a new excitement as we

neared the time scheduled for the firing range. He had been an avid hunter and was
even a card-carrying member of the American Rifle Association. He knew it would

Page 179
Saved Rounds

be a time where he would excel. I was more interested in making sure I didn't loose
my clinical ear protection left over from my rock band days.

The day finally came and we started the process of zeroing in the rifles in
preparation for the range. For me it was simple. The drill sergeant said to do
something, and I did it. I had no reason to do anything different. The M14s used in
basic training had seen a lot of use and were well worn, but they seemed to work
okay - I got the expected result.

Donnie's enthusiasm quickly turned to disappointment and continued to segue into a

panic when things wouldn't work for him. He couldn't get his weapon zeroed in. Of
course, it was the rifle's fault, though the drill sergeants kept telling him he was over-
compensating. But with his experience he had the answers and I could tell he
wasn't listening to them. We remained at the range for an extra hour while Donnie,
and several other recruits tried to get their sights aligned.

It didn't improve for him when we started our daily trips to the firing ranges. Though I
knew I had to meet the qualification requirements, I doubted that I was going to be
carrying a rifle in the band at West Point. I also didn"t have anything to prove in
terms of hunting or firearms expertise. So for me, the drill sergeant said to do
something, and I did it. And to be honest, I was continually surprised when the
targets would fall. I rarely missed. Later we did a quick-kill exercise (something new
the Army was testing) where M14 stocks were modified into bb guns and we
proceeded to throw small round aluminum disks up into the air for each other to
increase our reaction time. Of course, an occasional bb would strike some
unsuspecting trainee in the butt, so there was an element of fun.

For me, the worst part of the training was running 4 miles each way to the beach
ranges in combat boots. M14s have a pretty good kick but I could deal with that.
The targets popped up and I shot them down. When it was all done, I qualified as
'expert' and had the second highest score in the company. Donnie needed an extra
day to finally qualify as sharpshooter. He was genuinely disappointed and his
sharpshooter badge was more of an albatross than a medal.

But there is a real life message in all this. Sometimes it is better to just follow
instructions and trust that results will follow. This was true when I was training
motorcycle safety instructors - the people who thought they knew everything about
riding typically had the most difficult time. I have also found it to be true with music
students. The ones who question everything often have the most difficult time.
They confuse themselves. Sometimes it is easiest just to follow instruction and trust
the results. If you can’t trust your mentor, you are probably with the wrong person.
If you are truly that advanced, you can accurately assess what you want to do.

Sometimes I am accused of not having a lot of patience when I teach. But

depending on the skill, I prefer to let people experience what you want them to do.
Show them something and tell them to do it. Typically that makes things happen as

Page 180
Saved Rounds

quickly and efficiently as possible. Once they feel that success, you go back to
refine, and explain why. Trying to explain why and refine before they attempt the
skill is a much more difficult sequence and has a higher likelihood of failure. Now
where did I put my drill sergeant hat?

Point of Reference and Non-Musical Foreplay

8/31/10

Yesterday I wrote about the rifle range. I am also reminded of a technique I learned
in my Army days to avoid trip wires in the dark. This required very careful
manipulation of the legs and feet. In retrospect, watching trainees imitate the
motions of the drill sergeants must have provided moments of immense amusement.

I am sure I am not the only person who has banged a shin into a coffee table or
stubbed a toe on a night time journey to the bathroom. Avoiding pain in night time
maneuvers requires the application of a carefully applied sequence of movements.

This raises a topic that is often called 'point of reference' - a system of relocating the
hand from point 'a' to point 'b' with minimum chance of missing the note. Imagine
playing a beautiful, lyrical melody line that includes a jump, perhaps of an octave or
more. You finish the phrase, have built anticipation about what will happen next,
and are ready to surprise the listener with an antecedent phrase in a different tonal
range -and you miss. Squawk! There may be immediate discomfort for some in the
audience; others may be amused; or you may even jostle someone from sleep or a
day dream that was more interesting that what you were playing anyway. The result
can be similar to what happens when you stub your toe in the dark.

There are different methods for applying a point of reference and the best method
will be determined by what you are playing. It may involve changing fingers on the
note to adjust the hand position, or it may require that ultimate leap of faith - the
time to demonstrate your absolute mastery of the location and relationship of notes
on the keyboard. And like warnings on medications, there are potential hazards in
applying point of reference. Do you risk destroying the musical line to make sure
you hit the right note? There are so many decisions.

And with a subscription to the school of choreography there is the possibility of

exploiting a faux point of reference. Some of the choreography school employs an
exceptionally long passage of time before actually starting to play where the player
is fiddling with the hand position or pressing switches multiple times or fondling the
top of the bellows. To me, this is akin to seeing how long someone could hold their
breath on stage before starting a speech. Now where is that left-hand 'C'. It is
marked, but other buttons are marked also. Got to make sure I have the right one.

I first heard Van Cliburn in the early 60's in a solo recital in Pasadena Civic. It was
my first experience of hearing a world-class pianist. We sat in the audience for

Page 181
Saved Rounds

nearly 30 minutes before he finally appeared on stage. I later heard that he

intentionally did this to allow the audience time to mentally prepare for the
performance. But once on stage, he didn't make us wait any longer; he played.

This reminds me of a visit to the doctors office or DMV where you sit waiting - and
waiting. You may become irritated, but your irritation disappears when you are
finally called; grateful someone will actually see you.

But how would you feel if the person at the DMV sat there staring at their computer
screen for a very long time before speaking (I actually have had this happen on
more than one occasion)? Or if the car mechanic opened the hood of your car and
blindly stared at the maze of steel and plastic inside?

Perhaps this non-musical foreplay deserves another look as an over-application of

point of reference. Maybe I should find my 'C' bass before I walk out onto the stage,
and if necessary, hold onto it for dear life. So when I walk onto the stage, I can sit,
focus my thoughts (which generally takes the amount of time it does to inhale) and
play; so point-of-reference, at whatever level, can support rather than distract from
the musical experience.

I must conclude by saying that many of my friends do not agree we me on this topic

Diversions and Oakley Yale Launched

9/06/10

I have posted the next section of Anecdotes - Oakley Yale and

ElCamino. Diversions is a collection of non-accordion activities and MP3s; a little bit
of everything.

Tito and Fabian Return

9/10/10

I have started working on Hollywood Fantasia -- the first of the major compositions
Tito Guidotti wrote for free bassetti. I played it in the AAA International Invitational
Competition in 1962 or 63. I have said many times that I consider Tito one of the
accordion's all-tme greatest geniuses and I am amazed at the sounds that come
from the instrument. Of his three major compositions for bassetti, Hollywood
Fantasia has the heaviest jazz influence. Usually when I start learning something
new friends decide it is a good time to do anything other than be in earshot of
my practice - but this has been an exception. They ask what it is and want to hear
more. It is also very challenging -- lots of legato left-hand arpeggios in the first part
and a prestissimo at the end with sequence of assemetrical patterns that only a
person with a mind like Tito's could create (and make work).

Page 182
Saved Rounds

Fabian (the Giulietti Super 6/3) returned from Petosa this morning having undergone
some well deserved restoration. Some of the keyboards on the Giulietti Supers from
the 80's used plastic key tops and in time they were prone to crack and also develop
dimples from the glue. The extended key Giuliettis also used full size keys, unlike
the keyboards on current models that use a slightly smaller key. Replacing the
pastic with lucite is an extremely labor intensive job.

But the keyboard is now fully tricked and ridiculously fast and quiet. So the patriarch
of the Giuliettis for this house has returned. The real fun is going to be between
Sebastian (the new Giulietti Classic 127) and Fabian. They are so completely
different; but make no mistake they are both Giuliettis. Elizabeth does her own thing
and I don't know if it is a good idea to mess with her because she will bite back.

In the Loving Hands

9/13/10

Fabian returned last Friday. So when it came down to playing or writing this blog,
the playing won out. Earlier in the week I was home fighting some kind of bug, but
knowing the accordion was coming back, I was still practicing rather than writing.
But this morning I am again on my way to work - and not having found a way to
practice on the commuter van, it is back to the blog.

To me, the signature of an instrument of true excellence is one that will survive the
routine of hard daily use, and improve as it ages. But any instrument with the
complexity of an accordion will need at least a minimum level of regular service, and
eventually will require major work. Fabian is an example.

I get a lot of questions about the Giulietti brand: Julio Giulietti, the accordions, and of
course, the bassetti. I have written a lot about all these in both Anecdotes and in the
Blog (Saved Rounds). Many years after the end of Giulietti Accordion Corporation
there remains a mystique about Giulietti. Last year's reintroduction of the Giulietti
accordion has rekindled this interest even more.

In my first career as a young accordionist, I really didn't care about the technical
details or a history of the brand. I was only interested in what it did; how it
responded when you played it, and how well it held up. I was always content with
Giulietti to the point of never feeling the need to even consider another brand.

Moving ahead 40-50 years (especially for those with a break in playing) many of us
remain frozen in memories of yesteryear, convinced that when we find that perfect
1950's or 1960's accordion we can pick up right where we left off. Not only that, we
can do this at a fraction of the cost of a new instrument. So we start scouring Ebay.

When I re started my journey I had another problem. I played only free bassetti for
many years, and the dual-system system I knew best was no longer made. So in

Page 183
Saved Rounds

the interest of getting back to the task of playing as quickly as possible I started
looking for a 6/3. Making the adjustment that would be required to adapt to the
contemporary converter did not seem like a good option.

I consider myself blessed to have found two dual-system Giulietti Supers; but quickly
realized that finding them was just the first step. The real challenge was to restore
them to serviceable condition.

So why all this extended dialogue? As I said at the start of this entry, I get a lot of
questions and discussion. "What do you think of this or that?" The only thing I can
share is my experience, and that may help someone make their decision - so here
goes.

For the person looking to have some fun and explore the free bassetti, there are
some opportunities in locating one of the Giulietti bassettis. The cost will likely be
more reasonable than purchasing a new converter. But I would suggest you
remember you are buying an instrument that is a minimum of 25 years old, and
typically much older. Given the original quality of these instruments, age alone is not
a problem; but many of these instruments have been neglected. So if you will be
bothered by notes being out of tune, or some personality traits brought on by time,
you will probably drive yourself nuts because your attention will be more drawn to
the condition of the instrument than having fun with it. And once you get into that
mentality, a major concern will be if the money and time to make it right are worth
the investment.

Now if you are a young student making the decision to start the serious study of free
bass and have the talent and backing to do so, your teacher will help you select the
appropriate instrument. Or sell you one they are trying to get rid of.

And the final question I often answer - and this one relates to the new Classic 127.
"Is it as good as the original?" And people are sometimes surprised at my answer
when I say, "No." But they are even more surprised when I continue. "It's a different
instrument."

I am delighted to have Fabian back. After some major restoration at the loving
hands of true craftsmen, he has become fully capable of returning once again to the
concert stage as a truly outstanding free bassetti instrument. But there is an equal
joy in the new 127. From the day I took Sebastian from the case for the first time he
has been played - and though he has never been abused - he has been played
hard. I haven't worried about notes being out of tune, noisy keyboards, or quirks in
the switch mechanisms; and probably won't have to for a very long time. The more I
play it, the better it gets. Though it will never compare with a Super.

General Bill and the Ducati

9/14/10

Page 184
Saved Rounds

I perform dog duty on Monday nights. Jim has left to teach ballet classes by the time
I get home from work so I get to rotate the dogs in shifts from crates to the backyard
and finally into the downstairs area.

All of this could be quite simple if our dogs got along. But they don't. Two of the
Afghan girls are litter-mates and were inseparable from birth - until the day they
decided they hated each other. Tyler carries the Afghan aloof thing a little too
literally and none of the Ghans like Luke, the young Alaskan Malamute. Luke is a
big goof ball that wants to play constantly and is way too rough and doesn't know
when to quit. So on Monday nights I practice downstairs and share my time
between General Bill and responding to the demands of the dogs.

In younger days I avoided multiple accordions like the plague. I was always
impressed at how seasoned pianists could switch between instruments and were
often required to perform with little or no time to adjust. Heavy actions, light actions,
out of tune, rough key tops, dead notes, uneven dampers, big sound, no sound,
harsh, unresponsive; and any combination of all these and more. Unless you took
your own piano with you, it was all just a day in the life.

But I sometimes I wondered if there was a value in being able to adapt to different
instruments, and in the last year I have explored this curiosity. General Bill is an 82-
year-old Rocker Switch Excelsior. The keyboard has a single axle and the black
keys are narrower than on the Giuliettis. The key action is deep but not particularly
heavy. It doesn't have a chamber. The reed response is fast, but it does not have
the razor sharp precision of the Giuliettis. It is loud. The left hand is somewhat
clunky. It takes increased concentration to play clean - and also forces me to focus
on specific kinetic aspects - to really ramp up the discipline.

Along these lines, I find the adjustment from the 6/3 to to the 5/4 bassetti position
less problematic than one would think. However, going from the 6 to the 5-row
stradella is much more difficult; something I will likely avoid.

So for the first part of Monday night practice on General Bill, I direct my obligatory
attention to methodically practicing the more complex stradella sections. At least for
a while. But in short order, I usually find myself playing things full-out; seeing how
far I can push the limits of the accordion. It is fun to play an accordion that was the
'gold standard' of its day. But going from the Excelsior to the Giulietti is like going
from a Pan head Harley to a Ducati.

At this point I haven't found the rotation of instruments to be a detriment. In fact, the
required increase in concentration is probably good. In any case it forces me to
really listen and 'play' the instruments, rather than 'play at' them.

Page 185
Saved Rounds

I used to say that my favorite motorcycle was whatever one I was riding at the time,
which was appropriate when I was working in the motorcycle industry; but it wasn't
entirely true. And I am much more selective when it comes to accordions.

Cool Points

9/15/10

I spent over 20 years training trainers for hands-on motorcycle riding courses. There
is a lot of passion related to riding motorcycles. That is one of the things that initially
attracted me to an avocation for teaching new riders. I soon became engulfed in a
full-time career in motorcycles and at times I felt there was no escape. People who
knew my background in music and accordions were often curious about the diversity
of my passions and how these could really coexist.

As a part of an instructor certification process, I often watched the instructor and

students from the back of a motorcycle training course. There was always a certain
energy from both students and instructor, especially in the earlier training modules;
before the students had their first riding session on an actual motorcycle. An early
topic was protective gear, where the one of the instructor's objectives was to
emphasize the positive aspects of selecting appropriate riding apparel. A good
instructor would bring examples of riding gear into the classroom and pass it around
for the students to touch and feel. I remember one time when a particularly a good
looking instructor handed his heavy black leather riding jacket to a young girl and
she nearly swooned as he said, "motorcycles are so cool you even get cool points
when you put on a motorcycle jacket." It is like the saying, "you will never see an
unattractive girl driving a Corvette." Corvettes were another passion of mine for a
long time.

When I first started playing in the 1950's accordion was cool. Very cool. But when
guitars started to replace accordions in popularity and the entire culture was turned
on its head with rock music, accordion became less cool. And while part of this was
external, there was an internal aspect also. Stradella wasn't enough. There needed
to be more. So for some there was a self-imposed caste system within a community
that was already drifting away from coolness. But perhaps these new instruments
would make us cool once again - or at least let us coexist among what we
considered legitimate instruments.

By the time I was half way through high school I was not as willing to blurt out that I
played accordion. When asked, I would most often say I played bassetti, and when
people would ask what it was I would explain that it was a special type of accordion,
but more. No matter how many ways I tried to get around a direct answer to the
question and deal with the 'a' word, the reaction was the same. There was the look
of confusion on why I needed to explain all this anyway, but there was also the un-
coolness. I had labeled myself.

Page 186
Saved Rounds

I found myself having somewhat of a deja vu twice in the last several weeks. One
when I was discussing early bassetti years with a fellow old-timer and the second
when I was listening to Michael Bridge's performance with Boston Pops. Michael is
one of my favorite players - a brilliant young accordionist who I am sure will evolve
into a superstar. When asked about the accordion he was playing, he went into a
discussion about how it was an accordion, but it was more than an accordion. It was
a bayan with extended range and what he needed to play to be a serious contender
in music. However when he actually played, there wasn't anything that could not
have been played on a well-tuned stradella. I am probably reading something into
his explanation that he didn't intend, or perhaps some of the need to legitimize
remains.

Years ago I would never have listened to pop and very little ethnic accordion. Today
it is often what I am drawn toward the most when scrounging around Youtube. I
enjoy it. I guess part of it is the honesty of the players and the music that flows from
that honesty.

I also had a recent discussion with a young player about the need to explain music,
especially contemporary accordion music, as a part of a performance. Though I
avoid conversations such as this with people other than very close colleagues that I
am not worried about offending, I challenged the player to try letting the music stand-
alone for what it is; let the audience figure it out. Music played well is music played
well.

I also know when I suggest something to someone else I need to listen to my own
words and do the self-evaluation on what I am doing. So today at the task of
performance I will just play. It doesn't matter if it is stradella, bassetti, or something
between. It is an accordion, and though it may cross a lot of genres and there may
be challenges on making it work musically, ultimately it must stand on the music.
And when that truly happens, it will be cool - no matter what - and I won't have to
explain or justify it.

I stopped riding motorcycles shortly after I started playing again. I guess I don't have
as much need to show I am cool anymore.

When No One Says You Can’t

9/16/10

I have been working on Preludes and Fugues from the Well Tempered Clavier and a
bassetti etude by Gregory Stone, but most of my attention with the return of Fabian
has been on Tito's Hollywood Fantasia. Since my return I must admit I have
been hesitant in my willingness to dive head-first into one of Tito's major works.

Tito's music is different than anything I heard played at the Galla-Rini International
Competition, or for that matter anything I have heard - period. It is 180 degrees out-

Page 187
Saved Rounds

of-sync with the Russian bayan sound; especially the jazz style of Hollywood
Fantasia. Imagine Frank Marocco playing his jazz repertoire on a Jupiter.

From a kinesthetic standpoint it is also very different than much mainstream

contemporary piano music. I typically approach music from the form and structure
and Tito's music exudes all kinds of form and structure. But for Hollywood Fantasia
that approach doesn't work. The form and structure are there, but they exist more
like a fourth dimension, driven from the sonority and sequence. That requires
understanding the jazz style and how to produce the correct sound from the
instrument. To this end, Tito draws from a very rich palette.

When I first opened the manuscript and placed my hands on the keyboard, my first
thought was, "how did you ever do this as a 15-year old?" But in those days no one
told me I couldn't do something, so I just did it. It's been a lot of years since I
seriously played jazz, but Tito's training has stood the test of time. That part is still
inside. But I was more worried about the technical challenge.

I once read a review from a performance of the Brahm's B Flat where the music critic
said playing the work required either an enormous amount of technical facility or a
tremendous amount of musicianship. In this particular review he concluded that
unfortunately the player didn't have either.

For Hollywood Fantasia, I would say the player would need to understand the jazz
style and how to produce sound on the accordion. The technical challenge is also
unique. Everything on this playing field is different. I have been surprised that much
is falling right into place. And after nearly 50 years, some of the apprehension is
leaving. At least for now

Repaired With a Single Stroke

9/22/10

Back in my Harley Davidson days, before motorcycling became the pass time for the
in-crowd, one of my buddies had purchased a chrome cover for his starter motor.
Sometimes the fit of aftermarket accessories isn't quite perfect. In fact, sometimes it
isn't even close. Anyway, not wanting to scratch the chrome, he had removed the
starter from the bike and had sat on the floor in his apartment for several hours
trying to figure out how to get the chrome cover properly positioned. I helped him for
a while, but was smart enough to back off lest I might be the one to scratch the shiny
new chrome. This final touch to his motorcycle was important for him and a scratch
was going to ruin it.

Being a life-long motor head I understood his dilemma. My mind returned to a

variety of projects where things hadn't been quite as simple as promised. With
certain projects it was a given, like installing headers on a Corvette. But I had been
surprised when installing headers on a Mopar pick-up was one of the absolute worst

Page 188
Saved Rounds

experiences I ever had. Before I was done I was removing motor mounts,
transmission linkage, and even cutting the frame.

A friend of mine did a project of installing dual turbo-chargers on a Yamaha V Max

motorcycle. The V Max was a true muscle bike; absurdly fast as long as you were
going in a straight line. Throughout the stages of the project he let select members
of the motorcycle press take the bike out for test rides - but would not let them take it
to the drag strip. They wrote about their experiences, about how the bike that was
already a terror became something beyond description. For the final part he took
the bike to the drag strip to confirm all the seat-of-the-pants reviews. When the
burning rubber had cleared it was slower than it had been in stock form. But on the
upside, the power band was now like a light switch and the bike was much less
reliable.

My project experiences usually followed the same path. The headers leaked. It
became nearly impossible to change spark plugs. The air-fuel mixture was
inconsistent throughout the RPM range and would change with even the slightest
atmospheric variance. Things would vibrate loose, even with lock-tite.

So back to my friend with the chrome starter cover. Becoming discouraged, he took
it back to the dealership. The young man at the counter said no problem, go back
and let Flex put it on for you. Flex (not his real name) was a monster of a man and
enjoyed a God-like reputation for being all things to anything mechanical on a
Harley. I rarely heard him speak, just an occasional nod usually accompanied by a
grunt. But I had seen him pick up a Harley drag bike (okay, so it was only a
Sportster) and place it over a small fire to warm up the oil for an easier start on an
exceptionally cold day. He took the starter motor and chrome cover from my friend
and placed them on his workbench. Then with the skill and finesse of a true artisan
he reached into his tool box and pulled out a large hammer - the kind any good
Harley mechanic would use to true connecting rods. With perfect aim it took only a
single blow to position the cover on the starter. On the downside, it was not without
some rather serious cosmetic damage to the cover. On the upside, I doubt the
cover would ever come off. Ever.

My friend gave Flex an obligatory 'thanks', no other words were necessary, and
probably not too wise. Flex gave his obligatory grunt and we left the dealership.
The young man behind the counter waved as we walked by, his attention now
occupied by another customer.

As years have progressed I am typically very hesitant to make changes to a car or

motorcycle. I have always been cautious about modifications to my accordions.
Even when Julio might occasionally say, "we could", I would usually decline;
deciding it was best to leave it like originally designed. Changes that were made
were in the form of adjustments, and relatively minor.

Page 189
Saved Rounds

Several modifications were made to my two Supers over the years, thankfully
nothing too major. And General Bill had an adjustment wheel installed for the left
hand strap. But my inclination today would be to keep them as close to original
condition as they can possibly be. And should Flex reach for his hammer in an offer
to fix my accordion, I would politely decline. Unless it were a Titano.

Totally Cool

9/27/10

For the past week or so I have been working on Tito's Hollywood Fantasia. It
represents one of the most difficult challenges since starting to play again. Jazz
Scherzo was Tito's first work for bassetti. With Hollywood Fantasia he expanded it
into a true concert piece.

I was 15 when I first learned Hollywood Fantasia. After I had my falling out with Tito
a couple years later I really had no desire to play it. It was an uncomfortable
situation, and to be honest, I don't know if he wanted me to play any of his music.
My interest in jazz faded, and while I still continued to play a lot of weddings and
combo gigs, the emphasis was on typical commercial gig schlock. Anecdotes
provides the complete story.

By the time I was in my final years at UCLA, my non-classical music tastes had
turned to rock. Not the Muzak, elevator kind I would play on my accordion at an
Italian wedding, but the rip-your-head-off 'underground' 'psychedelic', stuff. At the
time it made much more sense to me than jazz. It was rough, primal, sexual, and
dark. It didn't titillate the senses, inviting the listener into a delightful intellectual
exchange, it ripped at the core of one's immediate existence with such intensity it
was impossible to ignore. The options were to escape, or to surrender. That was
what rock was about in 1960's Los Angeles.

I wanted to find a way to carry that energy into all my music. To take away the
choices. I remember the managers (very short time) of Music Emporium (my rock
band) describing a concert they heard by a group called 'Touch'. They said the
group was mis-named. It should have been called 'Grab'. That made sense to me.

Experiencing what it was to 'live' in that rock world changed my concept of music
performance. I now realize, however, that it doesn't have as much to do with how
loud something is, or that it must be brutal or violent. It has to do with the conviction
of the performance. There are no doubts in what the performer wants to do. I often
say that some people play an instrument while others 'play at' an instrument. I have
heard similar things said of dancers or opera singers. It is 'I am now acting as a
dancer' or 'look, I am transformed into an opera singer' vs. dancing or singing opera.
It is one of the primary reasons I am so opposed (and vocal) to affectations or
choreography. Even though it may not be intended as such, it comes off as a excuse
for playing-at rather than playing the music. Which, unless it is intended as theatre,

Page 190
Saved Rounds

can equate to an excuse for the inadequacies instrument or fear of performing bad
music.

So back to where I started in this blog - why is Tito's music so challenging? Tito was
a superb teacher. I understand the style and can play it. But is that enough? Do I
tap my foot, act cool, and transcend into what I think a jazz player is? Is that enough
or is it yet another display of affectation or choreography? Or do I have to live up to
what Aube said: thoroughly understand every detail of the musical essence and
everything else will take care of itself? For Tito's music that is a big challenge as
both the musical and kinetic structure is complex.

The Great Adjudication

9/29/10

Among other adventures during my first return year was being one of the
adjudicators for the Galla-Rini International Classical Accordion Competition. It was
quite an experience, and looking back in retrospect three months later, adjudicating
would be something I would likely decline should I be asked again. The reasons are
mostly personal, which most reasons usually are; and there is a lot of personal
baggage that would influence the decision - which is also not uncommon. And
whereas I recognize the bias, at this stage of my life I have also learned to embrace
it. The sum of that bias is what ultimately defines my existence at this given
moment. And to loosely quote Shakespeare, 'tis not good or bad, but our thinking
that makes it so'.

Declining to adjudicate would not be based on my opinions of competition.

Throughout life I have participated in competition, formal or otherwise and loved
every moment. If I had the opportunity to do it again, I wouldn't change any of it.
There were joys, there were disappointments. But from Sylvia Prior's comments at
her recognition luncheon, when she quoted herself after the first Accordion
Association of Southern California Festival in 1956, "somebody has to win."

I recall my own experience with accordion competition, especially in the earlier

years. It is impossible to separate it from some of my overall views of the accordion
culture of the time. More than once I wondered, 'who are these old people (anyone
over 30 was really old, over 50 was ancient)? Do they even have a remote clue?' If
I had won, they obviously did. If I hadn't, they obviously didn't. And if they talked to
me I pretended like I actually cared, especially when they were offering some type of
corrective comment rather than just telling me how great I was.

I made the effort to talk to a couple of the Galla-Rini competitors in the interim
between the conclusion of their performances and the announcement of the results.
I am sure they wondered, who is this guy - one thing for sure, he is really old! They
were polite, but bottom line, I am sure they had minimal regard for what might have
been intended as constructive comments - just like I would have been at their age.

Page 191
Saved Rounds

Their concern was whether they had won or not. In competition, that is the long and
short of it.

It's not at all different than another leisure time activity I occasionally have time to
enjoy - dog shows. It is a difficult challenge to determine that one person's pet is a
better representation of the breed than someone else's. If I win, the judge obviously
knows something about the breed. If I don't win, it's all politics or I rationalize that I
am breeding to the standard rather than stooping to the ring politics.

But like Sylvia said, someone has to win. And following that logic, someone has to
determine the winner. There is an additional layer in this dialogue that I have
avoided, and that is the politics behind the politics. But at least for today, I think I will
elect to play my accordion rather than get involved in the politics. I is more
personally rewarding to love my own dog than to tell someone their dog is inferior to
someone else's. Of course, this works better if you actually have a dog.

An Accordion Float

9/30/10

I love looking at used accordions on Ebay. I have my favorite searches and over
time have come to recognize some of the seller's names. I saw an ad a few days
ago from a good friend. He included the following in the description, "we don't have
to tell you that our accordions don't stink. If ever that is the case, we will state so in
big letters."

I wanted so bad to send the following 'question' back to the seller, "But what if I want
an accordion that smells? What if I want a noisy, ski-slope-shaped keyboard and
leaky bellows? Where do I go? Who do I turn too?" Only problem is that I know the
seller would recognize my Ebay name and would probably post my message - he
also has a very healthy sense of humor. And the final factor - everything you ever
say on the internet is there forever. So the entire world might realize we are goof
balls, or even take the comment seriously. Maybe the secret to getting that true
accordion bargain is attacking that musty, mold-encrusted accordion with a bit of
Febreze and WD-40.

But in line with a very rainy day and an inner-child that running rampant and
unsupervised, my mind this morning has been coming up with all kinds of
unanswered questions. For example,

Will an accordion float? If thrown into the ocean would it sink slowly, or plummet like
an anchor to the bottom of the deepest crevice?

In light of this, has anyone ever thought of putting an inflatable air bag inside the
bellows? When water is detected, the airbag inflates and the accordion would rise to
the top?

Page 192
Saved Rounds

And speaking of air bags, there are inflatable vests for equestrians and even
motorcycle riders. A tether to the rider causes the bag to inflate. Could we have the
same thing for our accordions? Should the straps break, or even if we drop it, the
protective inflatable cover would inflate and it could be protected, even from the
hardest surfaces.

I am sure many have heard of the Pageant of the Arts in Laguna Beach where
actors recreate work of the great masters. It is actually more effective than it sounds
(though I have never been, I have always heard that); and certainly bigger than life.
Well speaking of bigger than life, how about the living musette accordion band. In a
recent accordion band get together we were seriously cautioned about avoiding any
registration with even the slightest suggestion of musette. Perhaps it is time to get
over our fear and embrace the musette phenomenon. Put a beret on the conductor
and go for it.

Should talking on a cell phone without a hands-free device while playing an

accordion be banned?

Is it true there are plans for the digital display on the top of the Roland V-Accordion
to double as a 3G phone in a future model? Will it include a blue tooth device that
can be used through the accordion's internal speaker system?

And finally, who is that particularly attractive woman in the picture below today's
blog?

A Night to Remember and the Mystery Guest

10/03/10

The attached article about the 'mystery person' photo is from Gerry Kass, a lifelong
friend and someone able to share very unique and personal stories of Julio Giulietti,
the man and the Accordion Corp. His writing brings some wonderful insight about
Julio in the final years (257 Park Avenue South) of the golden era.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you are curious, here's some background regarding the photo of myself--Gerry
Kass, the "mystery woman"--Julio Giulietti and Maddelena Belfiore.

While studying music in New York City in 1968, my Giulietti 120 Bass was damaged
in shipping from my home in California to New York. I took it to Giulietti
Accordion Corporation at 257 Park Avenue South. Julio was on floor 12A because
they wouldn't call any floor the 13th--due to bad luck superstitions. The accordion
was repaired by Isauro Petromilli (Gus) who years later moved back to Italy.

Page 193
Saved Rounds

After Julio learned a few things about me, my musical talents and my particular
knowledge of music publishing, I was hired to work in the office. We became
acquainted while having a very nice meal at a good restaurant across
from nearby Gramercy Park.

Those were the days when Mark Rudd and numerous students at Columbia
University had taken over one of the main buildings along Broadway at 116th Street,
approximately.

I no longer remember their specific protest points but most likely they had to do
either with some irrelevancies in university education or our involvement in
Vietnam's ongoing revolutionary/civil war that involved the French and then the U.S.
when France decided to let them have their country back. The U.S. disagreed and
we stepped into the quicksand of a long war which we referred to as a conflict.

But I have strayed from the accordion story. My point was that after our meal and
discussion, Julio didn't spend much time discussing politics with me but he knew that
seating me on his "left" was appropriate.

Julio had my music typography equipment shipped from California and I sat in the
office preparing music for him to publish and arranging for the printing of copies.

When Julio and his wife, Anita were out of the office, I would answer the phone and
talk to the luminaries in Julio's accordion world. I may also have put the gilded serial
number on your Giulietti accordion as that was an occasional task of mine when
Isauro was otherwise occupied--but under his watchful eye so I wouldn't send the
number all the way through the celluloid to the bare wood below.

One of the perks of the job was learning how to play the free bass while he and
Anita tried to run the business over the sound of my practicing ten feet from the
phones.

They experienced repetitive performances of a few Bach Inventions that I used to

acquaint myself with the free bass note patterns. I would play the right hand part
which I already knew, in both hands. It worked pretty well along with sight reading all
kinds of other music as well as going through some of the U.S. and Canadian
chromatic free bass method books that Julio either published under the Neofonic
name or distributed.

Another advantage to working with Julio was that he was always traveling to one of
the many accordion festival/competitions around the country.

One of those trips on which I was invited was to the Eastern Regional Championship
(I believe that's what they called it.) I don't remember what city we were in or who
won what award, but I remember standing near the bar as the "woman" in the
picture strolled up to jazz accordionist Art Van Damme and tried to "pick him up".

Page 194
Saved Rounds

Art was a bit flustered and upset as Julio persisted until Art finally realized who it
was. Julio couldn't do much to disguise his distinctive voice and accent, though he
tried. Soon, others realized what was going on and many were entertained by Julio's
sense of humor.

But not all, however. Julio put on this performance-in-drag because he felt that many
of these events he attended included people who were being stodgy and absorbed
by their own self-importance rather than focusing on the fun that the young
competitors were supposed to be having playing his favorite instrument. So, he
conspired with Maddelena Belfiore, who provided Julio with the stylish outfit and
makeup job illustrated in the photo.

I had a lot of fun working with Julio and Anita Giulietti during this time when the
accordion, though waning in popularity, still had some strength left in it. The
accordion industry was imploding from too many non-musical attitudes of many in
the accordion community--attitudes that may still persist though the generations
have changed.

Fortunately, I also had the pleasure of Julio's company on trips to Washington, D.C.,
Denver, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Frankfurt, Munich and Milan.

Julio, HE was the real "trip".

Gerry Kass

A Language More Powerful Than Words

10/06/10

The weather is changing. Two weeks ago it was close to 100 degrees
fahrenheit. This morning it is in the low 40's. During my years in New York, the heat
came on and the pianos went out of tune. Thank goodness most of my gigging in
those years was on electric organs or pianos. I remember one snowy Friday night
negotiating my way into the officer's club with a Vox Continental combo organ. I
slipped on some hidden ice and the organ went crashing down with me on top of it. I
was lucky. I was only a few feet from the long flight of uncovered outdoor steps that
led down to Benny's Tavern. I don't think the Vox would have made a good
toboggan.

I have always been very cautious with my accordions. I play them hard, but try to
avoid severe climate changes. I tuned my own pianos, so when it got to where I
couldn't take it anymore I got out the tuning hammer, felt, and wedges. Typically,
pianos stay in the same place. I have only known one person who actually
schlepped his piano with him to casual gigs. But you can take your accordion with
you. The good part; you always know what you will be playing. The bad part, it is

Page 195
Saved Rounds

exposed to the weather and climate changes. And while the effects of the weather
changes might not be quite as severe on the accordion (at least at the onset), it is
much more complicated to tune one.

For the last 25 years I have been extensively involved in motorcycle safety and how
to reduce crashes and injury. Bottom line, motorcycling is an extremely high risk
activity and the most effective way to reduce chance of injury is to avoid exposure. It
is the same with my accordion. I need to minimize my accordion's exposure to
damage or degradation of performance. Sometimes this is obvious, like not trusting
the instrument to airline baggage service.

However, exposure to the elements can also represent risk. As a kid I remember
playing on a foggy night, out-of-doors on an ocean pier for a city festival. I also
remember playing at county fairs on the hottest of days in the direct sunlight; dirt and
dust billowing all about me. These are examples of things I would avoid today. I am
not saying my accordions are delicate - in fact, quite the opposite. As a kid I would
completely wear out an accordion in 18-24 months - then I got my first Giulietti. The
Giulietti just kept getting better the more I played it. The 6/3 dual system bassetti
has also historically proven to be extremely durable. I recently had one on loan that
was about 40 years old that had been ridden very hard and put away wet (another
motorcycle expression). The bass mechanism still performed extremely well and
had probably never been serviced.

Maybe all this concern reflects the appreciation I have gained over the years for an
accordion as a musical instrument. There is a passion, there is a partnership, and
there is a bond. It is something I never had with any of my pianos or electronic
instruments. I name all my accordions. When I place one of them back in their case
at the end of a practice session, that logo and the essence of that instrument stares
back at me with an electricity I can feel. It speaks to me in a language more
powerful than any words. It is like dancers at the end of a ballet class when they
applaud their teacher. It is a sign of respect. It is also closure of an event that
occurs in time

Destruction of the Modern Accordion

10/08/10

When I returned to all this last summer, one of my first surprises was that
'converters' are now 3-row chromatic systems. It was something Giulietti did in the
1970's with the Transformer, but the new converters have a full free bass range and
the true capability of using both systems at the same time. I tried a few of these, but
the position felt foreign and I was soon off in my quest to find an original Giulietti
Continental 6/3.

Page 196
Saved Rounds

More than one person has told me the new converter mechanism is quite sensitive,
and that a good physical jolt can 'jam' it. I have also been told by both manufacturer
and performers they can be (are) very maintenance intensive. I heard that new
instruments from Italy were sometimes jammed upon arrival. At the Galla-Rini
competition one of the competitors was worried the evening before the final round
because his left hand was jamming.

In contrast, the system used in the dual systems is extremely durable, more like the
durability of a stradella. In all my early (pre 1978) years of of playing and travel, I
never 'blocked' a bass machine. And my accordions, almost without exception, did
air travel in the baggage compartment.

Listening to the repertoire selection of Galla-Rini competitors and also watching

internet videos, I have also noticed various progressions that in more than one
example are not dissimilar to a wonderful and humorous story Dick Contino tells in
'Behind the Bellows' where he describes the formula for accordion arrangements in
the 1950's.

Carefully articulated triple bellows-shake are part of many arrangements and original
composition. It was something that was rarely done in the 'old' days. One of my first
teachers would chastise us for doing it as he said it was too hard on the instrument.
But in 2010, there was even a part in the opening of one of the VP accordion band
arrangements where we were told it should be articulated using a triple bellow-shake
action.

Another current novelty is instrument manipulation (my term, don't actually know
what it is called). This can be as innocent as use of the air button or go as far as
banging the fist into the keyboard or forcing the bellows closed without playing notes
and countless other creations in the middle. Given the size of some of the
converters, I consider some of these more as physical fetes of strength than musical
expression. I spoke with some audience members at the Galla-Rini competition who
were nearly giddy with delight at the anticipation of the potential theatre afforded
through these alternative methods. I don't share that excitement. To me, a little
goes a long way. It makes me uncomfortable and/or I become rapidly bored.
Depending on the severity I view it similar to motorcycle events where a Japanese
bike would be chained up to a tree and people would take turns beating it to pieces
with a sledge hammer. Or where there was a raffle on how long a motorcycle
engine would continue to run with wide open throttle and no load.

But in regards to this particular blog, my question here is the juxtaposition of a bass
mechanism that may be considered delicate to accordion manipulation that may be
considered physically hard. And I really don't have any substantive on this topic - it
is just one of those things that makes me go Hmmmmmm. I would be curious for
some feedback - especially on the impact on the accordion.

Over the Waves and the Harley Davidson

Page 197
Saved Rounds

10/14/10

My dad rode motorcycles from his earliest years in high school until he was 80 years
old. It started with an old motorcycle leaning against the wall in the back of the shop
class at El Segundo High School. The teacher would tell the young boys that if they
could get it started, they could ride it. The story continues a few years later when he
got a delivery job for a local butcher. Because of the depression it was nearly
impossible to get motorcycle tires so delivery motorcycle had been fitted with
square-profile car tires. Cornering was potentially a terrifying experience. My dad
was one of the only youths brave enough, and with the natural skill, to ride the bike.

The tales of motorcycle adventure my dad would tell were favorites for my brothers
and me. We would listen in awe as we drove into the late hours of the night heading
out for that perfect camping site on our yearly vacation to the redwoods. And that
lure for motorcycles stayed with me.

Another fascination I had was cars. I loved driving them, I loved working on them. If
they were fast and uncivilized, I loved them even more. I always wanted a Corvette,
but I couldn't even start that topic of debate with my folks - and I came from a family
that encouraged spirited debates on any topic. But they could see absolutely no
value or purpose whatsoever for an over-powered, over-priced, unpractical, plastic,
two-seat car. None. It didn't merit discussion.

So in the true spirit of youth, I got my first Corvette a few years after I had left home.
Another passion was born. In short order I had acquired three of them and over the
next few years rotated through about 18. But with the first home purchase, I couldn't
afford house payments and Corvettes; my interest returned to motorcycles. They
were more affordable, and easier to store during New York's winter months.

In the mid-80's, the Army started responding to increased motorcycle deaths with
mandatory programs in motorcycle safety. I singed up as a volunteer to help in their
efforts and my passion evolved into an avocation as I became a motorcycle
instructor, chief instructor, a staff member at Motorcycle Safety Foundation, and
finally segueing into positions with Department of the Navy and the National
Highway Traffic Safety Administration. It had turned into a career. For years, nearly
every part of my working day involved motorcycles. I rode them. I taught people to
ride them. I taught people how to teach people to ride them. I worked on
countermeasures, studied statistics. And as time passed, my interest in pleasure
riding decreased. Friends didn't understand why I didn't want to go out on a
Saturday ride or why I was no longer interested in a new bike.

Many of my friends are professional musicians; some at the highest

level. Performance is a craft, and they do it extremely well. But for many, the
underlying passion has diminished, perhaps only a shadow of what it once was.

Page 198
Saved Rounds

I watch a middle-aged man in the gym at work nearly every day practicing ballroom
dance moves with an imaginary partner to imaginary music in the empty aerobics
room. In the true sense of the word, he is the amateur. He loves what he is doing.
Given the choice I am sure he would trade his work cube for the opportunity to enjoy
dance with no time limitations. If only he had the opportunity to live the passion.

For now, I have that passion to play. And as skills improve, my ability to practice the
craft returns - and that can is satisfying, maybe even more so than the passion. But
like the man in the gym, I have the work cube. So the time I can devote to accordion
is limited, and I want to get the most out of it. But I try to be careful that the need to
get the most out of the available time doesn't become so frenetic that it replaces the
enjoyment. Also, I am cautious about getting involved in organizations or activities
that will take time away from playing.

If I had the choice, I would be playing rather than writing this blog, or writing in
general. But it is not feasible to practice during my 90 minute ride in a commuter
van. My co-riders would not approve. So rather than having a major resentment
about the wasted time, I write my thoughts, or work on scores. It is a tradeoff, and
for now, it is okay.

However, a final part to my motorcycle story. A couple days ago I posted a picture
on facebook of Grannie (you would never dare call her Grandmother) standing
behind two of my motorcycles. In one of my dad's motorcycle stories, he tells of
coming home from college and noticing that she had scraped up her leg. He also
noticed some new scratches on the side of his motorcycle which he had left in the
garage. He said it took him several years to get her to admit she had been trying to
ride the bike; which was a big challenge in the days when motorcycles had
magnetos, adjustable spark advance, no electric starters, and suicide foot clutches
with tank shift. I was equally shocked one day in her later years when I discovered
Grannie played piano. I was in the kitchen and heard Over-The-Waves coming from
the living room. I never knew she could play a note. I wonder if she ever tried one
of the accordions?

A Great Musician, a Great Visionary

10/18//10

I have written at great length in both Anecdotes and this blog about people - not with
historical facts and dates, but with personal stories. What they were like, how they
influenced me and the role they played in the accordion.

Yesterday at a performance for the Washington Metropolitan Accordion Society

(WMAS) I got to see one of the accordion's great visionaries and an old friend - Mort
Herold. It was around 1962 when I first met Mort. It was at one of the National
accordion events which in those days were often scheduled at the same time as the
National Association of Musical Merchants (NAMM) shows.

Page 199
Saved Rounds

In the early 1960's, free bassetti was something new and the accordion elders of the
day displayed several different free-bass attitudes. There were those with little
interest in a free bass instrument - the stradella adequately met there musical
needs. There were those who embraced the concept and applied their talents to the
instrument; composing, teaching, or arranging. But they never actually picked one
up and played it. Tito gave the instrument some wonderful original compositions
and jazz arrangements and was enormously successful in bringing new sonorities
from the instrument. Galla-Rini wrote and arranged for free bassetti. But they never
played it. Mort fits into a third group. He embraced it, but he also played it. He
started a dialogue with Julio Giulietti at the start on musical and technical
improvements to the instrument that continued for years. Oakley Yale was another
person in this group. If one Hohner Morino was good, two were better, and he
played them with great enthusiasm. Carl Hane was another. They weren't going to
sit back and watch the kids have all the fun - they were eager to strap one on and
explore for themselves. Such actions shouldn't be considered good or bad, they just
reflect different personalities. And it doesn't correlate with the lasting contributions in
terms of music or arrangements.

Mort was the MC for the annual Giulietti Concerts. They happened in or around the
NAMM show and the AAA and ATG activities - often late at night event after
everything else was done. They were packed and they weren't to be missed. In
retrospect, it was probably some of the best experience and opportunity to network I
ever had. It was also a chance for the youth of the day to capture some of the magic
of people like Mort.

With Julio it was about his players and the accordions. He was one of the most
charismatic and approachable people I have ever known. But at performance time,
the accordions and players were always center stage. He was the proud parent
sitting in the back of the room - always thinking of ways to improve the instrument.

Mort Herold brought not only brilliant musicianship but also a wonderful energy to
the accordion world. One of my favorite descriptions is from an article in Accordion
World, "Herold displays such a profound mastery of the accordion that me makes
the most difficult passages seem easyd the mark of a real virtuoso! His stage
presence is easy, assured, yet modest. He affects no artificial mannerisms. He is a
musician's musician!"

Thanks Mort!

Old Dog, New Tricks

10/19/10

Page 200
Saved Rounds

When I was quite young, I traded an organ for a piano. Though I was heavily
immersed in my accordion I knew very little about pianos and had almost no interest
in even goofing around on one. Accordion met all my musical needs.

It was a Kimball spinet. Though not much of a piano, it was a better decorating
accent for my parent's living room than the Connsonata organ it replaced. Many
pianos end up being furniture, rarely being played - except for the occasional
banging by an unsupervised toddler or drunk party guest.

Looking back all those years, I now realize the Kimball had a riduculously stiff
action. Not heavy, but stiff. It was like a weight machine at the gym that needs to be
lubricated. Even though I had a lot of accordion technique as a pre-teen, I didn't
have the power in my hands that would have been required to play even the
simplest pieces on the Kimball, so it was rarely played. But it still was a great piece
of furniture; a nice resting place for a lamp and a flower arrangement.

A few years later in my first year of college, I started studying piano. The Kimball
was soon replaced with a small grand. The grand was purchased from the
technician who maintained the pianos at school, and was much easier to play. But it
didn't take long to realize that all pianos are not created equal. The action was not
stiff, but it was almost impossible to play anything less than a mezzo piano. The
Hamiltons in the practice rooms had been beat to death, everything was loose, and
everything was loud - really loud. The Baldwins in the piano classroom were stodgy;
quite typical of Baldwins from that era.

So I came to a practical realization that one of the challenges of playing piano was
the ability to deal with different instruments. And the differences, even at the upper
strata of concert instruments, are significant.

Over the next 40 years I got used to dealing with the differences in pianos, but it was
always something I was never entirely comfortable with. Like walking into a lesson,
wondering how my Chopin Etude would survive when played cold on Edith's
Steinway. Or walking onto a stage, facing a piano I had never played. It was the
opposite of the security from always having one's own accordion. With the
accordion, the worst I might have to worry about was an exceptionally dead room or
being too cold or hot.

But real pianists deal with all this in stride. It is part of them from day one. They
might complain, but they survive. Sometimes they will also practice on instruments
that need a lot of regulation, or are seriously out of tune. It doesn't bother them.
They just bang away - and with the really good players, you generally aren't
distracted by the instruments shortcomings, unless there is something really bad.

For the second time in my accordion career, I actually have more than one
accordion. And unlike the first time I ever had two accordions, they are different.
The first time, they were as near identical as possible - that's the reason I got the

Page 201
Saved Rounds

second one as a backup. But now, General Bill is an 70+ year old Excelsior. Fabian
and Elizabeth are dual system Giulietti Supers from the 1980's. And Sebastian, the
Giulietti Classic 127, is new. The accordions are really different.

So I continue trying to develop the ability to switch between instruments maintaining

an acceptable level of performance - to be able to put one accordion down after a
number and pick up another one and continue without a period of adjustment. I did
exactly that for the first time yesterday in my performance for WMAS. I see many of
the younger players do it in Europe - so it is obviously part of their kinesthetic skill.
So the question for me now, can an old dog learn a new trick? Maybe my piano
experience will translate. I have written about this before, but once again, it is my
challenge for today

So Are You Ready to Play Tonigh?

10/25/10

I have had great fun for the last several weeks following the Roland International V-
Accordion Competition and the Coupe on the Internet. I can be in Rome or Croatia
while sitting at my computer screen; and I don't have to deal with international air
travel, passports, customs, time zones and all that other stuff.

There is both an excitement and also a curiosity to all this. The excitement comes
from personal memories of past competitions. You wait in anticipation to play, you
play, you wait for results, and then you go home. The curiosity comes from the
changes over the past 35 years. There was no V-Accordion in the 1960's and the
major musical instrument manufacturers didn't sponsor international competitions.
There weren't screens projecting images while you played nor were there any
professional mistresses-of-ceremonies. The Coupe was a single category - winner-
take-all. There was no prize money, just gold, silver and bronze medals. Now there
are multiple categories to even include digital accordion and entertainment. And
who could overlook the World Accordion Orchestra. My first thoughts when I heard
of the multiple categories - a way to give more people an opportunity to participate;
akin to categories offering prizes for everyone who participated rather than a strict
first, second and third. But on more thought it might be better seen as a reflection
accommodating the instrument's versatility.

Youtube and the Internet have let me follow the careers of some of the current
competitors, and I had the opportunity to hear performances at last summer's Galla-
Rini Competition. Literally anyone with a computer can stay involved with all of it at
some level.

It is also interesting that players win multiple categories in a given year. Maybe this
indicates the competition on its own accord is returning to a winner-take-all attitude.
Something like So You Think You Can Dance where competitors show they can

Page 202
Saved Rounds

master any style. The most difficult thing would be to turn back their age so they
could compete in both regular and junior categories.

My congratulations to each and every one of the winners and to the competitors.
Over the years I experienced both your excitement and disappointment. But
certainly one of my favorite memories was when I would be waiting for the results
and one of the competition officials or my teacher would come up to me and ask, "So
are you ready to play tonight?"

I am also waiting for the addition of the Entertainment, International Button Piano,
and V-Piano categories to the Van Cliburn competition. And lest I forget, the World
Piano Orchestra!

On the Van Again

11/04/10

I have been preparing for a performance this Saturday night with the West Point
Alumni Glee Club. It will be the first performance with General Bill; the 1938
Excelsior Rocker Switch that followed General William Knowlton throughout his
career.

The practicing has settled into a groove. I mix it up between instruments and also
with what I practice. I have finally started using some of the bassetti drills that I was
using toward the end in 1978. These include a juxtaposition of strict diatonic
fingering in the right hand with a rigid left hand 'facilitation' fingering. It sounds more
complicated than it actually is. In reality it forces intense concentration - first
because of the differences in keyboards, and second because of a deliberate use of
non-standard and unrelated fingering between the hands. A true benchmark of true
familiarity with the keyboards is realized as the facilitation becomes easier. It is also
a good way to lock-in the concentration required for playing after a day of dealing
with non-music tasks.

Saturday night will be a short performance. I am providing the interlude for the
singers to give their voices a break. I played a solo accordion recital at the same
venue about 11 months ago. The acoustics are superb; I am looking forward to the
evening. Now I just need to decide what I am going to play

General Bill

11/07/10

I did a performance last night providing the musical interlude for a concert of the
West Point Alumni Glee Club. It was a special night for several reasons.

Page 203
Saved Rounds

To start, this was the 'return' performance for General Bill; the 1938 Excelsior
Rocker Switch accordion that belonged to General William Knowlton. General
Knowlton was the Superintendent at the United States Military Academy when I first
reported there in 1969. He purchased the accordion in 1938 from Conn Music in
Boston right before entering West Point as a Cadet and the instrument accompanied
him throughout his career. I am now the curator for the General Bill, who is on loan
from the Knowlton family. Another interesting side-bar is that Julio Giulietti did a
restoration in his New York shop of General Bill in the early 1970's. And finally, Mrs.
Knowlton (General Knowlton's wife) and the accordion were primary influences in my
return to playing.

I played a full solo program at Lake of the Woods Church last year. It is a great
venue with superb acoustics and state-of-the-art technical capabilities. I was most
anxious to return. I was the founding conductor of the West Point Alumni Glee Club
and had a chance to guest conduct at the end of the program. Many of the WPAGC
members were cadets when I conducted the West Point Glee Club, it is always great
to see them once again.

But the real highlight of the evening for me was the reaction to the instrument from
an entirely non-accordion audience - especially the younger members - ones in an
age category who 30 years ago would have ridiculed the instrument unmercifully.
Several told me they had never heard an accordion played live, and there was
nothing apologetic or shy about their enthusiasm. Therein lays the return of the
accordion to this country!

Another Monday

11/15/10

There are only a few more days until Jim and I will head out for the Florida Smash. I
decided that we will drive. To me, 806 miles is doable. It means two of us can go
for the price of one and I can take two accordions without the cost of shipping or
even starting to worry about taking them on the plane. I love to drive. It is a chance
to relax. On the other hand, Jim doesn't - so we will see when it is all done. But for
today and tomorrow, it is back to the van commute.

Late last week Dale Wise (Accordion Plus) made arrangements with Cory Pesaturo
to join us at the Holiday Concert on December 11. It should be a great time. I can't
think of anyone I would rather hear or perform with. The performance year will
conclude with a local Cable TV show.

So there is a lot going on. Between work, practicing, the website, keeping up with
facebook, and the A-List, my proverbial dance card is pretty full.

Connecting Memories

Page 204
Saved Rounds

11/24/10

I am continually amazed as how small details connect different parts of my life, most
specifically as they relate to the accordion. It might be something that catches my
eye at an antique store or flea market; and often it is something I wasn't specifically
looking for. It can be an item, a piece of music, a person, or even an intellectual
concept. But whatever it is, it opens something deep from within my memory -
perhaps dusty at first, but finally emerging with a clarity that often amazes me.

I had several such moments at the Florida Smash, but perhaps the most amazing
was when someone mentioned that Aldo Mencaccini was there. I remember saying,
"you mean, Aldo Mencaccini from Bell Accordion? Exit 5 off the Palisades
Parkway?" I immediately went off to locate him.

When I introduced myself, I told him that I was sure he didn't remember me, but that
I had bought several things from him in my early years at West Point. But there
were also ties that went back to my last two years in California. I knew that Aldo had
been involved in importing the Gem Combo Organ that I played with my rock band,
Music Emporium. I got the first two while still in California, but had purchased the
third directly from him after coming to New York. I had also purchased a Leslie 925
speaker from him. But in the late 1960's, early 1970's, our contact had little to do
with accordion. That was to come now - 40 years later.

Aldo was one of Julio's peers, and some of the first things I wanted to ask him were
details of some of my more fun memories of Julio and of the accordion scene in
general.

It took only a few moments to realize I was in the presence of accordion royalty.
Aldo is one of the few who can back up his opinion and preferences with
knowledge. He is someone who can explain why an accordion responds in a certain
way - how things fit together in consort to make a good instrument. And like Julio
Giulietti, it literally comes from generations of skill and hands-on experience. As I
talked with Aldo, I wondered if the accordion community weren't even tighter and
more connected then than it is now - even without an internet.

But the most beautiful moment was yet to come. I was telling him about the
Excelsior Rocker Switch that had belonged to General William Knowlton only to find
out that he had literally worked on that instrument while working for Excelsior in New
York in 1937-38. I have written about General Knowlton and his relationship with the
Excelsior, but speaking with Aldo brought the accordion to new life. Speaking with
Aldo I could now visualize the factory on New York's 6th Avenue, a US factory of
over 100 people - a concept almost incomprehensible some 70 years later. I could
visualize craftsmen learning to deal with a piccolo reed and dry tuning. I could
visualize accordions super stars of that day discussing their needs with the tuners
and builders. It was a time of great evolution. I also learned something new; that

Page 205
Saved Rounds

Excelsior had built 250 accordions for the US military. In those few moments, Aldo
breathed a new life into General Bill.

And in our conversation that was much too brief, I knew the center of his true
passion. It was in the accordions. It is a passion that lives through the hands that
literally build an accordion. It is a passion that is carried over each time someone
plays the instrument. To me, the highest compliment is having a builder tell me I
know how to handle the instrument - and despite what many might think, to a good
builder that includes playing the instrument to its full capabilities. It isn't how fast or
how many notes, it isn't how loud or soft - it goes beyond all those things. But most
important, it is continuing the passion born of the craftsman's hands.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons I am so uncomfortable when I see instrument

slamming and banging (sometimes called manipulation) in the name of art.

Comments on the all-bassettii

11/28/10

Paul Cain provided the following comment to the Blog. After a lot of years, I concur
that his observation on the all-bassetti instruments is very accurate:

"I think that Giulietti's philosophy was that a truly proficient bassetti player would
have no need for the Stradella system. Stradella, however conventional, is a really
clever system! It does a wonderful job at maximizing the left hand, given that it is
trapped under a strap and really has only 3 three fingers available. When I became
serious about learning the accordion, I was primarily interested in free bass... I have
since come to appreciate the merits of Stradella as well. Even though the "bassetti
only" instruments were beautiful and capable, I can understand the accordion
world's reluctance to abandon Stradella. The transformer instruments are a perfect
compromise."

I have played very few of the Giulietti Transformer accordions, however the desire
for the stradella is why my quest for an accordion was a dual-system instrument that
included both systems. The concept of the Transformer is more akin to the
converter systems on modern instruments.

Thanks to Paul for his comments. I always welcome comments, and you certainly
no not have to agree with me!

Bill

Split Pea Soup and Time

12/08/10

Page 206
Saved Rounds

I have written and talked and talked and written since my return about 18 months
ago. Combined, Anecdotes and Saved Rounds (this Blog) now constitute nearly
200 pages. But the writing has slowed in the past several months. I am still
imprisoned in the commuter van and have the time to write, but I have fewer words I
want to say. As I started this morning, I wondered if it is time to remove the blog
from the website.

The need to write has been displaced with a genuine pleasure from playing the
accordion; perhaps with more real enjoyment than I ever previously had. I always
liked to practice, but for me things are often more driven from an inner need than an
actual enjoyment. As an example, I have a need to physically work out every day
and it is extremely rare when I miss a day.

A few years ago I was working on a training certification to become a Pilates

instructor and one of the master trainers commented that I was the type individual
who was insane enough to become a Pilates Instructor. I was someone who was
willing to spend a lot of time trying to master techniques with a body and physical
experience that would not immediately lend itself to the unique requirements of
Pilates. A disciplined and well-trained dancer could execute (or fake) movements
with relative ease that would take me a long time to learn how to correctly
demonstrate.

I have always felt the same way about mastering the techniques for playing. I never
had the natural motor skills of either my father or my middle brother. At nearly 80
years old my father tried a jet ski for the first time - not the ones you sit on, but the
original design where you stand. Within a few moments he was able to stand and
maneuver the ski - a skill that usually takes a long time to accomplish. I could stand
until I tried to turn it, resulting in several rather impressive face plants into the lake. I
saw my brother Phil stand the first time he ever took a surf board into the ocean. I
never had that level of natural physical ability. For me it was work, and generally a
lot of it.

That same trait attributed to me by my Pilates instructor was obviously in place as I

learned accordion. I was willing to spend the time to get proficient. I was also
blessed with a perfect combination of teachers who could teach me how to do it -
and helped me understand why something worked. And for some reason, I enjoyed
the process.

I often think back to something Tito used to say, and I can still visualize him saying it
and hear the words from his voice. "Billy, it is that secret ingredient, time." After
many years I understand that more than ever. And with maturity, I can often predict
how long that time will be with amazing accuracy.

So to Tito, thanks for your wisdom; "the secret ingredient, time." The words are
simple, but it is a concept that has taken me a lifetime to fully appreciate. Same
thing with Hollywood Fantasia. Perhaps your genius was wasted on a 15-year old.

Page 207
Saved Rounds

The other day I told Jim he should set aside some of his pieces for a while and then
come back to them - give them a fresh look. It is another application of Tito's words.
I don't think he understands why. But at 15 years of age I would never been able to
comprehend what it would mean to pick up Hollywood Fantasia after 50 years. To
experience Tito's presence next to me once again. To hear his words. To read from
his manuscript. To have a new appreciation of his understanding of the accordion.
His creativeness. His genius.

Marching into the New Year

1/02/11

Each year seems to pass more quickly than the one previous and 2010 has been no
exception. For me, a primary resentment of getting older is that I don't have time to
do all the things in life I would like to do.

I continue to balance a full-time position at US Department of Transportation with

aspirations to play accordion. However, with the demands of a full time job
combined with a daily commute that is never less than 3 hours or more likely
exceeds 4 or even 4 1/2 hours, practice time is precious commodity. I look forward
to the day I can retire from the full-time job.

I finished the performing year with a local cable television show. Other highlights
were recording a stradella album on the new Classic 127, performing at the
Accordion Teachers Guild and the Florida Smash.

But probably the most rewarding part of the year was in rediscovering the technical
challenges and musical rewards that parallel developing repertoire. I have not
played Tito's original bassetti compositions for nearly 50 years. As I started playing,
I was immediately reminded of his true genius - especially how well he understood
the sonority and tonal capabilities of the instrument. Hollywood Fantasia does not
have a single registration change, bellows-shake, and certainly no banging on
keyboards, switch clicking, flapping bellows, or air release value manipulation. It is
just music that flows from an intrinsic understanding of what the instrument is and
what will sound and work. The music seems simple, but it is unbelievably complex.
The jazz style of Hollywood Fantasia also demands fingering in both hands that
is often totally contrary to what I would normally use. I hope that I might ultimately
influence some of the younger players to include Tito's music in their programs. It
stands apart from anything I heard at the Galla-Rini Competition and would
represent a nice variety.

I have also been working on Gregory Stone's accordion works - both the earlier
stradella pieces and the later bassetti pieces. Other than the fact that Gregory and
Tito were both writing for accordion, there are few similarities. But Gregory's works
could also be included in the current repertoire of some of the younger players - but

Page 208
Saved Rounds

even many of the stradella works are nearly impossible to find. I get a lot of
inquiries.

Then there is the underlying infrastructure of Bach and Scarlatti.

So it has been a fun and challenging year - and I look forward to 2011. So to
everyone, Happy New Year!

Extending the Bass

1/03/11

Several weeks ago I saw an entry from a Facebook friend in Canada saying he was
doing some research and was seeking feedback. The question was in the
weakness of the left hand when playing in certain keys. His comments and
concerns were on his personal instrument, an Italian-made chromatic bayan with a
chromatic converter system. A few weeks later he was urgently trying to locate the
phone number of the Russian bayan builder.

I hesitated jumping into the discussion. First, it seemed that he was looking for a
quick answer and I wasn't entirely sure I fully understood his question or what he
was trying to accomplish. He continued that the lowest note on his accordion was
E. And from his dialogue, I would assume he was referring to both the chromatic
converter section as well as the lowest note on the stradella.

My immediate thought; in terms of using the converter section of the left hand, there
should no difference in key strength. However, at the same time, the topics of many
previous blogs came to mind - most specifically that today's chromatic bayan is often
treated like what I have coined the chromatic stradella; so named as the two
fundamental stradella rows are often used for all bass/pedal notes regardless of the
pitch integrity (for years proclaimed as a primary fault of the stradella system to
begin with [sic]); and that bassettis (at least the ones I play) do not make good
stradellas - which is also okay. However, it is still critical that the accordionist can
compensate for the difference; much like the challenge of reconciling the thick
voicing of lower chords in Schubert when played on a modern piano.

But it comes full circle when looking at the bigger scope of all accordions. When I
returned to playing I heard a new term - 'Galla-Rini registration'. This referred to
voicing in the left hand and how registers could be used predictably to obtain the
proper pitch. I don't when they started calling it 'Galla-Rini registration', though I
know it was one of his life-long passions to accurately maintain pitch integrity in the
left hand and have a system of registration that would support that. But in 1960, the
time I abandoned stradella for bassetti, nearly every quality accordion used this
system anyway. It didn't need a special name.

Page 209
Saved Rounds

But key to Galla-Rini registration was a stradella system with a low C. Today,
finding a stradella with a low C is difficult - often requiring a special order.
Accordions are either A, G, or even E. When talking of General Bill, the 1938
Rocker Switch Excelsior, the first thing several technicians say should be done is to
change it to a low A or even low G for more bottom end. In all instances, so much
for the 'Galla-Rini registration', let alone accuracy of pitch.

So I would pose a new question - has extending the bass notes cause a greater
difference in response in the lowest octave? Does the key become a
consideration? One of the reasons I say the bassettis make bad stradellas is
because of dealing with the response time of the bass notes. This is especially true
when playing the lowest notes and would certainly cause the instruments to favor
certain keys. If response time is not a concern, go for the lowest notes. If it is a
factor, don't. However I never remember even thinking about key signature as a
weakness factor on a standard, C-system stradella. And with the right instrument, I
don't ever remember thinking it didn't have enough bottom end.

The original Giulietti bassettis had a low G, however within a year or so this was
extended to low E. However, the stradella still used the low G. Fabian (1980 Super
6/3) still uses the low G, however Elizabeth (1986 Super 5/4) extends the stradella
section to the E.

So where am I going with all this? I have said that many of the younger
converter/bayan players use the left hand differently that we did - the 'chromatic
stradella'. But I have also seen some of them reaching out in terms of sonority and
repertoire. I doubt these players realize that they are returning to an approach
similar to some of the early US bassetti players. But if I accurately read my young
Canadian's friends query, they are bumping against musical problems that we really
didn't have as our concept and approach were ultimately quite different. Now the
challenge will be to find a balance.

To What End

1/04/11

I joined my first accordion forum a few weeks ago. It has been an interesting
experience.

Over the years I have actively participated in several forums on specific topics and
found them to be of tremendous value. Of special interest was a forum dedicated to
Ampex audio recorders.

I saw my first Ampex recorder in the mid 1950's. Herb Hay recorded the Western
States Accordion Festival for many years. He had a metal-tube Ampex 350 that he
used in both the Ampex roll-around studio console and in the Ampex travel cases to
record the major performances for the festivals. For smaller rooms he used an

Page 210
Saved Rounds

Ampex 601. I always had a passion for recording and helped Herb record the
competitions in later years. Through Herb I learned the peculiarities of using the
professional machines and started learning the use of a razor blade for editing.

In the 1960's while working on the Accordion Masterworks album, Alan Emig
provided unique insight into both recording and mastering. Alan designed and
supervised the construction of several of Elektra's studios and was considered one
of the industry's top engineers. I learned further tricks in using the machine and also
started to learn about mastering.

I always wanted my own Ampex. Even in the 1950's I had GSA catalogues that my
dad brought home from work and dreamed of my own home studio with a 601-2 and
the accompanying 620 monitor speakers. But it was to be nearly 20 years before I
owned a professional Ampex. And then in typical Cosby fashion (if it is worth doing,
it is worth over-doing), I ended up with a house full of them. In the mid 1970's I
became friends with the head technician from the Ampex Hackensack branch and
we had a good time buying, using, refurbishing, and reselling Ampex recorders.

In the 1990's I once again built a collection of machines, but when I moved from
California to Virginia I didn't have anyone who could service them. I could do basic
maintenance and calibration, but with vintage machines (just like vintage
accordions), sometimes that wasn't enough.

Then, through the internet, I discovered the Ampex forum. Through the forum I was
connected with some of the country's best experts on anything and everything
Ampex. The key participants were active and retired technicians, engineers, and
even the factory personnel who had designed the machines. I could locate parts at
prices I could afford, get questions answered, and find someone who could help with
a complex technical issue. The forum members would often go to extremes to
assist, whether it be finding an old schematic or recreating a problem on their
personal machine to help you resolve your issue. The forum stayed on topic and I
don't remember issues of people crashing or polluting the discussion with personal
attacks. I don't even remember any 'rules'. If a question came in off-topic it was
politely referred to a different forum. These were the remaining, undisputed giants in
all things Ampex and it was an enormous resource. I felt comfortable asking any
question and knew I would get a courteous response.

Jim does some groups and forums in the dog fancy and the experience is often not
consistent to the Ampex forum I described above. The topics are often rampant,
there are often arguments and disagreements, rules, people getting thrown off the
list, moderators moderating, and all that other stuff. From what I have read the first
few weeks of the new accordion forum, it more closely aligns with his experience.
Ultimately, I wonder if I would read it for the content or merely for the drama?

I often refer to former Defense Secretary Rumsfeld when he said, "There are known
knows. These are things that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say,

Page 211
Saved Rounds

there are things that we know we don't know. But there are also unknown
unknowns. These are things we don't know we don't know." This concept is intrinsic
to how members approach the Ampex forum. But can that concept carry over to
topics shared as accordion enthusiasts? From what I have seen so far, not very
well. But there is certainly the possibility for lots of drama. But for drama, wouldn't I
rather watch A-List New York?

Let’s Go Into the Backyard and Put On A Play (Part One)

1/06/11

A good friend who works for the Department of Defense often uses the phrase,
"Let's go out into the backyard and put on a play." He has a great sense of humor
and there is a very simple message in these words that never ceases to bring a
smile to my face. It's another way of saying, there is a problem and we should do
something about it. But the solution is something that accomplishes little more than
making us feel good. It certainly doesn't address the problem, in fact it generally
shows that we don’t understand the situation in the first place.

I read on the forum summary yesterday that someone had written two college-level
programs for accordion. And no one had been interested. Sort of like the title of my
book, I Brought My Accordion to the Party but No One Asked Me to Play. And, at
least in my opinion, it is much like the backyard scenario.

When I got ready to go to college there were two schools that I knew of with
programs in accordion. One was in Houston with Bill Palmer, the other was in
Denver with Robert Davine. Neither one really interested me as my original intent in
going to college was for one reason and one reason only - to get a draft deferment.
That attitude changed almost immediately once I realized that the university
environment was nothing like high school. However, it was even more ironic that I
would ultimately spend 5 years active duty Army, 23 years on the Staff and Faculty
of the United States Military Academy, and spend a total of 34 years working for
various Service Branches of the Department of Defense.

When I was a sophomore in high school I was invited to participate in an advanced

music program at USC. USC certainly did not have a program in accordion, but
after an audition and a few interviews, they suggested that I start my university
studies the next year and agreed that I would enter music studies as a third-year
(upper division) student. They would provide the few remaining mandatory
secondary education courses. My Dad, a life-long educator politely declined. He
didn't think it was the right thing in terms of my social development. Of course, he
was right.

When I finally entered college, I took a minimum of lower division music courses,
most my choice. The only one that was required was 16th century counterpoint. It
seems my accordion teachers had done a good job. Glenn Stead placed a heavy

Page 212
Saved Rounds

emphasis on music theory. We even played pieces in his accordion bands straight
from traditional dance band charts where we were required to transpose. Tito
grilled his students on every scale and chord imaginable until they were intuitive.
And Oakley Yale was a walking encyclopedia on orchestral and piano repertoire.

So instead of an accordion regimen in college, I focused on analyzing all 32

Beethoven Sonatas, going through all the Riemenschneider Bach Chorales, all the
Debussy Preludes, and regularly attending performances of LA Philharmonic. My
accordion studies continued with Tito, then Oakley, and finally Galla-Rini and Don
Balestrieri. And the two complimented each other.

As an undergrad, I had a Music History and Literature specialization, but ultimately I

played accordion at University events as much as and probably more than any other
music major. I was also the guest soloist with several of the choral groups. The
only questions of legitimacy or acceptance came from other accordionists.

Probably my biggest surprise came in my last year when I competed in the Atwater
Kent Scholarship Awards and was given a special prize in musical performance.
After the awards presentation/concert, I was approached backstage by Aube Tzerko
with whom I was studying piano. I had included the Liszt 19th Rhapsody
transcription in the program and was somewhat nervous as Aube could be pretty
direct. He asked, "Why are you playing piano? There are at least 100 people that
play as well as or better than Van Cliburn in this country. Who else plays
accordion? What are you doing?" I explained that I was learning new levels of
musicianship and pedagogy from him and applied them to all that I did. I think he
understood my answer as when I returned to UCLA for post-graduate study in the
1980's, but this time as a conducting major studying under Sam Kracmalnic and
Donn Weiss, I asked if I could once again take from him and he obliged. He was
also the person who got Edith Oppens to accept me for private lessons in New York
City. I had originally studied historical and systematic musicology during my first
tenure in grad school and Robert Stevenson, my faculty advisor and one of the most
respected musicologists world-wide was possibly one of my biggest accordion
supporters.

As I became more familiar with the classical dance world through Jim, I realized that
few world-class dancers emerged through a university system. Almost without
exception, dancers were trained in specialized programs and were often principal
soloists by the time they reached college age. And they typically pass on their craft
in the highly specialized training programs; though some ultimately end up in the
academic environment. But key to this concept is that they know what it is to be a
world-class artist.

So when I read of someone creating a college program that no one wanted to adopt,
I wonder where they are coming from. Each of my teachers and mentors chose
repertoire and other studies they felt were necessary for me. And what they did with
me may not track with what they did for another student. How could one come up

Page 213
Saved Rounds

with a cookie-cutter approach (method of study) that would apply to all? And this
would also require the understanding that would only come from personal
experience at or above the level they expected me to achieve. I can see where this
could exist in other parts of the world, but there remain other potential pitfalls I might
go into in later blogs.

Julio Giulietti wanted accordions in the public school system. I first doubted this was
ever feasible, but beyond that, was it something that would really produce players?
Has it ever happened with any other solo instrument except in the most unique
environments? Part Two of this blog entry will explore this topic in greater depth

Perhaps Julio Had It Wrong

1/19/11

A bit over a week ago I posted the first part of a blog and promised a second part;
comments on Julio Giulietti's dream to introduce the bassetti accordion into the
public elementary schools.

As a kid in the 1950's and early 60's, my perspective of school music programs
came from Torrance Unified School District. In elementary school there was an
orchestra. In high school there were spirit bands, a concert band, a jazz band, and
several choral groups. But as a young accordionist I was never involved with any of
them. The closest I ever got to music in high school was rehearsing for a few weeks
with a theatrical production of "Our Town" where I was going to accompany a group
of church singers and once playing in a talent show. There was nothing in the
music program that drew my interest. In contrast, a good friend and fellow
accordionist, Jerry Roberts, was very active. But as Jerry moved through the
process he started moving away from accordion toward piano.

I remember the yearly awards assemblies prior to graduation where outstanding

students would be announced for each academic discipline. Jerry was a year ahead
of me and I remember his recognition as the Torrance High School's outstanding
music student. I don't know who received the honor the year I graduated, but it
wasn't me. None of the faculty or fellow students had any idea of my musical
aspirations or accomplishments and as a high school junior I had already played in
New York's Carnegie Hall.

Perhaps it seems I am bitter about never having any recognition in high school. Not
without an ego, I would say I was disappointed; but my musical accomplishments
were not associated with the school system.

In truth, with the exceptions of some very select private schools, I wonder how much
any solo instrument (piano, guitar, organ, or accordion) has served as a foundation,
or even ancillary musical activity. In the early 1960's I saw piano labs in colleges;
row upon row of electric instruments with a teacher who could monitor activity from

Page 214
Saved Rounds

the front of the room. But how many piano labs became a part of any elementary or
high school?

In contrast to solo instruments, the focus was on instruments that could fit into an
ensemble and teachers who could be trained to instruct every one of them.
Orchestra. Band. Choir. Glee Club. Everyone can participate. Everyone can
enjoy. Something we can do together. And perhaps a spark will be ignited that will
inspire a future string player. Solo instrumentalists - you are on your own. Though
hopefully we can find a pianist with enough skill to accompany concert choir.

I cannot say with much certainty that what I have described is the norm across the
country, so please understand that what follows is merely conjecture or my opinion:
and accordion does not, and perhaps should not, fit into this scenario for several
reasons.

First; accordion is perhaps one of the most social instruments there is - a portable
instrument with incredible versatility and a capability to magically draw people
together. However, the extent of this phenomenon and how the individual
accordionist makes his magic is as varied as the number of accordionists - and
getting there is an individual path for each individual. From a purely fiscal
standpoint, I don't see how any school could define instructional objectives, let alone
justify the cost of an accordion program.

Second. After a lot of years I have become even more convinced that the all-
bassetti instruments (except in some very unique circumstances) diminish the
accordion's potential; and this comes from someone (me) who played all-bassetti
instruments (no stradella chords) for many years to include everything from full-
length concerts to combo gigs.

Julio is often quoted as saying that a player with adequate free-bass facility doesn't
need stradella chords. In fact, when I approached him in the late 1970's to purchase
a true stradella, he wouldn't sell me one. He asked me, why would you want to go
backward? Unfortunately, it isn't quite that simple. If I were going to play nothing
but very limited types of music there might be some validity - but certainly not
without emasculating the instruments greatest inherent strength; its versatility. I
would never want to give up the capabilities provided with a free bass system, but I
don't want to abandon stradella to do so. And from what I continue to hear (music,
not words), this attitude is certainly intuitive to today's young super-players. I doubt
that any of them have even remotely considered abandoning the stradella system for
more than a few mili-seconds. So even if a public school system were going to have
an accordion program, it would more likely be with a stradella accordion.

Third. Repertoire. I have tried starting a few new-to-music-and-accordion students

on all-bassetti instruments with almost no success. With an all-bassetti instrument
you go a long time without the ability to say much musically. And when you finally
get there, there isn't the plethora of great repertoire waiting for you like there is for

Page 215
Saved Rounds

piano. I have heard it said that you can learn to sail in a day, but it takes a lifetime to
learn to sail. With a modicum of coordination you can hit a tennis ball across a net
the first time you hit the court, but the more you play the more you realize how
difficult it is to master the game. But those few magnificent moments of beginner's
excitement - the thing that makes someone want to come back - I don't see them in
an all-bassetti student instrument. It's a difficult task, and what is the reward?

So even with the enormous respect and admiration I had for Julio, I think he was off
course on this one. I am sure my introduction to free bassetti in 1961 is what kept
me coming back - and ultimately what provides the challenge and stimulus to want
to play the instrument 57 years later. But at the exclusivity of abandoning all parts of
the stradella system? No.

And perhaps history is bearing this out with the fate of many of the glorious all-
bassetti instruments - being bastardized into behemoth stradellas. Left hands being
banished to an abandoned part of a work bench or stuffed in the back of a closet.

A Special Audience

1/20/11

Several weeks ago I was delighted to have a rather extended conversation with Leo
Niemi. Though I have never met Leo or Lois in person I feel I know them both. Leo
has earned an international reputation as one of the accordion's finest artisans and
we also have mutual friends going back at least 50 years.

Some conversations are forgotten almost as soon as they are completed, but my
conversation with Leo continues to spin within me. His wonderful energy is a model
that brings light to things that inspire and encourage. It is the same energy that
provides music its extraordinary magic.

Leo talked about accordions and bringing them to their full potential, but something
that really stuck with me was when he spoke of the practice environment - how the
accordions of students with a positive environment and attitude thrived, and how the
accordions of students in negative environments were quick to go out of tune and
deteriorate almost immediately. He said he encouraged players to occasionally
switch the rooms where they practice, keeping the energy positive and fresh.

I have always found myself switching practice rooms, most often to increase my
ability to hear and also approximate the performance environment. But Leo
reminded me there are other things that really add to the quality of my practice time.
I have always enjoyed practicing, but talking to Leo made me recognize something
quite special. It is something so small that it could easily be overlooked.

Afghan Hounds are an unusual breed of dog. I once read that upon first encounter,
people either embrace the breed, or they can't get far enough away fast enough.

Page 216
Saved Rounds

The Ghans (what I call them) were Jim's choice of breed, and it took me quite some
time to appreciate the subtleties of their personalities and the unique way they fit into
the family and interact with each other. I love all my dogs, but Lilly, the youngest
Ghan, is my favorite. She was whelped in the room where I practice, the last puppy
in the litter, and was a fader; pushed away by her littermates and ignored by her
mother. Jim fought around the clock to for the first few days to help her survive -
until she could hold her own.

Anyway, Lilly is my practice dog. Ghans have a natural instinct to gravitate to the
tops of overstuffed furniture and beds. I have seen Afghan owners sitting on the
floor or on an end table because the dogs have claimed all the furniture. So it is not
unusual that Lilly gravitates to the top of the bed. She sometimes chews on her dog
chew, listens, and eventually will sleep. But my conversation with Leo helped me
realize that she brings wonderful energy and enormous joy into the room. And that
energy transcends into the practice and the accordion.

So Leo, thanks for that wonderful gift.

Stepping Up to the Accordion Barre

1/25/11

Stepping up to the Accordion Barre; it's is not about accordion after-glows, it's not
about new drinks with accordionesque names or even about a new 12-step group for
those who got too carried away with after-glows, drinks, or any other obsession de
jour. In contrast, Accordion Barre is a working title that represents a reorganization
of my efforts in training outreach.

I have talked incessantly about accordionists like Glenn Stead, Tito, Anthony Galla-
Rini, and Don Balestrieri. Each one contributed something unique to my playing. I
got to work with them at least once a week during music lessons, but we also
attended events together, they critiqued my performances, and we also shared life's
daily experiences. And in retrospect, it all contributed to the lessons that could be
learned.

Coming from a family of super-athletes, I learned early on that methods for

mastering the physical skills required for musical performance were not exclusive to
working with musicians. True, I increased my knowledge about playing the
accordion by studying other musical disciplines, such as conducting, piano,
composition, and orchestration; but I have also learned critical things about motor
memory and physical skills, things essential to playing, from non-musical endeavors,
such as teaching people how ski or to ride motorcycles.

We often acknowledge great accordionists from the past - even name our
competitions after them. But there are very few of us remaining who really knew
Galla-Rini, or really understand the value of his contributions. But as with Tito, Don

Page 217
Saved Rounds

Balestrieri, or Oakley Yale, none of them were all things accordion to all things
accordion. Each one brought a unique vision or insight to some detail of playing the
instrument. And the challenge of Accordion Barre is to collectively carry on these
traditions; to put their concepts together in a way that any accordionist of any level
can understand, apply, and if they so choose, adapt in their own playing.

From the start, this isn't about learning notation, how to count, or learning pieces.
There are already many avenues to achieve those goals. Rather, this is a 'hands on'
experience to learn more about the instrument. It's not about virtuosity, it's about
simplicity. In fact, the more experienced the player, the more difficult these
exercises - at least initially.

In recent years, I have become more involved with classical ballet. Ballet is
recognized as the most disciplined art form in dance. I have watched with
increasing fascination each time I have played for class. The 'barre' embodies the
basic foundation of movement, strength, and technique. In the movie 'Center Stage'
there is a scene where one of the school's teachers tells an aspiring young dancer,
"It always comes bac here, to the barre." And from what I have seen, the barre is
something done by dancers at all levels, even on into retirement.

The barre facilitates the basic structure of ballet. It is discipline, it embodies

tradition. As an outside observer, I would also say it seems to be universal. A
dancer can participate in a class anywhere in the world.

So my personal challenge: can something similar be developed for accordion? Not

in terms of getting together and playing in ensemble (not an accordion band) - it is a
completely different objective and outcome. But rather, have a sequence of events
that concentrate on the motor skills utilized to make music on an accordion. A
sequence of events that teaches us how to produce sound. A sequence of events
that teaches basic technique, regardless of the style it will be applied too. A
sequence of events that teaches and reminds us of the importance of listening. A
sequence of events separated from learning notes, to count, notation, registration,
pieces (though it will ultimately influence all of those).

Accordion is perhaps one of the most versatile of all musical instruments. However,
behind that versatility are core skills. If there is genius in the people I so often refer
too, it is clarity they provided to achieving artistic excellence in one or more of the
accordion's core skills. As with other motor skills (and playing is a motor skill), it is
something that is impossible to teach if one hasn't done it. And though the level of
performance doesn't guarantee success as a teacher, the higher the level of
competence and experience, the better the potential for the teacher. I could read
countless books, go to a lifetime of ballet performances and even take adult ballet
classes, but I could never teach a class.

So my challenge is to find an effective way to present basic motor skills for playing
accordion - and teaching how to use the ears to determine what the body must do to

Page 218
Saved Rounds

achieve them. And finally determine how to do this as a set of stand-alone skills that
will apply to accordionists at all levels. And make it flexible so it can be adapted to
an infinite range of individual capabilities and artistic applications.

So lets us begin. .

Stepping Up to the Accordion Barre, No Honking Allowed

1/26/11

Yesterday I introduced the concept of the Accordion Barre. The title might
eventually change. Though it has meaning to me it might only be confusing to
someone else. People have sometimes become so wrapped up in trying to
understand a title a title they never get to the content.

The first thing in creating the Barre is to organize the skills. When I was designing
curriculum and training for motorcycle safety instructors I used to emphasize that a
motorcycle only does three things: it travels in a straight line, it turns, and it stops.
Those are the only physical options. Everything else is a combination of those
things or a matter of how you manipulate the controls or your body to make them
happen. Your mind tells you what you need to do. It is a very simple concept, but
proficiency exists at x-number of levels.

So what does an accordion do? You manipulate the instrument to make sound by
producing an air source. You articulate the notes by pressing keys or buttons.
That's all there is. And as with motorcycle riders, proficiency exists at x-number of
levels. The first time I pick up an accordion I can pull the bellows and push a key
and make a sound. But in time I can also play a complete work with lots of notes
and nearly endless nuances in articulation.

Visualize for an instant that you are a musician or a singer. You are going to make
your Carnegie Hall debut. However, your performance will be limited to a single
note. Your entire reputation and future will be based on what is done with that single
note. What an enormous amount of pressure that would create. Personally, I find it
more difficult to perform a single piece than an entire program. With an entire
program there is time to settle in; to adapt, to make corrections. Imagine everything
hanging on a single note?

So back to a comment in the previous blog about the challenge being more difficult
for the advanced player: for in theory, when we step up to the Accordion Barre every
note is played as if it is the only note we will ever play. Ultimately, the goal is
learning to listen. It is the most basic application of what my piano instructor, Aube
Tzerko, was quoted as saying, "whenever you play, you must project as if you were
on a stage, but listen as if you were in the audience."

Page 219
Saved Rounds

The Accordion Barre will require mental and physical preparation; but we will
commence articulating a single note with a single reed and a with single bellow
movement for an exact specified period of time. We will hear the sound in our minds
before we play it and we will manipulate the instrument to provide a column of air
that will result in filling the room with that sound. From there we will build.

I was amused too many years ago when a college professor spoke of how
instruments produce sound. String players bow or pluck. Horn players blow.
Pianists strike a key. And rock and roll players bang. His point and prejudice were
directed at rock players, but too often it could also be said that, "and accordion
players honk". Though not one of my teachers used that word, I find it amusing
and painfully descriptive. In reality, Galla-Rini's 'ping' is cure for the honk.

The Bright Stream and Gregory Stone

1/26/11

A few days ago Gerry Kass sent me one of Gregory Stone's early accordion
compositions that was never published and was most likely displaced when I
recorded his entire accordion repertoire in the late 1960s. As I read through the
piece it set off memories of 45 years ago when I was working on that project. I
thought of the weekly trips to Gregory's home in Van Nuys where we rehearsed and
worked on the interpretive details of each piece. After we were done, Gregory
would often provide insight to me on some piano piece I was working on.

The late 1960's was a time of rapid technical and musical growth for me. Gregory
was a catalyst in my growth as information poured from him. It was more like
drinking from a fire hose than sipping the carefully measured offerings of either
Galla-Rini or Don Balestrieri. In this regard, Gregory was more like Oakley Yale, or
in later years when I was studying conducting from Sam Kracmalnic.

Gregory never spoke of himself or his musical background. He didn't have too. His
validation came as you were immersed in a total experiential musical environment
whenever you were around him. He didn't worry if someone was ready for
something, he just laid it out - and if you were ready you picked it up. And best of
all, it was done with a minimum of words. It was always about the music and came
from the music.

I received many wonderful gifts from Gregory; to include the foundation for what I
eventually have come to call my concept diatonic and chromatic fingering And if I
listened carefully to his spoken words, I would occasionally pick up a
small glimpse into his background.

Now, in 2011, I have certain questions, partially driven with a desire to be at least
somewhat accurate in this blog. After searching with little success on the internet,
Gerry Kass has started to help fill in some details on Gregory's background. He

Page 220
Saved Rounds

started by informing me of a definitive resource: a comprehensive doctoral

dissertation on Gregory Stone written by one of his daughters.

But the fact that Gregory was trained at the St. Petersburg Conservatory, that he is
direct musical descendant of Liszt, or his incredible adventures - these aren't the
types of things he shared with me in our time together. He could have told me
names, dates and places - all stuff to validate himself. But he didn't. When the time
came I could find that stuff out for myself. What Gregory shared with me was a rich
insight on the craft of music and musical performance, And most critically, Gregory
Stone, did all this through the language of the actual music. What a great role
model.

A few nights ago, Jim and I saw a new production by American Ballet Theatre of
Bright Stream, a Comedic Ballet with a score by Shostakovich written 1935. After
rather strong disapproval by the government (the librettist disappeared and the
choreographer was fired), the work was abandoned until it was resurrected in 2003
by the Bolshoi. The ballet tells of a touring theatre company's interaction with a
small farming collective. It was extremely well done and great fun. I must say that it
made me think of Gregory, who traveled through Russia with a small group of
chamber musicians in his early years

Brazilian Carnival Gregory Stone

1/31/11

Monday morning, and back to work. Several days ago Gerry Kass sent me a copy
of a stradella piece written by Gregory Stone. For some reason it was
never published. Though written before I recorded Gregory's complete accordion
works in the late 1960's, it was not included.

In any event, I had time to work on the Brazilian Carnival over the weekend and
decided to present myself with a new challenge. On several occasions in this blog I
have talked about the scope of the accordionist's repertoire, relative difficulty, and
the length of time required to learn and a new piece. Aube used to say that a pianist
should be able to learn the notes of a Beethoven Sonata or a Chopin Etude in a
single sitting. It would not be ready to perform, but the player should be able to play
through the work. I have often asked myself what an equivalent piece would be for
the accomplished accordionist. Would answering this question help define a
baseline level of difficulty?

So I decided to put a timeline on learning the piece. For the past two years I
have managed an ongoing schedule of performances and knew it was
first necessary to maintain the selections I intend to play. Usually I work on those
items first (after scales) and save new endeavors for last - a type dessert. The
success of the practice session determines how much time is available for playing
with the new material.

Page 221
Saved Rounds

But as I pulled the accordion from the case last Thursday, I decided to concentrate
on the Carnival. It would be my objective to work out the fingering and commit the
work to memory as quickly and thoroughly as possible. There were a total of 8
printed pages, about the length of a single movement of a smaller Beethoven
Sonata.

It was a good selection for this effort. First, I performed everything Gregory wrote up
to 1967 or so. I know his style. I understand the fingering. I recognize the patterns.
I have a good idea of what he intended musically. It would by similar to a pianist
learning a new Beethoven Sonata or a Chopin Etude. They would know the style
and the composer. They would also have played other works.

At the first sitting, it took about 90 minutes to work through the piece. There were
two sections, a total of 10-12 measures, that were problematic and occupied most of
the time. The first was a very atypical sequence of patterns in the right hand. My
first thought was that Gerry had made a mistake in the autography. The second
issue was reconciling a stylistic rhythmic pattern in the first part of the coda. I had a
hard time hearing it in my mind.

I didn't practice the piece on Friday, but instead went through it note by note in my
mind. I would occasionally refer back to the music. Saturday I returned to the piece
and relearned it. At that point I would have been prepared to take a lesson on it. I
would have walked in, handed the score to my teacher, and played it.

It is a fun piece and I will most likely perform it later in the year. Gerry has also
recently completed the autography for Fantasia Napolitana and I read through that
work as well; the first time in many years. The Fantasia is technically difficult; and
the piano reduction of the orchestra is even more difficult than the accordion part. I
am still in awe as I think back about the accuracy, precision, and ease of Gregory
Stone as he would tear through the score with the power of a full symphony. In all
the years I knew him I only recently learned that he is 3 musical generations from
Franz Liszt. But Gregory never told me that, I learned it from someone else. What I
did know was that his playing was extraordinary. And I knew that without a word
ever being spoken.

I hope that over the next several years I can inspire some of the world's younger
accordionists to play his music; to carry on such a great tradition.

More Ston(e)ing and Validation

1/20/11

I had a pleasant surprise mid-day yesterday when FedEx arrived at the house with a
package. At first I thought it was my monthly supply of cigars, but the package was
the wrong size and too heavy. Rather it was a copy of Cristina Stone's doctoral

Page 222
Saved Rounds

dissertation on her father's life that I ordered a little over a week ago. It is a big
work, almost 800 pages. I was amazed that it came so quickly. The Internet has
certainly created a different world.

The first thing I did was to look for an index. Unfortunately it is not indexed. Next I
flipped through the paper looking to see if there were any references to me. I didn't
see any.

On first review the organization of the book looks to be based on a series of

interviews Cristina conducted with her father in his later years, containing nearly
verbatim transcriptions. Though I worked with Gregory to record his complete
accordion works in the late 1960's (something that I don't think happened in any
other part of his creative genre), it is obvious that the sum of the accordion works is
but a miniscule blip within the scope of his life-long work. A young accordionist with
the name of 'Bill Cosby' is not going to compete with names like Horowitz,
Rachmaninoff, Stravinsky, Efrem Zimbalist, Fred Astaire, and so on. Gregory was
one of the most prolific musicians I have ever known, and the range of his life
experiences is equally prolific. I have always considered my life to be wonderfully
diverse and full, yet I cannot even start to comprehend Gregory's world.

I am anxious for an in-depth read of Cristina's paper, however, if there is a

shortcoming for me it will be absence of Gregory's actual music. Even in the short
passages that caught my eye, Gregory talks of the emotional or artistic beauty of
other composer's music but he is very pragmatic when talking of his own work.
From what I knew of Gregory, he approached music more as a craft with a definable
purpose than from some desperate need to express the meaning of life or the inner-
soul. J. S. Bach's approach to music is often described in the exact same way,
and some of Beethoven's work were created from a pragmatic need; and there is
certainly nothing wrong with that. One thing without question, Gregory was able to
sustain a successful life and his skill allowed him to move about an
extremely diverse world with a consistent level of artistic and financial success.

In my time spent with Gregory he spoke very little about himself, it was always about
the music. His approach to the music was always straightforward. There were no
secrets about anything. You want technique, I will show you how to achieve
technique. You need a musical jingle or score for a motion picture, I will write you a
musical jingle or a score for a motion picture. You need someone who can
improvise, I will improvise.

I have known other musicians who are much like Gregory. One was Arnie Gross
from my days in the USMA Band. Someone once asked Arnie which instruments he
played and he answered 'yes'. On one occasion he wanted to use a harp in the
orchestration for a show. The USMA Band had a harp, but no harpist. Two weeks
later on opening night, Arnie had learned the harp and played for the show. On
another night we needed a keyboard player for one of the rock bands. Though he
didn't particularly look the part (though I don't know how many Army Musicians really

Page 223
Saved Rounds

looked like rock players in the early 1970's) and was most likely bored after the initial
amusement wore off, he performed flawlessly. Like Gregory, Arnie didn't talk about
stuff, he just did it. And did it well.

Now you may think I am done; but I am going to segue into a final step. Arnie used
to say that in almost any given situation he could almost immediately rise to the
position of 2nd Chair. But there always remained another category: that person who
unequivocally commanded the position of first chair, or the soloist spot. For that
person there was a different mindset, a different goal, different ways of getting there,
and sometimes with a greater potential risk. Not better or worse; different. This
other category better describes what I have always wanted. I have also known a lot
of successful musicians in this group and there is one thing consistent with nearly all
of them parallel to the pragmatics: they don't feel the need to validate their
background. They validate with the music.

Rules of Engagement

2/03/11

Once upon a time in the retail music business there was a tier in the sales system
sometimes called the 'jobber'. The jobber offered the local retailer an assortment of
musical instruments and accessories from a variety of manufacturers and could
provide a one-stop source for a full-range of products. One such jobber in the Los
Angeles area was Pacific Music Supply. In the heyday of accordions, jobbers might
even have an in-house accordion repairman - which Pacific Music Supply did.

I have maintained a life-long fascination with the music industry and for many years
looked forward to participating in the yearly NAMM shows with Julio Giulietti.
Occasionally I did local trade shows with Pacific Music Supply, mainly with my rock
band, Music Emporium. I still remain completely fascinated when I hear the words
of a particularly good sales person or strategist, regardless of what they are selling.
What they say and how they say it, timing, self confidence - it all fits together to
convince someone they must have something.

Gene Detgen worked for Pacific Music Supply and was spectacular at his craft. Like
others who achieve his level of excellence, Gene was always selling. Noticing my
interest in retail sales he offered to work with me (as he did with all who were willing
to listen to him) in improving my sales rate. I have found one of his key points to be
especially true anytime I have found it necessary or in my best interest to sell
someone on something. "Don't tell them what it is, tell them what it does." My
corollary: what it is gives value to the item; what it does provides value to them.

Throughout my writing of both Anecdotes and this blog (Saved Rounds), I have
emphasized that my goal is not historical accuracy and stating facts (what it is), but
rather bringing people, events, and even a culture to life through the words of my
personal stories (what it does).

Page 224
Saved Rounds

As I started reading Cristina Stone's paper yesterday I had expectations. However, I

was completely blown away as she explained her approach to relating Gregory's life
history through storytelling. She begins by explaining the challenge to balance and
reconcile how the needs and health in his current life situation interweaves and
influences all of it, not to mention her own potential bias as both researcher and
daughter. Her writing is nothing short of brilliant, and the framework and structure
required to validate the process is equally brilliant. The result is the best of what
Gene Detgen described - not what it is, but what it does. And in my experience, the
best things related to 'does' often transcend what can be effectively expressed with
written words or even with the shackles of rationale thought. And as I have become
willing to sit back and go along for the ride, the final outcome of Cristina's work
transcends both words and rationale thought - the highest compliment I could pay
her.

The spirit of Cristina's paper reinforces what I am trying to do in this blog, but at a
much higher level. It has also given me incentive to revisit some of my own rules of
engagement. I am telling my story. When I talk of other people it is to tell how they
influenced me, to perhaps bring them to life for someone who never knew them. It is
more about what they did then who they were. It is also comes with a bias of time -
rethinking events with a mind influenced by years of life experience - and a mind
coping with life's daily challenges.

At the same time, one of the differences between Cristina's effort and mine is what I
will call spontaneity. Cristina is doing research. I am doing what Gregory
calls improvising. I want the rules to tell me what is appropriate and what is not, for
example, telling other people's stories is not. But I also do this because it is fun and
I like doing it. The rules provide a structure, but I don't want them to disrupt what
sometimes seems intuitive or even channeled.

White Silk Glove and a Cigar Butt

2/15/11

I have mentioned the new accordion forum on several occasions and the barrage of
insults, egos, and hurt feelings that reached a feverous pitch a couple weeks ago. I
stayed out of it. It has finally resolved and it seems everyone is once again happy;
holding hands and sharing all kinds of marvelous niceties about the accordion. I am
still staying out of it. The diversity gets the adrenaline going and sharing the
wonderments of a new discovery creates a warm fuzzy feeling inside; but for the
most part I usually find both relatively boring.

But when a young man with a love of the accordion tells of being made fun of
because of his passion for the instrument, I feel challenged - not to tell everyone
how stupid they are for not realizing the potential of the instrument, and certainly not

Page 225
Saved Rounds

to tell the young man it is his fault for playing the wrong music. I think back to my
own youth and my perceived need to convince someone that the accordion I was
playing was different, and the music I was playing was different, and what I was
going to do was different. I didn't want to call it an accordion - it was a bassetti. It
was more than an accordion. I was ready to take on the piano or any other
institution that got in my way.

I was taken back recently when I heard a young accordionist explain that his bayan
was more than an accordion when being interviewed before a major performance.
His words were sincere and enthusiastic; but were they really necessary for anyone
beside himself? Maybe some things never change. But being a lot older now and
with a life-long set of experiences, my perception of all of it has certainly changed.

A good friend who served as a 'life mentor' used to tell me, "When you are
comfortable with it, they will be comfortable with it." I now realize that my defenses
created a target; I was painting a large bull's eye right in the center of my ego. Other
kids can be especially mean when they perceive vulnerability - they sense it just as
well as my dogs do, and can be equally relentless when they attack; becoming even
more effective in packs. Two of my Afghan hound girls hate each other and would
likely fight until one was dead if they were allowed to be together. For the young
accordionist, the death would be the decision that it was no longer worth the
negative peer reaction to play.

So my message to the young accordionist: ultimately it is not going to be the

instrument, and the repertoire will also have less impact than you might think. It is
going to be how you approach the instrument. It will be the self-confidence that you
know exactly what you want to do, how to articulate every note, and how each note
relates to everything else to create magic in the passage of time. Passion,
sensitivity, joy, and even vulnerability is all shared with an audience through a total
understanding of the craft of making music. And there can be no doubt in the
performer's confidence that his preparation reflects full control over every part of that
process. When that happens he will know it: he has prepared. And there will likely
be no cause for excuses.

There will certainly be times when someone doesn't like what or how you play, but
the dislike will be toward the performance, not the player. There is a huge
difference.

I am reminded of stories of performances by Franz Liszt; nearly causing a riot as

women rushed the stage after he left of his white silk gloves on the piano after a
performance; or another where a woman carried one of his discarded cigar butts
next to her breast for the rest of her life. I doubt Liszt ever apologized for the
instrument, or the fact that he often played transcriptions of orchestral works
(something we often hide behind in shame about our accordion repertoire). To the
young accordionist I would say, there is your role model for coolness - now lets look
at how he applied the craft of performance. (I know some of you are saying that it is

Page 226
Saved Rounds

blasphemous that I even imply that you could abandon the art, but I would ask about
developing a capability that financially sustains your passion. Also, if you practice
the craft well enough, who knows, maybe the two can compliment each other.)

An Accordionist Without a Neck

2/22/11

After the President's holiday yesterday it is back to work this morning. In addition to
getting up at 4:00 there was the additional pleasure of a heavy layer of ice on the
windshield and some freezing rain. It doesn't take too much to clog up traffic on
Interstate 95 and the length of my blog will often correlate to the length of the
commute. So this may be a long blog.

Back in December I did a television show for a local cable station. There were a
number of technical problems throughout the evening and I left without seeing even
a rough copy of the production. Alas my DVD copy finally arrived in the mail. I have
never liked being recorded or filmed during a performance. Even in my youth I was
adamant about the prohibition of any type recording device.

My feelings about being recorded haven't changed over the years. For me,
recording is a different type of performance; and when conducted in a studio it might
be the only performance in which you have total control. If you don't like it, you do it
again. And unlike a live performance, people can listen to it over and over again.
Ultimately, if it isn't right you don't release it. It is often a common practice to record
more than you will use. If something isn't right, it ends up on a reel of outtakes, or in
today's digital word, in a hidden file.

The live performance that is recorded is entirely different; unless you can exert the
same ultimate control as you would in a recording studio. Vladimir Horowitz was
well known for doing that. But even in the recording studio, things sometimes are
leaked. And in this age of affordable media and the internet, a recording can be
instantly viral. Sometimes that is not bad. I just pulled up a Youtube video of Justin
Bieber - over 470 million hits on one song! But for some, there is a overpowering
fear that the primary audience will be one's protagonists rather than one's fans. And
it is hard to forget that it will be there forever; like the sci-fi movies of the 50's with
visions of television broadcasts floating around in space for eternity.

There are artists who welcome fan's interest and willingness to record them, and
even encourage the sharing of recordings. The prime example that comes to mind
is the Grateful Dead. I have always admired that attitude and I think it will contribute
to their legacy. But that represents a part of a 60's mindset that I have never been
able to embrace. I love the idea, as long as someone else is doing it.

A live performance is what it is; but to me, part of the live performance is the
environment of the moment. Sometimes that environment does not translate well to

Page 227
Saved Rounds

media. I have listened to performances where audiences were on their feet, alive
with the energy. But energy of the moment is very difficult to capture, and generally
is not enough to compensate for inadequacies of the recording process or the actual
performance. So too often, the memories of an exciting event are replaced with, "it
really wasn't that good," with the risk of destroying the impact of the live
performance.

Then there are personal expectations. An individual will usually be in disbelief the
first time they hear a recording of their own voice. "My voice doesn't really sound
like that." You can explain why, but it doesn't matter. The person who records
enough will eventually know what their recorded voice sounds like.

Another example is photographs. Whereas some people are basically photogenic,

many hate what they see when they look at themselves in a picture. They notice all
the flaws, the disproportion, and everything else. I have taken pictures of people
that I like, only to discover they hate them. Certain details will consume their
attention; enough so that the photo is unacceptable.

So as I looked at the video all these things were at play with my perception. I was
wearing dark slacks and a dark blue shirt. The carpet on the set was dark blue as
was the backdrop. With the exception of the white keys of on the piano keyboard,
and in this case Fabian's extended keyboard with full-size keys, the accordion is
black. So to me it looked like an accordion with a head attached above the
keyboard; with not even a neck. It made the accordion's keyboard and my head look
even bigger and more bulbous with these hands appearing out of nowhere. I
thought of Rocky Horror Picture Show.

I realize most of this is my perception - I see and hear myself as I want to see and
hear myself. At times this can be good; if it is used to improve the effectiveness of a
performance. But at other times, it just reinforces personal perceptions. As
Shakespeare said, (loose quote), "it is not good or bad, but our perceptions that
make it so."

So perhaps the message for me is to take all of it a lot less seriously. To take myself
a lot less seriously and consequently to take everything else a lot less seriously. To
learn to embrace all of it, as it all contributes to the totality. And to occasionally
laugh - even at myself, "there he is, that accordionist with no neck."

Bassetti Dreams

2/23/11

Jim opened the cardboard box that had just been delivered by UPS. It was apparent
that Gerry Kass had done an excellent job in protecting the little accordion that was
packed inside.

Page 228
Saved Rounds

I first think back to September a year ago when Fabian arrived from Los
Angeles. Thirty four pounds of accordion magnificence, cradled in a plush-lined
case; not the kind of case you typically see now, but one of the old, substantial
ones. Fabian was begging to be played, ready to challenge my musical and
technical competencies.

But today was totally different. Beneath the layers of foam was a small, square
cornered case, tattered from age and rough handling. I guess I wasn't fully prepared
for my reaction as Jim walked into the room where I was practicing and handed me
the little accordion.

The accordion wasn't one of the custom built Supers that were the weapon of choice
for so many players in the accordion's golden age. And it wasn't like the original
Leader 1 bassetti, Serial #001 that Julio had sent me in the late 60s. The early all-
bassetti student prototypes were quite similar in quality of the professional
instruments.

What Jim handed me was one of the later, production-quality entry-level accordions,
25 notes in each hand; the true bassetti version of a 12-bass. It was the instrument
Julio envisioned in the public schools, to be placed in the hands young children.

Most collectors search the best examples they can find of a particular accordion, or
look for something with a history. But the tiny instrument that came into my home
today had done its tour of street duty. It had been returned to Gerry many years ago
for repair. The story was that the owner, a 7-year-old girl, had dropped it, doing
serious damage. But the damage was most likely the result of abuse far
beyond single drop.

To back up a bit, I had been looking for a student instrument for a local player
interested in exploring the possibilities of free bass. I was following a 33-note
student bassetti advertised on Ebay, one of the ones that had ended up in a pawn
shop, one of the ones that had never been played, when Gerry told me of the
unrepaired accordion in his garage. He offered to do what he could to repair it and
send it to me.

So the question becomes; what do you do with a surviving plastic-shell accordion

that had been subject to the abuse of a young child? Jim handed it to me and I
played it - played some Bach and some jazz pieces. It was a good feeling. But as I
played I had an unerving realization that I was holding Julio's real dream in my
hands. A dream that wasn't the custom-made Supers or even the hand-crafted
student bassetti prototypes, those were the realities. The dream was the street
veterans; the accordions that would get into the hands of youth. And however Julio's
vision might be ultimately be judged, for this moment it didn't matter. This accordion
was his dream. A dream that is now scattered about the country in closets and
pawn shops, in garage sales and occasionally in an accordion studio.

Page 229
Saved Rounds

So for a few moments the little accordion brought the music of Bach to life and the
music of Bach brought the little accordion to life. And I wonder where that little girl
might be today. She would be about 50. Did the little accordion enrich her life? Did
she survive better than the Bassetti 1?

Warming Up for the Fireside Concert

2/24/11

There are two days in the count-down until Dale Wise and I present our Workshop
and Fireside Concert at the Accordy Inn. The topic is performance preparation, but
for our discussions, performance preparation is certainly not exclusive to the concert
stage or competition.

Aube Tzerko said we should play every note as if we were playing for an audience
and listen to every note we play as if we were the audience. His advice can be
paraphrased into two critical skills: the first is concentration; the second is listening
to what we play. The skills are interrelated. And as skills they are something one
learns how to do, and something one can improve.

In my early years, Glenn Stead introduced me to the elementary preparatory

exercises of Aloys Schmidt. As a 10-year-old I questioned the value of the five-note,
fixed hand position exercises. I realize now that as I was developing independence
of the fingers, I was also developing the ability for extended concentration, and
knowing what to concentrate on. In time I came to appreciate the link between
concentration and listening.

An often stated goal is the ability to 'hear' the music in our minds as (actually before)
we play, without the distraction of excessive attention to the physical movements
required to play it. One must master this skill to achieve artistry. Think of the person
who can start at a perfectly-defined tempo right from the first note - and maintain
it. Developing this skill starts with single notes, concentration, and an aural concept
of knowing what we want to hear.

So the topics Dale and I will cover will begin with the basics of performance (what
I have been calling the Accordion Barre). But any study of pure technique needs a
concurrent balance with activities that will encourage people to continue playing. If
my youthful study with Glenn Stead had not included pieces in addition to the
exercises, I would have quickly lost interest. So in addition to the Barre, the
workshop will include practical enhancements to improve both the effectiveness and
variety of improvisation (including Dale's new Pro-notes). All of it is hands-on,
interactive, and applicable to players at all levels. Most of all, it is fun. And when the
day is over, Dale and I will have learned as much as the participants.

Page 230
Saved Rounds

Then we will all move upstairs next to the wood stove (hence the workshop title)
where I will try on some of my new repertoire - my opportunity to put into practice the
things we have been discussing downstairs.

The Accordion Barre and Self-Assessment

2/28/11

Thanks for all who participated in the inaugural presentation of the Accordion Barre
last Saturday. It was a diverse group and certainly one of the most enthusiastic
accordion activities I have ever seen. I was amazed at how quickly the group locked
in on the initial group exercise that focused extended concentration and listening -
two of our most important skills.

The Accordion Barre focuses on the basic skills of playing an accordion. The more
obvious skills include tone production, bellows control, articulation, technique, and
instrument manipulation. But there are other, equally critical skills that include
listening, concentration and self-assessment. And though all the skills are
interrelated, individual skills are isolated as much as possible so the accordionist can
concentrate exclusively on that particular skill.

The exercises are simple and can be performed by players at almost any skill level.
But the exercises are also challenging, and when performed correctly, the better the
player, the more difficult the exercise. The ultimate underpinning of the Accordion
Barre is proficiency in concentration and listening; the most critical tools for self-
assessment.

The Accordion Barre provides a method to first understand what we are assessing,
second a standard of how to improve it, and third, a way to measure our progress.
When we master our ability for self-assessment (listening and concentration) and
understand what we need to do to achieve our goals (understanding the basics of
playing) the system can become disciplined and precise; and each of us can adapt it
to our own needs.

If I started with an explanation like the one in the previous paragraphs I would likely
loose most people very quickly. But when you jump in and 'do' it, like yesterday's
participants, the concept is really quite simple. I rarely provide a lot of verbal detail
when I teach - I simply tell someone to 'try this'. Sometimes I might need to
demonstrate, but it is more important for the student to do it, regardless of their
level. The value of watching me do something (demonstration) is questionable. But
there is an extremely critical paradox here. I absolutely must have the ability to
demonstrate, whether I choose to do so or not. And this can only come from an
absolute understanding of what must to be done; and that understanding can only
come from the consummate ability to perform what I would demonstrate - and that
ability can only come from experience. Feedback is what true pedagogy is about.
Without the experience and understanding the experience, my feedback is

Page 231
Saved Rounds

unqualified and totally useless, or worse than useless. That's the fastest way qualify
myself as a hack.

So back to the students; when they do it, they own it. The explanation (feedback)
comes later to assist in improving the process. That's why teaching kids is so great;
they just do it because no one tells them they can't. Also, they generally don't want
to watch you do it for very long - they want to do it themselves.

Learning the basic skills of playing accordion can be compared to other physical
skills. The purpose of the Accordion Barre is to provide feedback in the basics to
build a solid foundation in the least amount of time and learn self-assessment
that empowers someone to sustain and improve their skills.

After the initial presentation, the follow-on questions from Saturday's participants
showed they were dialed into the concept. I hope we can develop opportunities to
extend the accessibility of Accordion Barre.

After the workshop I got to try a couple new repertoire things in the fireside concert
that followed. In addition to the Sonata High Energy, I also introduced several
new compositions by Gregory Stone and also Tito's Hollywood Fantasia - something
I have not performed since 1963!

My thanks to all the participants and also to Dale and DeAnn for hosting the event at
the Accordy Inn!

Interstate Route 40

3/01/11

Thanks for all the comments on last Saturday's workshop and master class. It was a
particularly enjoyable event, largely so because I got to visit with all the new
accordion friends I have made in this area. When I talk to almost any accordionist, I
feel like I am with friends. But for the regular gang at Dale and DeAnn's Accordy
Inn, it is becoming more like family.

So now the attention turns to the National Accordion Association events in Dallas
week after next. Preparing the music is the easy part. For Jim and I, the real
adventure will be getting there.

What a great subject for a reality show: the true story of ten different accordionists
trying to get to an accordion event.

If your jaw dropped when you heard the recent news story of, "don't touch my junk,"
wait until you see how Priscilla deals with the inspectors groping her bass reeds.
And the credit card disaster in 'Best In Show' pales to Felecia's frantic credit-card
maximum stress test when she is informed she must purchase a full-price coach

Page 232
Saved Rounds

seat for her accordion in lieu of having it tossed, unprotected, into to the lowest
bowels of the baggage compartment.

And don't forget those infamous lines you don't want to hear, "if it is really worth that
much money, you should have bought a seat for it," and, "you have to take two
pounds out of that bag or pay the excess weight charge, and by the way, it is also
over-size by two inches, that will be and additional charge of $250.00".

But I am trading all that for a two-day drive to Dallas. I like driving. It is a chance to
relax and enjoy the scenery. I also know the accordions will arrive in good
condition. Jim is less enthusiastic: a LOT less enthusiastic - even with XM radio, lots
of food, and an internet connection. To me, it is only 1,200 miles. Certainly doable.
But to him, it is, "1,200 miles, you can't possibly be serious!" But there are still
decisions: do we want the mileage of the Honda Civic or the comfort of the Ford
Van?

So at the end of the day, it will likely be somewhere between the 1950's television
show (my reality), Route 66, and the movie, 'Vacation' (Jim's reality).

When You Don’t Get a Second Chance

3/02/11

The countdown continues for the National Accordion Association event in Dallas. In
yesterday's blog I spoke of the logistical preparation; and there are still lots of
unresolved things - like the final decision of whether to drive the Ford van or the
Honda Civic. Sometimes I think life would be so much simpler without so many
choices.

Someone asked me a few days ago what I was going to play in a recital in May and I
honestly told them I don't know; that I will decide when I walk out on the stage. That
is partially true. I can't walk out with the Classic 127 stradella and then decide I want
to play a bassetti piece. And playing the big stradella stuff on one of the Super
Continentals is like driving a school bus around a race track. You can certainly do it,
but driving the Ferrari (in this case the 127) would be much more effective. So there
are some initial decisions that must be made.

But for now I am still trying to decide what I will play in Dallas. Then I can start
thinking about May.

Also critical in the decision process is the length of the performance. A one-hour (or
longer) performance is easy. A 20-minute performance is more difficult to plan. A 3-
5 minute performance can be absurdly difficult, "when you don't get a second
chance to make that first mistake." I heard this expression a long time ago. I had to
think about it for a long time to grasp the full meaning, but in this case 'mistake' goes

Page 233
Saved Rounds

beyond missing a note. The mistake can be in your presentation, selection of

repertoire, or any other factor. That's what makes it so hard.

So the decisions continue

Because It Is So Wickedly Fun

3/03/11

It is the final van day before the trip to Dallas for the NAA. Van days equate to the
work commute which is when I typically write the blog. However, work days also
result in limited practice time. I get up around 4:00 a.m. and am out the door shortly
after 5:00. If the traffic isn't too bad I get home around 6:30 or 7:00 p.m. I grab a
quick dinner and then it's practice time. It is a long day and I feel fortunate when I
get 2 hours in. But getting up at 4:00 a.m. means I need to get to bed at a
reasonable hour so I can repeat the ritual. On weekends I have more time.

Thanks to some excellent teachers over the years and having played for a long time
I usually can be quite efficient using the available time to practice. Another critical
thing for me is not missing days. When playing, I have always practiced 7 days a
week unless it was literally impossible, like if I am on an airplane or in surgery. The
daily routine is just as important as the length of the time available to practice; and
this includes holidays, birthdays and whatever else. I have traditionally lived my life
with the philosophy that if something is worth doing, it is worth overdoing.

But what matters most is what I can put into the practice. It is that level of
concentration I speak of in the Accordion Barre. It is the self-assessment and the
ability to rotate and adjust the daily practice regimen adding enough variety to
sustain interest.

Practice also helps me appreciate my performance envelope to include the

limitations of both the accordion and myself. I am a very strong advocate of Aube's
advice that you practice slow to be able to play fast. But there also comes the time
when you need to know exactly how fast you can play; and you can't know what 'too
fast' is if you don't experience it. And for me it is best to discover that in practice
rather than in a performance. Occasionally during a lesson Edith Oppens would tell
me to play something, "fast like the wind, and don't stop, no matter what." So
sometimes practice is like a stress test. I push until something fails.

During Desert Storm I remember listening as Norman Schwarzkopf answered a

reporter's question regarding the combat risk of U.S. soldiers (with something to the
effect of), "it's not like you see in the movies. We don't go into a combat situation
with a slight chance we will win. We only engage when we are highly confident that
we can and will be successful."

Page 234
Saved Rounds

I have described 'virtuoso' at workshops and in this blog as ultimate control over the
instrument and the performance environment. Whereas some might see the
virtuoso as the occasional daredevil, it is most likely the player is well within the
comfort of his envelope; it is just that he has expanded capabilities. And when I
hear sniveling from some would-be accordion fuddy-duddy about young people
playing everything too fast I smile inside and think to one of my favorite comments
by Vladimir Horowitz to one of his students; "because we can and it can be so
wickedly fun." At sometimes, it's just fun to remain young.

A Very Special Honor

3/06/11

We are continuing preparations for the trip to the National Accordion Association
activities in Dallas. The practicing is the easy part; getting everything ready to go is
more challenging.

Preparing for accordion events sparks memories, and I had one particularly funny
one a day or two ago when I was reading some comments on cows and music on
Facebook.

On one of our early car trips from Los Angeles to the ATG and NAMM in Chicago we
did the obligatory stop by some of the Cosby relatives in Missouri. They had a small
farm with a small herd of cows which was always a delight for me. I have always
had a fascination for cows. Whenever we returned from a trips there were typically
more pictures of the cows than of the accordion events.

Anyway, on this particular trip we arrived when a calf was being born which was
something quite unique for a city boy. I was studying with Tito at the time and
convinced my great uncle that we should name the calf after Tito's wife Sylvia.

I remember calling Tito and Sylvia from Chicago a few days later to report the results
of the competition and I must say that Sylvia was not as thrilled to have a cow
named after her as I thought she would. But it still seemed a good idea at the time.

Jim cannot understand why I like to drive rather than fly. I don't mind flying, and
through work have done a lot of domestic and international flights. But for me there
is just something about driving. I like relaxing and looking at the countryside, but
maybe a deeper reason is that it reminds me of the great time I spent traveling to
accordion events with my parents. In later years it became our vacations - packing
everything into the family truckster and heading off across the California desert.

Last summer we attended a special recognition luncheon for Sylvia Prior sponsored
by the Accordion Federation of North America. It was a well-deserved honor for a
wonderful lady who has given a lifetime of support to the accordion. And there
seems to be a lot of recognitions and honors in the US accordion world today. But

Page 235
Saved Rounds

how many people had the distinction of having a cow named after them? Maybe
someday I will have a cow named after me.

The Bias of a Generation

3/21/11

A week has passed since the NAA in Dallas; it is time to catch up on the blog.

The wide ranges of activities at the National Accordion Association's events in Dallas
were great fun. It was a chance to link up with old friends and make new ones. The
NAA's accordion trade show brought back memories of the accordion's prominence
in the National Association of Musical Merchant's (NAMM) shows during the
instrument's heyday. The enthusiasm in Dallas was certainly contagious.

In addition to playing on Friday and Saturday nights I introduced the concept of the
Accordion Barre in a short workshop. New ideas surface each time I present the
Barre. The participants often introduce their own topics, sometimes through a direct
question, other times ideas surface as a result of something being discussed. A
topic that nearly always comes up is accordion position. It affects nearly every part
of playing and the variety of the player's positions is often equaled only by the variety
of the accordions they play.

There is nearly always much interest in left hand technique and fingering. Accordion
position will influence the ability to use the 5th finger. While there are nuances
between individual players and instruments, there are certain things that will apply to
all. And once again, it comes down to the ability for one to self-assess and to know
how to adjust.

One thing particularly encouraging about the NAA was the presence of some
younger players. At last year's AFNA awards luncheon in Sylvia Prior's honor, she
emphasized that parents should share the gift of music with their
children. Interestingly, there were instances at the NAA where grandparents were
sharing the gift of the accordion. Perhaps in our time this works even better as kids
will be spared the bias of the generation of the accordion's fall from popularity.
Several years ago my parents took all the kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids on a
Disney Cruise. I was surprised at how many grandparents underwrite these
adventures for their families. I am sure some of it is the availability of discretionary
money, but perhaps there is also a distant memory of the magic of Disney; a time of
Disneyland on Sunday nights and Mickey Mouse Club each afternoon after school -
and of course the park. Is it coincidental that Disney suffered a fate similar to that of
the accordion around the same time? That Disneyland Park didn't have the real thrill
rides and the feature motion pictures were a little too corny? But with time, Disney
has evolved and has come back stronger than ever.

Page 236
Saved Rounds

Perhaps a similar time of change has come for accordion, and perhaps the activities
of the Accordion Barre will help establish a framework to understand and utilize the
full potential of the instrument.

What’s Talent Got To Do With It

3/23/11

Call it selective listening or call it wishful thinking, most often we hear what we want
to hear. Sometimes it is biased toward the positive, sometimes the negative.
Sometimes it is immediately forgotten or passed off, but if we choose to give it
substance, it can linger. With the passage of time it can even take on a new life.
There is a saying you sometimes hear in 12-step recovery groups which says,
"What you think of me is none of my business." It is easier said than done.

As an example, a recently I told a friend she was a musical genius. But I went on to
say that talent alone had almost no value or could even be counterproductive
without discipline. So to begin with, I was guilty of speaking some meaningless
social drivel, only a half-step above a mindless comment about the weather. But my
friend clung to the musical genius part. To her it was the only real value of my
comment. It was what she wanted to hear. The discipline part didn't resonate; it
was something she didn't want to hear. She associated no meaning to the
shortcoming; even though addressing the shortcoming (lack of discipline) would be
critical to realization of a musical talent (genius). So in this particular case I created
a cycle I have to live with, "so you really think I am a genius? But you said I was a
musical genius." And it never matters how many times I remind her of the second
part; that she has absolutely no discipline. So nothing of value was accomplished
from my original comment.

Now I could make a similar comment to another person, a person addicted to

discipline and order, a person who might have unrealistic expectations of their own
abilities or talent, and a person who would never be satisfied with any level of
accomplishment. This person could cling to the negative (or constructive -
depending on how you look at it) part of my comment. They aren't disciplined
enough - in fact, they can never be disciplined enough.

So what's the point of all this? Is it my need to make a social comment intended to
make someone feel good about themselves? Is it taking something someone said
as literal and spinning it to my own needs so I can feel good about myself or justify
my actions? And what of those times when you are actually in a mentoring position
and you make a constructive comment quickly realizing it is being blown off; that the
person you are speaking too doesn't give you the level of credibility you give
yourself? Do you go on trying to convince them, or spend the next several months
telling anyone who will listen why you are right and why that person was wrong for
not embracing your point of view?

Page 237
Saved Rounds

Like the ballet instructor said in the movie, Center Stage, you can always return to
the barre, or in this case, the Accordion Barre. Success at the Accordion Barre will
ultimately be measured by one's ability to self-assess, but it is an incremental
process to learn what you are assessing and how to improve or to reach the goals
you assess. A good mentor will be of immense help, but there will be times along
the way when you will need to learn to measure the value of a potential mentor and
how advice applies to you. Is it social drivel, or is it something you can use? And
am I confident enough in my ability to self-assess that I can recognize the
difference?

So when I hear someone play, do I say, "you have the characteristics of a wild
stallion"; something that might make them feel good about themselves, or do I say
"you have some natural talent but you have absolutely no control over what you are
doing nor any concept of what you should be doing." Or do I have the restraint not
to say anything? And why am I saying it in the first place? Am I saying it for them or
for me?

Self-assessment comes from within and can be applied to almost anything. While it
can apply to physical skills with a goal of musicianship it can also apply to value
judgments and integrity. And a parting shot: don't ask questions when you really
don't want to hear the answer and don't answer questions that aren't asked.

Something Old, Sonething New

3/23/11

At the recent National Accordion Association event in Dallas Tony Lovello

discovered that I was not wearing the back strap on my Giulietti 127. He wouldn't
buy any of my excuses - the truth being I hadn't figured out how this particular back
strap was supposed to work.

After years of playing, it is not unusual to see an experienced player try an accordion
with no shoulder straps at all. It is often with an instrument someone wants to check
out. A pre-strap check-out can help determine whether it is worth the time required
to attach and adjust straps. But that is outside the scope of Tony's comment to me.
As he said, "how can I tell students they must wear back straps when they see you
not wearing one?"

It is also rather curious that a few weeks before the NAA I started practicing the
bellows-shake. I could do it when required, but after 30 years of inactivity, at only a
minimally acceptable level. During my 30 year absence from accordion,
conservatory players use much more bellows-shake that we ever did in the 50's -
70's. It has become an obligatory staple of much of the original repertoire and
transcriptions. The triple bellows-shake is also widely used - something that I rarely
did as I always thought it was unnecessarily hard on the accordion.

Page 238
Saved Rounds

But having played on the Florida Smash venue with Tony, I was reminded that he is
unquestionably the all-time bellows-shake master (so confirmed by Galla-Rini) and
the skill is certainly part of accordion technique. So it was time.

As I age alongside my friends involved in other artistic and athletic disciplines, we

often speak of a performer's shelf life - how long can you keep doing something at a
high level. Women gymnasts' peak very early and some feel it can be dangerous to
continue beyond a very young age. Compared to musicians, dancers generally
have a much shorter time they can perform in their prime. In contrast, one of the
best performances I ever heard was Arthur Rubinstein who was celebrating his 80th
birthday.

I have read where people found it difficult to understand how Suzanne Farrell could
continue to dance so brilliantly later in her career when she could hardly walk, and
she explained that it was because of the effectiveness of the training and her ability
to correctly perform the required physical movement.

In this regard there are similarities between dance and music: total mastery of the
required physical skills can extend the time one can perform. Tony Lovello
illustrates this with a very unique mastery of not only bellow-shake, but his ability to
handle the instrument. I kidded with Tony, telling him I was going to stand and play
for my 70th birthday. I have not stood and played since my first Dallape Super
Maestro, many years ago. Tony still stands for his entire performance. For years
there has been my excuse of very large free-bass instruments, but I now play at
least part of my program on a standard stradella accordion. After I told him my goal,
Tony gave me some essential tips on standing and playing.

Night before last I played nearly all of Konzertstuck standing. But I should tell the full
story; the main reason was to make sure Tyler, our male Afghan Hound, wasn't
marking somewhere out of my sight. But I must say, the back strap really does
help - both for the bellows-shake and for standing up.

Checking In

3/25/11

The blog entries have been a bit sparse for the past several days. Unfortunately this
is not because I have not been riding the van to work (which I have), but rather
because I have started updating the index for Saved Rounds; and with an addition
70+ pages (which parallels my commute time) it is a rather large task. Hopefully
within the next several days I will be able to repost the blog entries for the last six
months over to the Online Publications so they will be easier to access. For those
interested, I will also be able to forward an indexed-by-topic copy via Email upon
request.

Goodbye to a Friend

Page 239
Saved Rounds

3/28/11

I was deeply saddened yesterday to hear of the death of Benny Layton. Though I
only met him for the first time a few weeks ago in Dallas, I instantly knew I was in the
presence of an extremely talented musician. He was also a person of warmth,
honesty and integrity.

Besides accordions, we also spoke of motorcycles. The topic most likely originated
because I was wearing one of my old black leather motorcycle jackets. He asked if I
still rode and I said that I had stopped a while ago. The DC area is not a particularly
fun place for recreational riding. You spend too much time sitting in traffic. Also, I
said my passion had faded a long time ago. I somehow ended up in motorcycle
safety as a vocation 25 years ago as my passion had evolved into a job. I did what
many crazed motorcycle enthusiasts dream of - I made my living riding motorcycles
and training instructors how to teach new riders.

But the years passed, and when fiends would approach me about riding I usually
tried to talk them out of it. Get the jacket, buy the clothes, you can even get a
tattoo. Just stop short of getting the bike. Working in motorcycle safety on a full-
time basis I came to gain a very in-your-face appreciation for how dangerous riding
really is. And I doubt the average rider really has a full appreciation for their
exposure. But in the height of my passion for the sport, nothing you could have told
me would have kept me off my bike. I would have told you that I embrace the risk - I
am up for the challenge. - that there is no other thrill to compare. It is the essence
of life itself. So I could never condemn anyone who decides to ride.

Sometimes I think we forget how fragile the human body really is. While it is resilient
and takes a lot of abuse, it can be broken. We become even more fragile as we
age.

So Benny's death hits me extra hard. Not only because of the talent, but because
we shared something inside beyond the accordion and music; we also shared that
passion for riding. It was another bond. And as bikers sometimes say, "If I have to
tell you, you would never understand." Maybe that is an expression we should also
use for accordion.

Galla-Rini Comes to the Barre

3/30/11

At the initial presentations of the Accordion Barre participants have asked about left
hand fingering, most especially difficulties in using the fifth finger. They recognize a
need for technical proficiency with all four fingers but don't know how to go about
making that happen.

Page 240
Saved Rounds

I started study with Anthony Galla-Rini in 1963. Two of Galla-Rini's greatest

legacies were tone production and use of the stradella left hand. Galla-Rini's
reputation for having such technically difficult arrangements can be correlated to his
insistence on being faithful to musical intent. Left-hand utilization, in this case,
stradella, is critical.

But I missed that. By the time I got to Galla-Rini I was already 3 years into bassetti,
and with bassetti the musical responsibility was more directly related playing the
written note (though it is really not entirely that simple). The most immediate
bassetti challenge was technique and fingering. Whereas my system of bassetti
technique evolved over a period of ten or more years, to me all things stradella were
frozen until my return to accordion after a 30-year absence from playing - and there
was nearly a 40-year absence from playing stradella. In my time with Galla-Rini we
rarely discussed stradella issues.

I like to reflect on things brought up by Accordion Barre participants. Last night was
stradella practice night, and I returned to one of Galla-Rini's transcriptions that I
played through a year or so ago; before I got the new Giulietti Classic 127 stradella.
Mephisto Waltz. Before I got the Classic 127, the musical requirements were far
beyond the capabilities of the stradella accordion I was playing at the time. And as
written, it didn't work very well on the dual system accordions.

But last night, playing through it on a stradella, I was reminded of two things. First,
how rewarding a good stradella can be when played to its musical potential. And
second, how brilliant Galla-Rini was in using the instrument. Not only is he accurate
to the harmonic intent, but the arrangement can stand as a primer on using the
stradella left hand. All I had to do was follow his fingering and annotations and it
came alive. I realized how well Galla-Rini understood the stradella keyboard, most
likely better than most of his peers. The fingers of the left hand feel balanced. With
the balance comes a confidence in using the fourth and fifth fingers. Galla-Rini put it
on the page for us, and it just works. It is like looking at the music of Liszt on the
printed page. It looks impossible, but when you play it, it fits. Galla-Rini understood
the left hand.

In future master classes, I will most likely turn participants to examples of Galla-
Rini's work to give musical answers to their questions about stradella fingering. With
a bit of patience and some practice, their questions will be answered through the
music. Galla-Rini will be personally answering them.

From Liszt to Liszt

3/31/11

I spoke yesterday of playing Galla-Rini's stradella arrangement of Mephisto Waltz on

Sebastian. Last night was bassetti practice night. For the past week I have been
working on a very large Bach Prelude and Fugue edited by Don Balestrieri in

Page 241
Saved Rounds

1966/67. I might have played it had I tried one more time for the Coupe, but after
Versailles in 1966 I knew I had enough. I was going in the wrong direction.

Don Balestrieri was an excellent complement to Galla-Rini (at Galla-Rini's

suggestion, I was studying with both of them at the same time). There was not the
slightest hint of musical contradiction between the two, but Don took my
understanding of accordion performance to yet another level, and his musical
editions reflect what he is about: impeccable musicianship tied to the highest level of
authenticity and stylistic accuracy. Just like Galla-Rini. But in contrast to Galla-
Rini's passion for the romantic, Don's greatest expertise was baroque and
contemporary. There were new levels of articulation making higher demands for
precision and finger dexterity, learning how to shape individual lines in multi-part
polyphony, and a greater understanding of harmonic rhythm and how it all fit
together. I drove over 120 miles each way from Los Angeles to San Diego every
week to work with him.

But last night, after working on the Bach for a little over an hour, I turned to the Liszt
Rhapsody #19. It is a rare accordionist who does not know of Galla-Rini's music
(transcriptions or otherwise), but few know of the things he did for bassetti. The 19th
is one of them. I had started the 19th on my own right before going to study with
Galla-Rini. I had been inspired after hearing a transcription played by Vladimir
Horowitz. Per the program notes, Liszt’s 19th Rhapsody was more like a musical
outline than a completed work. Horowitz had built on the outline in a style faithful to
how Liszt might have performed it. My intent was to take it a step further, and
perform it as Liszt would have had he been a young free-bass accordionist. Galla-
Rini helped me do that.

As I played last night, some of the Rhapsody was still under the fingers, other parts I
will need to check the score. I rewrote some of the technical parts some years later,
but my motivation was much like that of Horowitz. It was for reasons Galla-Rini
would have supported, making it fit the instrument better, and for reasons Don
Balestrieri would support, strengthening the harmonic rhythm and structure inherent
to the score. I was still somewhat of an unproven commodity when I did the Liszt
with Galla-Rini. In those early days we were still figuring each other out, otherwise I
am certain he would have made the changes from the start that I made years later.
This is evidenced by how he approached the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto #2 the
following year. We didn't work from an original piano score, rather, he sat down and
wrote out every note; and I would never have felt the necessity to change any of it. I
know I couldn't improve what he did.

And as I think about it, I have never felt the need to change a single note of anything
I have ever done of Don Balestrieri. I don't have the capability to improve it. So
maybe that is the highest compliment I could pay someone; when I don't feel I would
want to change something.

This is (not) the End

Page 242
Saved Rounds

4/05/11

I anxiously wait for the day I can announce the last entry for this blog, or at least the
last extended entry. As I have said too many times, I write these narratives on my
daily commute to work with a hope that I will feel better about having done
something creative during this otherwise wasted time. The other options are to
sleep or listen to music. On a good traffic day it is about 90 minutes going in and
just short of two hours coming home. Last Thursday the trip home was in excess of
3 1/2 hours. That alone would be a very generous allocation of daily practice time.

Now on the positive side - I ride in a commuter van so I don't have to drive. And I
not only have access to a computer, I also have pretty good internet access. I used
to ride a commuter train which was certainly more comfortable and much more
conducive to reading or writing (reading on a commuter van is nearly impossible),
but the times are even longer. But enough of all that.

So what is this writing all about? Or putting it into a different perspective, at this
point in my life, what is playing all about? Why was I so obsessed as a youth; so
much so that accordion literally consumed every part of my life? Was I really that
interested in making music? Was there really this great inner need to express
myself through this language without words? In all honesty, probably not. But that
did come later, along with the inner satisfaction. In earlier years it was more a
measure of accomplishment, which resulted in attention, which ultimately
represented acceptance.

Then, after an enormous, nearly irreversible commitment in my youth, the instrument

fell from grace; especially with my peer group. By my last years in high school what
I had once done to make me feel accepted now served to separate me even further
from my peers. I was truly an outcast. The acceptance changed in college years,
but by then there were other issues that I had to face; and life became quite
complicated.

I embraced rock music in my final college years (prior to that I wouldn't have thought
of listening to a note of it). Not the bubble gum or commercial crap; but the raw,
savage, in your face, no excuses stuff. It pounded at your senses, it screamed, it
wailed. It was unwashed, sweaty, coarse, and often rude. For me it could serve
as a catharsis for all the inner-rage and sexual frustration. It was a way to
experience things that I would never have been brave enough to talk about. If there
is a beauty for me in rock music, it is in the honesty. To loosely quote a line from
American Beauty, "I look into the eyes of a bum and I see god."

If I have a true passion for music, rock music helped opened that door for me. I
realize now that all music has the ability to share honesty; those things that cannot
be expressed through the spoken word but are a part of all of us. And I have come

Page 243
Saved Rounds

to realize that sometimes things are even more powerful when they are whispered
than shouted. But there are still times I don't want to whisper. I want to scream.

Yesterday I was reading a short biography of one of my chronological bassetti peers,

Stephen Dominko; a person for whom I have always held the highest respect. It
said as a small child he ran from the room having difficulty handling the beauty of
music being played on the television.

I don't remember having that experience as a child, but I have it often now -
sometimes too often. So that is part of the attraction for continuing to play the
instrument. The other part is enjoying the physical competence that comes from an
early exposure. No matter how many hours and years I practiced piano in later
years, I could never get to that level. It never became a craft I could practice.

And rock music helped unlock all of it for me. And I still love to listen to it - though
not in an academic way with friends over a sip of tea, but rather in its own
environment. Like experiencing rap music in South Central Los Angeles. For me,
that's when it becomes a life changing experience. And when I hear friends
complain of the meaningless of contemporary pop music, I think to myself, "ah, but
you are missing so much."

Some Things Die Hard

4/06/11

On one given day back in 1968 or 1969 a performance of Music Emporium (my rock
band) actually got two reviews of a performance. One claimed we were one of the
most creative and musically brilliant bands the reviewer had ever heard, and the
second said we were unquestionably the second worst band in Los Angeles, second
only to [name again withheld].

Perhaps it is similar to what I recently heard from an Oscar winner, which could also
be applied to competitions and reviews. "An Oscar is really important, at least if you
win one."

Over the years I have often been told to not believe my own press. Whereas that
might sound like excellent advice if it is negative (see paragraph above), it might be
even better advice when the press is positive; especially if you write your own press
(pseudo name optional). And it should be understood that press could also be
simply what someone says to or about you; it doesn't have to be something that is
written.

So how important is what you say regarding my performance? Back to Music

Emporium. Early in our relatively short lifespan we were auditioned by a very
prominent entrepreneur who was looking to sponsor two or three new acts. The
audition was in a large rock club with full sound and lights - but he was the only

Page 244
Saved Rounds

person in the audience. He listened, and I was asked to come by his office the next
afternoon. Alone.

There were things he liked, and things he didn't like. Cutting to the short, he wanted
to redefine the band, cutting Dora (our drummer) and Dave (or guitarist). He didn't
like the hard, underground rock that constituted most of our repertoire and was the
real 'soul' of the band. He didn't think we did it particularly well anyway. He wanted
us to focus on a softer country-rock style. I found it somewhat disturbing that the
only thing from our performance he liked were the two folk-rock pieces which we
played entirely as a goof. So I was faced with a choice; should I dump two of the
band members and move forward with something that could actually have a chance
at commercial success, playing a music I thought was completely banal or continue
on our current path? I thanked him for his time and returned to the band. After all, it
was the 1960s.

As I shared this story many times with friends through the years I enjoyed listening
to them provide their ideas on what I should have done or what could have
happened; judging me as either potential superstar or sellout. But though I might
have called it something else at the time, it was press, and I had to deal with it. My
self-assessment of the time said to stay with my goal and be loyal to my fellow band
members.

And with my return to playing I get to deal with a certain amount of accordion press
today, though most of it is in my own head. And I continue to have an opportunity to
apply my own self-assessment. When the dust finally settles you can then judge me
by the result. But I don't know how much the process really has to do with it.

Waiting

4/07/11

I remember hearing someone once say that the primary activity in a dog's life is
waiting. I can't remember if it was a college professor or a comedian, but the source
really doesn't matter. When you think about it, what else does a dog do? They wait
for you to get up so they can go outside. They wait for you to come home from
work. They wait to be fed. They wait for you to throw the ball. They wait for their
walk. They wait.

Now cat lovers would be quick to point out that most cats could care less about what
you do as long as you feed them. They are less needy, much more independent.

So where do people fit in? Today we are facing a shutdown of the Federal
government, and it is likely that a lot of people may not be going into work on
Monday morning. For the past two days we have spent time with our leadership
talking about what this means and what we can and cannot do. The Federal

Page 245
Saved Rounds

government is a very complex system and there are a lot of questions. But for now
we don't know the final outcome. So we are waiting. And waiting.

In both Anecdotes and blog entries I have often talked of events punctuating the
musical year; events like competitions, recording sessions, and performances. We
spend time preparing for them and we often spend even more time on the ancillary
details.

But I am reminded of something said by a very wise person from my past.

Sometimes we are so anxious thinking about how we are going to tell others about
an event, we fail to experience it. And one of my college professors used to talk
about giving so much attention to taking trip photos that we never 'see' or experience
anything outside of the limitations of the camera's viewfinder. These are two good
examples.

Having been back at the accordion now for almost two years I am finally able to
enjoy practicing beyond the preparation for that next appearance. I look forward to
getting home from work and deciding what I will work on for the evening. The
timelines aren't quite as frenetic and it certainly is fun. I don't find myself consumed
that I need to have a piece prepared for a certain performance.

Maybe there is another way of describing the difference between the dog and the
cat. The dog is worrying about when or what will happen and the cat is just enjoying
life sleeping on the window sill enjoying the warm sunshine. It is like enjoying the
journey rather than just concentrating on the destination.

However, I still don't think I will trade in the Ghans (Afghan Hounds) or the Mute
(Alaskan Malamute) for a cat.

The Journey Home

4/08/11

I have posted the final chapter of Anecdotes, "The Journey Home" in Online
Publications. The complete book is now available on the website.

Saved Rounds will be updated in the next week or so. An indexed copy is
available. Email me for details.

Bill

That was 1961

4/11/11

Page 246
Saved Rounds

As I opened the door to my van this morning I had this vivid flashback to my prized
1961 Ford Falcon Ranchero that I got used in my senior year of high school. It was
a vivid image. I could see the pale green color, the black interior, the rubber mat
floor, the vinyl seats, the white steering wheel and small white dashboard knobs on
the metal dashboard. I could smell the interior and I could even hear the sounds of
the engine. It was a stark contrast to my 2010 Ford van with all its electronic and
computer systems.

As I continued contemplate the stark differences between the 1961 and 2010 Fords,
my thoughts turned to Roberto, Jim's Giulietti Super Continental, and the differences
one would see when comparing it to a new accordion. Being made in about
1961/62, Roberto is roughly the same age as the Falcon. But with the accordion,
other than the differences in the left hand bassetti system, how much difference is
there in the quality of the instruments, or in the music they will produce?

As a kid, I am sure that at one time or another I gave thought (most likely a fleeting
one) to the durability of one of my accordions, though I doubt any 15-year-old has
the ability to comprehend a fifty-year lifespan. And when I came back to the
accordion a couple years ago and started my search for an accordion I heard all the
stories of mandatory restoration for an older accordion. At 50-years old it was a
given they were going to need to be re-waxed, new leathers, and who knows what
else. But at 50 years of age, the wax in Roberto is fine. The reeds are fine. The
leathers are fine. With a little cleaning the switch mechanism was fine. The
keyboard was fine. It has stood the test of time.

But before one would say, but it sat un played for who knows how many years, I
would point to Tony Lovello's Petosa which is about the same age. It has been
played continuously (and hard) for its entire life. Tony probably does more bellows-
shake in a single performance (to include triple bellows-shake) than I do in two
years.

So how much total difference is there between the musical and technical capabilities
of a 50-year old accordion and a new one? With a quality instrument, not as much
as one might think. Certainly less than the difference between the 1961 and 2010
Fords. When one thinks about it, it is amazing that such a complicated combination
of metal and reeds, individually handcrafted, can hold up so long. But the key is the
initial craftsmanship.

But perhaps this also defines the difference between a piece of machinery (in this
case, the cars) and a musical instrument. Sometimes most of us will also play (what
I would call) machines - which can be professionally and personally rewarding. I
would love to have a Vox Continental Organ for nostalgic reasons, but would not
have any desire to play it as my primary combo instrument (unless I were playing in
an authentic retro band). I would love to once again have a 1961 Ford Ranchero,
but would not want to drive it across country on a business trip. But I would also
rather have a good digital piano on a combo gig than a bad acoustic.

Page 247
Saved Rounds

So there is a time and place for each. But to me the quality acoustic instrument will
retain the status of potentially being timeless.

However, I would add one parting shot (or as the Marines would call it, a Saved
Round). And remember, this is strictly Bill's opinion. When you start your quest to
find that perfect 1950's1960's vintage accordion at a fraction of what you will pay for
a new one it will be an extremely difficult and likely a very time consuming task. It
can also become very expensive when you come to discover that unskilled hands or
the environment have violated the internal parts. I know too many people who
become so consumed with getting a vintage accordion to function to minimal
standards that they never enjoy playing. They can spend years and submit
themselves to unimagined levels of frustration.

We are lucky that we can still purchase a new, quality accordion. Taking a look at
Roberto, it has stood the test of time. A long time. How many of us will still be
playing in 50 years? And as much soul and charisma that Fabian or Elizabeth have,
there is something to be said for the rock solid precision, response, evenness of
tone, and compression that Sebastian has. Sebastian is just starting his journey.
And I am sure he is going to stand the test of time.

The System

4/12/11

I am still in the process of relearning the stradella system. Whereas I intuitively

know every note and the fingering I want to use in the bassetti, the stradella will still
sometimes feel uncomfortable, Once I relearn something it is fine, but the ramp-up
process often seems cumbersome.

As I mentioned a few blogs ago, Galla-Rini continues to be my teacher on stradella.

I have been working on several of his later concert/competition pieces with left-hand
stradella writing that is quite complex, if not outright virtuosic. It is the stuff on which
he made his reputation for difficult arrangements. Left to my own it would still take
me a long time to figure out what fingering to use. But I trust Galla-Rini, and even
though some passages might move quickly from one end of the stradella keyboard
to the other, his fingering works. The notes are right under the fingers - just like Liszt
for the piano. So my system for relearning the stradella system is through a Galla-
Rini immersion process.

I am currently working on two Liszt compositions. Mephisto Waltz was one of Galla-
Rini's big competition/concert stradella pieces from the 1960s. I played through it
back them but never performed it as I was already doing exclusively bassetti.
However, Galla-Rini and I worked together on the Liszt 19th that I first played in
1965.

Page 248
Saved Rounds

I played at the Mephisto Waltz a while ago; pre-Sebastian. It just didn't work on the
stradellas I played prior to Fabian's arrival. And the stradella section of Fabian was
just too clunky. It just didn't work that well. But it does work on Sebastian. I have
become even more convinced that the real, hard core, extremely well-written
stradella repertoire needs to be played on a real stradella. And Sebastian fills those
needs with a sure footed confidence that reminds me of what a Giulietti stradella is
all about. It requires the immediate response from the lowest bass notes and that
sharp bite from the chords, when you need it. It is a different artistic expression from
the bassetti –not better or worse, but different. And certainly worth doing!

When I first read Mephisto Waltz a year or so ago I thought I might do a bassetti
arrangement from the piano score. I played around with it for a few days but was
too consumed with other pressing musical requirements to give it much attention.
But revisiting Galla-Rini's transcription on Sebastian, I doubt that I could improve on
his musical result which embodies the real essence of what Liszt intended.
Mephisto Waltz has always been one of my favorites warhorses - a real crowd
pleaser - and has maintained a successful position in the piano repertoire. Galla-
Rini's transcription is also a masterpiece. As Liszt understood the essence of the
piano, Galla-Rini understood the essence of the accordion. (Mephisto Waltz was
originally written for orchestra, later transcribed for piano. This might be one of the
reasons it works so well on accordion.)

However, it is likely that I might expand somewhat on Galla-Rini's arrangement. In

the spirit of Liszt, a few enhancements here and there. But that is okay, because it
is what Liszt would have done. And from my personal experience, I also know that
Galla-Rini will totally approve, slowly shaking his head as he looks away, hiding that
wonderful smile and saying, "why not?"

Waiting in the Wings

4/13/11

I was lucky. I came from a family very supportive of my musical endeavors. Even
though though we had a relatively modest income, my parents found a way to afford
lessons and accordions. Life was good.

But I was aware of a stark reality lurking in the background. With Viet Nam in full
swing there was a call for young men to serve in the Armed Services. And there
was the draft to make it all happen.

In retrospect, the draft was the first thing in life completely outside either my parents
or my control. Other than stories about the horrors and family hardships of World
War II, life in the military service was an unknown. I saw it as a threat to my music
and all the things I was dedicating my life too. I remember once asking Glenn Stead
about his time in the service. He talked of being without his accordion and of trying
to find a few minutes in the mess hall where he could exercise his fingers playing on

Page 249
Saved Rounds

an imaginary keyboard that he visualized on the table. He told me, "It was all I could
do." He painted a very vivid picture that I can still see it in my mind today.

The reality of the draft became even more pressing as I was nearing the end of
college. Somehow I managed a year of graduate school before my report date for
the Army and through a bulletin board at the musician's union I had secured a
position in the United States Military Academy Band as an accordion soloist. All I
had to do was survive 8 weeks of basic training. The Army Special Bands were
permanent assignments. You would stay there for as long as you stayed in the
service.

I was more involved in music at West Point than I had ever been before.
Unfortunately, my musical activities there never included accordion. But life
continued to be good. And for 5 years active duty and another 17 years as a
member of the staff and faculty I earned my living in music.

So where am I going with all this? As I started to write the blog this morning I was
reading the internet headlines telling of the enormous problems with the economy. It
is something we all live, every day. Each morning as I drive to the commuter van I
watch the gas prices go up; almost twenty cents in the last several days. The
economy has drastically changed my life and continues to do so on a daily basis.
Throughout life there have always been challenges. But today, rather than see them
as threats that may eliminate my ability to play, I see music as something that can
add value to my quality of life as I deal with the challenges.

Probably one of my most important life lessons was just before I started playing
again - when I acquired the Excelsior from Mrs. Knowlton. I had talked to the
General a few years previous and he had told me his sadness that he could no
longer play - the aftermath of pain was just too severe. It was then I realized that he
wanted to play and couldn't - I could play, but wouldn't. It just didn't make any
sense. It was a bizarre extension of my self-destruction; the denial of a gift.

So I now try to take it one day at a time. I am grateful that I still have the physical
ability to play. And I genuinely enjoy waiting in the wings of life for opportunities to
play; even if it is just for myself, so someday I can say, "I wanted to play, and I did."
impeccable
All Warriors Aren’t Big

4/14/11

Having spent 5 years active duty in the Army, 23 years at the United States Military
Academy, 7 years working for the Navy, and 3 years working for Headquarters, US
Marine Corps, it is no surprise that the Armed Services have greatly influenced my
life.

Page 250
Saved Rounds

Many people can work for Service Branches within the Department of Defense and
have very little interaction with uniform service members. For me that was not the
case, especially at West Point where I worked almost exclusively with the
Academy's military cadre and cadets. It was the service members themselves who
had the greatest influence on me.

There is quite a difference between the culture of the aspiring young musician who
arrived at West Point in 1969 and the warrior. I did not know what to expect when I
arrived. As a USMA Bandsman I never thought I would be working so closely with
military members and cadets, but life is full of surprises. Within a year my
relationship with the Band had become little more than my name on their roster. My
life has been filled with immersions, and this was one of the greatest ones. I was
always somewhat surprised at how willing they were to accept me.

Service members are often your neighbors or family members, but service members
are also those who can hold more responsibility than the CEOs of the largest
corporations. Many of those in the second group attended West Point and some
return to the Academy in leadership positions at different parts of their career.

Forty years later, I have an appreciation for what a warrior is. Many have become
close friends. Through the years I have seen two defining characteristics that seem
to increase with responsibilities and length of service. The first is a concern for
fellow warriors and those they lead. For the outsider, the depth it permeates into
their decisions and actions is almost impossible to comprehend. The second is
doing the right thing for the right reason. Sometimes the decisions are hard but the
right ones must be selfless.

But not all warriors are in the image of the superhuman you see climbing the
mountain in the Marines television commercials. Sometimes they are scrawny
young kids just starting their journey. And sometimes their journey ends prematurely
or before they really get started.

The Sonata, High Energy, is dedicated to a cadet who died at West Point during his
first year as the result of an undetected head injury in remedial Plebe boxing. And
though he had barely begun his journey, he had the one underlying characteristic
that supports everything else - the willingness to serve. His brother graduated that
year and his folks were at the Glee Club Graduation Concert where I first played the
Sonata in 1978.

I played the last two movements of the Sonata at the NAA Concert in Dallas last
month. As I sat in my hotel room getting ready to warm up, I visited the West Point
Eulogies on the web. I must say that I felt a deep sadness when I saw that no one
has ever posted anything next to the cadet's name. A deep sadness for a warrior I
never met; for someone who didn't get very far into his journey. A deep sadness
that any person ultimately so willing to serve might be forgotten.

Page 251
Saved Rounds

I felt a similar sadness when the West Point Alumni Glee Club visited Walter Reed
Hospital a while ago.

And that is what the Sonata and Silver Taps is really about - that at least for a few
moments in time, all those warriors so willing to serve are not forgotten.
Saved Rounds

4/18/11

Another Monday morning; back to work and the return of the blog.

Over the weekend I updated the blog to Saved Rounds in the Online Publications
section of the website. I have also updated the index. If you are interested in an
indexed electronic copy drop me an Email.

I am starting on some new projects. I hope that by mid-summer I will be able to

share some of them with you and ultimately become more successful at following
Gregory Stone's words of wisdom: you don't talk about music, you play music. All
this time in the commuter van has resulted in a lot of written words. Occasionally I
get some feedback when a Google search sends someone to the blog, however my
blog web statistics does not reflect a huge following that would parallel the story of
Julia & Julia. To most people, food is a more enticing topic.

But as with time devoted to practice, why would I write the blog in the first
place? For me it is personal satisfaction. The music and the writing become my
personal French cuisine. But they can also be my spicy Mexican, occasional
McDonald’s, or even some tacky afternoon buffet after the drag show at a local bar.
After all, the accordion is pretty versatile. So the question becomes, am I as
versatile as the accordion?

Prodigy

4/19/11

I recently spoke with a mother about the scope of an accordion future for her son.
He is serious beyond belief, works hard and has deep passion for a future in
accordion. I explained that it is a difficult path, but she already knew that.

Years ago when the accordion was so popular it was difficult to have an accurate
estimate of our ability to make a living playing accordion. Today, at least in this
country where the accordionist has become a rarity, expectations are likely much
more realistic.

However, I find it curious that almost any young person who plays today with any
level of success considers themselves as a prodigy. If the ability to persist as a lone

Page 252
Saved Rounds

accordionist qualifies one as a prodigy, I guess they are. But in all the years I played
I never considered myself a prodigy. To me, a prodigy was someone able to do
things intuitively at the highest level. I always found it necessary to work. There
were always too many people around who played better than I did. And I was
always clawing and scratching to make myself as good as they were. For me, the
competitiveness was much of the attraction.

One of the things I cautioned the mother in reference to her son was not to believe
the press; especially the press they created themselves. Good or bad. None of it
mattered. They (the teacher, parents, and eventually the student) needed to be able
to self-assess what they were trying to do and how close they were to doing it; and
that was a process. Over time the ultimate measure of success for one's self-
assessment is the accuracy.

In all my years and with all the people I heard play, there is probably only one
accordionist I would consider a true prodigy, and that was Tito. I say that because I
think much of Tito's creation was intuitive, and to me, that equates to being a
prodigy. But there are two sides to this. If everything comes together you can end
up with a Mozart or a Balanchine. But if you are like my brother, where physical
challenges came too easily, you also can become bored quickly and move on to
other things, rarely mastering anything. Perhaps it is like perfect pitch (which I
have). People get all excited when they hear you have it (most typically when they
don't), but what does it really mean?

Anthony Galla-Rini, Donald Balestrieri, Gregory Stone and so many others I have
talked about at great length in these pages were ultimate craftsmen. Their
contributions are enormous, certainly as great as any prodigy. They were talented,
gifted and skilled, but they also worked hard. And the work never ceased. I am not
saying it is not necessary for the prodigy to work, but (in my opinion) the creative
process is different. Adrian recently told me of listening to her father (Tito) compose
into late hours of the night when she was a young child.

Through the years I have had several opportunities to brief people at the highest
levels of leadership in Department of Defense. When speaking to them I have often
realized that their immediate level of intuitive comprehension is far beyond the scope
of my intellectual capabilities. Intellectual prodigies. And my self-assessment lets
me recognize and accept that.

After disappearing into a time warp for 30 years, my look at the accordion is both
fresh and biased. Last Sunday Jim heard Mary Tokarski play for the first time. He
said she literally blew him away with her presence, confidence, and command of the
instrument. It told him that he just saw part of the accordion's American heritage I
am always talking about; and that perhaps it really does exist outside my mind. And
I continue to believe it is a real commodity - not only in the playing - but also a very
high standard the US-Market demanded in the accordions that were imported from

Page 253
Saved Rounds

Italy at that time. The players and accordions were both unique to America's golden
age. Our Accordion Heroes. I hope we can find a way to preserve both.

Bound for Greatness

4/25/11

I saw the musical Pippin numerous times when it first appeared on Broadway in the
early 1970's and found it totally entertaining; at least until the end. The first time the
house lights came on I sat wondering - what happened to the ending? The show
moved along pleasantly, and then it was just over. There was no real climax.
Everything just seemed to unravel.

Chuck Carter, one of my all-time best friends and quite often my harshest critic, both
in music and in life tried to explain it; that Pippin was always searching for greatness
(I got that part), but in the end he needed to decide if he was willing to pay the price
for ultimate success or if he would be content to continue plodding along with the
journey of life (I had a harder time understanding this part). He also said that I was
like Pippin, though I didn't want to admit that.

But there was truth in Chuck's words. To me, most anything worth doing was worth
over-doing. And I sometimes interpreted my Father's philosophy as, "If you can't be
the best at something, then you should question why you would want to do it." For
many years I literally tried to live my life to that philosophy.

But as I watched my brother and later my father in the last moments of their lives I
wondered about how much the legacy really matters when the final curtain drops.
On this blog I have talked about how Tito's contributions are so undervalued.
Occasionally I have tried my best to dredge up great legacies that are all but
forgotten and the reward is sometimes a single Email by someone who remembers;
more of a faint whisper than a shout.

Phil, my middle brother, was very successful. Sitting alone with him in his hospital
room in our last conversation he told me that when you know the end is near the
things that matter most are those moments you enjoyed with family and friends.
Because of those things there were no regrets. We never spoke of his business
accomplishments, patents, or other work-related stuff.

I sometimes need to revisit his final words in the daily course of my life - both on how
I judge my own accomplishments and in the expectations I place upon others.
Chuck, if you were right, today I can probably accept that - hopefully with a smile.
For those who want to be a Pippin, I know it is not my business to talk you out of it.
For those of you who don't want to be a Pippin, I need to remind myself that it is not
my position to convince you that you should or judge you on aspirations you don't
even have. For those who have absolutely no idea what I am talking about,

Page 254
Saved Rounds

hopefully you are enjoying life's daily journey and enjoying each of those special
moments that appear in your path.

All this would be quite simple except for the final unanswered question: is the legacy
of a musician (short of a Bach - who was forgotten for a long time - Mozart or
Beethoven) or other artist of a different value than a non-artist? Or is that what
makes it art? So what is the balance? After all, wasn't Balanchine making steps
with his fingers during his last moments?

Integrity

4/26/11

A chain of recent (fortunately non-accordion) events once again brings up the

question of integrity. What is it? What purpose does it serve? Can I judge the
integrity that may or may not be behind someone's actions?

I love watching my dogs interact with Jim and I and with each other. Dog behavior is
certainly more predictable and consistent than human behavior. Dogs are also
much more honest (another one of your human traits that I can judge). They also
are very content to live in the moment.

So like everything else, the only integrity I can truly judge is my own. And I gave up
a long time ago believing anything in life is fair when I finally came to realize that fair
is another personal perception.

At work (non-accordion), I often have very little choice. If someone decides I need to
do something, it is my responsibility to do it. I have a responsibility to tell them when
I think they are wrong, but with age I am less eager to put up an extended argument
when they push back. As I have moved on in life, it is not worth the personal
consequences. I will try to make our work section successful, but I won't fall on my
sword for it. Everyone should have the opportunity to succeed, but they should also
have the opportunity to fail. Sometimes miserably. And that is also fine.

And to somehow shift this to accordion; I often hear, you should be doing this or you
should be doing that. It can be about the selection of repertoire, supporting an
organization, or teaching someone.

I learned a long time ago that I will rarely be the savior for someone else's musical
success. I may be able to contribute something from my personal experience, but
even the success of that contribution will depend on the recipient; is it of value to
them and do they even want it? So how hard do I try to push my own opinion?
Especially when there is no gain to myself other than ego?

And using my own self-evaluation (which is applied to life as well as music), I can
only express what I feel as what I feel. I can make no guarantees that I am right, or

Page 255
Saved Rounds

that what I am saying will make a difference anyway. To even think so would be
taking on an unrealistic responsibility and most likely be setting myself up for failure.
And to keep trying to convince someone of something; to make them realize I am
right is nothing but ego anyway.

On the other hand, using self-evaluation, I know what I know, and know what I don't
know. I also know what I can do and what I can't do. Though there are times I may
be able to help someone, ultimately it is their choice and their move. For today I
elect not to hard sell. If someone wants what I have, I am willing to share it. If they
don't want it, I am only setting myself up for failure if I try to force it on them.

Hurricanes, Earthquakes and Tornados, Oh My!

4/28/11

Last night's weather was potentially frightful. The deadly storm that ripped through
Alabama was heading our direction and the television stations were warning of the
potential of severe weather. Toward the end of American Idol a Tornado Warning
had been posted in Culpepper - not too far from Fredericksburg.

Growing up in California it was earthquakes. When I moved to New York it was

winter storms and the occasional severe thunderstorm. In Norfolk there was worry
about hurricanes, and like most of the city, our home was only a few feet above sea
level. Our current home in Fredericksburg is brick and quite sturdy, however we live
in a heavily wooded area with many tall oak trees. When we first moved in we lost
one in a hurricane that ripped out the fence on both sides of our yard as it crashed to
the ground. We were without power for 11 days. Another thunderstorm brought a
tree down onto the roof. Nature's reach is universal.

So what about our concerns last night? The dogs sleep secure in their crates
downstairs. It would take something catastrophic to place them in danger. So the
attention turned to the accordions. With an appreciation for how difficult they are to
find and even more difficult to repair, they get a lot of my attention. Three of the four
Giuliettis now have shipping crates, but the crates are not exclusively for air travel. If
one of my accordions is not on my back, it is secured in the shipping crate.

I often think back to something Leo Niemi told me - when you create a positive
environment, the accordion responds. For me, how I take care of the instrument is a
commitment to both to the instrument and to myself. I have heard of the benefit of
having your accordion on a stand, ready to be picked up and played, and how much
more likely you are to play if it is readily available. But I prefer the ritual of opening
the heavy latches of the Anvil case and being greeted by the accordion. I still get a
chill every time I see that same Giulietti logo I have known for 50 years and being
joined with the energy of all my Accordion Heroes. And at the end of practice or
after a performance I like the ritual of securing the accordion back in the case. I also
am willing to embrace the time-consuming, love-hate process of planning for the

Page 256
Saved Rounds

security of the instrument - getting the right case, getting the correct form, working
on a proper fit, getting a lining, and getting a realistic relationship between size and
weight.

So if the tree comes into the house, or if I have to hit the brakes in the car, or even if
someone crashes into the case with their Hoveround - the instrument will be
protected. The cases can also minimize the impact of temperature an climatic
changes. But for me the benefit goes beyond protection. It is a commitment. It is
respect. It is a way to sustain the energy. For me it is very important.

So last night the dogs were safe, we were safe, and the accordions were safe.

When Size Does Matter

5/02/11

From my youth I loved to make a lot of noise. I got my first accordion amplifier very
early on. It was a Gretsch with this very large chrome handle, a wrap around front
grill, and the porthole for the 5 inch tweeter. I played with it whenever possible.
Even when playing for family or friends in our small living room, I would haul out that
Gretsch so people could get the full impact.

I doubt the Gretsch was specifically designed for an accordion. Like other amplifiers
of the time, it was a guitar amplifier that would work. But all that changed with the
introduction of the Magnatone 280. Magnatone catered to the accordionist and the
stereo vibrato added a nice sound, something more useable than the tremolo of
the other amps. Of course, I had to have the two remote speakers. Spreading them
on both sides of the stage created a very big vibrato. So when it was time to play, I
hauled the accordion, the amp, plus the two remote speakers. And after all, that
was the setup that both Johnny LaPadula and George Mandala used.

Things really started to change when Vox came on the scene with their Super Beatle
amplifier: I had to have one. In retrospect, it was an absurd choice for accordion.
The volume control was anything but linear and extremely sensitive. At '2', the
amplifier was putting out 70% of its power. Feedback was an enormous problem, so
it was nearly impossible to use the capability of the amp. But at the time I was
discovering the combo organ and rock music and for that it was the perfect choice.
Within no time my stable of Vox amplifiers grew. Feedback was not a problem with
a combo organ, but even with two heads and four bottoms, Dave could literally bury
me with his dual showman. So I added two Atlas Banshee horns.

At the same time, Don Bonham, who designed the original stereo vibrato for
Magnatone, started Audio Guild Corporation (AGC) out in the San Fernando Valley.
Don had become a very good friend and the Bonham was (in my opinion) the best
amplifier that had ever been made for accordion. It was a bi-amplified combo amp
and it worked especially well for the extended bottom range of the bassetti. The Vox

Page 257
Saved Rounds

became my staple for Music Emporium gigs and the Bonham for all things
accordion.

There was something about big in those days. There was as much to be said about
the visual image that came from brute size as the amount of noise you could get
from the amplifier. Marshalls soon carried it a step beyond the Vox. Also, in those
days you often relied on the amplifier to get the sound to the audience. Of course,
the vocalist never had a chance.

But the worst thing was having to haul all that stuff around. You were physically
exhausted before you played your first note. And over time the combo organs were
replaced with Hammond B3s with a minimum of two Leslie speaker cabinets.

However, I always remained a fanatic for quality sound reinforcement. In my last

years of serious classical accordion playing I put together an extremely high quality
sound system. I worked until I got exactly the sound I wanted. It wasn't about
volume level; it was about quality. I would often notice people's reaction as they
came into an auditorium where I was going to play. They would look at the speakers
and start to cringe. But the same people would often comment at the end of the
performance that they had never been aware of a sound system during the
performance. And that was my goal. But the system was huge. The bass cabinets
alone were close to 280 pounds each and wouldn't fit through a lot of doors (what a
susrprise when I first discovered they wouldn't fit through my basement door after
the truck dropped them off). And even though you might reach the same volume
with a smaller cabinet, they didn't move the air. It was a different effect; screaming
at you rather than filling the room with sound.

So as I am playing more I am again facing the decision of sound quality vs. how
much I want to haul and how much I can afford. There is lots of really cheap stuff
but quality is still expensive. Many accordion performances are in rooms that are
not good acoustically. Hotel banquet and conference facilities often have low ceiling
and were designed for a low ambient noise level. Relying at sound systems at the
event can be a real crap shoot.

So it is something else I can either deal with, or simply go with whatever is

available. My goal is a balance, but for me that is sometimes difficult. However, in
my perfect world I am like Wagner - I would prefer to have ultimate control over
everything.

Music, Music, and More Music

5/03/11

As a kid I went through a lot of sheet music. It seems that the cost of at least one
new piece of sheet music was tacked onto the price of my weekly accordion lesson.
Back then I thought of music in groups, but my groups weren't aligned with a

Page 258
Saved Rounds

particular style. Rather they aligned with the cover graphic the publisher used on
that series. For example, Charles Magnante's Holiday for Bases and Holiday for
Chords: purple and pink. I couldn't tell you the name of the publisher, but I
remember the graphic.

There was also the really old stuff, and with Bettie Thomas in the early 1950's there
was still a lot of it. Some had the left hand written in treble cleff and the covers could
be really strange. I doubt that Glenn Stead would have ever given a student
something written with a left hand in treble cleff, but all had been fair for Bettie in
love, war and accordion lessons.

From 1968 to 1996 I moved a lot. Though I only changed geographic locations three
times I changed houses on an average of every three years. I had stopped playing
stradella, and at some point I shed all my stradella accordion music. Today I can't
remember who I gave it to, but if any of it ever resurfaced I could surely identify it.
First; my name was always written on the front. Second, most of it had been
chewed along the top by one (or more) of the family parakeets. The birds often sat
on the top of the music stand while I practiced and pecked away at the music. They
weren't worried about music in good taste; they were concerned with music that
tasted good.

But I often wonder about today's students? You can still buy Palmer Hughes and
few other things, but what about all those Galla-Rini and Magnante
arrangements and all those wonderfully unique covers? I remember very few little
from the Sedlon Accordion Method, but there are few sheet music solos I don't
remember.

As I have occasionally searched for a title on eBay I have been amazed at the price
some accordion music will bring. Thirty cents for a song, or even a buck and a
quarter for a book was a reasonable music lesson add-on expense in the 1950s; but
$20.00 for a single song today? Whew!

But as with other things, eBay comes to the rescue. I just discovered CD collections
that contain many of the familiar titles compiled by arranger; $24.00 for 25 songs.
That is certainly reasonable and it is certainly more preferable to have them in
electronic format. I often enjoy reading through the old arrangements. I like the
memories but I also like looking at the fingering, registration and even the
autography. But perhaps one thing will be missing, and that is the distinctive covers
sitting on music stand. My real memories of Magnante and others are not from the
concerts and workshops - they are from their photographic images staring back at
me from my music stand - Purdy or Goofy pecking away at the tops. So perhaps I
will take that electronic picture frame I have never used and scan in those covers
and place it on my music stand so I can enjoy them while I play.

Rain and the Hazards of Musicianship

Page 259
Saved Rounds

5/04/11

Rain is adding to the delight of this morning's commute. Traffic on Route 95 is bad
on any given day. Add bad weather and it can even get worse.

Today's topic is safety, and this morning I am thinking about some of the hazards of
musicianship I faced as a youth and young adult. Some are amusing now, but were
painful at the time. Other situations were outright dangerous.

Speaking chronologically, I must start with Bettie Thomas and the Torrance
Accordionettes on roller skates. It certainly seemed like a thrillingly entertaining
concept; at least until one of the kids went off the front of the stage landing on top of
her accordion. The young girl was even less skilled on roller skates than she was on
accordion.

There is another incident I remember from Bettie's. Through the years she offered a
variety of products that were only minimally related to accordion or dance. One of
these was a product line of Capehart console high fidelity systems. One of the
larger models was strategically placed on the floor of the main dance studio (which
also doubled as the auditorium for the stage). The floor was un-sprung parquet over
concrete and the dance barres were all-steel securely attached to the cinder-block
walls; perfect for conducting electricity. The space age slider controls on the
Capehart were located on a metal plate and in the days before 3-prong grounded
plugs a reversed polarity (which was a 50 /50 proposition) could produce one heck
of a jolt. But for a musician this was not something new. One could have a similar
experience with a microphone and a guitar. I remember being taught to always
touch a microphone stand with the back of my hand in case the polarity was
reversed. That way the muscles would not lock your hands into the circuit. I still do
that. I also do it any time I suspect static electricity. Getting too close to the
microphone with your lips could also produce an unwanted electric kiss.

And a couple non-accordion stories; the first having to do my rock band. I was
reminded of this looking at some Face book photos where a bunch of accordionists
were half in and out of a swimming pool with their accordions on; something I
wouldn't personally do, unless it was with an accordion I really didn't like. Anyway,
during one performance in the backyard of a private home around the swimming
pool, our guitarist jumped into the shallow end of the pool, electric guitar in hand, as
he continued to wail away on the exciting climax of the final song. In retrospect, it
was not a particularly intelligent action.

But possibly the all-time most outright dangerous situation happened at West Point,
and to this day I am amazed that no one stopped it. It was the end of the summer
and the new cadets were doing their final week of Beast Barracks out in the field at
Lake Frederick. Someone had decided it would be good to have the members of the
Glee Club who were in garrison go out their final night and sing some of the
traditional West Point songs. We were in the middle of an open field on a flatbed

Page 260
Saved Rounds

truck trailer. The Hamilton upright piano was in the rear of a tactical 5-ton backed up
to the edge of the flatbed. The Eisenhower Hall Theatre staff had brought out
lighting and even a Super Trooper follow-spot. There was also a field sound system.

Late summer in New York's Hudson Valley often includes very strong thunderstorms
and on this particular Sunday evening they were rolling through with a particular
ferocity. The new cadets were marched into position and sat in the open field as we
took the stage in the middle of a strong thunderstorm. The piano was moderately
protected by the canopy on the truck but we were out in the open and got drenched.
Sparks were leaping from the exploding electric boxes on the stage, now sitting in an
inch or so of standing water. No one dared touch connected to anything electrical.

The new cadets sat under their ponchos on the rain soaked grass and we sang of
the warrior spirit and winning football games. Somehow we were not hit by
lightning. In the years that followed, Fred Goldsmith, the Building Manager for
Eisenhower Hall Theatre, and I often spoke about that event. We should have
superseded the chain of command and ended it; whatever the consequences. It
was the wrong message for the new cadets in terms of operational risk management
(a term that came many years later).

There have been so many adventures - musical and otherwise - more than I could
ever start to tell here - and probably more than you would ever want to hear - like
carrying a p.a. system up the New York State Thruway on the back of my Harley.
But somehow I managed to survive them.

Learning to Bellows-Shake on Piano

5/09/11

Saturday night Jim and I went to the Kennedy Center to hear Yefim Bronfman
playing the Tchaikovsky B flat with guest conductor Neeme Javi and the National
Symphony. The last time I heard the Tchaikovsky was about 45 years ago at the
Dorothy Chandler Pavilion with Arthur Rubinstein and the Los Angeles
Philharmonic. I have never forgotten that particular concert. Rubinstein played the
Beethoven Emperor before intermission and the Tchaikovsky after. In addition to
playing two major concerti in a single concert there was something equally unique
that evening; he played an encore. It was the only time I have ever heard someone
play an encore after a concerto performance in this country - until last Saturday with
Bronfman.

Saturday was a great night, and included a couple deja vu. The first came when we
walked out onto the balcony and I momentarily locked eyes with a gentleman who
looked too much like Dr. Robert Haag, one of my most influential college
professors. Each year Dr. Haag purchased a block of seats for full seasons of the
Los Angeles Philharmonic and would invite his young college students to
performances he thought they would find interesting. Attending concerts with him

Page 261
Saved Rounds

was a wonderful event. We usually rode to the concert packed into his 1960 Ford
Falcon and the seats were high in the second balcony - it was total magic. A brilliant
scholar and pianist, Dr. Haag would talk with an infectious enthusiasm about the
music and the performers. I don't know if I will ever go to an orchestral performance
without thinking back to that wonderful gift he gave me.

Equally fun was something Jim pointed out. There was a college-age girl sitting in
the Concert Hall's chorus seats above and to the side of the orchestra. She was
holding something up in front of her face. I didn't notice until he pointed it to me, but
I explained she was reading the score. It was something I might have done at her
age, but not while sitting in view of the audience.

But that also brought back distinct memories to the earliest bassetti days. I
remember Julio's words at our first meeting which I continued to repeat for years,
"you can play the works of the great masters exactly as written, right off the piano
score." And that is exactly what we tried to do. The piano became our competition;
the most virtuosic repertoire became our sustenance. We took both on, ready to
challenge the throne of the piano. And we were often envious - at times from the
short-sidedness of our would-be audience, and at times because of short-fall of
making music from piano scores when we literally played them as written.

As I occasionally looked at the girl and listened to Yefim I couldn't help but smile at
myself at the absurdity of those initial free-bass ambitions. Yefim's technical facility
and command of the instrument were astonishing. I also don't know if I have ever
heard anyone play with as much brute force. But the result was one of the delights
of the evening's performance; Javi did not back down from letting the orchestra play
full-out behind him. That created an potentially unmatched excitement from the live
performance that might have translated to outright garishness if attempted on a
recording. And Yefim held his own, a reflection of his musical confidence and
sometimes just brute strength.

When I sat in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion all those years ago I often imagined
sitting there on stage with my accordion, ripping through the huge piano works. But
at some time I came to realize that a 35 pound accordion that I hold in my lap is
never going to compete with a 1/2 ton, 9' concert grand Steinway playing fortissimo
double octaves, pedal slammed nearly into the floor. Even if I can play all the notes,
it would just never be the same.

But the story continues. Saturday night after the intermission the Orchestra
continued with the Prokofiev 6th Symphony. The young girl sat through part of the
first movement before she left. And that is something I might also have done all
those years ago. But though I love piano and thoroughly enjoy the beyond-human
technical displays of some of the major works, I have also come to equally
appreciate the musical nuances of an orchestra. The shaping of phrases, the
articulation, the tone color. Even if I don't particularly care for the work, I can still
enjoy those details.

Page 262
Saved Rounds

And maybe that parallels how I feel about the accordion today. Some of the things I
value the most are the abilities to shape notes and phrases, the dynamics, the
intimacy, the versatility. I also know that the instrument can be extremely effective
with its virtuosity, but it won't be accomplished by trying by playing double octaves at
actual pitch. I need to leave that to the piano. Rather, it will come from a total
command and control of the instrument. And if required, you can move your hands
really fast and play a lot of notes.

In the program notes remarked on Yefim's ability to play lyrically in addition to his
technical ferocity. And the piano's true lyrical masters often achieve something akin
to a cult status; often described as the ability to voice and the touch. But in actuality,
once you strike a note on a piano, the control over the sound of that note is all but
finished. And like any instrument, the advantages can often be also seen as the
shortcomings.

Though I didn't read the program notes prior to the performance, as I listened last
Saturday night I missed some of the lyricism as the piano took it's turn playing some
of Tchaikovsky's melodies. It wasn't that Yefim couldn't do it, but rather it was a
quality not inherent to the instrument - regardless of the performer. But that would
never diminish my love for piano and piano repertoire. Just like the inability to play
double octaves with a pedal does not diminish my love for accordion.

I have a different appreciation for accordion today. I no longer feel need to compete
with other instruments. Today it is about knowing the accordion as an instrument
and knowing how to make music on it. And when was the last time you heard a
piano do a bellows-shake?

GLB 798

5/11/11

I am often amazed at how sharp and clear my memory is from years long ago and
how things occasionally just jump into my mind. One example was several days
ago. The year was about 1956 and my brother had just picked up new license
plates for our family cars. The older California plates had been black with dark
yellow letters. The new plates were reversed, sort of a dirty orange with black
letters. Another change was the use of letters for the first three digits.

Home from the DMV, my brother showed the plates to my Mom before putting them
on the cars. My mom looked at the plate and somehow came out with 'glub 798'. I
remember her saying it over several times becoming increasingly amused. But why
would I remember that?

A few days ago I read where a certain (relatively) young accordionist sometimes
practiced 16 hours a day. A short while ago I read where the same player often

Page 263
Saved Rounds

practiced 10 hours a day. While on the topic of practice time I read on the forum the
other day that an older (relatively) new player was trying to overcome the physical
discomfort to practice 5 hours a day. Others on the forum were questioning why he
felt he had to practice so much - shouldn't it more about the enjoyment of playing
and the quality of what he played?

There is much territory in what I briefly mention in the previous paragraph. And
though I may roll my eyes it's just like everything else. The only thing I can share is
my own experience. That's all I have.

First, I don't know if the young player ever personally made actual claims regarding
the number of hours a day he practiced. For all I know, someone impressed with his
playing might have once said something like, "gosh, to play like that you must
practice ten hours a day." And legend (or a publicist) translated that to, "practices
ten hours a day". Anyway, I give him the benefit of the doubt.

From my experience, I could not practice that many hours in my youth - and certainly
could not do so now. And upon hearing such a claim I first question the
methodology used in the practice. Regardless of the physical aspects, how long can
one maintain concentration? I would question the publicist; what is the message
here? If I were to hear two players of an equal caliber and one practiced 1 hour a
day and one practiced ten hours a day, which of the two would be considered the
prodigy?

Bottom line, who really cares, it's about the final result. However, another question
might come into play; honesty. But then again, perhaps the ten hour day is fifteen
minutes playing and then a 45 minute break. Or a couple hours of playing then a lot
of time in academic study on the Internet.

So does all this matter? Maybe not, perhaps it might. In my youth I wanted to be an
accordion virtuoso more than anything else in the world and I would have done
almost anything to achieve that. If practicing ten hours a day was what it took, I
would have done 12. But I was lucky. I had excellent teachers who put a realistic
spin to all of it. I can still hear Glenn Stead saying, "Billy, it isn't how long you
practice, it is what you put into the practice." And he was delighted when I could
extend my full concentration to the length of a piece. What a wonderfully insightful
man. And Tito and Galla-Rini were not as totally obsessed with anything that
attracted there attention as I was; there were simply too many wonderful things in
life to be enjoyed.

When I stopped playing in 1978, 5 hours practice was a physical and mental
maximum for me. Sometimes I played double combo gigs in a single day meant
played longer than that, but those experiences were driven from financial gain; not
particularly enjoyable and with little musical productivity.

Page 264
Saved Rounds

I try to practice (play every note) with the same level of concentration required to
play on a concert stage. I want that concentration to be part of me every time I pick
up the instrument. I try to live Aube Tzerko's words, every note you play should be
played as if you are playing for an audience, and you need to listen to every note as
if you were an audience. That is a definition of concentration. And that level of
concentration is what supported his claim that a student should be able to learn a
Beethoven Sonata in an evening. The result is proficiency and efficiency.

I can't do 5 hours now, and don't know if I ever will again, or would want too (a
convenient thing to say when you don't think you will be able do something).
However, I often tell younger players that I "know the tricks." It is something that
comes with age. And one of those tricks is having developed a very high level of
concentration and the ability to apply it for extended periods. It takes a long time to
learn, and much the same as other things; it is something that you retain much
easier if learned at an early age (thank you Glenn Stead). Just like GLB 798. I can't
recite the number any other license plate numbers - even the ones on my current
cars.

Now, the 16 hours, someone must have a ridiculous sense of humor or be absurdly
camp - at least I hope that is what it is. And if there is a young Bill Cosby out there, I
hope there is a Glenn Stead in his life, quietly saying with that gentle smile, "Billy, I
think they are pulling your leg." And I know I can trust him.

A Master Class and a Thousand Steps

5/12/11

Several days ago I received a special treat from Petosa Accordions, a DVD of a
master class conducted by Anthony Galla-Rini in his later years. Hearing his voice
and watching him speak brought back fond musical and personal memories.

The first thing that caught my attention was on how articulate he was in his speech.
The DVD was Galla-Rini in academic mode; precise and formal. There wasn't the
slightest trace of slang or colloquialisms. There was a special attention to the
pronunciation of musical terms.

Every once in a while a slight relaxation escapes, the twinkle in his eyes or the smile
when he says a certain word, or when he successfully demonstrates something he is
talking about. That's the Galla-Rini who was so special to his students; the Galla-
Rini we remember. I only saw Galla-Rini, the pedagogue, during band rehearsals,
or when we performed or did a master class together. Though Galla-Rini was
pleasant and always the consummate gentleman with his public, there was a very
personal and private side he shared only with select students and a small circle of
friends.

Page 265
Saved Rounds

As a professional, the precision of Galla-Rini's choice of words and how he

articulated them was only surpassed by the attention to detail in anything he had to
do with music. There was never any compromise or trade-offs in either of them.
The instrument and the musical need dictated the outcome, and there were no
excuses or shortcuts. That's what built his reputation.

There is a lifetime of knowledge on master class DVD, but the extent of his wisdom
can never be comprehended in the course of a few hours. Even the simplest
concepts, can take weeks, months, years, or even a lifetime to fully master; and then
comes the challenge applying them for a desired musical outcome.

The master class is not a collection of tips, tricks, suggestions, or gimmicks that will
magically transform someone's playing. It is also not about someone's personal
system to mastering technique. Rather, it is a very concise summary of what the
accordion is about and how it is physically manipulated (handled) to make music.
And the summary is from someone who dedicated a lifetime to the music, the
instrument, and the musicality of the instrument; someone who understands the
instrument's most intrinsic qualities.

An expression I often use on a variety of topics is, "but there are a thousand steps to
get there." And that is true with many of the concepts presented by Galla-Rini in his
master class. For those of us lucky enough to study with him, we learned those
steps in the course of our weekly lessons. They were adapted to our individual
progress and needs. Ultimately we came to understand what we were trying to do
and how to get there.

And that's what Accordion Barre is about - breaking basic concepts into their
smallest possible components, isolating them, practicing them, and learning to adapt
them to the individual. It is knowing what you are trying to accomplish and know
when you have reached a milestone or goal. It is something that can be done by
any player at any level and in any style, and when done successfully, one should
experience a result. It's not some marvelous midnight-television quick fix that results
in a panacea for all technical or musical challenges, but rather understanding the
characteristics of the instrument, the basic foundation of playing, and making music.

I don't know many individuals who have understood the accordion better than Galla-
Rini. That is his true legacy. While it is in pages of his written music, there is also
much that must be continued through tradition. To that end, his master class is our
syllabus, and tradition presented through the Accordion Barre will help provide the
steps to get there.

Wringing it Out

5/16/11

Page 266
Saved Rounds

As a kid I learned stuff real fast. Maybe sometimes too fast as there could be trade-
offs. But I was lucky in having the right teachers at the right time.

Glenn Stead was meticulous about every detail in the written music. As a kid I often
felt this slowed me down. But he had a lot of patience and in retrospect it helped
build a very strong foundation.

In some ways Tito was the opposite. It is like comparing two very different Corvette
owners. Glenn Stead would be the one who always drove it conservatively, obeying
every law, never breaking a speed limit, appreciating it for what it was, but never
using all it could do. On the other hand, Tito would have been the owner who never
hesitated to wring it out, and had the ability to get everything there was out of it.
After all, why else would you have a Corvette in the first place?

Galla-Rini brought another dynamic. He paid immaculate attention to written detail,

but also knew how it related to making music on the accordion. He brought yet
another dynamic. So the pendulum made another cycle.

With age and a change in my own expectations I eventually became more cautious,
self-imposed shackles often offset the reckless abandon of my younger years, driven
by a desire to consistently play the right notes. The swings of the pendulum became
quite slight.

Jim and I have talked quite a bit about the extremely virtuosic performance of Efim
Bronfman and the NSO a few weeks ago. It was one of those nights that literally
brings an audience out of their seats - strength and technical feats that at times don't
seem humanly possible.

But he played with the same level of confidence that Norman Schwarzkopf
described in the engagement of American forces at the start of Desert Storm. I
paraphrase: It's not what you might see in a movie, we aren't going in on a wing and
a prayer with a 50% chance of success. We only engage when we are nearly 100%
confident that we can meet our goals with minimal or no loss. And with a player at
Bronfman's level, the technical resources at his command are enormous.

With a true artist, I rarely find myself wondering if they are going to get through
something: I know they can. I wait with anticipation to see how they will meet the
musical challenges. They know what they can do, with the same (or even higher)
level of confidence expressed by Schwarzkopf.

So maybe they should be compared to the professional drivers who race Corvettes.
They are the ones who can operate comfortably at levels that mere mortals may not
even be able to fully comprehend.

Our Innermost Secrets

Page 267
Saved Rounds

5/17/11

Roll back the calendar to 1968, Torrance California, and a Rock Club called the
"Bank:1960’s Rock Venue”". It was in an industrial area, out in the middle of
nowhere. However, if I remember correctly you could see it from the Harbor
Freeway. It was this big cavernous space, and typical with other original music rock
venues, there were no seats, tables, or anything. You just camped out on the floor.
They had a lot of big name bands, but only for a short while. The club didn’t catch
on.

Music Emporium played there one Sunday. Two other acts on that day were Fair
Befal and Black Pearl. The crowd was small and the emptiness was exaggerated by
the size of the room. The afternoon dragged on until we finally played. The
audience almost liked our opening song, but it fell off after that. It wasn't very long
until the management was trying to get us off the stage so one of their friend's bands
could play.

Not caring about time was a phenomenon unique to many 60s rock venues. There
just wasn't any rush. You just sat back and let the world (and the current activity,
whatever it was) pass at its own pace. Most everyone was likely stoned anyway, so
what difference did it make? Worrying about time might only destroy the high.

I had a very hard time with this type environment. I had too many things to do.
Music Emporium was only one of my activities - the other primary ones being
accordion and college. I wanted to cram as much into life as I could. I couldn't see
the value of vegging out for an afternoon that would likely segue right on through the
night.

Anyway, on this particular afternoon Fair Befal went on in endless jams at sound
levels that were nearly impossible to tolerate, even with our clinically fitted ear
plugs. The barrage of Acoustic Control amps had the horns in the cabinets and
were capable of a particularly nasty sound; certainly in contrast to the gut pounding
Vox and Marshall amps. Someone told us a story of a guitar player a few weeks
previous running off stage holding his ears in extreme pain after a particularly long
solo.

In contrast, there was magic in Black Pearl's performance. Instead of screaming at

the audience, or just screaming at no one in particular, they drew the audience in.
You couldn't escape it. You had to watch them. They got inside of you, drew you in
with their incredible energy. And when they were done, a part of that energy stayed
with you. Hearing them made the afternoon worthwhile. And over time, I knew I
wanted to achieve that impact when I played accordion or when I conducted.
Though it is an intrinsic quality to many great performers, I personally learned the
lesson best through rock.

Page 268
Saved Rounds

So there were two lessons for me that afternoon; though understand they weren't
exclusive to that particular Sunday. And after a lot of years I still try to remain true to
both.

First, sometimes less is more. My Dad used to say, "Leave them wanting more.
Know when to quit." Or as another friend put it, "Make it the shortest 90 minutes of
their lives." Sometimes there can be too much variety. And too much variety and
too long is a very bad combination. I worry about the potential length of concerts
when I perform. Too often I have walked out on a stage only to face an audience
who looks burned out, hostile, or even both.

Second, Edith Oppens used to say that when someone played she could tell
everything about them, including their innermost secrets. She wasn't talking about
secrets like who someone slept with, but rather the innermost characteristics that
define a person's being. I believe there is enormous truth in her statement. You
share yourself with every single note you play, whether or not you intend to do so.
To me, the success at achieving the impact I described with Black Pearl comes from
self-confidence, not only in musical competence, but also from self- acceptance of
everything about ourselves. All of it. Tis not good or bad, but our thinking that
makes it so.

Nautical Portholes

5/18/11

I recently upgraded to Microsoft Word 2010. I have used MS Word since version 1,
too many years ago. Sometimes the changes have been subtle, other times, like
when Word for a Windows was introduced, they were substantial. I have
sometimes wondered what drove the change; questioned whether it was to
guarantee the program was proprietary or to actually make the software easier to
use.

The progression of changes has also provided the opportunity to grumble about
having Microsoft do something for the user automatically, like formatting, whether or
not the user wanted it. There has also been the nearly constant opportunity to
complain of things being hidden on a new or different menu for no apparent reason.

Shortly after my upgrade to 2010 I was forced into several very large editing tasks
using the new program. In the early years I would dive into each new release, eager
to master each new feature. Today it is more typical to blob along, searching for a
function only when I absolutely need it. But in this case, the tasks at hand
demanded a more aggressive action on my part. To accomplish my editing I needed
to get proficient with the new version.

I love computers - everything about them. I don't know I existed without them.
They have changed almost everything in the essence of our daily lives; everything

Page 269
Saved Rounds

from online banking and shopping to dating and sex, with or without a second
person. And most likely driven by my enthusiasm, I find it easy to learn new
programs. And as I learned Office 2010, driven by need rather than feeling I had
been forced into it, I was immediately impressed with how well the new version
functioned. The new menus, the look and feel, it all made sense.

And this morning, for some unknown reason,I have been staring at the new MS
Word series of toolbars at the top of this screen and thinking about my progression
through accordions; and most specifically about switches. The tabs on my first
Soprani. The nautical portholes on the Frontalini - in both hands no less. The
flappers on the Crucianelli. The faux keyboard pattern on the Dallape, and finally
the dupli-visi system on the Giulietti Supers. And out of sequence, the Rockers on
the Excelsior.

And I ask a similar question: were these designs driven from a need to be unique, or
from function? Or perhaps a bit of both? I am sure there were reasons, but I am
also almost equally sure that had you asked a manufacturer this question you may
well have gotten different answers on different days.

If you were to ask me to recite the switch sequence on the Super(s) by memory I
might be correct on half of them. But if I have the instrument on, I will press the one
I want without much thought and generally without looking. And I could do that the
first day I put one back on after a 30 year break. Things from youth stay with you.

However, when I play the Rocker Switch Excelsior I have to concentrate like crazy.
It reminds me of driving on the opposite side of the road in Japan. It takes a level of
concentration that reduces my brain to mush within a very short time. And though I
averaged at least one to two months each year in Japan for seven years - each year
it was like starting over again. But had I developed this skill at a younger age, I am
sure the change would be intuitive.

Thank goodness other things (like keyboards) have stayed basically the same. So I
can view the switches as an amusement while I play; typically not requiring a lot of
concentration. And that is something that could be viewed in the same way with
menus and functions in MS Word. At the core it is still a word processing software.

And a final thought in my scattered thoughts this Wednesday morning: maybe the
acoustic accordion is like a typewriter and the Roland is like a word processor.
Whew, that will take a lot more thought! But for sure, much will still correlate to what
you do on (and to and with) the keys.

Words and Music

5/23/11

Another Monday, another trip in the commuter van, another entry into the blog.

Page 270
Saved Rounds

It was a busy weekend. The highlight was the performance in Baltimore on

Saturday night. Two years after my return, accordion has once again become such
an important part of my life. I enjoy performing, I like the time on the stage, and I like
the interaction with the audience. But the most important thing for me is the actual
playing. It is a personal joy that I get to share with someone else.

I have often written in the blog about the accordion's expressiveness and diversity.
Overall I don't know which attribute is greater, but my vote today would be the
expressiveness.

Through my life I have played a lot of piano. The piano has an expansive repertoire
with a countless works that span every musical genre. This was one of the
attractions when I made my total migration from accordion in the late 1970s. I am
sure there are more than a few musical snobs that would readily assert that even the
most secondary, minor, petty piano work is of greater artistic value than the best
thing ever written for accordion. And there are those who have spent a lifetime in
accordion in the exclusive pursuit to increase the amount and appreciation of original
accordion repertoire trying to prove them wrong.

Though I play original accordion repertoire, I have rarely been one to play something
just because it was written for accordion, especially if I thought it was not musically
rewarding or didn't use the inherent sound of the instrument very well. (An exception
was most of the test pieces for the Coupe: at those times I didn't have a choice.) I
have never thought such repertoire would either inspire other people to write for the
instrument or attract the favor of non-accordionists. I followed the same philosophy
when selecting my piano repertoire, but there is an enormous difference in what is
available.

But there is something about accordion that draws out a different side of me, an
emotional side that reaches to my innermost core. And this characteristic
sometimes stands above the availability of accordion repertoire. A friend who often
served as a spiritual guide once told me that with my gift to make music she didn't
see how I could ever be depressed. At the time I wasn't playing accordion and I
realize now why I didn't completely understand or agree with what she said.

Performances sometimes bring out emotional things that I may not entirely
understand - but that is okay. For me it is more important to experience them than
to understand them. But a curious thing, it's talking about the music or the personal
experience that emotionally paralyzes me. Years ago I would have avoided it.
Today I not embarrassed about it.

When it is time play, it is about the craft of making the music. Knowing every detail
from the score. Knowing how to handle the instrument. Knowing exactly what you
need to do. Applying those is the key to the musical expression. There is no
emotional paralysis, but rather the freedom to express what is in the music. It

Page 271
Saved Rounds

reiterates what Gregory Stone said, "we don't talk about music, we play music." And
maybe I am just learning the full meaning of his words.

Long Lines and Anticipation

5/25/11

No lines, no waiting, and wide aisles: flash-backs of super market ads from the
1950's. Wide aisles: how could it get any more important than that? What could
possibly be worse than a narrow aisle? The vision of a housewife with four kids in
tow, grocery cart with one square wheel trying to negotiate a narrow aisle is enough
to make anyone cringe.

But if one were to manage the lines, build anticipation and excitement through the
wait, then narrow aisles could have their time and place. I first remember my
introduction to line-mazes at Disneyland in 1956. You got in what appeared to be an
amazingly short line for the Peter Pan dark ride only to discover it disappeared into a
black-hole maze off to the side of the ride's building. It was pretty boring other than
the occasionally irate mob when some poor kid tried to cut ahead.

Time passed, the capacity on rides was increased, and eventually the wait for a
major ride became part of the experience. One was no longer forced into the
boredom of staring at others in the same line, and in times before cell phones and
other electronic devices, what else was there to do? Now there were animations,
themed decorations, sound, and in some cases even warnings.

But waiting has not always been exclusive to theme parks. As a youth I remember
waiting, and waiting, for Van Cliburn to take the stage the first time I ever heard him
play a solo recital. It must have been close to 40 minutes. I thought the
audience would start chanting, "we want Van, we want Van." But they didn't. They
just sat quietly waiting. Someone later told me that he wanted the audience to be
ready for the performance, to have time to clear their minds.

For me the reaction was more like waiting for the doctor who was seriously behind
schedule; anger replaced with gratitude when you were called from the waiting room
and something only slightly above servitude when he finally walked into the
examination room.

Waiting also has a place in accordion culture, especially in the competitions. There
were many examples of this at the Galla-Rini International Competition. Some of the
contestants would wait for what seemed to be eternity before starting to play;
adjusting this, doing that, whatever. This was differrent than what I saw Van do.
When he finally took the stage there was no muss, no fuss - he played. But when
seated at a piano what else is there to do beside adjust the bench position or
height? With an accordion there is a lot more to futz with. Waiting for the

Page 272
Saved Rounds

performance might have the same impact as waiting for the thrill ride at the theme
park.

Competitions typically come complete with rules. And with all the rules regarding
time (the time will only officially start when the performer starts to play, penalty
points will be assessed for playing too long or not long enough, etc.) perhaps they
should formally address performance offset (my new term): the elapsed time
between sitting and actually playing the first note. "From the first moment of
audience silence, the performer may not start for a minimum of 45 seconds, during
which time if someone gets up to go to the bathroom they will penalized 3 points." Or
perhaps the opposite with something more akin to the pro football 25 second rule.
From the time the performer sits, they will have no longer than 10 seconds to
commence playing or have a 3 point penalty.
Performance length in accordion competitions has a history at least as long as I
have been around the instrument. Years ago a major concern in competition
preparation was always the length of the piece. At one time a sports stop watch sat
next to my metronome and was an important tool in preparing for a competition.
Arrangements and tempos had to be carefully monitored against a total time.

But maybe it was all okay. It was an excuse to plow through the obligatory slow
boring parts and get to the fast and loud parts; and an excuse to play even faster.

Play for Pay or Pay for Play

5/26/11

As a new student to music we practice and play. Our performances are typically
limited to family members and pets not having the ability to escape - and of course
the weekly lesson. At the next plateau we may segue into more structured
performances as part of a student recital or when friends visit. For some, the day
may finally come when there is an exchange of money for our musical performance
and we stand at the threshold of becoming a professional musician.

Our professional careers can take us on unforeseen paths. We may have been
interested in classical music and a career on the concert stage but find ourselves
playing for weddings or at an amusement park. Over time aspirations often fade or
become redefined. A passion for classical music might be replaced with jazz.
Precision through pedagogy might be replaced with experimentation and
exploration.

When I was young, teachers would tell me that I needed to play less and practice
more. I liked playing. I loved to experience the thrill of performance. But my
teachers emphasized the need to practice; always working to improve the final
product. By the time I got to Aube Tzerko years later I knew exactly what he meant
when he said you have to practice slow in order to play fast.

Page 273
Saved Rounds

However, in our musical journeys we are influenced by many situations. If I am

scheduled to play two 4-hour weddings on a single day how much additional time
remains for practice? Or if I end up playing four or even five nights a week? While
confidence will develop from so much instrument 'hold' time, am I engaged in a
discipline that will continue to improve my playing? Though I will likely maintain a
certain level of technical facility, will I be maintaining concentration as I play, or will I
put the music on autopilot as I engage in distractions that make the time pass more
quickly? And will a time come when I can maintain an adequate level of technique
with my gigs and ultimately don't want or feel a need to practice at all?

Are we playing for pay, or are we using pay so we can play? For me that pendulum
has gone to both extremes. I graduated from college without being one cent in debt,
grateful that I was able to play a zillion wedding gigs. But I never backed off the
classical part of my accordion life. I could never maintain that pace today.

Later (post accordion) I was playing 5 nights a week while working a full-time job to
afford quality pianos and lessons, but there were many days when those magnificent
Steinways went untouched while I banged for four hours each night on a piece-of-
crap bar-trashed Kimball spinet. I was playing for pay to be able to play, but
somehow it didn't quite work out that way.

Today I am still working a full-time job and I am again playing accordion. I have
literally not touched a single note on piano since starting to play accordion again.
For now I know I must re-establish and maintain my accordion technique and I don't
have the time for distractions to cross that path. I have also been very selective on
my approach, focusing on a single genre of solo performance of specific repertoire.
And though parts of that repertoire would not be strictly considered 'classical', my
approach is classical. It is an application of what Aube said, you have to play slow in
order to play fast. But in this case it isn't applied to 'speed', it is applied to ultimate
concentration. I must also accept that practice time is a requisite and I must make
time for it.

Am I Being Heard?

5/30/11

The Memorial Weekend: a few extra hours to practice and a few extra hours of
sleep. It was also the chance to work on the sound system; yet another challenge in
the pursuit of art.

Perhaps it is perception that I am much more challenged making decisions than I

can remember from years past. Sometimes they are simple, but other times they
seem much more complicated, though it may more accurate to say that my ability to
make the decisions is more difficult. What music to play, what to wear, what

Page 274
Saved Rounds

accordion (or accordions) to take, what cases? And each decision segues into other
decisions. Does the outcome justify the effort?

The area where there is no question of trade-off is the effort and time to practice. A
very close second is maintaining the accordion. But now enter questions of trade-
off; like the time I must be separated from the instrument for maintenance.

Then come even more complex decisions, complex because the anticipated
outcome can be difficult to measure. And decisions regarding sound systems can
be especially difficult to make as it is rare for an empirically correct answer.

As an accordionist there is an enormous variety in my performance venues. I may

occasionally find myself in an acoustically perfect room where I know the instrument
will be heard and I need not give any thought to amplification. But those times are
rare. More often I am in rooms of multi-purpose design, where it was most important
to control ambient noise from food service or from adjacent rooms separated only by
a movable partition. Rooms with low ceilings, too much carpet, and noisy air
conditioning.

So how important is it for the audience to 'hear' what you think they should be able
to hear? Current sound reinforcement capabilities are better than ever and have
even become more affordable in recent years. But it is more stuff you have to carry,
set up, and find someone to operate. So where is the balance?

Another big question for an accordionist is whether to use an internal amplification

system or external microphones, or a combination of both.

In my youth I loved my amplifiers. They were part of my arsenal. In later concert

years I often worked with a combination of sound reinforcement and internal
amplification. In my two years since my return I have relied on what was available or
gone pure acoustic. But the hankering to explore is still there. Part of Johnny
LaPadula's impact was the Magnatone with the remote speaker. You could really
hear him with this bigger-than-life sound. It wasn't a matter of loud, it was just about
having the right sound. He really had it dialed and it fit the style of how he played. It
was part of the experience. And I am so tempted to make that part of my retro
stradella stuff. So on some quiet afternoon if you happen to be driving around
Fredericksburg, you may hear Jim playing on Sebastian as I adjust and tweak the
sound system.

A through P (minus E through O)

6/01/11

I have recently been working with a young student. I would say he is currently
playing at an entry level 4. Today it is not unusual to get questions about how an
advanced a player might be, which surprisingly was a topic less frequently discussed

Page 275
Saved Rounds

in years past. So I am sometimes coerced into articulating my own rating system.

At the lower levels it is most accurately defined as a measure of the difficulty of the
written music. But as one moves into the upper ends of the scale, the player's
technical facility, regardless of the challenge, becomes a given. Musicality becomes
increasingly more critical until it becomes the exclusive evaluation at the highest
levels.

In most cases explanation of the rating system is more trouble than it is worth,
unless it is seen as an example of my rather weird sense of humor, which is
considered funny by a select few (often understood only by level P players).

I recall a discussion Jim was having with Cynthia over the phone some time ago. At
the time Jim was completing Palmer Hughes Book 1 and Cynthia was saying she
stayed with the method through Book 4. In their minds it was it was easy enough -
Jim was clearly level 1 and Cyntha was well beyond level 4 as she had continued to
play regardless of being a Palmer Hughes drop-out.

I don't remember if I was drug into this conversation or if my participation was

unsolicited, but I commented that Cynthia was a good and solid level D. I could hear
pure elation coming back through the phone lines until I continued that levels A
through D were pre-beginner and could loosely be compared to the first four Palmer
Hughes books. A student became level 1, beginner, at about book 5, but this was
requisite on a thorough understanding and mastery of the full content of the method
up through that point. So at that point the rating system that had existed in my mind
for many years was formally launched upon the world.

The basis of the system was established in my earliest years with the grade levels
indicated for each of the Deiro Overtures. I am sure there were similar indications
for other pieces, but for some reason these stuck. Even the accordion music listed
on Deffner's music website has indications for difficulty, and I questioned (for at least
7 seconds) where do these came from? But ultimately it isn't the level of difficulty of
the music, but the artistic level at which it is played. But an evaluation of artistic
level is most typically a rare possibility until a student reaches at least level 4.

I like to compare music to other disciplines, sometimes as a point of clarification and

other times to show similarities. In the first steps of training new motorcycle riders
they have ver little control over the machine and are mostly along for the ride. But
there comes a point where the student starts controlling the motorcycle by
manipulating the controls. At this time they start riding. Same thing in playing, there
may come a time when the student actually starts making music rather than just
playing notes (which may result in music based on what is written on the page, but
like the beginning motorcycle rider, the player is along for the ride and has little
control; the music is created in spite of what he does).

The entire concept is much more complex than a level or grade indication that may
be associated with the printed music. But in a condensed summary, there are 4 pre-

Page 276
Saved Rounds

beginner levels (A-D), beginner (1-2), pre intermediate (3), intermediate (5-7) and
advanced (8-10). Then comes the P (professional) designation; the individual who
has mastered the instrument within one or more musical styles or genres. And
within the P designation there are nearly an infinite number of descriptive
designations, indeed far beyond the scope of today's blog.

When everything is said and done, beyond the potential for self-evaluation or just
some good silliness (I love hearing Cynthia's high-pitched cackle), all of this is of
questionable importance; outweighed by what the player wants to do and the
reaction of his listeners. Music and players will be sustained by what they and their
audiences like much more than an evaluation system. It is curious that sometimes
this fact is outweighed as our value systems become driven by our need for formal
competition.

Taking the Accordion to the World

6/05/11

Saturday night Jim and I went to see the Ballet Nacional de Cuba performing a full-
length Don Quixote at the Kennedy Center. It was one of those ultra-rare
performances, the kind that will stay with you forever. At the ballet's conclusion the
audience erupted into thunderous applause that literally shook the walls of the
Opera House. I don't know when I have ever seen such a spontaneous reaction in
this country.

Growing up my grandfather and dad had some great expressions, many that still live
in me today. Sometimes when the praise or adjectives flowed like foam from an
overly-excited can of coke that was opened prematurely they would say, "I hope you
never see anything really great as you won't have any words left to describe it."

If there is a perk for living in the Washington DC area, a place with some of the
country's worst traffic, it is the variety and quality of performances. In some ways
DC is like New York City, and all things considered (like parking and ticket costs), it
is more affordable. In ballet alone where would one have the opportunity to see the
Bolshoi, Mariinsky (Kirov), Royal, Cuban, New York City Ballet, American Ballet
Theatre, Suzanne Farrell, and Royal Danish over a course of two seasons? We are
fortunate to have an abundance of excellence. It is such a contrast to the first ballet
I ever saw - a Community Concerts presentation in the Inglewood High School
Auditorium. We certainly aren't in Kansas anymore.

During my time at West Point, the Fine Arts Forum had some great acts, but I often
found myself driving to New York City to see the same performance. It made a
difference when the eyes of New York City were upon them. And I am sure it is the
same when performing at the Kennedy Center. There is just too much too good to
settle for anything less than being one's ultimate best. So when an evening is as

Page 277
Saved Rounds

outstanding as Saturday I find myself reflecting on the qualities of the performance

that made it so outstanding, and how that might relate to my own performance.

I read some reviews of the Alonso's company prior to the performance. They said
(my paraphrase) the company concentrated on a clean approach to dance, free of
affectations and mannerisms that ultimately distract from the artistic end. The art
form takes precedence over the exploitation of the individual. As applied by the
Cuban company, the result was nothing short of stunning. It also helps that they
may have some of the best trained dancers in the world, especially the men.

Now before you get all excited that I have become obsessed with a return to all
things pure in accordion performance I would remind you of my enthusiasm several
weeks ago after a concert of the Tchaikovsky B Flat with Yefim Bronfman. If it is
possible for a pianist to be garish, with his ability to potentially overplay a 9 foot
Steinway, Bronfman would qualify. Pure power for the sake of pure power? Why
not. Because he could. And for him, it worked.

So for me the two opposites can coexist (especially recognizing that virtuosity is
often an intrinsic part of the composer's intent) and I can enjoy both. But what
makes either performance effective is the goal and direction that drives the artist.
They know exactly what they want to do, why they want to do it, and they know how
to achieve their goal. It is the thorough and absolute control over every part of the
performance process that makes it possible to bring the artistic inspiration to
fruition. And that is how both approaches, or anything between, can be effective.

There is another message here, especially for the young accordionist. After hearing
a young player several months ago I politely asked her if she had ever heard Bach
played on anything other than an accordion. It was a rhetorical question, for if she
had; it was likely an accordionist playing Bach on another instrument.

In one of my early college courses, a professor gave us an initial assignment to get a

bottle of wine and a loaf of bread and find a quiet place to sit where we could watch
the motion of the trees in the wind. He encouraged us to experience things outside
our particular discipline - artistic or otherwise. He said we must experience the
fabric of life that ties things together and learn to be inclusive to all those things in
our artistic endeavors.

We were also encouraged to recognize and seek excellence in everything we did. It

usually required no more effort than seeking mediocrity but the potential return was
so much more. And today I will sometimes play a section of a piece at an
impossible tempo or with a very complex articulation and tell a young person I am
mentoring, 'do this.' And they do, because no one told them it was hard or they can't
do it. And I smile inside.

And too many years later, I appreciate that taking the accordion to the world is not
as important as bringing the world into my accordion playing.

Page 278
Saved Rounds

Wrist Protectors and Dog Chews

6/07/11

I have heard it said that many people don't like change. It may feel more
comfortable to keep doing things the same way they always done them. However, I
find this is often not true, and the process of change can be very interesting to
watch. The questions I like to ponder are why people sometimes avoid change
when they actually need it and why the same people may embrace change when
there is actually no reason for it, especially when it relates to accordion.

A good example is the recent exchange of information on one of the internet

accordion forums. The topic is left-hand wrist bands, and after an extended period
of very few entries the electrons are buzzing. There are discussions of styles,
materials, purpose, and of course, who uses what. And I keep asking, why?

I wear a left hand wrist band, but the decision to do so was driven by a very specific
problem that needed to be corrected. I started my return to playing on General Bill,
the 1938 Excelsior 0.0 Rocker Switch. There was a slight gap on the left hand bass
machine cover that cut into my wrist. One day, after a particularly enthusiastic
practice session, I noticed my wrist was bleeding. It was something akin to a paper
cut and a real nuisance until it healed. I first tried a trick I use for pressure points
when breaking in new running shoes: duct tape. But it ended up taking off too much
skin. So it was down to the local medical supply store where I found a wrist band.
The problem was solved. The wrist band became part of my playing.

But the wrist band discussion on the forum is not driven by a well-defined need.
There is as much discussion about identifying a problem as there is about finding a
solution. It is more like, well, if you have a problem moving your arm up and down in
the left hand strap, or, it can help with sweat, or, it can keep the black dye from the
straps from bleeding onto your white shirts. Or, this material is designed to wick,
which could make the sweat problem on the bass strap worse, and who knows what
else. It's akin to, let's fix a problem I am yet to identify rather than: I have identified a
problem, this is what I need as an outcome, and here are some options for fixing it.
So in this case we are eagerly seeking change that we really don't need.

This is in such contrast to times we avoid change we really need. We don't want to
fix something that needs to be fixed, but we are willing to fix things that don't need to
be fixed.

Maybe part of it is our comfort zone. If we identify something that should be fixed it
means we will need to take action to fix it. It may require a little effort, or perhaps a
lot of effort. But if something needs to be fixed, the success of our change can be
measured by how well we have fixed it. But there is always the reality that our
change may not work and that we will fail. Most people don't like to admit failure.

Page 279
Saved Rounds

In contrast, the unneeded change may be more like the lottery ticket. There is less
risk, thus less chance of failure. I can wear that new wrist strap for a couple
accordion club meetings with my friends and wax eloquent on all the things it is
doing; the fix for all my problems; like the must-have items sold on late-night
television. But in a short time how many will end up in the back of some drawer or
on the floor of the closet, or in my case, become a dog chew?

All Downhill From Here

6/08/11

I enjoy providing examples of how things that might otherwise seem unrelated tie
together. As this is an accordion blog, I try to provide illustrations to show how it
relates to accordion. When I was doing courses for motorcycle trainers I did a
similar thing.

I have always lived by the philosophy that if something is worth doing, it is worth
overdoing. I don't know if this has always been a choice, but for most things that is
just the way it is. I learned years ago that one of the most successful methods of
fulfilling that philosophy is to surround yourself with the best, or at least those better
than you are.

When I moved to upstate New York I came face-to-face with my fist winter and
1969/70 was a particularly rough one. There was snow on the ground from
November through early April, day after day where the temperature never got above
freezing, and where the wind chill was so severe I would get up several times
through the night and warm up my car, hoping I would be able to get it to run in the
morning. After slipping several times and landing on my butt on the hard ice, I had
decided that the reality living through a winter was not the same as a weekend trip
from the Los Angeles basin to play in the snow.

But everything was transformed when I discovered snow skiing a couple years later.
Now I couldn't wait for winter, anxious for the first freeze, the opening of Hunter
Mountain and the West Point Ski slope. I waxed skis, worked out extra hard, and
made every other preparation I could so as not to waste one precious moment of the
ski season. I loved winter; embraced it! And I also developed a new group of
friends who were either involved in the ski business or were super-expert skiers.

And now the story. It was the first real snow of early December but I had already
started my season early by searching out the commercial mountains with the best
snow-making capability. But with the first natural snow came the first trip for the
season with my 'pro' friends. These trips were especially fun as the lift tickets were
generally complimentary and we had an assortment of all the newest skis to try out.
A friend of mine had come along. We started up the lift and my friend rode with a
(then) vice president of one of the major ski manufacturers. He reminded the VP of
the need to warm up after being off for the summer and how he had the advantage

Page 280
Saved Rounds

of already being out a few times. The VP smiled and nodded. My friend had
decided to take it easy at first so the VP could reacquaint himself to the business of
skiing. He started cautiously down the hill and stopped after 30 yards or so to look
back for the VP to make sure he was okay. He wasn't to be found. Then my friend
realized the VP was already way down the slope ahead of him, waiting patiently.
This pattern kept repeating. Each time my friend started out, the VP was down the
hill. Evidently the VP didn't need a few weeks to warm up. It became obvious that
he skied with an ease, skill and confidence that my friend would likely never
achieve. But he had never said anything - never given any indication.

On the 90 minute ride to the mountain we had never talked anything of skiing. We
talked about everything else, but not skiing. And watching the pros ski we realized
they didn't have to say anything. It didn't matter they were an Olympic gold medalist
or anything else. The skiing said everything when he started down the hill. And the
point was driven even more in the afternoon when we went off with the head of the
mountain's ski patrol to ski the super-expert runs that had not yet been groomed and
were not yet opened to the general public.

When everything was said and done the proof was in the skiing. Words didn't mean
anything; either in terms of talking about skiing in general or how well someone
thought they skied. And I have found a similar thing with playing. The world-class
players (accordion or otherwise) I have known don't talk about playing, how great
they are or what awards they have won. They talk when they play. Kind of like
Gregory said, we don't talk about music, we play music.

Stories sometimes relate that the youth (high school or even college) who talk the
most about sex are most likely the virgins. The ones who sit quietly and listen are
more likely to be the ones who are sexually active. I wonder if Gregory's words also
apply to them?

Religion, Politics and Doing the Dish(es)

6/14/11

I have often heard it said, there are certain things you don't discuss, like religion and
politics.

We didn't have any such restrictions in my home growing up in 1950's California. In

fact, my dad encouraged such discussions. They often became quite heated and
sometimes personal. But that equated to passion, and passion was something my
parents encouraged. We were encouraged to have differences of opinion and family
discussions also taught us the value of listening to what others had to say. There
were few times I ever saw my father get personally angry regardless of the topic,
and in retrospect that might have been the most important lesson.

Page 281
Saved Rounds

Conversations at family meals were rarely boring, and I am sure my brothers and I
looked forward to the conversation almost as much as the food. It was an
opportunity to be treated as an adult at an early age, and we never worried about
being thought less-of because of our view.

I often find myself trying to be polite by showing interest in another person's

passion. Sometimes it is a sincere curiosity, other times I really don't care. And the
topic often has no connection to to the reason for my interest.

A few years ago I asked a co-worker on one particular day how they were doing.
They answered they were doing well and continued to say thanks for caring. When I
responded that, " I really didn't care, I was just making an attempt to be polite", his
jaw nearly dropped.

I related this story some time later while attending a counseling seminar and was
told by a co-attendee that my comment had been rude and irresponsible. He
questioned my mental health. I told him that he (the counselor) would get over it, or
he wouldn't, and that I had made a decision to give up co-dependence many years
previous. He didn't get it.

However, a lesson I did not completely learn from my father was the ability to remain
calm, or at least to appear calm. The level of calmness for me can depend on the
circumstances. I spent countless hours on long Glee Club bus trips many years
ago. Ruthanne Schempf and I always sat together, and I would generally start the
conversation with my love of Wagner and we were off and running. Ruthanne never
shared my love for Wagner and we were transformed back to my family dinner table
as we went round and round, bouncing from one topic to another. The miles flew by
and our friendship has never stopped growing. She remains one of my most
cherished friends.

But in contrast Jim and I had house guests a while ago and the topic turned to
music, most likely our guests' attempt to feign interest in one of our passions. I
generally don't chit chat about music unless provoked (or stuck in this van). I guided
the discussion to Wagner and his use of the language in his libretti - after all, this
was a language professor with a course-load that included German literature. I was
told in no uncertain terms that while Wagner might be mentioned in his course, he
would never be discussed because of his political views and influence. I continued
by saying that if he were that influential wouldn't it be even more critical that basis of
his views be understood, or from a musicology standpoint why his music had stood
the measure of time so well given his political views? But any further discussion was
dismissed.

I had been catapulted from the family table, engulfed into a black hole of, "if I ignore
it, it isn't there."

Page 282
Saved Rounds

I am grateful for the intellectual stimulation at my family's dinner table. I am grateful

for having grown up in the culture and energy of the 1960s. I am grateful for having
the opportunity to go to UCLA for both undergraduate and graduate studies - where
expression of a unique or opposite point of view would almost always be followed
with, "you should really explore that." Where the head of the music department
encouraged and facilitated my accordion playing despite the fact that there was no
formal accordion program at the University, but very late one Saturday night also
ventured into the underground Los Angeles culture with his son to hear my rock
band.

So has the university intellectual environment changed so much over the past 40
years, or is this an isolated example of a second-rate college in a po-dunk town?
But wait, why am I getting so excited? What about that part of my father's lesson
about remaining calm? And as I said to my co-worker, do I really care? Maybe it is
just time to shut up and take my turn doing the dishes.

Break on Through

6/16/11

I played at the Accordion Plus semi-annual recital last Saturday evening. Dale and
DeAnn Wise always attract a fun, enthusiastic crowd and the programs typically
represent a never-ending variety. This program was no exception and included an
original composition written and played by a young man that quite effectively
illustrated the timbre of the instrument, another young man who tap-danced while
playing accordion, and a young lady from Nebraska who played and sang a variety
of geographically ethic pieces.

It makes me ask the question, where do we go from here? We are effective at

entertaining accordion audiences, but how do we reach out to non-accordion
audiences, especially to a younger group that will help carry the accordion into future
generations?

My answer to this question has changed over the years. It has run a full gamut and
as I speak to others on this topic I often hear responses that parallel my personal
opinions from different times of years past. "We have to make people realize the
accordion is a legitimate instrument. This requires acceptance of free bassetti and
original music." "Chamber music. That is the answer, We have to encourage and
play chamber music. That is where the accordion fits." "We need to align the
accordion with pop culture. How many of us play Lady Gaga?" "The manufactures
need to use their influence to get the accordion into mainstream music." "Tangos.
The future of the accordion is in the tango."

Whew! Where do you start? I have written to obnoxious lengths about my youth
and wanting to make the accordion recognized as a legitimate instrument. Chamber
music has almost always bored me (accordion or otherwise). Pop culture: we are

Page 283
Saved Rounds

actually starting to see some of that, but pop culture is more about a person than an
instrument. Instruments are mainly for punctuation and color, rarely the star.
Manufactures influence? That idea seems kind of backward. The manufacturer
should support what the musicians need. Tangos? One every six months or so
might be tolerable.

But instead of trying to be analytical, today I am more likely to trust my gut; trust
what resonates inside me. And what resonates inside me is the effectiveness of
using the instrument. I don't know how much the rest of it matters. At the Galla-Rini
competition I heard Martynas Levickis play an original work that I had heard on a
previous occasion - but this time, rather than feeling like I urgently needed an
excuse to leave the room or hoping the accordion would actually rip apart and put
us all out of our misery (which was my reaction the first hearing), I enjoyed it. I don't
know if I really liked the composition any better, but I liked the brilliance of his
playing. Geographically ethnic music has typically not been at the top of my
favorites list - but the young girl that played at Dale's recital was captivating. You
couldn't take your eyes off of her. She owned her audience. I have yet to be
touched by a tango, but my musical tastes are also very eclectic and somewhat
jaded.

To me, much of this stems from knowing how to use the instrument, but it is also
musical sincerity. And musical sincerity is most effective through complete mastery
of the pedagogical process of playing. And though I continue to say this, I
sometimes need to be reminded.

I became quite emotional introducing a composition at a recent performance. Jim

has been relentless in his negativity about this particular event - even though it was
about the introduction, not the actual playing. But in typical fashion, we often don't
want to listen to people close to us who are not saying what we want to hear. But a
few weeks later while watching the television show, 'So You Think You Can Dance'
(which I love but Jim totally hates), Nigel Lythgoe told one of the contestants that
expressing emotion through dance would draw an audience in, but expressing it
outside dance [not within the art form] would be more likely to push an
audience away. And Jim said that's what he meant. And I knew he was right.

The accordion's crossover will have a better chance when an audience experiences
and relates to the sincerity of how the instrument is played. Excellence and total
control of the playing will likely be more important that what is actually played.

Finally, something good

6/20/11

Steven Isserlis, Vladimir Ashkenazy, the National Symphony Orchestra, and a

Stradivarius thrown in the mix for good measure. Last Saturday night's concert.
Just another day in the life.

Page 284
Saved Rounds

I keep thinking back to what my father would say about the use of superlatives; if
one uses them all the time, what will be left when something is really good? But for
now we are in a cycle of stellar performances: Ballet Nacional de Cuba, Yefim
Bronfman, Neeme Javi, Royal Danish Ballet, NSO, New York City Ballet, Mariinsky,
to name a few.

Back to back weeks with the Cuban Ballet and the Royal Danish; how could you not
compare these two world-class institutions? And how could you not compare the
nearly opposite conducting styles of Ashkenazy and Javi? And after the two recent
experiences I would have a difficult time saying that the NSO was anything but a
world-class symphony, obviously comparing it to all the other symphonies I have
heard through years?

I am taken back to tagging along with Dr. Haag as he selected his rental Steinway
for his recital. It was 1964 or 1965. He laughed at the thought of being able to say
'this Steinway or that Steinway was too lowly for his musical aspirations'. Any one of
them would have been fine. He was just thrilled that he wouldn't need to fight the
school's stodgy Baldwin - at least for one special evening.

And Jim and I do compare, and discuss - a lot. But it is like Dr. Haag selecting his
Steinway - it is not a question of who (or what) is better; it is a chance to explore the
artistry and how the individual shapes their craft. And for us it is more than an
experience, it is a chance to grow. "Excellence will inspire excellence." "Surround
yourself with people better than you are."

Too many years ago I was faced with the decision of where to pursue my college
education. There was the lure of one of the colleges with an accordion major. But I
was influenced by mentors like Dr. Haag. It was of greater value to be in an
environment of musicians on all instruments rather than an environment with a focus
on accordion. I already had access to some of the best accordion teachers in the
world: Anthony Galla-Rini, Don Balestrieri, and Tito Guidotti. So I chose not
to attended a college or university with an accordion major but ultimately played for
as many school performances as any performance major. This was even more
amazing because until my final year in grad school, I was not a performance major.

So I sometimes ask fellow accordionists the question that was asked of me: "have
you ever heard [insert musical style here] played on an instrument other than the
accordion (especially if it was written for that instrument)? I even asked a competitor
in the Galla-Rini Competition that question in reference to the performance of a Bach
Chorale Prelude. In this case it was a rhetorical question.

I have often said that musicians historically don't support (or sustain) music. In my
early college years professors said young musicians also don't know basic repertoire
and don't experience enough live performance (this was in LP days and pre-internet;
imagine what they say now).

Page 285
Saved Rounds

I would encourage any young accordionist, or even a seasoned person learning to

play accordion, to listen to music on other instruments - music of all kinds and
styles - and look for the excellence. Watch what they do. Watch how they control
the instrument. Notice how they make sound.

Many people still talk of the legend of Galla-Rini, but unfortunately few people
remain who understand his legacy. Galla-Rini's life-long passion was for how the
accordion was physically manipulated to produce sound. Despite the absurdity of
what one might read on the internet, it is not all in the bellows. The bellows are only
one of many parts. It is a combination of everything that is the instrument and the
person playing it; which ultimately is true with any instrument. But Galla-Rini's
knowledge didn't evolve from listening to other accordiodnists, it came from a
thorough understanding of all the instruments. It came from listening to them played
individually and in ensembles at their highest level. The basis wasn't academic, it
was experiential.

You won't learn about tone production honking away at Swan Lake in an accordion
band. Though there might be some value in accordion bands, they are not an end-
all in any sense and should never be considered a substitute for ensembles with a
variety of instruments. In fact, you won't fully hear a symphony orchestra on a CD,
no matter how good your sound system is. You have to hear it live where you can
let it engulf your entire essence, to where you become transformed and everything
else about life is put on hold for those few moments.

A curious closure to this was a comment I made to Jim as Vladimir Ashkenazy took
the stage Saturday night. I said, there is the equivalent of a Coupe Winner (in this
case, the piano's Chopin Competition) of 55 years ago. Sort of answered the
question, whatever happened too so and so? I wonder if they can still play? A
lifelong ambition not yet realized is hearing Ashkenazy play piano live. But thinking
of that line in Road House with Patrick Swayze, "I thought he would be taller." He
has such an enormous concept of sound.

Introducing Ms. Stradella

6/21/11

I recently started working on a new repertoire piece. It is another hit from the
stradella yesteryear collection and like so many others it is great fun to play. Today I
am willing to admit how much I came to miss stradella after my migration to all-
bassetti in the mid-1960s.

I abandoned all my stradella accordion music years before I stopped playing in

1978. I never thought I would have a use for it again, trusting the words of Julio,
"why would you ever want to go backwards". So 30 years later when I decided that I
actually wanted to go backward, when I knew that bassetti and stradella were to be

Page 286
Saved Rounds

represented in my repertoire, I knew that I had no remaining stradella music. I have

a very good memory, but not quite that good. I needed the music. Thanks to my
friends who have helped me find or loaned me the sheet music.

Some of the music is new and unmarked. Other music was used and has been
marked with corrections of fingering. Sometimes I find this interesting but more
often it is a distraction. However, I often find myself looking at the composer or
arranger's original fingering. If it was something I played as a youth, Glenn Stead
would have insisted I use the exact fingering on the printed page. Today I am not at
all hesitant to use my own fingering but I know how critical it is for a student to learn
the value of consistent fingering as part of the learning process.

By the time I got to Galla-Rini I had my own system of right-hand fingering that was
heavily influenced by my piano teachers and by Gregory Stone. I had also settled
into a fingering system for the bassetti. Fingering was a favorite discussion with
Galla-Rini topic through the years topic through the years and I may have influenced
some of his thinking, though I didn't realize how much until I recently watched a
master class DVD done late in his life.

However, in stradella there is simply no discussion. If you are playing one of Galla-
Rini's arrangements, use his fingering and it will work and you will also learn about
the stradella.

A final thought. There are some who remain extremely critical of stradella. They
agree with Julio that it has no place on an accordion in the hands of a competent
player. The chords are not necessary and simply too unmusical to be of any value.
The question I would ask; how familiar are they with what Galla-Rini did with
stradella? I doubt I could find an example where Galla-Rini's use of the stradella is
not faithful to the musical intent and effective.

In many examples of Galla-Rini's contemporaries work the left hand is more of an

afterthought; along for the ride. But in Galla-Rini's music it is a driving force; equal to
the right hand in its contribution to the musical content. In some examples I have
found his transcriptions to be more musically accurate and more effective than a
literal free bass reading from a piano score - but not always. There are many things
that are more effective (and only possible) on bassetti.

Stradella and bassetti are two separate entities and that is also okay. Knowing two
different keyboards in the left hand is not problematic. And even though they don't
have a physical correlation, they can be played together with relatively little difficulty
(as demonstrated extensively by the converter players). As an accordionist, it is just
something you do. It is not magic or a parlor trick. It also does not place some back
mark of impossible difficulty or unreasonable complexity on the instrument that will
ultimately result in its demise. It is actually fun.
musicianship, unfortunately [name withheld] had neither."
Do You Want Butter With That Accordion?

Page 287
Saved Rounds

6/23/11

A good friend was recently at the house and I invited him to play General Bill, the
1938 Excelsior 0.0 Rocker Switch. My friend is an excellent player, but like me, had
never had an opportunity to try one of the old Excelsior's. Some consider the
Rocker Switch Excelsior the first of the modern accordions and judging by the
covers of a majority of the accordion sheet music from the time everyone who was
anyone played one. The New York factory made a lot of them. Even the US Army
bought a batch during World War II. So why does there appear to be so few
survivors? They were very sturdy, well made accordions. Maybe they all were just
played to death.

Anyway, my friend tore into General Bill, trying different pieces and experimenting
with the Rocker Switch configuration. After a short while he commented that he was
having trouble getting used to the instrument which surprised me as he regularly
plays many different accordions. But it also takes me a few minutes to adapt to the
General Bill, even though I know what to expect. But once I do it is very rewarding.

When I first came back to playing I was at another friend's home and he was
describing the action on the right hand of his new accordion as 'buttery'. The term
was new to me and I found it quite amusing, subsequently having a hard time
erasing the image of playing a slimy, slippery keyboard greased up with gobs of
butter like corn-on-the-cob, the yellow slop oozing into the key bed. But since
coming back I have heard this term used more than a few times.

Tito prefered a shallow action, as did many other jazz players. It facilitated the
improvisational style of sliding through chord progressions. The absolute master of
this technique was Leon Sash, though his keyboard system facilitated this style far
beyond what any modification of a piano keyboard might do.

But as the years passed I found myself going the opposite direction. I wanted a
keyboard with a deeper action and with more spring tension. When I explained this
to my buttery-keyboard friend I detected the doe-in-the-headlights look. Why would I
want hard and stodgy over buttery? It would be akin to burlap underwear vs. soft
cotton.

There were two main reasons for the migration to the deeper, heavier keyboard
action. First, it facilitates greatly increased playing speeds with much less hand
fatigue. Second (and some don't understand this part), it gives the reeds more air,
especially when pre-pressuring; when you literally want the sound to explode. But
please be cautious not confuse explode with honk. Explode is a term I use to
describe the upper-end of the Galla-Rini ping. Honk is overplaying the limits of the
instrument with no regard for tone production.

Page 288
Saved Rounds

The downside from a deeper and heavier action is the potential increase in key
noise. The other downside is that you have to play it. Tentative does not work. You
can't sneak into anything and expect the keyboard to do you any favors. If you are
demanding more, have the right instrument, and have the ability to get it; it is there
for you. But it is not a good solution for the weekend warrior and is not an instantant
guarantee to improve one's playing. I would also not recommend it for someone
wanting to build more strength or technique. It doesn't work that way. If you don't
have the combination of excellent reeds & blocks, balance, and compression you
are going to have a very stodgy, unresponsive accordion that is not rewarding to
play.

The action on General Bill is deeper than most new accordions, though it is not
particularly heavy. Combined with the shape of the key, you have to play it. It does
not respond to tentative. But once you get used to it, it is quite rewarding.

Some accordions don't play themselves. There is no buttery on the keys or in the
action. But I guess the message in today's blog is more about playing with
conviction; hearing the sound in your head and knowing how to produce it. Working
toward that goal will likely do more than slopping butter all over the keyboard.

So for me, hold the butter. I am on a diet.

The Accordio-phile

6/28/11

Sometimes this blog must seem to be like a broken record - and on further reflection,
what will be the long-term life of that expression, 'broken record', now that
records are so far removed? I distinctly remember the day I brought home my first
CD player, hooked it up, and loaded my first CD. It was one of Madonna's early
CDs. I was somewhat disappointed at the sound quality. It seemed rather dull and
did not have the transient 'pop' of the LP. But on the other hand, the surface noise
was gone and switching between tracks was effortless. There are always tradeoffs,
even in technology.

In years previous the quest to find the right turntable had been never-ending. I had
finally settled in on the Micro Seiki DDX1000 with an elaborate tone arm and a high
end cartridge. It was serious stuff but was in line with the rest of my sound system.
There was a higher level for the true audiophile, but I considered most of the
audiophile scene more hype than substance. I had one audiophile friend who would
sit me down to demonstrate how a quarter gram difference on anti-skate opened up
an entirely new threshold of imaging and clarity. On one trip to his house Chuck
Carter had tagged along and upon being subjected to this insanity commented to my
friend that the sound system was without question the most unmusical thing he had
ever heard. My friend was genuinely offended and irritated, but I knew he would
spend the next several days without sleep, tearing back through his system, waiting

Page 289
Saved Rounds

for the high end audio stores to open Monday morning where he would be waiting on
their doorstep, a pile of humongous 80 lb amplifiers in tow, wondering what was
wrong with them. And those dealers would be willing to put up with the aggravation
in the hope of convincing him that an even more outrageously priced item would give
him the killer system of the decade, if not millennium.

The local middle-range audio stores are gone. It's a different world. Stereo systems
are small and usually part of an entertainment system. Many people, even some
musicians, are perfectly content with the sound of low resolution MP3s.
Convenience outweighs quality. Small. No muss, no fuss. You see a similarity in
musician's sound reinforcement systems. Amplified speakers. Plastic. Extremely
lightweight. And with the technology it works quite well.

But whereas the middle range seems to have minimalized, there is a huge
improvement in the quality of the professional sound reinforcement. The days of a
mid-size venue with a couple pair of hot-rod Altec Lansing A-7's are gone. For the
sound reinforcement audio aficionado (like me), sometimes the audio quality is more
exciting than the actual program content.

There is still a current version of the consumer ultra high-end audio buff, or
audiophile. And curiously, I see a parallel in what I will call an accordio-phile. It is a
person who obviously has an enormously greater amount of discretionary money
than I do and is on a mission to find that absolute accordion; the one that will fix his
playing.

I have played a couple of these would-be legends, though more often I disappoint
people when I politely decline. Part is avoiding the possible risk of an outcome
similar to that caused by Chuck's comment about my friend's unmusical sound
system. Also, I have never enjoyed playing other people's accordions. Some
players like switching and trading, I don't.

I recently read on a website where a player proclaimed his accordion as being

considered the 'Stradivarius' of accordions. How could one compare a stock, off-
the-shelf, accordion perhaps ten years old, to an instrument that has stood the time-
test of retaining a reputation for nearly unequaled tone for over 300 years? And we
wonder why some serious musicians categorize accordionists as proletariats.

And to wrap up (I am approaching the office building and about out of blog-writing
time), there are parallels in the accordion world to current modern technology and
culture. Some still quest to find their super reeds. And maybe the Roland is the
parallel to the convenience and opportunity provided by the MP3 and all the
technical niceties that surround it. And it is all good.

Wotan

6/29/11

Page 290
Saved Rounds

Yesterday's commute home was horrendous. In addition to heavy thunderstorms

ripping through the area there was a crash on Interstate 95. Even something as
minor as a cop stopped on the side of the road or someone broken down can slow
traffic down. But with a full-on crash, traffic was backed up for miles. With the
regular commute home being increased by nearly an hour I was in a particularly foul
mood by the time I got home.

So I walked in the house in my typical heavy-traffic-induced grumbling state.

After eating and my obligatory after-dinner 1/2 cigar I finally got down to the day's
practicing. Practicing one's art at the end of a 18 hour day would likely never be
someone's dream, but it is what it is. Some people release tension by sitting and
relaxing, perhaps petting the dogs or having a drink. My tension is released as I lock
into the concentration required to practice, first the physical part and then the mental
concentration.

I can tell how well my mental contraction is engaged by how aware I am of Luke's
howling in the room next to where I practice. Luke (the Alaskan Malamute) is the
last of the dogs to go out after eating. Our first Malamute, Vic, hardly ever made a
sound. He only started to occasionally howl in his final years. In contrast, Luke is
very vocal. If encouraged, he will carry on a conversation with you like a Siamese
cat. And if bored or if he wants attention, he will resort to an extremely annoying
high-pitched puppy-screech howl that has absolutely no endearing quality or charm.
It is just extremely loud and irritating. So when I cease hearing him and have lost
the need to go tell him to shut up, I know I have locked in. My head finally will start
to clear and the tension will leave my body.

Sometimes it is difficult to make the transition. But when this happenes the extra
effort can result in a higher level of concentration and will sometimes correlate with
greater satisfaction as practice turns to playing. Such was the case last night.
Getting locked in was difficult, but it was worth the effort. I usually end my practice
by playing through different parts of my repertoire. If I am preparing something new,
I will make sure to play through it nearly every day, even if I haven't specifically
practiced it. If I can give a satisfactory performance 'cold', I know it is ready to start
performing. Last night I played Tito's Hollywood Fantasia and then my Sonata.

Then I did something I almost never do. I had a desire to play Roberto, Jim's 5/3
Super Continental - one of the first bassettis Julio Giulietti built over 50 years ago. I
have only played Roberto once or twice since he arrived - a total playing time less
than 7 or 8 minutes. But last night I had this desire and after packing Fabian away I
went upstairs and played Roberto. It was an enjoyable experience. First, Roberto is
extremely easy to play, despite the fact that it is a very large instrument. There is
also an immense difference in the lowest reeds, especially in the stradella. Roberto
also has an unmatched clarity. The pedestal bassetti buttons don't bother me as
much as I thought they would. However, one problem for me is that the 'F's weren't
marked on the original instruments. Also, the original bassettis don't have the hand

Page 291
Saved Rounds

guard that Julio put on the later instruments. But after Jim finishes playing the
instrument in, it will likely go in for some routine maintenance and these updates.

I told Jim last night that perhaps he should have named the accordion Wotan rather
than Roberto, in the spirit of Wagner's Ring Cycle. I have written that the energy in
Fabian is channeled, one of the reasons he is my choice as a stage companion.
Fabian is a warrior. But Roberto's energy surpasses Fabian. Fabian, like Elizabeth
is the end of the era. The culmination of the Giulietti bassetti legacy. But the
genesis of Fabian's energy can be seen in Roberto, an accordion with a mystery so
deep that very few would have either the ability or confidence to chance a look.
Roberto, like Wotan, encompasses all things: past, present and to come.

A mutual friend told me of the look in Stephen Dominko's eyes and a reverence
when he spoke of the white-button, big-case Giulietti bassettis. Stephen's realization
of the mystery is likely different than mine, but I am certain the appreciation of what
that accordion is and what it represents is very similar.

Jim sometimes becomes irritated when I am so insistent about the care of Roberto;
who I would ever allow to play it, and who I would ever allow to even touch any part
of it. I continue to repeat that he might not be able to fully comprehend the value of
the instrument. It isn't monetary value, like having the equivalent to a Strad (there
aren't even any pianos with that stature). Rather it is about what the instrument is
and what it represents. It is the best craftsmanship and components that Julio could
find in the accordion's finest years; truly the best of the best. It also represents a
vision that had a glorious life, though only a very short one. All those things live
within Roberto, entwined in wonderfully dark mysteries that will likely die with those
who lived them.

Roberto is not delicate, his age is a testament to his durability. But in my view, to
place him in the hands of curiosity like some rare curio would be absolutely
blasphemous. Like Wotan, Roberto has nothing to prove to anyone. And as long as
I am alive that won't happen.

I can see Roberto's magic working on Jim. And when the day ultimately comes, I
know he will have the insight to place Roberto in the hands of a young player who
will discover and unlock his mysteries and magic like we did in the early 1960s.

Accordion With Garish

6/30/11

The disgusting lifestyle of the 'virtuoso' accordionist. What value is there in playing
as many notes as possible in the least amount of time? It's the sound. The beautiful
sound. Like putting nature in a box and tying it up with a ribbon. Wow, that sounds
like a good cue line for a musical.

Page 292
Saved Rounds

The question of titles used to market myself is a topic I don't like to discuss. My
attitude will start at moderate irritation and quickly escalate to how I can most quickly
end the conversation. There is so much tied to all this it is hard to know where to
start.

Consider the Pope. What introduction does he need? His title says it all. If you
don't know who he is or the institution he represents it won't matter anyway. It is the
same with someone like Lady Gaga, Madonna, or Oprah. Marketing or branding
are certainly involved, but it is more than a descriptive adjective tied to the name.

Now for the rest of the world trying to grab our 15 minutes of fame it's a different
story. There is that quest for the perfect adjective or phrase that describes who we
are. We need something that people can't forget. And that becomes even more
important if there isn't an abundance marketable substance in the first place.

And who can forget the titles? I recall a wonderful comment about an Academy
Award not meaning that much unless it was yours. There is such an abundance of
titles in the accordion world, and it often seems the winner is the person who can
collect the most of them. And what do they really mean?

Returning from a dog show friends will sometimes ask how we did, and we might be
able to say, "we took the breed". Or, "we took reserve winners." Sometimes it is
harder to continue that we were the only entry, or there were only two entries.

"But he/she won the Coupe." And I also won one of those trivia games you play with
other passengers on a long flight, though no one else on the flight was playing at the
time I won. That ten-year-old kid in first class finally went to the rest room. So it is
all about ego; building your own ego, or tearing down someone else's ego.

But back to descriptors. The one I finally agreed too is virtuoso. I am comfortable
with it, and it is also one that I can define. I recently read in on a web forum of an
implied garishness attached to the term, 'virtuoso'. Like it was the ability to play a lot
of notes really fast at the expense of everything else. It sounded like a flash-back to
the Academy Award story of only having meaning if it is yours. But for me, virtuoso
has a definition that I explain when I do a masterclass or seminar, "absolute control
over the instrument." And that means every aspect of the instrument.

I continued to read that it is more rewarding to be able to play beautifully than to play
a lot of notes (bad virtuoso, bad!). However, in my experience, those who have a
true ability to produce musical expression with a high level of artistry have never
been at any loss for near-incomprehensible technical prowess. Total control is total
control. And in my experience, technical prowess almost always precedes an artistic
level of poetic expression. They usually unfold in that sequence.

I have similar reactions when reading about tone production. "It's in the bellows.
We must learn to use the bellows." But bellows are only a part of it. The 'evil'

Page 293
Saved Rounds

fingers are an equal part, and the articulation of the keys is as important as the
bellows. The way the keys are pressed has an impact on both how the bellows
respond and how the reeds speak. The bellows have an inseparable relationship
with key response - and controlling key response (in this case, the actual pressure
necessary to open the valve, which is controlled by the bellows) is tool you also use.
And each influences the other. A single melody line is a challenge, but multiple
voices doing different things in different ranges of the instrument with different
articulation is an exponentially more complex challenge, but something necessary to
master as a virtuoso.

There is a DVD of Galla-Rini doing a master class that is available from Petosa. I
doubt there has ever been anyone with greater knowledge or more influential in
speaking of tone production on the accordion than Galla-Rini. On the DVD he is
incredibly articulate as he covers many details of tone production and articulation.
But in addition to working closely with him over a period of several years on these
concepts, mastering the nuances of what he says has taken me a lifetime. It is not
something a person will look at once on a DVD and do. It doesn't work that way.
For the newcomer (at least to Galla-Rini) the DVD will serve as an introduction for a
lifetime pursuit. For the repetiteur, it will serve as a summary or recap of a lifetime of
practice.

We are working on an event next summer that will honor Galla-Rini, but not in the
form of a competition for players who don't really know (or sometimes even care
about) who he was or what he did. Rather, activities will include performances of his
music by repetiteurs who literally lived and worked with him, and they will share his
knowledge in hands-on opportunities with participants, and there is so much to be
gained by players at all playing levels. If you are serious about accordion or have
ever wondered about tone production, it is something you will not want to miss.

Back to virtuoso. Aube Tzerko used to tell students he could teach anyone to play
piano at a high technical level (actually, he sometimes made reference to a
monkey), but that did not equate to being an artist or musician. It was also said that
Aube could literally electrify an audience with the playing of a single note. And more
than once I had chills right to my inner core when he sat at the piano. But I doubt he
could have done that without total control and understanding of the instrument. Ah,
and he also had a brilliantly high level of technical facility.

Running WFO

7/05/11

Yesterday morning I actually succumbed to making a few minor repairs on Roberto.

Jim has been on me for some time about installing a new bottom bellows strap that
Giulietti USA (Petosa) had made for him. I have been putting it off for more than a
few weeks. My first excuse was that I didn't have the screws, but Dale Wise was
quick to provide those to Jim. Then I didn't want to take the accordion out of service

Page 294
Saved Rounds

in order to let the glue to dry in the holes. However, as it ended up the holes didn't
need glue.

But what really drove me into action were a couple piccolo reeds that had suddenly
gone drastically out of tune. I could hear them all the way downstairs when Jim was
practicing. Roberto has a sound that is wonderfully unique, even within the highest
of the 'golden age' Giuliettis. The accordion is also dry tuned, so a note out of tune
really sticks out. As I would listen to Jim play his songs I would cringe in anticipation
of that particular note being played. Toward the middle of last week I couldn't take it
any more and stormed upstairs evaluate the situation. I stood behind him and
played the single piccolo reeds only to confirm that with each of the notes in
question one of the reeds was not playing. I tried to free them up applying a burrst
of bellows pressure, but it didnt work.

I used to do something similar years ago with my Alfa Romeo Spyder and also with
my motorcycles: what I used to call an Italian tune-up. Take them out on the
highway and apply a WFO (wide frigging open) action on the throttle which would
sometimes clean everything out.

But I guess a 50-year-old accordion, or any accordion for that matter, can get
something stuck in a reed. So it was time to take Roberto apart.

I have always been very mechanically inclined. I have restored vintage Corvettes;
torn down engines, transmissions, chassis parts, all of it right down to the core, and
then put them back together. I have done the same thing with motorcycles. The
only time one of my Harley's was in the shop was when something needed to be
welded. I loved doing mechanical work.

I also did all the work on my pianos, to include keeping them tuned. I also did
complete restorations on a Hammond A. But I never had a desire to work on an
accordion.

There are a couple reasons. First, in the old days Giulietti's craftsmen worked on my
accordions. They knew accordions (generic and specific) so thoroughly that they
intuitively knew what needed to be done to make them best meet my needs. I rarely
had to say anything.

But the second reason is more subtle and involves one of my own personality traits.
When I worked on a car or on a piano, keeping it 'perfect' often became more
important than using it for what it was designed. When practicing piano, if I knocked
a note out of tune I could hardly continue until I got the tuning hammer out and tuned
it. If a Corvette or motorcycle wasn't operating correctly, I couldn't rest until I made
the necessary adjustments.

It reminds me of a motorcycle rally I attended years ago in upstate New York. It had
rained constantly through the first 3 days of the event. On the fourth day the sun

Page 295
Saved Rounds

finally came out and I watched as the couple next to me emerged from their tent.
The man stretched, hands toward the sky, and said to his wife. "What a beautiful
day: good time to clean the bike."

As I became more engulfed working in the motorcycle industry my attitudes

changed. My bikes got washed when it rained. And I rode them. They were
tools and I used them. They got serviced and they were maintained, but it was no
longer an obsession.

And I guess it has been the same with accordions. They are tools and I play them. I
will compensate for minor problems as necessary, sometimes without thinking about
it. It is about the music, not the instrument. But realize, I am dealing here with a
Zero Sette Giulietti. It is like listening to the person who has more money than god
saying they never worry about money.

Anyway, I gazed with infinite wonder at Roberto's interior workmanship; truly a work
of art and a demonstration of craftsmanship at the highest level. After a few
moments the reeds were freed and the intonation was restored. And I finally got to
use a 'reed tester' I bought on Ebay a while ago. And we went back to playing them.

Early One Morning

7/11/11

Wow. It has been a number of days since the last blog. That equates to only one
van ride over the past 9 days. It also equates to additional practice time which I
thoroughly enjoyed.

I had a routine medical test last week. One of the delights of aging is discovering
the various ways you will have your body probed and orifices violated in the name of
preventive medicine. But with too many close friends who have succumbed to the
big 'C' in recent years it is a 'must do'. I am fortunate that I have insurance that
covers most of the cost.

But anyway, I had an appointment last Friday morning at 8:45, which is fine as I am
a morning person. But my final preparation for the procedure required that I get up
at 3:00, which even for me is early. The first thing that came to mind was an
oppportunity for early-morning practice (I did consider writing a blog entry - at least
for a second or so).

I have always been a morning person and my favorite time to practice has always
been the morning. Early morning. Before breakfast. When I was in high school I
tried to have several hours first thing in the morning before I left for school. I
continued this practice all the way through college and during the my heavy piano
study years when I was working at West Point I still liked to complete several hours
of practice before I left for work.

Page 296
Saved Rounds

For me, practice has always been a 7-day-a-week thing; very much like I approach
everything else. I work out 7 days a week. The exceptions are when I am literally
not able to do so, such as when I an en route on a trip or really sick. Not just tired,
but running a fever. If the available time in the day runs out and it is a choice
between eating or working out, I work out. Same thing with practicing. Like I have
said many times in Saved Rounds, if something is worth doing, it is worth over-
doing.

Many years ago, while I was still at West Point, Donn Weiss, the head of the choral
program at UCLA and a life-long friend, came to West Point to guest conduct the
West Point Glee Club and New York City's University Glee Club in Avery Fischer
Hall. Donn came about a week early to work with the cadets and stayed at my
home. Donn was as serious about music as anyone I have ever known and was just
as obsessed as me at thorough preparation for his craft. But Donn was a night
person. I remember the first morning when he stumbled out of the guest bedroom, a
dazed look in his eyes. He was not ready for the first hour of Hanon in all the keys
followed by scales, then an hour on the Brahms B flat and another hour on the Liszt
Sonata.

It might have been more tolerable if I were playing through repertoire, but for me
practice is a systematic process, committing the smallest detail to muscle memory
and imprinting images of the musical structure in my mind. Ninety percent of the
time this is accompanied to the clack of a metronome and it is not unusual to repeat
the smallest sections 100 times or more.

So last Friday was a return to old times, and it was a total delight. At least for me.
No distractions, as it is just too early to be doing anything else. My mind was fresh
and clear and everything else could just wait and I was starting the day with my first
priority. It was such a contrast to coming home after a 14-hour work cycle, wolfing
down some food, and then squeezing in a little more than 90 minutes before having
to prepare for tomorrow's work day. When too often the first 30 minutes are trying to
clear out the mind.

Perhaps that day will return when I can once again have the luxury of morning
practice, and more time for practice in general. But for now I am forced to get the
maximum I can out of the minimum time. And perhaps regaining that capability has
not been all bad, for even if I had unlimited time, I don't know how many hours my
body could sustain, let alone my mind.

Something Old, Something New

7/12/11

I am in a short break between performances. It is a chance to work on new

additions to the repertoire.

Page 297
Saved Rounds

Performances are my milestones. As I countdown the days to each performance I

make certain to work on the things I intend to play. If I will be playing two
accordions, I practice on each of them, generally by alternating days.

Through the years I have used very specific methods to finalize a piece for
performance. One of the most obvious is playing through it; a lot. Sometimes I play
at a slightly reduced tempo with a methodical concentration on the interaction
between the music and the physical actions necessary to play it. At this point a
metronome is almost always involved and I strive for an absolute minimum of
deviation from the set tempo. During this routine, forcing technical accuracy within
the rigidity of the tempo is critical. Everything down to the smallest nuance must be
locked in with absolute certainty. With a slight bit of amusement the words "near
occasion of sin' from Baltimore Catechism come to mind. A near miss, or something
that doesn't feel exactly right or under absolute control is the same as making a
mistake. It is controlled, it is pedantic. But in the end, it allows total musical
freedom. The music can drive the outcome rather than any physical handicaps. If
there is a tempo change it comes from the music, not to accommodate a technical
difficulty or shortcoming.

A subset to this concept, something I learned from Edith Oppens, is the technical
approach ultimately becomes asymmetrical. Whereas I may initially learn in
phrases, at this time I am careful not to practice starting and stopping in patterns or
musical sections. As an example, play one of the Hanon exercises in group patterns
of 5 or 7 notes. Weighting and phrasing the strong notes will demand an increased
level of concentration. Now try the same thing with a Chopin Etude - like Opus 10
#2. Do it in groups of 5 notes first, and be sure to include the left hand. When it
feels natural shift the emphasis to the second, third, fourth, and finally the fifth
note while still maintaining the 5-note groups. You should be able to go from the
start to end without a physical or mental break. No near occasions of sin, or you
start over.

There are a couple other parts of this process that I will mention, but without great
detail, in today's blog. One is the concept of diatonic fingering and how it supports
the musical intent and two is support of the musical structure through the technical
approach.

But there is something in the preparation process I would like to mention in today's
blog, and that is always working on something new. As I get closer to a
performance, I like to be approaching the 'play-through' stage of learning another
piece - where I am in an early stage of mastering the notes.

A new piece requires a different type of concentration, and I should be at a time

where I am experiencing immediate improvement in my ability to play the piece. I
shouldn't be learning notes or sight reading - in fact, sight reading is something I

Page 298
Saved Rounds

strictly avoid at this point. Rather I should be to a point of playing through the piece.

This is something I have always done. As I approached a performance, ideally I was

also at the point of initial realization of a new repertoire piece or pieces. For me
it helps focus the concentration. It also brings the energy and freshness of the new
pieces I am learning into the repertoire in the final stages of preparation. It provides
a balance.

When I was working with Tito, Galla-Rini, or Don Balestrieri, the final sessions
before a performance almost never involved a play-through of the program. Rather
we were working on new things. Toward the end of a session they might suggest
playing through one of the repertoire pieces, but typically it was for fun or to focus
the energy that was abound from the new repertoire. It was a reminder of what we
were about. Learning and preparation were always the journey, never the
destination.

Does Anyone Really Know What Time It Is?

7/13/11

We did a group lunch yesterday at work. The topic of skiing came up and I
mentioned that some years ago I was an avid skier and also a ski instructor.
Someone commented on their continued amazement on the variety of things I had
done in my life. I didn't know if the comment was sincere, satirical, or somewhere in-
between, but it did make me question why I even said it. Do I need too constantly
validate myself, especially with something I don't do anymore nor have any
remaining interest?

However, I have sustained a wide variety of interests and passions over my lifetime
and in the course of this blog I often point out similarities of music to other
disciplines. So for a moment, journey with me back into my former lives. In this
case, back to motorcycle safety.

With the popularity of motorcycles that started in the early 1990s came a similar
increase in motorcycle crashes and fatalities. It wasn't long before it escalated into a
topic of national interest. At the time my day-job had me at the center of motorcycle
safety.

The military needs young men and women willing to engage in a high risk lifestyle. It
was natural that the increased popularity of motorcycles in a highly concentrated
high-risk group resulted in an over-representation of crashes and fatalities. At the
time I was responsible for the oversight of all US Marine Corps Traffic Safety
programs, and was invited to participate in a summit on escalating motorcycle
fatalities at the Naval Safety Center in Norfolk, Virginia. This was very serious stuff.

Page 299
Saved Rounds

I arrived for the day-long event. The Commander of the Naval Safety Center started
with an introduction to the group that flourished with a personal and professional
passion to come up with solutions for this problem. "We need to do something. We
need ideas. We need answers. We need support. The time is at hand."

I caught him in the hall after his presentation. I explained that the military had
solutions. Had plans. Had the support. What we needed to do was follow the policy
and regulation that was already in place.

He nodded, but quickly blew me off being more anxious to engage people in his
continuing quest for ideas, answers, support. I recognized that he was more
passionate about the drama of the problem than finding a solution. Don't remove the
core of his passion by providing any solutions.

Sometimes I see a similar thing in our accordion ranks. We want to make the
accordion popular again. We want to make it legitimate. We want original music.
We want to think outside of the box. But do we want to take the steps to actually do
something, or is more fun to wallow in our passion over the loss of the accordion's
popularity? Is it more fun to talk about something than to do something? And if
someone else is willing to do something, do we support it?

I have a lot of admiration for people who actually do something - people willing to
invest their own time and energy, often with very little chance of monetary return.
They aren't sitting in front of a computer watching Youtube videos or reading forum
posts (and I know they don't read this blog). They are bringing their own dreams to
fruition. And some judge what they are doing as small or insignificant, criticizing
their efforts.

When I was among my group of high-school motor-head friends it was not

uncommon to hear, "well, a fuel injected Corvette could blow your doors off." And I
always asked, "but what could your car do?' Not your imaginary car, but the one you
actually own?" You can always create your imaginary car that will faster than
anyone elses.

I hear people put down individual accordion efforts in favor of their global plan (which
is usually just as imaginary as my friend's car) that will be the panacea for returning
the accordion to its world domination as all things within all instruments. But I am
more impressed when I hear a fresh young player that someone has brought in from
another state to play at a local recital. Not necessarily someone with a big name or
reputation, but someone enthusiastic, captivating, and someone who really loves the
instrument - someone with a passion that captivates the audience.

Maybe small steps are better than no steps, because after all, they are steps.

Into the Groove

Page 300
Saved Rounds

7/14/11

Into the Groove. Madonna. I remember when the song came out in the movie,
Desperately Seeking Susan. It was early summer 1985 and I was finishing up some
post graduate work at UCLA. A few weeks earlier I had flown back to West Point for
graduation week activities, but now I was driving Betty, my 1977 Buick with Butkus,
my 1985 FXRSDG Harley and Rooster, my 1977 Harley XLCR Cafe Racer in tow.
In addition to naming accordions, I have also traditionally named cars and
motorcycles.

In those years I spent the summers as the Activities Director at Camp Buckner, the
center of field training for cadets after their first (Plebe) year. The Camp was
situated on Lake Popolopen about 9 miles from the main post. The area had once
been a private summer vacation area and several of the original cottages and
summer homes were still in place. It was my summer work location, but it was more
like going to summer camp. It was a welcome break from the academic-year and it
reminded me of family vacations to the Redwoods and Yosemite as a young kid. I
was into my summer groove and it was one I thoroughly enjoyed.

As a kid the summer groove commenced with the end of the school year and the
family vacations, but I also came to anticipate accordion competitions and activities
even more. My favorite was always the Western States Accordion Festival in Long
Beach, California. It was a huge event with thousands of participants. But one of
the things I liked best was the proximity of the old Long Beach Municipal Auditorium
to the Nu-Pike. The Pike was your typically old, seedy, unsavory amusement park
that played host to sailors from the Long Beach Naval Shipyard, prostitutes, carnies,
street people, and who knows what else. It had that wonderfully distinct smell of
stale carnival food and salt water taffy accentuated by the ever-present damp marine
layer from the ocean. I can still smell it as I imagine walking down the midway. And
yes, the Pike's main attraction: the Cyclone Racer - a wonderful wooden
rollercoaster that always remained one of my favorites. I could stand on the
balconies that surrounded the upper levels of the Municipal Auditorium and look
across the Rainbow Pier to the Pike. Accordion music wafting from the building; the
lights and roar of the cyclone in the distance. It was the thing dreams are made of.

Summer competitions were a time of fun and friends. With rare exception, my world
was my accordion friends. We competed; we cheered each other on, celebrated our
wins. and vowed to practice even harder when we didn't win. We also traveled
together to other competitions and events, heading out piled into cars without air
conditioning, accordions in hand.

As the years progressed and my focus turned to national competitions things

became more serious. The group of friends became smaller and the perceived
stakes were higher. Attending a competition became more of an investment. But
there was one thing I was able to partially maintain. On my first trip to New York I
had one free afternoon. I didn't care if I saw the Empire State Building, Statue of

Page 301
Saved Rounds

Liberty, or any of the other city sights. But I bought a subway token and headed out
to Coney Island. I was in heaven.

When I moved to West Point in 1969 I rarely went to Julio Giulietti's home in
Brooklyn without venturing back to Coney Island, usually with his daughter. After
Julio moved to Massachusetts, I continued to manage a yearly pilgrimage. As I
stood there I would was carried back to standing on the balcony of the old Long
Beach Municipal Auditorium and looking across at the Cyclone Racer. And I could
hear the accordion music.

Someone recently suggested that I write about how I feel today about competitions
as a youth. I remember the practicing, the anticipation, and even the actual
performance. But there is greater joy in the other stuff that happened around the
competition, especially the friends and the fun. That was the essence of what
getting into the groove was about as I look at it so many years later.

A few years ago I was a keynote speaker for a motorcycle conference in Long
Beach. The hotel was very close to where the old Long Beach Municipal Auditorium
had stood. As I started my comments I remarked that this wasn't the Long Beach I
remembered and loved. Where was the Cyclone Racer, where were the sailors in
the pants that were way too tight, the prostitutes, the street people? Where was that
wonderful smell? Why had they destroyed such a great institution to build a parking
lot for the Queen Mary?

I also wonder what today's young accordionists will think when they reminisce about
their competitions 50 years from now. I hope there are memories of their friends,
fun, and if they are lucky, maybe their own Nu-Pike.

The Little White Accordion

7/18/11

As the years continue to roll by I am amazed at how clearly I remember things from
my past. Different things will often trigger those memories; sometimes it is a sight,
other times music, and occasionally even a smell.

For a number of reasons I have lost most almost all my memorabilia from both my
accordion and non-accordion past. Things like pictures with teachers, accordions,
Presidents (of the United States), Vice Presidents (of the United States), Prime
Ministers (of the UK), celebrities, awards (even to include the equivalent of a lifetime
achievement - but in motorcycle safety, not accordion); all of it. Very little remains.

I used to say these things were not important; I had the memories and that is what
really mattered. I am not so sure if today I still feel entirely the same way. I still
have a few things, like three Coupe Medals that my parents had put in a
frame. However, as I read the CIA Website I only have two, and those are different

Page 302
Saved Rounds

than the ones I have. But that is another story and something I have not been
successful in correcting for the past 6 years. So Petar, enjoy yours while you can as
years from now their authenticity might be in question.

Anyway, I digress. As a kid I remember my grandparents and parents relating tales

from years gone by with infectious enthusiasm. Some of the tales we heard time
and time again, but rarely became tired of them.

Today some of our stories from the past can be enhanced - like when I see a little
white accordion on Ebay that is exactly like the first one my parents bought for me at
Los Angeles Music in 1952. I recognized it immediately, every detail, and all those
memories of playing it for the first time, of taking it home with us, of practicing the
songs in Sedlon book 1A, the countless hours in one of Bettie Thomas's bands, and
even the smell of my first new accordion came back. So today I can not only talk
about it, I can point to a picture.

In those days accordions sat on the shelves in glass display cases in music stores
the same way that you see boxes of music software in the display cases behind the
counter at Guitar Center today. And as a bright-eyed 7-year-old I stood there in total
awe as the salesman too it from the glass shelf and handed it to me to play.

It went to music lessons, band practice, an endless variety of 'shows', the homes of
neighbors friends & relatives, and even on vacations to the Redwoods and Yosemite
where it lived with us in the tent and was played around the camp fire every night. In
retrospect it was a very rare day that accordion was not played, and it was the same
with all the ones that followed it as I grew physically and musically.

The only remaining picture I have of that first accordion was after it had been passed
to another young student. In that picture I was playing my new Frontalini and my
little white accordion was in the hands of another young kid.

I have thought it would be fun to once again have an accordion like that first white
Soprani, and I recently saw one on Ebay and I was tempted. Maybe get it for the
day I no longer have the physical strength to play one of the Supers.

I wonder if anyone has ever sold a Coupe medal on Ebay?

Some Wicked Secrets

7/19/11

The end of next week I am heading up to West Point for a Reunion of former
members of the Cadet Glee Club that will culminate with a concert with the West
Point Band in the Trophy Point Amphitheatre. The first reunion of this type was
three years ago and brought former Glee Clubber's from a span of over 50
graduating years. It was a fun time.

Page 303
Saved Rounds

Many things in my life have changed in the past three years, and other things have
not. The number one change has been the return to playing. The number one non-
change is that I still have not been able to retire from my day job and I must continue
to endure the long commute. The opportunity to retire flew away with the economy.
I am convinced that returning to accordion has made the necessity to continue work
more tolerable.

I need to remind myself to enjoy the unexpected surprises life sometimes provides.
The people around me who so thoroughly enjoy life are often those who appreciate
and embrace those surprises. To them life is an adventure; certainly a better
alternative than constantly being in such a funk that something that could be enjoyed
as a surprise is overlooked.

In a conversation yesterday I learned that Stephen Dominko will be doing a preview

of his upcoming lecture demonstration at a friend's home in Connecticut while I am
in New York. That was a wonderful surprise. The last time I saw Stephen was here
in Washington DC in 1970. It was my first year at West Point and Carolyn and I had
driven down for some accordion event in our Volkswagen Micro-bus.

There are two details I clearly remember about that trip. First was a torrential
thunderstorm sometime during the night that washed the VW van like it had never
been washed before, but more important was sitting up nearly all night talking with
Stephen.

My first meeting with Stephen was most likely in 1963 at the AAA's Invitational
International Competition in New York City, and then the following year at Coupe in
Toronto. In those early years the business at hand was the competition and we
each had our devoted parents in tow. There might have been some idle chat in
a hallway about something accordion, but typically the talk was of muscle cars or
anything else that had a motor, made a lot of noise, and went really fast. That was
our momentary break from the concentration on performance.

But by 1970 we were on our own. There were no competitions in sight and the
conversation was relaxed and covered a range of musical topics; but the core was
on how we used the accordion as a musical instrument.

I generally have minimal interest in talking about 'accordion', unless I am doing some
kind of master class or writing in this blog (in both cases where I am doing most of
the talking - Gregory forgive me). Some people have a wonderful gift of compassion
and unlimited patience for introducing music or an instrument to a novice. I don't, at
least one-on-one (with a few exceptions).

For me, too often people want to convince me on what it will take to enable them (or
someone else) to do something. They want to discover their own path. They want

Page 304
Saved Rounds

to find that secret that you missed: that one thing that will fix it all. And too often they
will want to argue their point.

My philosophy: I don't need someone to validate what I know or what I can or cannot
do or for that matter what can and cannot even be done. I am not looking for
solutions or major fixes. Through necessity I have figured out what I needed to
figure out. The first necessity was to develop realistic expectations; and though it
sounds counterintuitive, that was the secret to breaking down the rest of the
barriers. So don't tell me about it, just show me. It's somewhat akin to the imaginary
car I described a few days ago - the imaginary car that will be faster than mine.

So a conversation with Stephen was a great fun - for here was a person who could
'do it' at the highest level. There were no great discoveries, no great decisions, the
earth did not part and the angels did not moan. We spoke of small details, how we
approached things, and we spoke of our futures and where we wanted to go. Here
was a person on the opposite coast who also just figured it out. But at that time we
started our bassetti journeys there were no other options.

Through Anecdotes and Saved Rounds I have written to great length about my
journey, and how my arrival at West Point was a turning point in every aspect of my
life. And in retrospect, 1970 was a pivotal time for both of us. I hope Stephen
someday tells his story. I also hope he decides to once again share his enormous
talent with all of us. I am looking forward to seeing him next week.

And even though our meetings were brief, I would tell you there are some secrets
we share. And some of them are wickedly amusing; at least to us.

Ambience

7/21/11

The things memories are made of. There are the memories of accomplishment, joy
and sadness. Places, things, events. But there is another type memory that I am
not certain of the right word I should use to describe it. In the safety business the
expression 'organizational culture' is sometimes used to define 'how we do things'.
At least for today (or at least this blog), I will call it ambience.

Memories of ambience are sometimes challenging to describe with words; perhaps

one of those things that works better with the concept of oral history. The
enthusiasm, the inflection in the words, the body language, and the emotions of the
story teller - they all contribute to a mental picture. And an ambience is created as
you tell a story.

However, sometimes you must be careful in telling stories as a single event out of
context might give an inaccurate impression of either the person or the time. As a
motorcycle trainer I used to work with a retired Air Force Colonel who was

Page 305
Saved Rounds

exceptionally loud; often carrying on yelling and screaming at instructor candidates.

Out of context it would seem his behavior was totally inappropriate. But in reality he
used it to break tension, to help them relax. He would be in the middle of a giant
tirade and they would be nearly doubled up in laughter. It worked for him and it was
effective.

Through the years I experienced and even survived some very interesting
ambiences. The most colorful were with the military and the motorcycle community.
But there were also some in the accordion field. Some memories of an ambience
are how I best remember people. But I ask that the reader be cautious not to take
these too literally or out of context.

As an example, one thing I remember about Bettie Thomas with particular clarity
was one Friday morning when I had gone with her to the beach with her own
children and various other kids from the studio. I remember her sitting in the sand
with a pairing knife slicing sections from a green bell pepper and she offered me a
slice. As strange as it may sound, I had never eaten a raw slice of pepper and it
was a new experience. But what I remember is the way she did it. There was no,
"hear, try this, you are going to love it. It will be the greatest experience of your life."
Rather, she saw me watching her and quietly handed me a slice. And that is the
way she approached music with her students. Things were calm, matter of fact, no
big deal and no drama. There were no big proclamations, "all students will play
everything from memory." We just did. There was no proclamation, "everyone will
be able to play a solo at every performance." We just did. It was all natural. Even
in the worst of all possible performance calamities, it was never a big deal. We just
continued. What a great ambience for a young kid. There was plenty of time to
become neurotic in later years.

With Glenn Stead life was much more formal. I can never imaging him slicing me a
piece of bell pepper, or even going with him to the beach. The ambience was
structured, more formal. Details of performance became more critical. There were
report cards and progress reports complete with recommendations for
improvement. With Mr. Stead came the urgency for attention to musical detail. A
tempo was a tempo. Staccato was staccato. Andante meant Andante. And that
ambience played a key role at that time.

Whereas Glenn Stead's Music Center resembled a formal school's house was my
first glimpse at life that had previously been limited to what I might have seen in a
movie. Tito and Sylvia were not Donna Reed or Life with Father. There was
emotion and there was passion. And their message was the expression of life's truth
was realized through musical art forms. It was like watching a color television for the
first time. It was real and sometimes it shocked you. My background had been
more like the black and white of the Donna Reed Show and this was new territory.

The visual picture that best describes the Tito ambience is waiting for my lesson in
the living room, Sylvia carrying on as she entertained George and Tony Mandala (as

Page 306
Saved Rounds

I cautiously watched). It was a like watching late-night television for the first time.
Just slightly off-color. But there was so much laughter, fun, and passion. There
were no limits on how you used your talent or any need for excuses on who you
were or what you were about. Bettie Thomas had been about acceptance, but
her acceptance was her prerequisite for the protection of youth. With Tito and
Sylvia, accepting who you were was the first step toward artistic freedom. I can still
visualize Tito coming from his teaching room in the middle of all the shenanigans,
big smile on his face, ready to contribute to the fun. Like the Hyacinth Macaw -
totally laid back and confident for you are the biggest bird in the coupe. It's just the
way it is. And with Tito's talent, that was just the way it was.

By the time I got to Oakley Yale and then later with Galla-Rini the influence of the
ambience had changed. Until then my entire world was my family and the
accordion. That ended when I started college. I hated high school - hated
everything about it. I endured my time there. But when I got to college my world
expanded. I was ready for friends my own age outside accordion. I was ready
to immerse myself in the college environment. Life was no longer limited to my
immediate accordion experience.

The influence of my accordion experience evolved as I was able to put it in a new

perspective, a new balance. It didn't control or influence me, it was something I
could choose to observe, and as time went on I learned to observe more and
immerse less.

Someone recently remarked to Jim that I was quite reclusive when they had met me
some 45 years prior. I was aloof and didn't seem to have much interest in other
people. Looking back, I can say some of it was my concentration on the
competition. But part of it was observing the ambience rather than immersing myself
in it. Actually, the concept is something my father used to describe, but in different
words, and it was something he practiced professionally.

And also looking back, it was a time of transition and that ultimately allowed me to
have an even greater appreciation for the unique talents of Galla-Rini and Don
Balestrieri. It wasn't time to get wrapped up in being the studio queen, it was time to
learn from what they had to offer.

Just Too Hot

7/25/11

We have been experiencing a severe heat wave. In addition to high temperatures

the humidity has also been high, making it even more uncomfortable.

As a motorcycle trainer one of the most critical objectives was developing positive
attitudes about the use of motorcycle safety helmets for every ride. A typical
reaction was that there are times it is just too hot to wear one. A good follow-on

Page 307
Saved Rounds

question to this comment was to ask if someone would go out and ride in freezing
weather. The answer was usually no, it would be too cold to ride. So if it could be
too cold to ride, could it also not be too hot to ride? So are there also times when it
is too cold or too hot to play?

Some years ago the West Point Glee Club performed for the tree lighting ceremony
in Rockefeller Center. There were literally hundreds of thousands of people in the
streets and millions more watching on television. With the Army's 'can do' attitude
we volunteered to bring our own piano and put one of the Academy's Sohmer studio
uprights in the back of an Army van. It was a brutally cold day, never even
approaching the freezing mark. I was wearing ski skins under long underwear under
my suit with an overcoat and I still occasionally needed to find a place indoors to
warm up. All I had to do was wave my arms, but I couldn't imagine how our
accompanist would be able to move his fingers. Even with gloves my hands were
still cold.

After watching Chuck tear through the piano parts during our sound check I ventured
over to the piano to see if I could actually move my hands at all in that cold (there is
a lot of dead time in all-day rehearsals for events of this type). Chuck had cut out
the finger ends of knit gloves, leaving only the finger tips exposed but I tried it bare
handed. I was surprised that I could actually move my fingers and play. It wasn't
something I would have wanted to do for an audience, but there was more facility
than I suspected. But I still wondered about the long-term effect on the Sohmer.

Another performance comes to mind; this one also in New York City. We were
performing on a barge that had been set up as a stage in the East River facing a
renovated pier. People stood at the edge of the pier and looked down at the
performers. It was early spring and it wasn't cold, but it was certainly damp. What
surprised me most was a factory-provided Steinway B that was spending the
summer on this barge. I couldn't imagine putting a Steinway outside for a summer
on a barge in the East River, the only protection from the elements being a canvas
canopy and a quilted cover.

I remember playing in some extremely hot conditions through my accordion career.

In fact, it wasn't until moving to Virginia in 1996 that I had a house with central air
conditioning. So if it was 90 degrees it was 90 degrees. New York summers could
be very hot. But I was still carefulI and tried to avoid direct sun whenever possible.
I don't remember ever playing where it was really cold, though I often transported my
accordion to gigs in extreme cold.

Saturday I received an accordion shipped from Seattle - right in the middle of one of
the hottest heat waves on record. I was worried all week long about the accordion
being exposed to such extreme heat. When it was delivered the temperature was
over 100. It was fine. No problems. So am I too concerned about all this? Or are
these instruments more resilient to extreme temperature changes and climates than
I might think?

Page 308
Saved Rounds

Last year I played a recital in Charlottesville VA. A friend was doing a short bit at the
start of the program and had just returned from playing outside for a wedding
reception. It was a scorching, hot day. He came into the air-conditioned church and
started to play. Each key he depressed stayed depressed as the keyboard literally
seized up. He finally borrowed an accordion to play his section of the program.
However, in an hour or so the instrument was fine.

I also wonder at some of the photos I see on Facebook or on websites, where the
accordion is in snow, on a surfboard, or near a swimming pool. I guess I would need
to pass on those, I would rather play them to death than chance a catastrophy: I
don't think my accordion would make a either a good boat or snow skis.

On one of my album covers (Accordion Masterworks) I am standing in front of a

fountain in front of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. In a subsequent pose to the one
used for the cover I slipped and fell into the fountain. Thank goodness the picture
was without the accordion.

Old Dogs, No Tricks Required

7/27/11

It's off to West Point tomorrow for the Cadet Glee Club Reunion. At last count the
106 former club members who are attending span graduating classes from 1954 -
2001. That's a lot of history.

I have been corresponding with the current Cadet Glee Club Director on musical
details for the event. The graduates come in on Thursday night and the reunion
culminates with a concert with the United States Military Academy Band on Sunday
night in the Trophy Point Amphitheatre. The audiences at the Amphitheatre have a
spectacular view facing North up the Hudson River toward the rugged rock-face of
Storm King Mountain. The transformation from dusk to evening can help create a
truly memorable experience.

In our youth we have a strong concept of aging - either with ourselves or with the
things around us. I have been told that this summer will mark the last year of the
current structure that forms the stage and acoustic shell for the Amphitheatre.
Weather and the years have taken their toll, and even things made from Italian
masonry and concrete will eventually deteriorate. So the performing area
will change.

When I arrived at West Point in 1969 Eisenhower Hall was still a set of plans. My
first conducting event with the Cadet Glee Club in 1971 was the ground breaking
ceremony. Several years later we performed again for the dedication and helped
start the tradition of rubbing Ike's nose on his statue. I was involved in many of the
musical details for the facility, to include heading up committees to select the

Page 309
Saved Rounds

Steinway Concert Grand for the Theatre, the slew of Baldwins for other parts of the
building, and even a Hammond B3 for visiting rock bands. There were risers and a
full band shell as well as a full choral shell.

Eisenhower Hall is cavernous. When completed it was the second largest

auditorium on the East Coast, second only to Radio City. The ballroom and Cadet
Restaurant are equally impressive. The inaugural concert would feature Bob Hope
and his wife. For many years it was the jewel of the Hudson River Valley and
offered the largest performing schedule of any college or university in the country. It
became the home for West Point Performances of the Cadet Glee Club. For the
tenth anniversary we performed in a special program with Ben Vereen. Eisenhower
Hall was also where I worked for most of the years I was at West Point.

Nearly 40 years have passed and Eisenhower Hall is showing its age. The core of
the original group that made it all work have all either retired or passed on. Most
were close to my age and we grew professionally and aged together. I was one of
the only ones who didn't remain there for my entire career, having departed West
Point in 1991 to return to California.

This year's reunion rehearsals will be in Eisenhower Hall. For sectionals I will be on
the stage - and if the weather does not cooperate the concert will be inside on the
same stage. It is like coming home. There are many memories and stories that
would be at least equal in quantity to those I have told of my accordion escapades.
Though sometimes encouraged by West Point friends, I don't know if I am quite
ready to do that yet.

In some ways all this is like playing on one of my old Supers. There is a wonderful
familiarity, but there are also the effects of age. And I don't know if it can ever be
the same. But perhaps in some ways it is the like an aging pet. It is such an honor
to take care of them in their later years when they really need you; somewhat of a
payback for all the joy and unconditional love they give throughout their lifetime.
And you overlook or even come to embrace certain things that at one time in your
life would have been unacceptable. Which is another way to look at older
accordions.

Another event I am also looking forward too in the next several days is a side-trip to
Connecticut to see Stephen Dominko who will be doing a private workshop / mini-
performance. I haven't seen Stephen in over 40 years. That should be great fun!

Tradition and War Stories

8/02/11

Page 310
Saved Rounds

We are back from our pilgrimage to West Point and Connecticut. By the time we got
up to leave on Monday morning to head home I was wiped out. Early rehearsals,
long days and late nights take their toll.

Seeing Stephen Dominko was one of the true highlights of the trip. Stephen is
preparing for an upcoming workshop for Accordion Connection in New Hampshire
later this month and last Friday night one of his friends opened his home for a
practice run for his workshop / demonstration on technique and styles.

Stephen greeted Jim and I at the door and it were as if we had stepped through a
time warp. With the passing years there are some parts of my mind that have
become glossed over and others that I relegate to a category I call selective neglect,
but memories of the early mid-sixties remain with razor sharp clarity. And as soon
as Stephen started his presentation I knew it is the same with him.

Someone couldn't resist a remark early on about the 'old competitors' being together
once again but I was quick to correct them that we were here as old friends; and that
was the way it had always been. I often comment that certain people always
inspired me to play better with their presence, to include Julio, Tito, and Tony Galla-
Rini. Their presence always brought an enhanced level of inspiration and
confidence. There was never the feeling I had to validate myself to them. It was
that also way with Stephen. There were just too many similarities in our heritage
and in the way we approached music and the accordion for it to be otherwise.
We appreciated each other's challenges and genuinely applauded each other's
successes.

To the best of my knowledge, we are the last two of the original bassetti pioneers in
this country. Someone kept including Mary Tokarski as part of our circle in their
dialogue - but we are not a trio. Mary's competitive years came long after us and
were driven by a quint vs. a bassetti background. I have known very few women
anxious to have eight or ten years added to their age [sic], but Mary remained
politely quiet on the issue.

As soon as Stephen started speaking I immediately knew it was the 'real thing'. As
I tell my war stories I often think to myself that these people have passed and it
would be easy to embellish a bit to increase the entertainment value. But on the
other hand, Jim will likely tell you of my maniacal rants (though usually only to him)
when I hear things about Julio Giulietti, Giulietti Accordion Corporation, or Galla-Rini
that are absolutely untrue or ridiculously absurd. And there remain a few individuals
who continue to claim these great insights and personal influence. I often challenge
(at least to myself and in my rants to Jim) their self-proclaimed familiarity as a
possible one-time social introduction to the person only to have it grow in time into a
immense professional and personal relationship. I met Monica Mason (director of
the Royal Ballet) in a corridor between acts last year at the Kennedy Center. It
would be like expanding that meeting into being life-long friends and having provided

Page 311
Saved Rounds

divine guidance to her on the direction of the Royal Ballet; taking credit for the
insight that made them all they have become.

But I would ensure you Stephen's discourse of what he is about in a pedagogical

approach to technique and musicianship is razor sharp and anything but tentative.
And his approach to the instrument is exactly the same. Every motion and every
note has a purpose and it all fits into a larger structure. And if one were to
summarize what he was about last Friday night; it was about the purpose of that
structure. You know what you are about, what you want to do, and you know exactly
how to do it. And it is all there: beginning, middle, and end. And within this system,
discovery and creativity must also have structure - enabling it to be repeated and
sustained. And best of all, you can hear him tell his own story and I urge you to hear
him tell it in his own words.

Is this approach universally accepted? No. But what Stephen is about from a
musical standpoint is more similar to what I am about than any other accordionist I
have ever known. And the truly amazing part of all this is that it all evolved on
opposite sides of the country and will almost no interaction. And it is nearly 40 years
later that we are fully discovering the extent of this alignment.

So if Stephen tells you one of his stories about Rudy Molinaro (his teacher) Julio, or
even me: trust me, it is likely true.

But How Much Does It Weigh?

8/03/11

Mike Berens was a roommate some years ago who had a great energy and a
wonderful sense of humor. He would often carry on with amusing antics that
seemed nearly impossible to figure out, most likely because there was no logic
behind them in the first place. One particularly amusing antic was responding,
"Why, thank you!" in an obnoxiously pleasing voice to almost anything someone
said. For example, "that was a wicked thunderstorm last night," "Why, thank you!"
Or, "that person is sure fat!" "Why, thank you!"

I never have had a personality that could carry off something like that, but there are
certainly times I let my inner-kid run totally amuck. And if a gag is good, a running
gag is even better.

While working at the Motorcycle Safety Foundation some years ago we worked,
played, ate, slept and everything else 'motorcycles'. We had opportunities to try
almost every new model and were often requested to share our reactions and
opinions. When asked, my reply nearly always started with, "well, I wish it weighed
100 pounds less and had at least 50 more horsepower." It didn't matter if it were a
touring bike or a ridiculously ultra-high-powered super sport. Less weight and more
horsepower meant a faster bike.

Page 312
Saved Rounds

At the time, Peter Fassnacht was the Vice President of MSF. Peter had a hard time
hiding his reactions and I picked up on his questioning body language the first time I
asked how much a particular bike weighed. So the running gag was launched: any
bike, any topic, "but how much does it weigh?"

Now, how will I tie this to accordions? Actually, the concept ties in very well. Many
accordionists are fascinated with certain details about accordions. Like, "but does it
have a double tone chamber?" Or, "does it have hand made reeds?" And of
course, "how much does it weigh?" The questions may or may not have anything to
do with functionality; the questions may be more about the questions. They become
the unknown running gag.

Some years ago Yamaha introduced their new S400 series pianos at a NAMM
show. They were extraordinary instruments. One of the Yamaha's top technicians
was at the show to answer questions. More than once someone wanted to take it
apart - to see what made it so special. On one occasion I remember him asking, "if
you had the opportunity to spend the evening with a beautiful woman, would you
want to spend your time taking her apart to examine her, or would you rather enjoy
the experience?" Of course, not wanting to be accused of being sexist, the same
thing could be said reference a man.

I once acquired an Aeolian Knabe grand as an additional 'practice' piano. It was

almost new when I got it and the action was akin to driving a cement truck: stodgy
and heavy, and the tone was dark and covered. It took a lot of physical effort to get
what you wanted. But for some reason, after a year of very heavy practice it evolved
into one of the most incredible sounding pianos I had ever heard. Deep, rich, woody
sound that would remind one of the wonderful 1920-vintage Steinways. If you
looked inside, nothing was right. Tolerances were way off; it seemed you could turn
the tuning pins with your fingers. But the Knabe stayed in better tune than any other
piano I have ever owned and often drew the highest amount of attention from piano-
playing house guests. After a lot of pleading, I finally agreed to sell it to a church
where it is still cherished and appreciated.

So even with all the attention to double tone chambers, hand made reeds and even
weight, it comes down to the composite instrument and how well it all works
together. So when someone says, "only has the finest hand made reeds, or wooden
tone chamber", or whatever else, one is running the risk of getting so wrapped up on
all those individual details that they loose the ability to look at the instrument as a
whole. And the best of all those things may not equate to a truly great instrument;
the one that you want to play and the one that can literally leave an audience
breathless.

On several occasions I have experienced the thrill of selecting a new Steinway from
Steinway, New York. Each Steinway is different, and it is easy to say, well this
particular detail is this, and that particular detail is that. Let's see, how tight are the

Page 313
Saved Rounds

pins? But the thing that is so remarkable about a manufacturer of fine instruments is
how individual examples can be so different yet all of them are at such a high level
of excellence. But the weight for a particular model is quite consistent, though
usually less than a similar Yamaha.

So (with a few exceptions) what has worked best for me is to tell the accordion
builder to make the best instrument he can, making it work the way it will work
best; then I will adapt my playing style to it. That has worked better than saying, it
has to be this or that - especially were I to think I could fix some aspect of my playing
with the instrument. Many of the one-off's were born from misguided attempts to fix
something, or to enable someone to magically do something they couldn't do before.

You say it only weighs 14 pounds?

Why, thank you!

This is the End

8/04/11

This is the End - from the Doors first album - one of my favorite rock songs of all
time. It is one of those songs where you must be in the right mood. You can't be in
a rush; you don't want to be distracted. Then it can be perfect.

I spend a few moments each morning thinking about what I want to write in this
blog. Sometimes it comes easy, other times I sit staring a blank computer screen as
we rumble down Route 95 in the commuter van until something finally shows up in
my mind.

I have approached the blog the same way I approach most things in my life; as a
discipline. I once heard a story of Stravinsky discussing his creativity. He didn't wait
for inspiration; he approached composition as a craft; something he did every day. I
don't wait for inspiration to begin practice; I let practice spark the inspiration.

However, at this point the blog has served its purpose; at least for me. Combined
with the Anecdotes it has been an important part of my return to playing. It is
something I have done for myself. I might think I have some brilliant insight into all
this accordion stuff, but you (the reader) will ultimately determine if there is any value
for you in these words.

I keep quoting Gregory Stone by repeating that we don't talk about music, we play
music. The same could be said of most of life's challenges and pleasures. Talk
without action rarely accomplishes very much. So it is time for me to find new ways
to use my 'van' time as I still am not able to see the light at the end of the tunnel
when 'van' time will cease with retirement. But I am not sitting around thinking of my
next project. I actually have several of them waiting in the wings for deployment.

Page 314
Saved Rounds

I have some personal ideas about ways to enhance the future of the accordion. But
that first requires a vision of what that future could look like, and what we might want
it to look like.

At one time my vision would have been a solo instrument sitting on the stages of the
world's greatest concert venues, voluminous quantities of repertoire written for the
instrument, and composers clamoring to have us play their music. But even were
this a realistic vision, there are a million steps to making it happen; and it seems the
approaches we sometimes have seen are akin to giving a 7-year-old a full size
concert accordion and handing him (or her) the score to Ravel's Gaspard and
saying, "go for it!" And even if successful the result would be like selling theatre
seats for the sole purpose of watching a single ant make its way across the empty
stage. It sounds ludicrous but many of the things we do in the name of accordion
and art are not so far removed.

Several of us are working on new projects that are driven from a vision that
demands a different approach than other things that have been done or are being
done. How do we build an appreciation for the inclusive aspects of the accordion's
versatility and its players? What will increase the accordion's integration into the
music culture - not screaming in the darkness for recognition, but seamlessly
infiltrating? How do we encourage the new players? How do we build a demand
that will sustain the craftsmen who build our instruments?

Right now the US does not need another accordion competition and certainly does
not need an Intergalactic Accordion Symphony eSpeciale (I ASS); though ensemble
playing certainly can have certain musical benefits.

There are thousands of small steps, but perhaps it is time to start stepping in the
right direction. So hopefully in the very near future my van time will exclusively be
dedicated to the logistics of these new events. I hope to start sharing them with you
soon. As for other current accordion events - what we will be doing will not compete
with any of them. Rather, it will enhance their value to both the individual and the
instrument.

And it will be great fun - and something where every individual can be an integral
part. And there will also be many opportunities to not take ourselves quite so
seriously - like adding a 'name the ant' component to our ant walking event.
When everything is finished and at least part of the vision is realized, that
accordionist sitting on the non-accordion-specific-venue concert stage of tomorrow is
much more of a possibility. The interest in the bassetti in the 1960's was sparked by
the accordion's immense popularity of the time. It didn't happen the other way
around. Maybe some of today's approach has just been backwards.

Planet of the Ape

Page 315
Saved Rounds

9/09/11

A couple nights ago PBS ran a video of Victor Borge as an incentive for their
membership campaign. Always one of my favorite comedians, I couldn't turn it off,
even though I have seen nearly every one of the routines many times before. The
man and his material are timeless and have never ceased to amuse me.

Seeing Victor Borge reminds of that period of my life when I came of age in terms of
comedy and music; not humor in music or musical comedy, but rather those
comedians who use music to carry their humor. In the 1950's there were the
television appearances of Jack Benny, but my full appreciation of musically driven
comedians really came into focus in my early college years. It was then I came to
know Victor Borge, Anna Russell, Jonathan Edwards, Spike Jones, and a host of
others. It was all such great fun. As a college freshman it was as much delight to
discover a new source of comedic humor as it was to hear a new Beethoven Sonata
or Chopin Ballade.

But then there was "They Said It Couldn't Be Done" by the Mighty Accordion Band.
It was done a few years before my college discovery years and I owned my own
personal copy. But in time the effort didn't fare well, often considered being in poor
taste. Heaven forbid we put a picture of a gorilla (gibbon) holding an accordion on
an album cover.

Today, apes are proving to be quite popular, not to mention commercially

successful, as witnessed when super-Apes trash almost everything in the new movie
blockbuster, Planet of the Apes. I question how we can bow our heads in reverence
with all related to a World Accordion Orchestra (WAO) or our new I ASS playing
god-knows-what; but at the same time proclaim it blasphemous to put a picture of an
accordion being held by a gibbon on a record jacket? I know one thing for sure' after
seeing the trailers for that movie I am not going to mess with any ape who may have
decided he wants to play accordion (or who has one strapped on him for a photo)!

But seriously, where is our sense of humor? Anna Russell can take on Wagner and
Jonathan Edwards can trash Nola - but keep that accordion off of the ape?

But I would wager some of the ape critics would insist its okay for us to honk through
Swan Lake, Star Wars, and any other music that meets our fancy in our accordion
bands. I also know some of you will remind me of the value of playing in an
ensemble, and the musical lessons therein are something I often cite. But where is
the perspective in all of it? Is the accordion band really our ultimate vision of art and
is the ape character really our untlimate concept of blasphemy?

But though I jest, it is all good and accordion bands certainly bring a lot of fun to the
participants, even though at the extremes it can get a bit too serious for my personal
tastes.

Page 316
Saved Rounds

Perhaps the time has come to give Dominic Frontiere and the Mighty Accordion
Band another chance. The whole ape thing was obviously way ahead of it's time -
and when was the last time you heard an accordion band playing a real cha cha? I
wonder what happened to the original charts?

Walking Among the Angels

8/10/11

Yesterday I spoke of a relationship between music and select comedians and how I
loved discovering these in my early years in college. There were other discoveries
in those years that also created a wonderful stimulation for curiosities of my young
mind. Many of these involved reading the biographies and autobiographies of both
great musicians and performing legends.

In 2011 feel a sense of panic when I discover I have walked out the door without my
cell phone, or one of my laptops. Even as I write this blog careening down Interstate
95 in this commuter van I have the ability to jump over to the internet to check on a
spelling, date, or some other detail about my topic de jour. My access to the world
seems almost limitless. It is such a contrast to high school years where the local
libraries had almost nothing having to do with music. In college I had access to new
libraries and often drove to the public library in downtown Los Angeles - but even
then it was searching through card catalogues and periodicals.

But one of the tradeoffs of those mental journeys was the level of attention I devoted
to something that required real effort to acquire. One example I remember in
particular was a book on Wanda Landowska, one of my all-time favorite artists. The
story of her life brought an even greater appreciation to her performances. One
particular statement has always stayed in my mind where she said (my paraphrase),
"I am hesitant about meeting people and talking about music as they may discover I
don't know as much as they think I do and they will be disappointed." To me, those
words showed the ultimate wisdom - acknowledging what she knew but also
acknowledging what she didn't know.

Some months ago I read a post on a recent Coupe winner's Facebook page that
spoke of discovering Glenn Gouldd, and someone had commented something like
how pianist's are 'gentlemen' and we accordionists are more often the musical
heathens. I actually found that comment a bit strange as we accordionists are in
many ways alarmingly close to Glenn Gould or even Wanda Landowska. Glenn
Gould is perhaps best known for his interpretation(s) of Bach, which in reality are
being performed on instruments that didn't exist during Bach's time. So bottom line,
what he is performing are transcriptions.

Likewise, whereas Wanda Landowska is credited for being the most influential
person in re-popularizing the performance of Bach on the harpsichord, her steel-
frame Pleyels were considerably different than what was available at the time. So

Page 317
Saved Rounds

Wanda's work might also be seen as transcriptions; as could nearly any

performance outside of the original instrument or instrumentation. And who hasn't
occasionally heard a modern orchestra make Bach or Hayden sound like Brahms?

But Glenn Gould will continue to reign for years to come as will Wanda Landowska
as they demonstrated a level of musicianship and artistry that transcends their
instrument of choice. In fact, their instrument of choice may perhaps have increased
their effectiveness.

And though it is convenient to turn to Bach or other such baroque material as an

excellent choice for accordion repertoire given the technical range of the music and
the competencies of the accordion, I would personally caution that it is a double
edged sword. In the last years before I left Los Angeles I was working through WTC
and other assorted baroque works with Donald Balestrieri. It didn't take long to fully
appreciate that every effort was indeed a transcription. Clomping through the notes
at actual pitch fell embarrassingly short of achieving any level of musical success. If
anything, each effort was an exponentially more difficult challenge than even the
most complex transcriptions of Galla-Rini. If the effort falls short or is unsuccessful,
the musical result is a disaster. And add some choreography and it potentially
becomes an outright abomination, justifying every bit of the musical guilt and shame
we sometimes self-proclaim as accordionists.

But it is also an opportunity for absolute brilliance; to become the Glenn Gould or the
Wanda Landowska - where musicianship and artistry is enhanced even further when
the instrument of choice becomes integral to the end result; when the performer
demonstrates ultimate mastery of both the music and the instrument.

I heard such an example by Martynas Levickis performing a Scarlatti Sonata last

summer at the Galla-Rini competition in Santa Clara, and my first thoughts were,
here is someone who walks among the angels. And the accordion gives him his
wings. If I remember one thing about the two days of adjudicating that competition,
it will be that performance.

Things Left Behind

8/11/11

Several years ago I was riding the commuter train to work from Fredericksburg to
downtown Washington DC. Even on something as large and impersonal as a train it
is possible imprint; to leave some kind of mark.

I caught the Virginia Railway Express at the first stop every morning, so for the most
part I had my choice of seats. For some particular reason, on one otherwise
uneventful morning, I placed a small piece of paper from an individually wrapped
cough drop on a small ridge just below one of the train's windows. I had forgotten
about it until I returned the next morning and saw that the piece of paper was still

Page 318
Saved Rounds

there. This particular train set made two round trips each workday to DC and back
to the yard just below Fredericksburg. The trains were typically packed with
commuters. It was often standing room only after the first several stops. I was
amazed that the paper stayed in its same position for several weeks. It had become
a part of an environment.

The skill required to play an instrument is also an environment; in this case an

environment the player creates and maintains. Developing the skill is a lifelong
process and an extraordinary number of things can impact what it looks like and how
well it works. Each player seems to approach maintenance of his or her
environment quite differently, be it based on what the player wants or needs to do or
perhaps driven more by personality traits that carry over unquestioned.

Is it neat and orderly, is there a system to keep it razor sharp? Or is it more

spontaneous or creative, perhaps even changing minute to minute? And how many
players consciously give thought to how they learn and how they maintain that
environment? Look at it through a completely systemic process? Question what
effects it and how to add new things they consider necessary or remove things that
get in the way?

This is another way to define a word I have used in many of the previous blog
entries; something I call pedagogy. I personally favor an extremely structured
pedagogy, though for me, integral to that structure is the desirability to continually be
changing the learning process - much like these body builder who constantly change
routines. For me, it is also important to purge things that impede the process.

Occasionally when I am playing something from the repertoire I will play a section
incorrectly. Not make a 'mistake', but rather play an incorrect note or notes. I go
back and concentrate on what it 'should' be, but sometimes I can't remember. It is a
disconnect in my memory or concentration process. Sometimes I can correct the
situation by playing the section full out and not concentrating - let the muscle
memory take over on autopilot; but other times I will actually have to look at the
sheet music (something I rarely do except in the earliest stages of learning a new
piece).

There is a very pedantic practice technique I use to avoid this situation - kind of a
self-imposed stress test for extended concentration where I focus on the most
minute details of the piece in real time. I generally do this at a reduced tempo and
alternate between mental and muscle concentration. When Jim and I stumbled
upon Yefim Bronfman warming up at the Kennedy Center prior to playing the
Tchaikovsky 1st with NSO it was apparent he was doing a something similar to
what I describe. He was playing through the piano part at a reduced speed and with
pedantic concentration on the details of each individual note. It was a preparation
for the flury of musical phrases and excitement that was being saved for the
performance.

Page 319
Saved Rounds

It is also the chance for attending to what I call a 'near occasion of sin' (there has to
be at least one thing I can tie back to Baltimore Catechism of my youth). I use 'near
occasion' to define when something doesn't feel exactly right - be it an awkward
movement of the hand or hint of hesitation; mental, physical, or for accommodation.
Then it is a matter of building confidence or strengthening the muscle memory or the
mental concentration.

Now for the bad news. Unfortunately this is not something that after a quick read
someone can use to fix everything there is about their playing. There are a
thousand prerequisite steps, though one could start applying some of the basic
principles almost immediately (like taking a pedantic look at the structure of the
practice environment). Also, whereas this may be a system that could work for
some people to meet their needs, for others it may be one step in building a
foundation: for example, those who are almost solely interested in improvisation.
And from the adult learning perspective, each person learns differently and the right
coach will help find the best combination to build technique and mental
concentration.

But a final comment on improvisation. Tito, probably the greatest jazz accordionist
of all time, insisted his students engage in one of the most pedantic systems of
technique-development and mental concentration that I have ever known. For Tito,
absolute technical and theoretical facility was the prerequisite to improvisation.

When Free is not Good

8/15/11

One of my favorite expressions is 'free is good'. Anywhere, anytime, one of the

quickest ways to put a smile on someone's face is to tell them something is free.
The Marine Corps polo shirt I am wearing this morning was from a trip to Camp
Pendleton some years ago and was free. And in this case, free is good.

But I have been around long enough to realize there are times when free may not be
good; when free or even a reduced cost causes someone to question the value of
something.

During my years as music director and conductor of the West Point Glee Club all the
costs necessary to underwrite the cost of a trip were underwritten by the concert
hosts. Taxpayer dollars could not be used. It was not unusual for a sponsor to
emphasize how they were not going to charge for the concert - that they wanted it to
be 'free' so all could attend. We would discourage them, as experience showed that
free often equated to an empty auditorium. If someone purchased a ticket, they
were more likely to come.

There was a similar situation when I was training motorcycle instructors. There was
always a high level of enthusiasm about becoming an instructor and it was not

Page 320
Saved Rounds

unusual to have many more applicants than open seats for a training class. But
once again, if it was 'free' it was not unusual to have 50% or more no-shows and half
of the available seats could be empty. Many programs knew the best way to get
people to show up for the instructor training courses was to charge a fee, even if it
was returned upon graduation from the class.

And finally, my experience with retail sales; either on my own, helping a friend, or
most recently with Ebay. Almost without exception, any time I have tried to 'help
someone out' it has resulted in more aggravation than it was worth. It didn't matter if
it were someone who needed financial help or just when I wanted to honestly
provide someone an exceptional deal. Without exception, they were either never
satisfied or they figured, "if he has come down this much, he will certainly come
down even more."

There is an interesting concept in the Wicca tradition regarding the purchase of

tools; and it is one that I have come to practice in dealing with musical instruments
(at least ones with intrinsic value). It is quite simple - it is inappropriate to negotiate
price. A person says what they want for the item, and you are willing or not willing to
pay that price. Anything else is not done and would be considered an insult. I have
done this with the last several accordions I have purchased. I asked the price and
was willing to pay it. On the ones I didn't purchase, I either didn't think the
instrument was worth it or I didn't have enough money. No negotiation.

About a year ago I sold one of my final remaining pair of vintage JBL Professional
Studio monitors on Ebay. Over the past 40 years I have probably had 100 pair of
the most collectable JBL Professional and consumer speakers ever made, to include
two Paragons. These final speakers were one owner and in excellent condition,
however they had one small detail that I knew would cause some people to
hesitate. I priced them accordingly for a quick sale and explained the one detail as
best as I could. I received Email after Email about these speakers, some offering
25% of my listed price which was already 25% of the true value in the first place.
They would sometimes get outright angry, saying "I was going to risk my 100%
rating on Ebay and this that and whatever; and I should sell the speakers to them,
oh, and by the way, the shipping was also too high." I knew accepting their
offers would be a lot more aggravation than it was worth and they would never be
satisfied. I also knew a real collector would know what these were, would
understand the detail I had described, and if they wanted them, would buy them. So
I pulled them off Ebay.

Sometimes the same thing can be true for personal services, which I have put
myself in an situation to experience twice since coming back to accordion a few
years ago (even though I should know better). I have never had great interest in
teaching. I actually have pretty good patience, but not for students not willing to
work. But since my return, I volunteered to help two different students, both without
charge. I thought it was my way to 'give back', to help a young person interested in

Page 321
Saved Rounds

the instrument. In both cases it proved to be the same as retail sales; more
aggravation than it was worth.

It is may be just too to difficult to appreciate the value of something offered for free.
For me today, I will follow through on the concept I explained for the Wicca
tools: someone either feels it is worth it, or it is not. It's that simple. I am not a
savior and I don't need to do anyone favors or help them out - it just doesn't work
that way.

Years ago I stayed with my grandmother while I was doing post-graduate course
work at UCLA. She always talked about her gardener, how he worked so hard, how
he took care of his little family. Whenever she could, she would slip him an extra
$5.00 in an envelope (my parents paid his monthly fee). For someone on a fixed
income of about $2,600 a year living in El Segundo in the 1980's, this was quite a
gesture. One day she wanted to drop off a Birthday present for one of his kids. In
that I was staying with her and had a car, being able to deliver the present would be
a real treat for her. I don't know what I expected based on her dialogues, but it
wasn't the up-scale home with the Mercedes parked in the driveway. And I would
guess the insurance on the Mercedes was likely more than my grandmother's yearly
social security. But he had never declined her money.

No Grown-ups in the Baby Band

8/16/11

Today's blog topic is by request. I have been asked to write something about the
adult accordion student. Back in 'the day' I don't remember too many adults learning
to play the accordion. There wasn't a single adult in the Bettie Thomas Baby Band
(that is what it was actually called); none of the bands for that matter. And come to
think of it, I only remember one or two adult students in those days; and in those
particular cases the motives had more to do with things other than learning the
accordion.

But at today's accordion clubs and other events, the majority of the members and in
the bands are adults. Some are people who played many years ago and have
decided to return, others are true beginners with no previous experience.

Several weeks ago at his practice workshop, Stephen Dominko discussed

developing technique and musical styles. After the accordions had been put away
and we were gathered around the food table I heard one of the guests ask him,
"would I ever be able to have technique like yours?" His response was without
hesitation and without any hint of doubt. "No." He then went on to explain how we
were able to develop motor skills more quickly and completely in our youth. We
would also retain them longer, some in fact for nearly a lifetime. As an adult it is not
only more challenging to learn a skill, but also to retain it.

Page 322
Saved Rounds

There is no reason to think that playing a musical instrument is different than almost
any other thing we do as adults. You often hear the expression, "like learning to ride
a bicycle. You never forget." One of the reasons for not forgetting is that we usually
learned the skill in our youth.

A person who skied as a youth with any level proficiency will generally pick it back
up after a lapse than someone who learned as an adult. For the adult skier there is
often a repetition of the learning process at some level with the start of each
season. The physical skills don't transcend time. Another example are the
computer programs that we use. It is very common to forget them almost
immediately once we stop using them. If we go back to a program we haven't used
for a while we will usually be starting an entirely new learning process.

However, this reality should not influence a person's desire to play or to improve
one's accordion skills. There are some very helpful insights when one understands
the concept of adult learning and the basic ways we acquire motor skills. Actually, it
works better if the instructor thoroughly understands these concepts so they can be
transparent to the student. Then student is able to enjoy the rewards of learning to
play without excessive worry about the methodology.

Another key aspect at this point are realistic expectations, and what it will take to
reach them. In the long term there is also a lot less potential for discouragement
when one understands the influence different things may or many not have on the
process. Finding the perfect accordion will not replace basic concepts of adult
learning or motor skills development; but it can certainly add to the enjoyment and
encourage one to play. It is hard to reach a goal if one doesn’t know what the goal
is in the first place. So once again, a mentor can be of great assistance.

Each person's physical skill capabilities are different. Each person learns differently.
Each person has different expectations. The key is to find what works for that
person and help that person learn to self-assess so they can continually refine their
own goals and choose the path to reach them.

I believe the same concepts and techniques I use to build and maintain my own
technique and methods I use to prepare for musical performance will work for the
adult student at any level. It is about muscle control and it is about understanding
the music. In his workshop presentation, Stephen was also encouraging players to
use the same techniques that he uses. Ultimately, they are basic and sound
principals that reflect an understanding of motor skills and physiology. They are not
something exclusive to the virtuoso or secrets coined by an individual, but rather
something that can be used by anyone at any level and at any stage of their playing.

I have never ceased to be amazed at how students will rise to a standard. I don't tell
them they can't do it or that something is hard, I just show it to them and tell them,
try this. Then once they get the feel and taste of the big picture, go back and refine.

Page 323
Saved Rounds

And it can be such great fun.

Not a Paid Political Announcement

8/17/11

Several years ago while on a business trip to Indianapolis, Indiana, I was invited to a
local university to see a new ultra-high-tech driving simulator. It sounded like fun, or
at least the chance for a break from the tedious assessment we were doing on one
of the State's traffic safety programs, which was the real purpose of the trip.

The day finally arrived and I was picked up by one of the university's senior faculty
members in a Prius that had been modified to get over 100 miles per gallon. I knew
at once these people were serious and this was going to be an interesting afternoon.

Prior to entering the simulator room I was given a rather lengthy briefing on the
innovations being used to support the school's technical research initiatives. The
anticipation of getting my hands on the simulator helped me display a satisfactory
level of interest in the words that accompanied the PowerPoint presentation.

Then the moment arrived. We moved into the simulator room. Lurking in the
background I could see the scrawny shadow of the young man who programmed the
simulator. The department heads were doing the talking, but I knew he was the
person who made the simulator work. He looked more like the total game geek and
my anticipation was piqued even more.

The explanations flowed but my interest was entirely focused on the simulator. I
couldn't wait to get my hands on it. And I finally had the opportunity. I sat in the
chair and bucked the seatbelt - ready to go. The first simulation was loaded and
within several minutes I had run over a bicyclist and crashed into a police car. Not
bad. I don't know how well the simulator programs had served the research projects
but they certainly were more challenging than any commercial video game I had
ever played. I acknowledged my appreciation to the programmer with a nod and a
smile. I was rewarded by being turned loose with the simulator - creating my own
video game. I crashed into trees and ran off of cliffs and chased every car,
pedestrian, motorcycle and whatever else I could find right to the limits of the
programming. It was great fun. I was warned a couple times by the senior faculty
representation to be cautious, that I would most certainly get motion sick, but I
pushed on.

After having been thoroughly entertained I finally exited the machine. The
programmer finally spoke. He said that I must be a professional pilot or a teen in
disguise as otherwise I should have most certainly become sick.

Page 324
Saved Rounds

I left having been thoroughly entertained. But what if my visit had ended after the
introductions and briefings? After being told what it was and how it was made and
how it came about and how unique it was? My reaction would likely have been,
"yeah, cool. Interesting". But there wouldn't have been that childish, giddy
enthusiasm that had recharged my inner self. And to be honest, they could have left
out all the introduction stuff. Just taken me into the room and let my strap my butt
into that seat!

It was a similar attitude trying accordions as a kid and that attitude carried into my
adulthood. I never gave a rats rear-end about what it was or what was inside. Up
until I came back to playing after my 30 year break I couldn't have told you what kind
of reeds, the construction of the chamber, none of it. That seems to be
a requirement for today.

Back then all we wanted to do was play them. We wanted to see what it could do.
Sort of a parallel to Julio's words of "trying an accordion with your eyes closed."

I think it was Stephen who recently told me a great story. He was on a TV show and
someone commented on the number of buttons in the left hand. "How many buttons
are there?" (Dual system accordions have a lot of buttons.) After thinking about it
for a second he replied, "I really don't know, I never counted them." In retrospect,
that was the perfect answer. There were enough - enough to let him do what he
wanted to do. Why would he need to count them?

Now, the first necessity of applying Julio Giulietti’s words is the ability to play the
instrument. But you also must know what you expect. The technical capabilities
have to be in your body and the sound has to first be in your mind. Then the
accordion can bring them to life. So it can be the finest construction in the word, the
greatest hand made reeds, extra screws in the reed blocks, double this and double
that - but can you make it fly?

As I have said too many times, Julio never took much time telling me about an
accordion. He just handed me the accordion to play. He didn't subject me to the
PowerPoint introductions. Just let the fun begin. And there was something there
that once experienced I never wanted to turn loose of. You couldn't have pried one
of those accordions out of my arms. And I never felt the need to continue my
search. The accordions did everything I wanted them to do, and they continue to do
so. Each time I play I can still see Julio standing quietly in the shadows. Listening.
And like the simulator programmer, there is that smile. No proclamations are
necessary; they don't have to explain the magic, it is created in your arms.

Don't jump too quickly to mistake this to be a commercial. It's not. Rather it is a part
of my experience that I cherish the most. And it is something unique to us
accoridonists. I don't know any of my piano friends who talk about the direct
experience with their piano builders. I wonder if it was like this for the string
players who originally bought the Stradavari?

Page 325
Saved Rounds

Listen and Learn

8/18/11

Yesterday's blog lingered in my mind most of the day. Usually a topic escapes my
conscious thought once I upload to the website.

Yesterday I spoke of the accordion's craftsmen and of them standing in the shadows
watching the instruments they created being played. Though an allegorical story, for
me, it is a real vision. There is a thought here, and that is how much the US
craftsmen influenced the progression of the accordion during our US golden age.

It started with improvements in the accordions they made in this country, but it also
carried over as more accordions were imported. They influenced those instruments
as well, both in terms of design and quality. They were really listening, to the music
we played and were also very intuitive to know what we wanted from our accordions.

Fun and Games With Alphabet Soup

8/22/11

For some reason I was inspired to play Elizabeth (the Super 5/4) after I had finished
my regular practice on Saturday. Elizabeth arrived from Canada a little over a year
ago. She is a fine girl, and has had the least amount of 'play time' of my
accordions. She is also one of the very last bassettis imported by Giulietti.

The first Giulietti dual-system bassettis (like Roberto) had five rows of stradella. On
the 5-row stradella the 7th chord is also used as the diminished chord row by leaving
out one of the notes. (Take the F out of a F seventh and you can use the same
button for C diminished. If you really need the F in the 7th chord, you add the F
Major chord button. It sounds a lot more complicated than it really is.) With Julio's
new design in the mid 1960s the size of the case was dramatically reduced and the
diminished row once again returned.

However, in the latest years, the stradella was once again reduced to 5 rows as a
trade-off to add a 4th row to the bassetti section. So Julio started with 5-row
stradella dual systems and ultimately ended with 5-row stradella dual systems.

Switching from 5 to 6 row stradella is one thing, but a greater difficulty from the
player's perspective is the difference in position between the stradella and bassetti
sections. And though I could never tell you the rationale, Julio used different
relationships between the systems - at least three that I know of. If you use the
stradella and bassetti at the same time (which I do in certain repertoire), it is a
difficult adjustment: not one you are not going to make instantaneously. I could play

Page 326
Saved Rounds

all the all-bassetti stuff on Elizabeth, but not so with the material that uses both
systems at once.

Elizabeth's left hand keyboard also has much more of a radical cut. Without the
diminished row and the greatly reduced width of the section that covers the bass
machine (because of the cut) the reach is not much more than it would be on an all-
bassetti V2. But life is always full of compromises and the action on Elizabeth is
much stiffer than on Fabian, which compensates for the difference in reach. But it is
all good and doesn't really matter anyway - as long as you are willing to play the
accordion rather than play-at the accordion.

But the question for today is; how do you keep all this straight? So as a compliment
to Bill's student-level grading system here is a clarification of Bill's naming system.

I use the name 'wide body' to describe the cases of the final generation of Giulietti
bassettis; the ones that are slightly thicker and also have what I call the raised reed
blocks in the lowest bassetti bass octave (typically after about 1980). (These aren't
the L reed-blocks you see in other accordions, but rather an extended air chamber
which results in an amazing increase in depth without a loss in response.) When
playing Elizabeth you can feel the vibration from the notes in lowest octave in your
body - something I have personally never experienced in any other accordion. This
girl has a serious bottom end. Elizabeth also uses low E in the stradella section of
the left hand. Typically it is low G in the dual-system Giuliettis. So the nomenclature
for Elizabeth is a 45-key Super wide-body raised block E-system 5/4.

Fabian is also a raised block wide body, but has the full 6-row compliment of
stradella in a G system. Fabian has slightly more brute power than Elizabeth, but
Fabian is thoroughly broken in; Elizabeth is not. Fabian is also forgiving: Elizabeth
is not. So Fabian is a 45-key Super wide-body raised block G-system 6/3.

And of course Roberto. To carry-over of names from the airline industry (I know by
now you figured that out), I have designated the ultra-large-case dual-systems as
'jumbo'. So Roberto is a 45-key Super, pedestal button, jumbo 5/3 G-System. And
Roberto has a sound very unique from than the wide-body dual systems.
Sometimes I consider him the 'un-bayan' (like 7-up's ad campaign for the un-cola).
Absolute clarity and purity of tone are attained at the cost of brute power, rasp and
growl. And whereas Roberto won't do what the bayans can do, the steel-plate
bayans can't duplicate Roberto’s tone quality.

Now before you get too confused with my naming system, I would point out that it is
not that different than what Harley Davidson has used so successfully for many
years. Any Harley Davidson newcomer wannabe will not feel fully inculcated into the
biker culture until he/she can immediately recite all the alphabet designations of the
different models without hesitation: XL, FL, ST, and FXR. At one time I had an
XLCR, XLCH, FLT, and FXRSDG parked in the garage. But like the accordions,
they had names; which were easier for the uninitiated to remember: Rooster, Mule,

Page 327
Saved Rounds

Flo, and Butkus. Just like Fabian, Elizabeth, Roberto, Sebastian, and General Bill,
and Lil' P.

In the day I could get on a motorcycle with almost any configuration of primary
controls and ride it - right hand shift, left hand shift, reversed shift patterns, whatever,
it didn't matter. I used to tell my motorcycle students - you need to control the bike,
not just be along for a ride. So my goal is the same with accordions. I need to play
the accordion, not play at it. It doesn't matter what it is, it is what you can do with it.
So let me at that girl with the big bottom!

Too Starved to Eat

8/23/11

It is often said that our sense of smell can immediately bring back memories with
amazing clarity. That is certainly true for me. This morning it is almost too cool for
mid August. The humidity is also low. As I started to eat I was momentarily taken
back to basic training at Fort Ord, California, and the summer of 1969.

It is easy to remember the date I reported to the Reception Station in downtown Los
Angeles: Friday the 13th in June. After an endless day of processing we were
finally loaded on busses for journey to Fort Ord, just in time to hit the worst of the
evening traffic out of Los Angeles. We arrived in the early hours of the morning.

Fort Ord wore winter uniforms throughout the year. It never got that cold, but it also
rarely got brutally hot. From that perspective it was the perfect location for basic
training; certainly better than Fort Polk, Louisiana. Even though it was summer, the
weather was moderate.

The first thing each morning was physical training (PT) which always ended with a
run in full gear wearing combat boots (a practice abandoned by the Army many
years ago) and carrying our M14 rifles. As we would come back from the run
(probably more accurately described as a shuffle) we could smell the food wafting
from the mess hall in the crisp morning air. It reminded me of childhood camping
vacations in the redwoods where my dad would fry bacon and eggs over an open
fire.

When I entered the Army that June in 1969 I weighed less than 130 lbs. When I
graduated from high school in 1963 I was close to 220 lbs. I told the story in
Anecdotes of noticing with horror the excessive girth of one of my fellow competitors
at a National competition and making the decision at that instant that I was not going
to be that big. From my youth there had been countless resolutions to loose weight,
but none had been successful. But now, armed with an obsession I lost weight.
Julio Giulietti and Larry, my oldest brother, were the only ones who were vocal
about it. Larry was the only family member who would confront me. Julio was even

Page 328
Saved Rounds

more animated than usual. "You are too thin. You need to eat. That's a disease,
you know." I didn't know.

Most of my obsessions have not resolved themselves, but courtesy of the Army and
basic training, this one did. The drill sergeants said that the average recruit would
loose weight in basic training. And they were right. They also said that those who
were underweight would gain weight. And they were right. I came out of basic
training having gained 20 pounds.

The story continues with the journey into the mess hall, when it was finally time to
eat. Contrary to what I had heard, Army food was well prepared, though part of my
evaluation may be biased as the average recruit is ravenous. But after waiting in
line and finally making your way to a table, it was not unusual for a drill sergeant to
be screaming in your ear to turn in your tray and get outside. This often happened
before you had the chance to even start eating. At that point you would be
scrambling toward the door trying to cram whatever food you could in your mouth
while you were literally being chased out of the mess hall. Your food would go into a
trash container and your tray handed to one of the poor saps on KP. You were more
ravenous than ever.

You might think that at this point in my life I love to take time to savor all the food of
life in everything I do, that those days of being rushed out of mess halls are a
memory of times far gone. But for me today it isn't that way. Life still moves at a
frenetic pace - every bit of it. I rush to get ready for work, I ride the van. I participate
in (or sometimes even contribute too) the drama de jour at work. I ride the van
home. I cram down some food. I practice. I go to bed. And get up the next day to
repeat the sequence.

It seems that many of my friends who have 'retired' are just as busy as I am. In fact,
if there is resentment to aging it is that I don't have time to do all the things I would
really like to do.

All this illustrates some very unusual 'life' challenges; like the ability to gain every
ounce of value from each moment I can spend with the instrument. Success will be
a result of the pedagogical efficiency I can use in preparing myself. For now it is
driven by a schedule with limited time, but eventually it will be likely be driven more
by my body's limitations as I age. So perhaps there is long-term value in getting the
maximum out of 2-hours practice, because even if I had 10 hours a day, my body
couldn't do it.

At Marjorie Schempf's memorial service, Ruthanne told of her mother living by the
philosophy that the person who had done the most at the end of the day won. It is a
statement many would strongly disagree with, claiming it to be unhealthy. Their
philosophy would more likely reflect that, "there are times you need to sit for hours
and gorge yourself with over-salted, fattening food and idle gossip." But knowing
Marjorie brings clarity to Ruthanne's words. Her mother had an insatiable appetite

Page 329
Saved Rounds

for all the wonderful things in life (especially music), things she could explore and
things she enjoyed sharing with others. After surviving a life-threatening battle with
cancer at a very young age she had resolved that she would live every moment of
life to the fullest; and she never stopped doing that. And she did it with remarkable
grace and balance. That is the secret.

Accordion Shakes

8/24/11

On more than one occasion I have talked about my views on the care of accordions,
often causing more than one eyebrow to be raised. We are in a time of great
concern of weight for both the accordions themselves and the cases we use to
transport and store them. This has risen to an even higher level of attention with
the reluctance of anyone with any sense at all of putting an accordion in the
baggage compartment of a commercial plane. So it is a time when you see a great
many accordions in canvas bags, whether or not someone is engaged in air travel.
Many even consider even the older style of accordion cases to be too heavy.

For me it carries over to what you do with the accordion even when it isn't on your
body - even in your own house. If it is anything more than a short hourly break, it
goes back in the case. And my choice is either an Anvil or SKB case. I just feel
more secure.

When friends comment about the abundance of shipping cases in our home, I have
been know to say, "but what if we were to have an earthquake, hurricane, or even a
severe thunderstorm? What protection would the accordion have?" Now realize
that I grew up in Southern California where earthquakes were a reality and I have
experienced quite a few of them. However, I have sometimes been reminded that
earthquakes are not that much of a reality in Northern Virginia. At least until
yesterday.

I was at work sitting a meeting room when the building started shaking. We all
noticed it immediately and someone commented in jest that someone of
considerable girth must be walking by the outside. When the shaking intensified
thoughts quickly went back to 911 and a terrorist attack. I quietly commented (from
experience) that it was an earthquake and wondered where the center was.

Moving out into the hall there were varying levels of real fear to those who had never
experienced an earthquake. My first thoughts were of the house and the
accordions.

The center of the earthquake was 50 miles closer to my home than work and I
imagined the effect had been much more severe there. I finally got in touch with Jim
(who is also the veteran of earthquakes) and my first question was about the
accordions. He was not practicing at the time and the accordions were secure in

Page 330
Saved Rounds

their cases. Some nick-knacks had crashed to the floor and there were a few
casualties, but the accordions were fine.

Accordions are expensive, and in my case the bassettis are rare; not something you
can call up and order a replacement. Replacing one would require a lot of searching
and then who knows how much additional effort of getting it in shape for a concert
performance. It is more aggravation than I want to willingly invite. To me, the cost
and effort of properly designed protection is good insurance. I also know of really
excellent instruments (to include some Giuliettis and even a Gola or two) that were
completely destroyed in some type of household situation - like a water pipe
breaking or something falling on them. I would feel much better if they were played
to death rather than being destroyed through some calamity, human or otherwise.

So now I can be even more obnoxious in my quest for instrument preservation, for
now it will be less often that someone will say, "but how often do we have
earthquakes in Virginia?" And by the way, we will likely have some impact from
Hurricane Irene within the next several days. Can you also say waterproof (or at
least water resistant)?

A Day at the Ocean

8/25/11

There are different ways I enjoy my evenings, mainly depending on whether or not I
am working the next day. If I am working I try to get to bed early. 4:23 a.m. comes
too quickly.

Some years ago I was involved in a program where high profile physicians in sports
medicine were exploring more effective ways to improve the physical condition of
business professionals. These weren't the sales trainers at the local Gold's
gym hawking fitness through the magnificience of their fitness facility - the ones in
the shorts with the skin-tight tank-tops resplendent with the gym's logo. These were
medical doctors; specialists who dedicated their practice to the professional athlete
with extreme demands on their cardio strength. It wasn't about logos, motivation,
and promises of better attracting the opposite (or the same) sex. It was about the
most sophisticated physical testing capabilities and extensive analysis and how to
get and quantify results.

I have been physically active continuously since my days at West Point but I
soon learned that many of the things I had been doing had less value to my overall
physical condition than I thought. This wasn't someone showing me how to use a
machine or promising six-pack abs if I did a program that had been published in a
magazine. This was testing that took me to my limits and then measured what my
body did when I pressed through them. It was charts, numbers, graphs. It was
learning how to train using a heart monitor, and how to balance nutrition. It worked
like nothing I had ever done. And it worked fast.

Page 331
Saved Rounds

Almost every non-professional athlete in this program was still an athlete at some
level. Their interest in their physical capabilities went beyond hanging at the local
gym or they would have never participated in this program. Many were amatuer
cyclists or runners and almost all took physical health as seriously as everything else
in their lives. Hence, there were several times when some of us were invited to
meet one-on-one with some of the world's top coaches. I had one such opportunity
with a cycling coach who had recently returned from the Olympics. He spent
considerable time helping me fine-tune the adjustments on my bicycle and then
moved into some basic techniques. Sort of like helping an accordionist with
adjusting the straps and then how to place the hands. He spoke of training and
things that would ensure I could continue the sport for a lifetime; things to do, things
not to do so I would avoid injury.

Then he asked a rhetorical question that came at me too quickly. I realized

immediately this was at the core of intrinsic knowledge; something he assumed I
must already know and practice. "And I know you get at least nine hours sleep each
night." And while it was something I knew, it was something I didn't practice.
Lipservice, maybe. Actually do, no. How could anyone with a life and
responsibilities possibly justify nine hours sleep a night? In college I was lucky if I
got 3 or 4. For many years when I worked at West Point, when I was also playing
four nights a week in different restaurants and clubs it was sometimes even less
than that.

Such work habits were sometimes used as something to boast about; as a badge of
honor. Something to be proud of. You worked so hard you didn’t have time to
waste sleeping.

But at this stage of my life I don't do well with sleep deprivation. Not well at all. It is
very rare for me to get 8 hours sleep. But I need to get more than 3 or 4.

Sometimes I will have something to eat right before I go to bed. I know it's not thte
best habit, but it can sometimes help me drift off a little quicker. It will also
sometimes cause me to remember dreams much more vividly.

And last night I was transported to the beach, sitting with Jim with my back to the
ocean (something I would never do). Sebastian was behind us lying in the sand in
his SKB case (something that would absolutely never happen). Without realizing it
the tide had started in and we were suddenly being pounded by the incoming surf. I
called out to Jim as I scrambled about trying to find the accordion which was now
underwater, the cold waves of the Pacific Ocean continuing to pound down on us.
For a moment I thought Sebastian was lost; carried out into the ocean. And Jim
said, "Well now we will find out if that case is really waterproof."

Enough eating before bed.

Page 332
Saved Rounds

Translator Not Required

8/26/11

The primary talk at work around the proverbial water cooler has been almost
exclusively about last week's earthquake; most certainly a rare event for Virginia.
Those who had never experienced an earthquake are still freaked - absolutely never
want a repeat of the experience. To those of us who grew up in California, a 5.8
would have drawn little attention once the shaking was over we had determined
there was little damage and no injury.

Now Hurricane Irene is heading toward us. Having been through a few Hurricanes,
it is not too difficult to assume a similar attitude. No big deal. But I am transported
back to 2003 when Isabelle passed through Fredericksburg having weakened to a
tropical storm. I was on the phone with a friend in Norfolk and remarking that it was
certainly not a big deal - we hadn't even lost power. And just as I was finishing that
sentence we lost power and it was dark. It was the start of the storm and Jim was
outside several times trying to keep ahead of the falling branches. We had only
been in the house a few weeks and were in the middle of significant renovation, so
there were boxes everywhere and it was total chaos to begin with.

An hour or so later we heard an extremely loud thud, but by now it was no time to be
outside. With the passing of the storm and the new day we discovered a huge white
oak tree had taken down our fence at both the top and bottom of the property and
that we could hardly get out the front door because of several huge limbs. Even the
thought of no yard and walking multiple dogs was a nightmare - so we succumbed to
a few rednecks in a pickup with a couple chain saws who volunteered to chop up the
white oak enough to have the fence repaired - for an absurd fee. Then it was a
matter of trying to get the fence fixed - and there was enormous competition in
getting fences repaired. There is nothing like the laws of supply and demand.

Eight years later I would like to think we are better prepared. At least we have a
generator and a chain saw. We have also had time to settle into the house. I am
lucky that I grew up with parents who approached almost any of life's events as
adventures. My grandparents were the same way. I guess that comes with living
through a couple World Wars, the Great Depression, and everything between.

But today we have such an information infrastructure. Jim's mom called him from
California within minutes after the earthquake. After we were evacuated from the
building I was outside on the internet checking on details. I was thinking this
morning of how much less the average person would know about a hurricane in
years past. As a kid I remember special films in school where they showed flying a
Connie into the center of a hurricane to gather information. How times have
changed.

Page 333
Saved Rounds

This exchange of information also has an impact on our accordion world. In the
earliest years it was whatever I heard at the studio or the monthly Accordion (and
Guitar) World magazine. And today's exchange of information (or just gossip) isn't
limited to the internet. Cell phones and very low calling costs do their part.

Years ago when the phone would ring at 5:00 a.m. we knew it would be Julio - who
had patiently waited until 8:00 EST to call us - not remembering the three-hour time
difference. And my dad would cringe when I needed to call Julio. There was no
such thing as long distance plans then - the best you could do was direct dial. Then
once you had Julio on the line and he got wound up, it could be nearly impossible to
get a word in. His enthusiasm never waned. He spoke as fast as any person I have
ever known and there were the key words in Italian thrown in as expletives that
punctuated his message. In time I no longer felt I needed a translator. But it was
still an expensive proposition.

Waiting and Italian Heritage

8/27/11

Saturday morning here. Hurricane Irene has hit North Carolina and several friends
from the Virginia Beach area have already emailed of the storm's early impact.

We lived in Norfolk, adjacent to Virginia Beach, for seven years prior to moving to
Fredericksburg. We were within walking distance of the Chesapeake Bay and the
area reminded me of Venice, California; seedy and rundown, but with housing costs
that had been undervalued for years. There was a certain charm that is difficult to
describe except to those who have lived in such an area.

Edgar Cayce said he built his Center for Spiritual Enlightenment in Virginia Beach
because the area would never take a direct hit from a hurricane. Some friends from
New Orleans used to say the same thing about their city, but their proclamations
proved to be false. It was often said that you would not want to be in Norfolk in a
category 3 hurricane, and based on the flooding from even a moderate rainstorm, I
believed them.

Surfing the internet this morning looking for updates on the storm I noticed that
Coney Island has two new rollercoasters. With my love of Coney Island my attention
was diverted. I found it interesting that one of the new metal coasters is named the
Hurricane. The first time I visited Coney Island in 1963 the Tornado and
Thunderbolt were still standing. Later only the Cyclone remained. I have always
been fascinated by the names of rollercoasters and find it interesting one of the new
ones is called the Hurricane. The trilogy of names (viewed over time) is now
complete: Cyclone, Tornado, Hurricane.

I wonder if those who name rollercoasters use a similar naming process to what I
use for accordions. Or for that matter, what about the names used for accordion

Page 334
Saved Rounds

models or even the brands themselves? Sometimes brands are the builder or
importer's name, like Giulietti or Scandalli. But for situations without the family
identity was there a process similar to rollercoaster naming? The names of
rollercoasters often reflect massive danger or mystery. Can a similar pattern be
seen in names like Excelsior, Monarch, and Titano in reflecting greatness?

Years ago while watching a 1950's version of an infomercial my Dad commented on

the silliness of the name for a small vacuum: the "mighty titan". He
jokingly remarked they couldn't call it what it really was, "the small, cheap, piece of
crap." In those days I was not a Chevrolet fan (that came later when I discovered
Corvettes), where the lowest of the model-line was the 'custom deluxe'. My high
school Mopar (Chrysler products for ye unitiated) camp often joined me jeering that
such a misnomer must certainly be the reflection of someone's sense of humor. It
was the cheapest of the cheap - but if it were the only one you could afford or you
were basically thrifty, because it was a Chevy it was still going to be magnificent.

Even in 1959 I thought the name 'Super' for my first Giulietti was strange; even out-
of-date or old fashioned. And I am not sure I ever understood the derivation for the
name 'Continental'; the name used for most of the bassetti models, coupled to either
'Super' or 'Classic'. But super was not limited to Giulietti, my Dallape was a 'Super
Maestro', a step above a 'Maestro'. I have also seen super as a model designation
on other brands.

Maybe all this is some kind of Italian thing; and not having a single trace of Italian
heritage, something I will just never understand. And I am sure there are those who
think my names for accordions are just as strange.

But the personalities of my accordions or circumstances of how they came into my

life often influence their names. And the names often influence how I play them -
how they speak through those names, and how they react to me as I play them.

So as I wrap this up, Fabian is calling from his case wondering why I am going on at
such length with this drivel rather than playing him. And Elizabeth just can't be
bothered.

And if you are still with me, here is your real trivia for the day - something I never
knew until a few weeks ago. Despite the name, Stephen Dominko also has no
Italian heritage!

When the Party’s Over

8/29/11

Irene is (almost) a distant memory. The hit here was pretty minimal; yet we still don't
have electricity. I have a running joke with the guys on the van. If I bring my
umbrella it will not rain. If I forget it, it will rain. We prepared for the hurricane. It

Page 335
Saved Rounds

was not as severe here as predicted. Had we not prepared, who knows. Of course,
the power is still not back on.

Expectations. I have often heard it said the quickest way to get disappointed is by
having expectations. Or as they say in some self-help programs, if you want to
make God laugh, make plans.

However, I had some interesting thoughts over the last several days regarding
playing older accordions. Steven Isserlis was playing a Stradivarius at in his
performance with the National Symphony Orchestra at the Kennedy Center several
months ago . What do you expect when you hear and see a priceless 300-year-old
cello being played in a concert? Is it brought out on a satin pillow and gently placed
in position, everyone leaning forward in their seats as the cellist carefully articulates
a few notes?

Hardly. Steven played the cello with the same passion and intensity you would
expect from a new instrument. There was nothing tentative - and the instrument
performed. At first Jim was quite concerned as loose hair was literally ripped from
the bow as he moved into more aggressive passages. At first I don't think Jim
completely trusted me when I said this was normal and not to be worried about.

I was thinking the same thing as I was playing Fabian (my Giulietti Super 6/3) the
other day. Fabian is not 300 years old, but is certainly not new. And I must feel
confident that I can expect the accordion to do what my body is capable of making it
do without it coming apart. During the past two years I have played Fabian a lot -
and make very high demands. It is continued to improve through this process. For
me, that is the true mark of a treasured instrument.

So what is the longevity of an accordion? I doubt one will last 300 years, but then
again, it is rare for a piano from the 1800's or even early 1900's to be used for more
than a curiosity or something of historical interest. There might be some interest in
the evolution of sound, but to expect the full monte that would be expected from
a concert piano - it is doubtful. It is also interesting that pianos, even some of the
newer uber-hyped and costly German and Italian fare, will not bring the money a
stringed instrument will. There are always some great deals to be made on high-end
pianos. Strads and other string instruments continue to be considered good
investments.

It is interesting to see that some accordions are still standing up after 50 years with
little or no maintenance. And some of these have had very hard professional use;
the majority of their damage coming from rough handling during transport. That is a
testament to the builders.

So one expectation I do have is for my concert instruments to provide whatever I ask

of them - regardless of age. And so far, my expectations in this regard have not led
to disappointment.

Page 336
Saved Rounds

Industrial Ear Protection and the Concert Accordion

8/31/11

It is amazing how well humans can adapt. After a little more than a year it has
become quite routine to write on my netbook as I careen up Interstate 95 in this
commuter van during my daily commute.

I switched from riding the train to the van when our office changed locations four
years ago and the initial adaptation was difficult. First, my day job is in highway
safety. We work with understanding the causes and consequences of motor vehicle
crashes and how to reduce them. Traveling the nation's roads and highways is one
of the most dangerous things a person does. Second, the majority of the commuter
van fleets are 15-passenger vans - a vehicle near the bottom of the scale in terms of
stability and crash protection. Third, van passengers place their lives in the hands of
drivers with no required formal training and questionable driving skill. The driving is
often erratic, rough, and almost always too fast. Fourth, Interstate 95 is one of the
heaviest traveled highways in the country. It is always crowded and rush hours are
filled with aggressive and impatient drivers.

For the first few months I managed to survive by listening to music through a pair of
industrial-level noise-reduction ear muffs. Not the overpriced Bose hype, but real,
SAE-rated ear protection; the kind you would use at the drag races or other places
with extreme noise levels. The train was smooth, quiet and comfortable. I often
read or worked on my computer. The van is more like an amusement park ride.

With my netbook came new possibilities. Being smaller than my laptop I could use it
in the confined seats of the van. Add an internet connection and I felt like I had
gained back some of the time lost in commuting. Working on the van has become
routine. I can tune out most of the erratic driving; except for the occasional hard
application of the brakes when the driver isn't been paying enough attention to the
surrounding traffic.

But there is a point to all this. The risk exposure in the van never changed; but my
perception of the risk did. I eventually overlooked the risk to accomplish a task at
hand. In terms of dealing with hazards or risk, without an accurate perception of
risk, we can't effectively deal with it. But that is another part of the topic.

Adaptation is something our brains and body can do extremely well. Sometimes it
relates to survival, other times it relates to how comfortable or effective we are at
doing something. It can work to our advantage and it can be improved. It also is
integrated with nearly everything we do in terms of playing an instrument.

To start with, I need to adapt to the characteristics and idiosyncrasies of the

instrument I am playing. I also need to adapt my playing based on the acoustics of

Page 337
Saved Rounds

the room. This can (should) affect everything from tempo to articulation and
dynamics. It will even influence what I play. It is also not limited to accordion
players. Some years ago the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra performed in
Eisenhower Hall at West Point as a part of the Fine Arts Series. When the
conductor arrived at the hall he walked to the front of the stage, spoke a few words
clapped his hands and listened. Based on his assessment of the room's acoustics
he informed the fine arts director he needed to make changes to the program. So all
this is certainly not unique to accordionists.

Adaptation is important as we become proficient at playing a particular accordion as

it measures our success between playing or playing-at an accordion. When we
play-at an accordion we are often expecting the accordion to fix something; we are
along for the ride. When we play the accordion, we have the capability to adapt;
either internal to the instrument or external to the acoustical environment. It does
not have to be a concert performance for this to happen. We all do it one way or
another every time we play, even though we may not realize it.

In the performance environment this adaptation can happen almost immediately;

perhaps by the time we have played a few notes. I have written in this blog about
Van Cliburn starting concerts with the National Anthem. Was he being patriotic or
was it the opportunity to get a feel for the piano and the room before committing to
the concert program?

And like the van, eventually the process will function in the background (though
unlike the van, there is not an ever present element of risk unless we are playing an
electronic instrument in the rain or without a proper ground). But the question I
would ask: can we improve this process by first becoming aware of it, and then using
a systematic process to achieve the best results?

My answer is not only yes, but to me it is something one must do as it can

dramatically improve the proficiency as a performer and meet the needs of the
music.

Could You Please Say that Louder (revisited)

9/03/11

Through the years I have had very few close friends. In my youth it seemed I was
always too busy with practicing and my musical activities to be bothered. Though it
may expose the status of my mental health, this attitude carried has over into
adulthood traits and preferences.

During my performing years as an accordionist and later as the Conductor and

Music Director of the West Point Glee Club I would do all I could to avoid social
events associated with a performance. They seemed such a waste of time. There
were too many other things I would rather be doing. This attitude even carries over

Page 338
Saved Rounds

to my eating preferences. I have never seen one of my dogs savor a meal. Put the
dish down and they eat it fast as they can. If something is particularly savory they
will even wolf it down faster.

When possible I will eat standing up, or standing at the kitchen counter, eating things
in sequence as they are completed. Spending several hours dining is not my idea of
fun, unless it is in the company of someone I really enjoy being with. I view eating
as something necessary to sustain my energy, not a social activity. Sometimes I
think the dogs have it right.

Coming back to the accordion after many years I have reunited with many people
from my distant past. They sometimes remark that I seemed so aloof in my youth -
unapproachable. I wonder if this perception came from my preoccupation to avoid
social interaction.

On the other hand, the friends I do have are extremely close and I cherish my time
with them. Through the years, at different times and on different occasions, they
have described certain things about me with an unnerving consistency -
considering few of them ever met each other.

On one occasion in early adulthood my friend Chuck Carter told me that when he
first met me he found it nearly impossible to separate when I was kidding about
something from when I was actually serious, excluding those times when it was
obvious I was attempting to be funny. But unlike Bill Cosby I am rarely successful at
humor. However, over time Chuck said he came to realize that it was rare when I
was not deadly serious: about everything. He continued that when I spoke it was in
truisms (at least from my perspective). He used to say, "And when you speak, how
could one argue with the truth?" And in the way I said things, an opportunity for
discussion was rarely implied.

My ex-wife and an ex-fiance told me there were times when they thought I was
intentionally ignoring them, but they came to realize that when I was thinking about
music or whatever else had my attention at that moment, I became so preoccupied
that I shut out everything else. They said exactly the same thing, though they never
met each other.

What sense of humor I do have is often considered strange, perhaps only fully
understood by my closest friends. As an example, many years ago I was attending
a professional leadership seminar. When asked my opinion on something I would
always preface my comments with reference to the Donna Reed Show, "Now I ask
myself, what would Donna Reed do?" Unfortunately it caught on and soon many of
the women participants were referencing the ethics and morals of the Donna Reed
Show in their comments. Now my friend Chuck would have known that my real
interest in the Donna Reed show all those years ago was in Paul Peterson; but
asking, "What would Jeff Stone do?" would not have the same effect.

Page 339
Saved Rounds

I am always listening for references or comments from any source that truly
resonate. One came at me the other day. I love banal daytime television; Judge
Judy has replaced Donna Reed, but in this case, Judge Alex beat her to the punch.
Though the comment is certtainly not original to him, I heard him tell a litigant that
repeating something or saying it louder didn't make it true. There is so much truth in
those words. Someone can say something, repeat it, and even say it louder, but
that doesn't make it true. Sometimes even for them.

I have written on a lot of topics in this blog and for the most part tried to be at least
marginally polite and socially acceptable. But I must remember and I would remind
the reader, much of it consists of things that have worked for me or are based on my
experience; and when the dust clears, the value of my experience is all I have to
share. Opinions without experience don't mean much.

I am reminded of the dog food commercial that had the song, "My dog's better than
your dog," And hardly a day goes by I don't hear a similar shtick about accordions -
my accordion's better than yours. But when it is all over, our truth will be found
through our self-assessment. Wasn't it called something like cognitive dissonance?

Now in retrospect, all of this might have been a bit too liberal for Donna, especially
that part about Jeff.

So What’s the Point?

9/06/11

What does someone say through their musical performance? What does someone
say about the music they play? What does someone say about their motivations in
the music they select to play and how they decide to play it?

These are interesting questions. In some instances the motivations behind the
answers can be very simple even though the answers themselves can be very
complex.

As a very young accordionist, I wanted my musical performance demonstrate that I

could play. I liked to play difficult music, to prove my proficiency. And my
motivations were driven by the attention I could gain from playing. Often it's just that
simple when you are a young kid.

As I got a bit older and went into my competition phase greater expectations were
placed on the accuracy of my playing. The difficulty needed to be sufficient to
demonstrate technical proficiency and there needed to be variety to show my
musicianship. The motivations were pretty straight forward - meet the requirements
and impress the judges.

Page 340
Saved Rounds

But I exploded into a new era with completely new philosophies when I started my
rock band. This wasn't a high school effort playing top-40 for the school dance; it
was (ultimately) a group of college-educated, professional musicians playing all
original music with a self-defined identity and purpose. Our music could be
extremely loud, course, and rude. It often offended people. We had something to
say that we thought was important, both in content and how we said it. We had
polarized acceptance. Some of our messages were obvious and there were people
who understood and agreed with what we were saying and they liked what we were
doing. There were people who understood and hated what we were saying and
detested everything about it. There were also deeply-rooted subliminal messages
that were rarely understood.

Music Emporium provided me with an opportunity to scream - literally! It was an

opportunity to release so much that had built up inside. Much of it had little to do
with the music. The physiological and musical result to me could be emotionally
severe, even violent. But through it I learned a lot about musical performance and
my personal self.

Through the years Music Emporium has maintained almost a cult status, but (at
least in my opinion) only for the music that survived the process. In terms of
artistically and sociologically accomplishing what we really wanted to say through
the group, we never got very far beyond point zero. We failed.

Over the years I have come to better understand why we failed. I also see how
some of the philosophies behind Music Emporium are similar, if not exactly parallel,
to things I sometimes tried to do with 'classical' accordion. The external difference
was that accordion efforts were (at least intended to be) calculated and intellectual.
My approach was cloaked to be purely artistic. Music Emporium was more like a
dysfunctional, out of control lunatic screaming from the town square. But the real
similarity: there was a weak or sometimes disjunctive motive behind the music.

In early bassetti days too often the musical decisions were driven by how someone
would view the effort, rather than the actual musical result. And to me, there is
carryover to this today. For example, there is a Coupe requirement for a Prelude
and Fugue from Bach Well Tempered Clavier, and minimum requirements for
different categories of original music. A much more comprehensive measurement of
musicianship and artistry would be for the competitor to present what works best
musically for the instrument. Eliminate what is done 'for show' rather than for
satisfying a musical purpose. "Look what we are doing. Because we are doing it,
you are going to accept us as a legitimate instrument. Bach and original music!
What else could you ask for? Concert stages of the world, here we come."

I have been recently working on adding the Liszt Mephisto Waltz to my repertoire. I
started with the piano score, but ultimately have opted for a stradella transcription
done by Galla-Rini. In this case musically, it simply works better. A lot better. The
musical result is actually quite rewarding. But I could hardly play this in today's

Page 341
Saved Rounds

Coupe, and for that matter, it likely would not have been permitted in the
International Competition in Galla-Rini's name.

So back to the original questions. Ultimately is it about what I am playing or the

musical result of what I am playing? And when the dust settles, what will a potential
audience want to hear? And what are we expected to play? And why? Is it a
proclamation to what we are doing or is it the result?

He Said What??

9/08/11

There was a time in my life where I was absolutely consumed with motorcycles. I
had ridden legally from the time I got my driver's license at 15 years old but the
obsession didn't take full effect until the motorcycle replaced Corvettes in my love for
things that make a lot of noise and go really fast. When that happened it changed
just about everything in my life.

I embraced anything I could do that increased my immersion into the motorcycle

community. I became West Point's motorcycle safety instructor, then the Army's
motorcycle safety Chief Instructor. I started working with neighboring states on their
state-sponsored motorcycle safety programs, and after a few years of consulting
work I accepted a position with the Motorcycle Safety Foundation in California which
resulted in leaving West Point after 23 years,

Within a few years, the avocation had taken over my life. In this country, very few
people ride motorcycles primarily for transportation or fuel economy. It is a passion,
and there are few other recreational activities with the level passion associated with
riding. However, from what I have seen, some accordionist enthusiasts would
give motorcyclists a good run, and that is a great thing.

When the dust settled, I had the motorcycle enthusiast's greatest dream. There
were very few things in my life that didn't involve motorcycles. But eventually the
passion turned into a job. As the years passed I had less interest in recreational
riding. It was just my work. There was no mystique, no magic.

But there are some real-life observations that carry over to what I am doing now,
both in my day-job in highway/traffic safety and my immersion back into the
accordion culture. And as with nearly everything else, the wisdom is an appreciation
for the people - not only the people who actively participate, but those who observe.

With motorcycles there are often two very polarized groups of non-riders. There are
those who have always longed to hit the city streets or open road on a motorcycle,
often repressing a life-long dream due to some insurmountable circumstance, like
parents or a spouse. But there is a second group that think riding motorcycles is
ridiculously dangerous and it would be best if they were banned altogether.

Page 342
Saved Rounds

So what about those for whom we might play our accordions, especially the non-
accordionists? Sometimes the 'audience' may not have that much choice, for
example, if we are playing in a wedding band or a club. But in these circumstances it
is likely we are not the primary reason they are there anyway. So they can just tune
us out, or if they get drunk, heckle a bit.

There are other places where an accordion might be included for tonal color, like in
the orchestration of a television commercial even a popular song.

But there are some accordionists who may want more. They are not satisfied being
part of something. They want exclusivity; to be the sum of a performance; center
stage with no distractions. That is where I have wanted to be most of my life. And
many of my comments are biased toward my passion as that is where I have my
most experience. But I absolutely would not want to judge the genres or aspirations
of any other accordionist. I would rather embrace the versatility of both the
instrument and those who play it.

I have not always had this outlook. For many years I was obsessed with placing the
accordion on the world's concert stage, ready willing and able to replace the piano
as the premier legitimate concert instrument. Sort of like the flea climbing up the
Elephant's leg with rape on his mind.

But maybe all this is backward. I hear almost endless discussion of the limits of the
accordion (especially as a concert instrument), but perhaps we limit ourselves when
we try to push the instrument exclusively into one category, or when we try to take
on someone else's turf (like the piano). As a young accordionist it was easy to be
envious of the piano's status, the instruments, the players, and the reputation.

But today I know there is a real place. And the measure is in what my playing does
to my audience. Are they listening to someone play an instrument, waiting to make
their determination if what the player doing is sufficient to judge it all as legitimate?
Or am I touching something inside of them - something that might be nearly
impossible to describe in words? If it is the latter, nothing else really matters. And
the accordion can do that in a staggering and powerful variety of ways - perhaps
even in more ways than the piano. Perhaps we should stop limiting our instrument
by trying to force it into categories and proclaiming to our fellows we can and can't or
should or shouldn't play.

A Birthday Wish

9/09/11

Thanks to everyone for all the birthday wishes on Facebook.

Page 343
Saved Rounds

Late last night I was doing some final clean-up after a major failure of one of my
computers that started during Hurricane Irene. I happened upon a journal entry
written exactly 10 years ago - two days before the events of 9/11. All of our lives
have changed so much since then.

Ten years ago I was in Colton California a few days early for a Motorcycle Safety
Foundation update for all Instructors. Jim came out and we celebrated my birthday
on the 8th (a day early) with my Mom and Jim's parents at their home in Irvine,
California. It was a wonderful time as it always has been nearly impossible to
coordinate schedules. On the 9th we got up at 3:00 a.m. to get Jim on a flight back
home. At the time we lived in Norfolk.

It gave me chills when I read of my journal entry the day after 9/11. By then I had
returned to March Air Force Base where I was staying and was up eating breakfast
and conversing with others in the BOQ. Jim called to tell me of the attack on the
World Trade Center and to turn on the television.

The MSF events in Colton carried on for the rest of the week despite the attack,
however I decided to stay with my Mom in Hemet rather than at the BOQ. It had
become very difficult to get on and off the Air Force Base and many reservists who
had been called to active duty needed a place to stay.

I wrote in my journal that the world would never be the same, and my first real view
of this was on the first flight out of Ontario Airport a few days later. I had to fly to
Fort Rucker and then back to Colton before going to San Diego and then finally
home. In those days I was on the road almost 7 months out of every year.

The atmosphere on flights immediately after 9/11 changed dramatically - at least for
a while. People were expressing their condolences to flight attendants and the pilots
for co-workers who had lost their lives in the plane crashes. It reminded me of those
somber days following the assassination of John Kennedy - in my first year of
college. Several days before I had stood with my Mother at the gate to see Jim off.
Now the airport was filled with service members in BDU's armed with M16 rifles.
With the passing of one day, seeing someone off at a gate became a thing of the
past.

As I grew up my appreciation increased for the things my grandparents and parents

survived in their lifetimes; World Wars, the great depression, food rationing,
earthquakes, loss of family members and friends, and countless other events.

Now I realize that our lives are also punctuated with similar milestone events - things
that can change everything. Sometimes they are within our control; other times
completely beyond our control. Perhaps there are life-lessons that might be learned
from how our family and friends dealt with all this. Do we embrace the joys and the
time we have right now, or do we spiral down when we are forced into directions that
were not part of our plans?

Page 344
Saved Rounds

A very good friend who served as a spiritual advisor once made the comment to me
after a performance, "with your gift in music, I don’t see how you could ever be
depressed." I don't know if it possible, clinically or otherwise, to think I will never be
depressed. I have experienced severe depression. But at least for today, the music
in my life offers stability. I am grateful I have started playing accordion again - for I
have felt like I have finally come home. And I know many of my accordion friends
feel the same way about their relationship with this magical instrument.

I have decided that today will be the final entry in this blog: Saved Rounds. It is time
to move into new areas - and sometimes change is good! Future updates and a
new journal of some type will be directed toward some exciting new adventures
planned for the future. I hope to join all of you there.

The Blog Returns!

2/29/12

On my birthday last year I announced that I was would no longer be writing the blog.
Accordion Heroes would be taking most of my discretionary time. And with a day
job, something I don't have is a lot of discretionary time.

But I think back to what my dad would say in my early years, "Don't quote him, he
changes his mind too often." And too many years later, that is often still true.

So the blog is back - at least for now.

When I stopped writing the blog I felt I didn't have that much more to say. How
much could I write about memories and the past, and how much can I carry on about
how I think the instrument should be used or how it fits into our current society? And
who am I writing for anyway? Are the current aficionados the ones who will carry the
accordion forward? Will they be the ones who will re-establish a foundation
providing the underpinnings for the future?

In my early college years I so clearly remember a professor saying that musicians

don't support music. The great love and passion will more likely be found in the
amateur musician and the music lover. For the professional musician, playing often
becomes a craft - a forum to display a skill.

I can see examples of my professor's words in non-accordion parts of my own life.

Though I rode motorcycles from my high school days, my interested received a
tremendous boost in the 1980s (long before the craze that swept the nation in the
1990s). My life was motorcycles - it was nearly all I could talk about. The obsession
consumed me; so much so that I ultimately ended up leaving West Point to work for
the Motorcycle Safety Foundation in California. I used the excuse that I wanted to

Page 345
Saved Rounds

get back to California (there is actually a lot of truth there), but the more powerful
reason was not wanting anything to interfere with my obsession de jour.

For the next 12 years or so my life became motorcycles - focused in the field of
motorcycle safety. It was all I did. I traveled throughout the United States and even
other countries teaching instructors how to train new riders and did training
programs to help experienced riders improve their skills.

And as my skill increased the passion eventually waned. There was no more desire
to spend hours polishing a motorcycle. There was no excitement over getting up on
Saturday morning to go for a ride. I found myself rarely talking about it or seeking
out others with similar interests. I was no longer an ambassador trying to convince
the world that my passion was somehow unique above everything else. I had a high
level of riding and teaching skills, but didn't really feel the need to prove anything or
convince anyone of anything. I practiced my skills as a craft.

There are some who have a similar passion about the accordion - many having
come back to the instrument after a long absence. The passion consumes many of
them, causing the instrument to become a large part of their life. And they share
their passion with others - but unfortunately for the future of the accordion, most of
the sharing is with their peers, others closer to their own age group.

A goal of Accordion Heroes is to sustain the rich heritage of the Accordion in the
Americas - but the critical part of Accordion Heroes is sharing the heritage with new
generations of players. That is also the critical and most defining challenge of
Accordion Heroes. It is critical as the instrument needs new players to survive. It is
challenging as we live in a new culture, and even though many of us embrace the
social networking capabilities of the new culture, it is not ingrained in our thought
processes like it is with younger generations. We need to engage the assets and
talents of younger generations so as to become part of the solution. They also need
an accordion environment similar to what happened with the rebirth of motorcycles
in the early 1990s.

And as a final thought, you often hear that the accordion needs a super-star. But
carry that thought out a bit further. What if it happened? What if the accordion's
Justin Beiber burst into our culture the way Dick Contino did some 60 years ago? It
might be the accordion's golden opportunity, but it could as easily be the accordion's
15 minutes of fame, disappearing as fast as it came. And perhaps something that
would make a difference is a structure to support the artist(s) in addition to a
infrastructure that would support the instrument. Both of those things were in place
some 60 years ago. And hopefully the foundations will once again be there as we
see an increase in the interest in accordion - and that is really what Accordion
Heroes is about. But we need the skills of younger players to make it happen - and
that is also what Accordion Heroes is about.

The Loss of An Accordion Hero

Page 346
Saved Rounds

03/01/12

My mother passed away several weeks ago. I have often spoken of the support my
parents provided to my accordion studies and career. It was a long term
commitment - and it went far beyond money. It was also encouragement and an
enormous amount of time.

Neither of my parents played musical instruments. I was told that my grandparents

on my Mother's side played piano, but they were both gone before I was born. I find
it curious that my dad, as a true super-jock, was so supportive of a kid that was
interested in music. He often cheered my efforts and accomplishments in terms
more typically reserved for athletes. Both of my brothers were very athletic, so in my
youth I didn't really know anything different. Looking back today I find it rather
amusing.

I was always amazed at how at how well my mother could hear - especially for a
non-player. I took a course at UCLA on music criticism from the music critic of the
Los Angeles Times who often expressed doubts on the reliability in non-playing
critics to hear the nuances of musical detail they often reported in their reviews. But
my mother could hear those details. I could play an unfamiliar recording and she
could often name artist. She listened to music incessantly throughout her life. And
she always remained my most severe critic - though doing so in a passive
aggressive way that only a mother can achieve.

I often talk of accordionists of the golden age - and in retrospect there are few that
my parents did not also know. Many were guests in our home and remained close
friends for a lifetime. We rarely played for each other - and for that matter, actually
rarely spoke about accordion. That was done without words during actual
performances. There was certainly enough accordion squawking during my daily
practice.

But in the earliest years, I did play for anyone who would listen - especially family.
Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins (sometimes under protest), brothers
(nearly always under protest), and even neighbors. And once started, I was pretty
hard to turn off.

I must say that I think the most of family and friends who have passed on when I
now play. In fact, it is hard to play without doing so. But it is not in sadness, it is
with gratitude and even a certain joy. And I know that they are with me in that part of
them that remains with me; and perhaps some of me remains in that part of them
that is them. And I can visualize my grandparents, parents, and even brothers
crowded into a small living room as I power through every piece I know with dazzling
speed and passion - my mother making mental notes of places that need more
practice - my grandparents with a slightly confused look - my brothers wondering
how much longer I will keep this up - and my dad secretly anxious to get back to the
fights on the television.

Page 347
Saved Rounds

The Beauty of Imperfection

03/03/12

I recently wrote this review of The Beauty of Imperfection, The Dick Contino
Story that was published in Accordion News USA and Amazon. For those who may
not be aware of the book or did not read the reiview, I am republishing here. If you
have not read the book, you should get a copy.

The Beauty of Imperfection, The Dick Contino Story

a review by William Cosby

Toward the end of "The Beauty of Imperfection", The Dick Contino Story, Dick writes
that he has never considered himself an accordionist, per se. Thus, it makes sense
that this is most certainly not an accordion book, per se. Dick continues that the
accordion was a way to express himself. And given the inherent physical and
musical capabilities of an accordion, it is unlikely he could have made a better
choice.

There are those who say Contino is the "World's Greatest Accordionist"; and in
terms of his mastery over the totality of the instrument and his ability to connect with
an audience, he has few peers. In his success as a superstar who expressed
himself through his accordion; he has none.

Contino's words recount some wonderful historical moments, however, The Beauty
of Imperfection, is not structured as a chronology. Rather, it tells of his spiritual path
through life with a brutally honest disclosure of facing his inner demons. It is a story
of survival, both in terms of enduring severe phobias and life's complications that
often compounded them. This gives the autobiography a very unique and personal
spin.

The book doesn't provide background to any artistic intent or some unique musical
insight. Nor is it intended to justify any particular 'life' decision. There is no such
pretense. Music or musical performance that demands explanation is of
questionable artistic value anyway. It works or it doesn't work. Ultimately, life's
actions are also defined by the outcome, be it internal to the individual or external in
how it affects others. Contino expresses his love of studying humanity above almost
anything else - and one of the primary rewards of The Beauty of Imperfection is a
disclosure some very personal aspects of his own humanity - not presented for
validation or acceptance, but merely as what they are.

But there is another treasure in these pages: a very unique insight into the culture of
the time. One can read the dates and happenings of an era, but these can never
bring something to life like a personal story can. Dick's popularity and fame
exploded upon the country as a national craze - even more impressive when you

Page 348
Saved Rounds

consider that it was a long time before global media networking. He went viral
before the word was ever applied to a phenomenon. Through his story we have
insight into a world of headlines in major newspapers, network politics, trips behind
the Iron Curtain, and emergency meetings called by national heads of the Musician's
Union (an enormously powerful influence of the day), and an A-List of celebrities.
Certainly no other accordionist ever experienced or endured fame at this level, and
given the systems that support today's musical superstars, it is unlikely that they are
forced to deal with such a wide range of competing and complex issues.

Dick Contino has excited and thrilled audiences for over six decades. But through
his book, he now offers a very personal look behind the creativity - though not to
explain or justify, but to rather complete a spiritual cycle. He talks of survival, and
perhaps this autobiography is a gift of his survival - something missing from other
superstars with similar gifts where the cycle was cut short.

Many feel that humor is an essential part of any spiritual path, and most certainly a
critical part of survival. Dick's sense of humor also fills the pages of the book. In a
final chapter, Corky Bennett, Dick's long-time friend, confidant, and personal
comedian, provides an external look at Dick's sense of humor, providing the reader
with some very funny moments.

In the true sense of art, there will likely be people who will not resonate with this
book, and there will others who will truly embrace it: "I have felt that, or that has also
been part of me." But in the words of one of my favorite spiritual advisors, perhaps
this will make those who feel too comfortable a little less comfortable. And perhaps
it will make those who feel uncomfortable a little more comfortable. And sometimes
both are good.

The accordion world has often come up short in its recognition of Dick Contino, the
man, and Dick Contino, the accordionist. Perhaps it doesn't really matter. He has
never needed their validation. Here was a man who loved to play. And here was a
man who found the accordion the perfect media for what he needed to say.

Those who attend Accordion Heroes 2012 in Fredericksburg, VA, will have the
unique opportunity to meet Dick Contino and hear him play. It's not a lifetime
achievement award - such an attempt in his case would approach silliness. But
rather the opportunity to celebrate the legacy of one of this country's greatest
superstars who expressed himself with his accordion!

And the book, The Beauty of Imperfection, The Dick Contino Story, is as unique and
wonderful as the man who wrote it perhaps something even an accordionist will
enjoy.

Frank Marocco - the Loss of Another Accordion Hero

03/04/12

Page 349
Saved Rounds

It is with sadness that I read this morning of the passing of Frank Marocco. I last
heard Frank play at the Accordion Federation of North America's Festival in
Southern California two summers ago. Frank was a player whose inner essence
translated into everything he played, certainly contributing to his recognition as one
of the America's greatest accordion ambassadors - a legacy to a time that for the
most part that has vanished from our culture. His talent, technical proficiency, and
musicianship were totally brilliant.

With a mathematical mind I tend to categorize and catalogue almost everything; and
this includes how I group players into timelines. To me, Frank was in a group after
players like Galla-Rini, Tito Guidotti, Charles Magnante, the Deiros, Art Van Damme
and so many others - and before my group in which I would include players like
Stephen Dominko, Donald Hulme, Joe Macerollo, Johnny LaPadula, and George
Mandala. There are countless others that should be included in both groups.

Almost coinciding with the end of the group I just mentioned comes the start of the
great void: the accordion's fall-from-grace (many would say it went beyond a decline
in popularity) in the America's culture. The list becomes much sparser.

However, perhaps that has started to change. I become the most enthused when I
read the words of young players like Hannah Jane, Vince Demor and Albert
Manginelli - three of the young artists who will participate in the Artist Showcase at
Accordion Heroes. They share a passion for the instrument in words better than I
could ever write. And if there is a new breath for our instrument it is with players like
Michael Bridge, Jamie Maschler, Cory Pesaturo, Alicia Baker, and Chris Gorton
(also participating in the Artist Showcase at Accordion Heroes). If there is a future
for the accordion in the Americas, it is most likely they will form the core. And in my
opinion, if those of us from older generations truly have a passion for sustaining the
accordion in our culture, it might best be utilized in mentoring and supporting their
efforts. It's not about us, it is about them. And that is the center of what Accordion
Heroes is all about.

I would also mention that the survivors within the void provide a key role - providing
a critical link between our past and future directions. In this regard, Patricia Bartell
and Stas Venglevski will bring another unique offering to Accordion Heroes. In
addition to playing, they work on a daily basis with training teachers and mentoring
players - providing new visions beyond Sedlon and Palmer Hughes that better
resonate with a generation of new players. Some new programs scheduled to be
introduced at Accordion Heroes will be announced soon.

Maybe this sounds like an infomercial for Accordion - and I guess it is. But when all
is said and done, Accordion Heroes honors our lost heroes like Frank Marocco, but it
does so through providing support and encouragement to tomorrow's accordion
heroes. Dick Contino speaks of using the accordion to express himself. Frank did
the same thing. They did it in completely different ways - but given the versatility of
the instrument, the accordion was the perfect choice.

Page 350
Saved Rounds

Accordion and the Adult Learner

03/05/12

It seems that years ago there were fewer things to worry about. More likely, the
same things were there, it's just that the potential consequences from inherent
dangers didn't concern us as much. As kids, we often didn't see beyond what our
parents could fix. We knew they would take care of whatever it was; sometimes to
our liking, sometimes not. But with some luck we might be able to influence their
actions.

Then we mature into adults (at least some of us) and our perspectives change. We
have to pay for things we break. We don't heal as quickly. And discretionary money
is our issue. And ultimately we enter the realm of being an 'adult learner'. We hear
that term in terms of promised results or ease of application, but how many really
know what it means? Or for that matter, is there really an all-inclusive, definitive
definition? Do we learn differently as adults, or are we adult learners because we
are learning as adults?

Adult learning is an interesting topic and certainly has value, but there is something
at the core that is sometimes skimmed over and it is certainly one of the most critical
parts of adult learning. It can have any number of names or descriptors, but for now,
I will call it 'expectations.' The adult learner wants to learn something, and works
toward achieving an expected goal or outcome, and currently there are a lot of new
accordionists who are learning to play as adult learners.

I sometimes wonder how much thought has been given to expectations by the adult
learner? Has thought been given to the differences in expected outcomes for the
adult from music lessons provided to a 7-year-old? Is the retired lawyer really out to
learn discipline that will carry out through the rest of his life? Is the 7-year-old
playing simply for relaxation and musical enjoyment of himself and others?

And then comes the question of physical skills and muscle memory. How often do
we see the mature adult learning to ski advance to double-diamond (top expert)
trails? As a past skier I would suggest that playing an accordion is a much more
complex physical task (at least up to a certain level) than recreational skiing, though
the potential hazards of injury are much less.

So I sometimes shudder when I see an new adult accordion student plow head-on
into expectations of becoming a world-class virtuoso. But what concerns me even
more is watching how they approach the learning process - most specifically, the
muscle memory and physical skills. The enjoyment can quickly vanish relative to
how unrealistic the expectations are and the process used to achieve them.

But there is an extremely powerful advantage to the adult learner, though too often it
is overlooked; and that is something known as 'self-assessment'. Self-assessment

Page 351
Saved Rounds

starts with determining realistic expectations; and expectations should include things
like personal enjoyment in addition to technical proficiency. And self-assessment is
dynamic, helping the adult learner keep everything in perspective.

If have often heard it said that "if it isn't fun, it isn't worth doing", and a parallel might
be seen within the tenants of adult learning, "if there isn't a realistic expected
outcome, it will be difficult for the adult learner to maintain interest."

I would encourage the adult learner to keep it all in perspective. I doubt I will ever be
accused of encouraging someone to 'honk for the sake of honking'. The adult
learner can most certainly achieve total mastery over the instrument (my definition of
virtuosity) - but this will more likely be accomplished through realistic and dynamic
expectations - and by having some fun.

The Equalizer - It's not an adventure, it's a job

03/06/12

I work my day-time job in a pair of large office buildings. Each building constitutes
an entire city block and they are connected with an underground concourse. Huge
atriums are in the center of each building; a design intended to bring natural light to
as many of the endless rows of cubes as possible. Upper management have private
offices, but the majority of the workers are generally exposed, often providing
curiosities for passers-by.

The previous building had private offices; and when we moved a few years ago
there was great consternation with the loss of privacy given the cube layout of the
new building. But for the people watcher, there was a trade-off. In such a densely-
packed mass of humanity there is always so much to see. And even should the job
become increasingly tedious, repetitive, or outright boring, the people wouldn't.

And as the job becomes increasingly tedious, repetitive, or outright boring, the
people watcher's perception can increase exponentially. One tends to notice new
things, or paths or trends. There is a trend I have recently noticed that I find
especially interesting; and as I can actually draw a parallel to players of our
instrument I want to mention it here.

The cafeteria is in the East Atrium, and though there is a large amount of seating,
many people carry food back to their office, often through the underground
concourse back to the West Building. And given the concentration of food-carrying
people, I have noticed an interesting pattern. People's energy changes when they
are carrying food - perhaps even more when they are carrying it than when they are
eating it. The walls are down. You can see an anticipation, even if it is somewhat
veiled. They are transformed into little kids. It is rare to see anger behind their
eyes. There is a certain joy and it often exposes a very pleasant side of a person.

Page 352
Saved Rounds

Over the years I have seen similar 'blanket' reactions in other situations - and have
recently been classifying them as equalizers. For example, there is vulnerability of
even the strongest personality when facing a medical procedure, or for that matter,
even with dealing with something like the DMV. The facade of power is gone. It is
another equalizer. In this case, the equalizer may be seen as fear, or some level of
surrender - something similar to what I often see in my more submissive dogs.

Food is a direct pleasure. It doesn't require thought or analysis to enjoy, though

thinking or analysis can certainly impair one's enjoyment, like worrying about too
many calories or too much sodium. Sex is another direct pleasure, but one often
connected to a lot of baggage.

Then we come to music, but in this case the player. I would suggest that you
consider him (or her) in the roll of person carrying the food. Sometimes there is an
immense joy, an anticipation of something that will produce pleasure without any
great analysis. It can be something they are willing to share it, and the listener
choose to be transported with them.

However, there is a different type of food carrying - consider the person schlepping
the crate of rolls out of the McDonald's delivery truck. The person is carrying food,
but in this case, it's not an adventure, it's a job. But in the end, that person could be
providing the capability for an even greater number of people to enjoy the food. And
while I used the example of McDonald's, it could also be some unbelievably
exquisite fare - something that will ultimately bring a large people to a level of
incomprehensible delight.

I have often written about the craft of playing - especially with the professional
musician. And I would suggest that sometimes the delivery can be quite pragmatic,
but with the capability of being effective at the highest level.

So somewhere in the middle of all this is a balance. And, at least from my

perspective, the only real problem comes when someone tries to fake too far to
either one side or the other; because if there is one ultimate equalizer, it would be
honesty.

It's Not a Competition - Or Is It?

03/07/12

Many years ago during my Music Emporium (my 1960's rock band) days, we
ventured out on a Sunday afternoon to a mega-club-venue to give their open mike,
come-one-come-all a try. The 'Bank' was in my home town, Torrance, California, in
the middle of an industrial area. It had been converted from a factory into a rock
club - which in the 1960's usually amounted to taking everything out, putting in a
stage and a sound system, and hanging a continuous panel of what looked like

Page 353
Saved Rounds

white bed-sheets around the perimeter to do the psychedelic slide shows (one of the
best visual examples I can cite is the cover of Iron Butterfly, In A Gada da Vida).

So we showed up with our instruments in tow. The Bank was huge, but on this
particular Sunday it was relatively empty. I never saw it fully in action on a Friday or
Saturday night as either Music Emporium would be playing or I would be doing my
accordion Italian wedding shtick with the Mike Ruggerio Orchestra.

I was no more a fan of jam sessions in 1967 than I am now - but we hoped that if
they heard us they might invite us to perform on one their regular nights. There
were a couple up-and-coming bands with pending record deals that the owner had
personally invited and one of them was playing when we arrived. And they played
and played and played with long songs and even longer jams. If the drugs were
good enough, a song could go on forever. When they finally finished, a couple local
high school bands were shuttled through with very short sets until we finally
convinced them to let us have a turn. Three of us had early college classes Monday
morning and there were things we would rather be doing on a Sunday afternoon
besides listen to other rock bands. Were we the ones playing, it would have been
justifiable.

I remember the manager showing his irritation with us, pointing to how the other
bands were content to wait patiently. To him, we were out of the spirit of
psychedelic, drug-induced mentality of 1960's rock band. After all, this was a
cultural and spiritual happening, not a competition. And spiritual events have no
concept of time. After about three songs we were ushered off the stage.

I was recently reading an article about Glenn Gould on the internet. It said that
through the course of his career, Glenn Gould performed far fewer times than most
of his counterparts. To him, modern musical performance had become too much
like a competition; contrary to his views on making music. The audience became
the judge, and there were always expectations, many tied more technical feats than
musical content. And as the artist succumbs to the expectations, the more likely the
musical intent is likely to suffer. One might see an example of his philosophy by
comparing Horowitz, who performed his way to technical perfection in and out of
mental institutions, to Arthur Rubinstein, who always gave a genuine sense of just
loving to play - a mistake or two didn’t have that much significance to either him or
the audience.

And as I do my own self-evaluation, I know that nearly everything in my life is

competition driven. Growing up in a family of athletes and ultra-high achievers,
everything was competitive. If you couldn't something well, it wasn't worth doing or
perhaps you should be doing it. And there are those who would suggest that being
successful requires a level of competitiveness.

We have said that Accordion Heroes is not a competition; and that is true in the
traditional sense. But whereas Accordion Heroes is not a formal competition, I

Page 354
Saved Rounds

would suggest that the artists at Accordion Heroes will face an internal challenge.
Accordion Heroes is for tomorrow's accordionists, and our purpose is to support
them on their journey and do whatever possible to make them successful. And
doing that selflessly might be a challenge for those of us who have been competitive
all our lives.

But if we successfully meet the internal challenge, the young players and the
accordion will be the winners.

Personal Values and Finding the Toilet

03/08/12

I spent 23 years at West Point, the United States Military Academy, 17 years as the
Instructor of Cadet Music and Music Director and Conductor of the West Point Glee
Club. Despite the number of years I spent there, it is something I have rarely written
about in this blog. Nevertheless, my time at West Point had an enormous impact on
my life and perception of personal values.

Except for the first year, all my time at West Point was spent working with the Corps
of Cadets. Even during the summer, my assignment was at Cadet Field Training at
Camp Buckner. At times I was responsible for mentoring cadets, and the concepts
of Duty, Honor and Country and the Leadership Model were thoroughly engrained in
all parts of my life. Not actually being a cadet, I always knew I was looking in from
the outside, even though I was in the center of the system - but it became part of
me. Those were some of the best and most rewarding years of my life.

However, sometimes good things become liabilities, and in years following West
Point, especially when I came back to work for the Navy, Marine Corps, and finally
US Department of Transportation - I have often found myself trying to live with a
sense of values in conflict with everything around me in the work environment.

I had some generous life-mentors at West Point, much of what the Leadership
system is all about - and many years later I asked a friend if perhaps my perception
of the values I embraced at West Point were something that I had adopted in my
mind; and in reality unrealistic. Maybe those who lived the full experience had a
more realistic set of expectations, both of one's self and the people we work with.
His response was that the values were true, and when everything is said and done,
that is all we have.

I would summarize what West Point was about quite simply (these are my words);
doing the right thing for the right reason. And I would say that nearly all my
experience with leadership at West Point followed these values.

Page 355
Saved Rounds

So many years later, what I more typically see is rarely doing the right thing for the
right reason. More typically it is not about what someone is doing, it is about, how do
I look doing this? The outcome is secondary if it has a position at all.

It is not really that far of a stretch to tie some of this to music - both in performance
itself as well as things we do to support the instrument.

Not too many years after Woodstock, a fellow rocker provided a very interesting
summation of his experience at the Festival. He said that while it was a never-to-be-
forgotten event, unfortunately many of the performances were disappointing. Too
many of the performers were more drawn into, "look at me, up on a stage in front of
a half-million people" than the performance. I was in basic training during
Woodstock so I didn't get to go, but I have sometimes found myself considering his
view when watching the movie version.

And I can also see some possibility of truth in his words when I look at certain
performances. Sometimes it seems to be more about the show (I call it
choreography) than the music. Even with National Symphony Orchestra, I have
seen some guest conductors who are so concerned with demonstrating their
mastery over every detail - and feel a need to add a visual enticement - that it really
gets in the way of the orchestra. It's a fine line. So it is a question I am always
asking myself: is it about the music or is it about the show. I know it will never be all
one or the other, but rather balance what you are playing and the audience.

And a final note on doing the right thing for the right reason might be seen in
evaluating our motives in activities we support to help the instrument. Are our
activities to help the instrument really a veil to make ourselves look less self-
serving?

Some of the things I have mentioned here are entwined in my personal set of
values. To be honest, I don't think I do any of them very well, otherwise I wouldn't
be so vocal and passionate about all of it. I also know that repeating something,
even louder, doesn't make it true.

But a parting shot: I have always been willing to embrace the actions and words of
the best leadership models in my life - accordion or otherwise. When Tito or Galla-
Rini said something, I wanted to do it. I would give everything humanly possible
because I trusted them and what they were about.

It is the same thing with nearly all of my role-models from West Point. I would have
followed them into nearly any endeavor, even into harm's way. They earned my
trust and knew they were doing the right thing for the right reason. Now in contrast, I
wouldn't voluntarily follow some of my more recent leadership into any endeavor as I
don't share their concern about how they look doing something. I can find my own
way to the toilet.

Page 356
Saved Rounds

Randy (Arase) Revisited

03/09/12

I continue to write about the unique heritage of the accordion in the Americas and
there are times when my passion is reignited. This morning I had one of those times
as I happened to listen to the Neofonic recording done by Randy Arase.

Randy was a fellow student of Tito's when Tito and I went in separate ways back in
the early 1960's. Randy was one of the most impressive young bassetti virtuoso's of
the day. What Tito had started with me in composing Hollywood Fantasia and
several jazz bassetti arrangements exploded into a whole new genre of creative
output with Randy. And Randy was more than up to the task both musically and
technically.

In my opinion, there are certain elements intrinsic to the American accordion

culture - especially in the bassetti realm. One is incredible technique - and Tito
produced that. The second was in utilization of the left hand; especially with free-
bass. I have commented several times in the blog that much of the contemporary
accordion music uses the current converter like (what I have named) a chromatic
stradella. I am not saying it is good or bad - better or worse - but it is a different
use. On the other hand, the alternate approach was using the left hand as an equal
partner to the right hand. And in original music, Tito probably did this like no other.
It makes some of his music fiendishly difficult, but the result is justified.

However, there is another characteristic in Tito's music (so well played by Randy)
that points to his genius - and that is the sound that comes from the instrument. No
key banging, bellows-slapping, air-button-solo extravaganza's - but rather music -
using the reeds and the system used to produce sound in a way that transports the
instrument a wonderful height.

It is unfortunate this album is not currently available in commercial distribution.

So to Tito - thanks for being such a visionary and leaving us such a wonderful
legacy. Your genius is timeless. And to Randy by any standards set on any day,
you continue to amaze me. Bravo!

Limited Visions

03/10/12

"For there is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so," is an expression I
started using a few years ago. I only realized it came from Shakespeare's Hamlet
sometime later when after being challenged on the exact words I took the time to do
a search on the internet.

Page 357
Saved Rounds

The search was prompted by an ego thing as the exact words were not really that
important; but the message was. I needed to live life for many years before I would
be capable of understanding those words or to have a place for them in my life.

The accordion was the central focus of my life for many years. Very few things
competed. But an absence from the accordion for almost 30 years, my return
prompted a new look. And with that look came a new view, not only because the
cultural environment of the accordion had changed so dramatically, but also
because I had gained a wide variety of professional and personal experiences that
placed a new bias on what I saw.

Like the person with a genuine compulsive character (anything worth doing is worth
overdoing), it wasn't long before my mind was completely engulfed in the most
minute details of everything accordion. It was far beyond picking up the instrument
and playing, I questioned the music, the players, the instruments, the industry, and
of course, the culture. I have documented a large part of my thoughts in the pages
of this blog, though many times I have softened the way I have said things. There is
always the worry of offending someone.

I also try to look at where I am coming from, and beyond that I often question the
value or motives of what might write. Is it important to anyone besides myself? Or
at times, is it even that important to myself?

One of the most rewarding experiences upon my return was learning more about
Gregory Stone from the thesis written by his daughter. Gregory often said, "we don't
talk about music, we play music." These are words written by the consummate
craftsman - words that reflect a totality of self-confidence in his art. I doubt that
Gregory entertained inner-questions about what he was doing. I would also doubt
that someone like Evgeny Kissen spends hours in deep thought about the future of
the piano or the repertoire. The piano and the repertoire are just too stable.

It is not that artists in other musical genre's haven't done explorations, and over the
years I have sometimes felt drawn to such work; for example, Wanda Landowska in
her crusade to hear Bach's music played on a baroque instrument.

It would first seem the accordion has undergone such very drastic swings in
popularity and what people do with the instrument. But what are our perceptions on
this? Have the swings or the perceptions describing the swings been
misrepresented or colored by certain groups of players or the industry? Have we
tried to force the instrument into things it is not? And are the successes or failures of
outcomes biased by our perceptions?

Perhaps tomorrow's players will take a different approach, to include different

expectations. Perhaps they will let the instrument stand on what it is rather than feel
the need to force it into a mold trying to copy what has worked with other
instruments that may not be all that similar to the accordion, culturally or otherwise.

Page 358
Saved Rounds

And what do we do to help them in their journey? Can we help prevent them from
placing themselves in mindsets that may limit not only them but ultimately the
instrument? And maybe we need to sometimes remind ourselves that the ultimate
measure is how we play the accordion - not how we talk about it.

Let's All Use Really Big Words

03/12/12

Certain things change time over time. Sometimes it is driven by culture or a socio-
economic evolution; other times it may just be our perception of something, or more
likely a combination of both.

I took a college physics course from a (theatrically) mad physicist by the name of
Julius Sumner Miller, a prized student and lifelong friend of Albert Einstein. His
reputation as a college professor was only exceeded by his reputation as a
television personality; bringing the magic of physics to the masses, especially
children. I had convinced one of my friends to stand in a long line in order to get into
the class. I convinced her that if we had to take science classes, we might as well
be entertained. We ended up in the front row and by the end of the first evening we
both wondered if both the class and the front row were a mistake.

Anyway, Miller had this thing for grammar and was known to openly correct the
grammar of both students and faculty members. He was loud and in-your-face - all
of it being more entertaining when it was directed toward someone else. He also
liked to use big words. After using one he would often put a student on the spot
asking them if they knew what it meant. If they didnt, he would scream, "then look it
up!" It was a hard-love version of Patrick's initial encounter with Auntie Mame and
his little book.

I learned lots of big words that year - and being impressionable it became a trait for
a long while. How many words could I use that mere commoners would not
understand? I can see the need for a good working vocabulary, but this went far
beyond that. These were words from the depths of obscurity, waiting to die, typically
with highly specific meanings. Properly using them (at least for me) took a lot of
thought and analysis - but I figured my friends wouldn't know what they meant
anyway, so I didn't hesitate throwing them around at will.

I was also influenced by my Dad, who wrote in a somewhat convoluted

academeeze. Sentences were an entire paragraph and you often had to read
something several times to realize you still didn't know what he was trying to say.

I later had professors who discouraged complex for the sake of complex, but my
views on writing finally changed some years later at West Point when I started
working with other staff members on various assignments. I came to appreciate the
value of language that was clear and easy to understand. Big words for the sake of

Page 359
Saved Rounds

big words and sentences that required a slide-rule to decipher were not a desirable
goal.

There are similar things in music. Sometimes a written composition is overly

technical for the sake of being technical and sometimes too cerebral. In either case,
a little goes a long way.

It can be the same thing in improvisation, and it is certainly not limited to jazz. We
have all heard cocktail pianists running up and down the keyboard in endless
sequences of arpeggios and scales, as if it were necessary to justify the worth of
some piece of music. Or maybe they are just bored and didn't have time to practice
exercises that morning. And who hasn't been amazed at how many notes can be
squeezed into a jazz ride - or how much chords can be altered by pushing a handful
of stradella chord buttons at the same time.

All of it is fine line, and there are artists who can balance technical brilliance with the
most subtle of musical nuance. The great ones provide a variety and range that
sustains the listener's interest. The less-than-great-ones, well, that is another story.

The inspiration for this blog came from a young man at work. At every opportunity
big words pop into his vocabulary - and the higher the leadership presence he is
trying to impress, the higher number big words. Years ago I would have found it a
challenge, but now I simply find it irritating as it brings me out of my daze, not
necessarily to the topic at hand but rather, "what did he just say?" But in reality, I
don't care. Big words do not increase either my interest or understanding in the
topic. It is the same as the overplayed improvisation - trying to cover with fluff when
a player does not trust that the content is sufficient to stand on it's own.

A Diversion

03/13/12

I got some feedback following yesterday's blog. One of my old (figurative)

friends related his childhood memories of Julius Sumner Miller following my brief
reference to him yesterday.

I find it interesting to follow the internet searches that bring people to the pages of
this blog. Very few are searching my name. A moderate number are searching
Giulietti, bassetti or something relative to an accordion or manufacturer. However,
around 50% are searching for a name or an event that are often a part of my stories,
but may or may not have any direct connection to accordion. I understand this as
I often do similar searches, looking for even the smallest detail that will point me in
the right direction to find information about a person or event.

Page 360
Saved Rounds

I try to use the story-telling, narrative aspects of this blog to bring people and events
to life. I also enjoy reading other people's stories. For me it is certainly more fun
than a strict chronology of dates and events.

So in keeping with the story-telling nature of this blog, I thought I would share some
additional comments that are inspired from my memories of Julius Sumner Miller.

Miller was absolutely incredible. His class was an experience I will never forget.
The only session we could get was in the evening - the morning one filled up almost
instantly. In the first session of the class he invited people in the class to bring their
kids. He told us that our kids (if we had them) were the age this particular class
should be conducted for anyway. He had them sit on the floor in the front and in the
aisles. The kids had a ball. He even took some extra time to teach them some
fundamentals of calculus - something else he said a kid could easily comprehend.

First thing out of his mouth at the first class "of all the college courses I have ever
taught, I have only given 4 'A's' -- how many people are going to drop this class?"
He followed that with, "of anything I ever say in a class or you read in a book, you
will never see any of it on any of my tests. How many people are going to drop this
class?"

Everything had real-time demonstrations - he loved using toys and common

household items. He would often build something up and then never provide the
answer. He would end by telling us to think about it.

Miller had a heart attack mid year and I went with my friend to visit him in the
hospital. We did the niceties, then he finally looked at Diane (my friend) and said, "I
know the real reason you came. You want to know the answer to that question
about the bird in the cage - and you are afraid I am going to die and you will never
figure it out. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I am still not going to tell you. You
need to think about it some more." He always had that wonderful gleam in his eye.

I remember so many of those moments with such clarity - even after all these years
. I guess that is the true mark of a great teacher. But I also remember the
experiments and how excited he would get - playing with some small toy and then
asking the class to explain the physics that made it work; or putting out a cigarette in
an open container of gasoline. What a great man. I am surprised more people don't
know of him. If I remember correctly, one of his shows was "Why is it So?" I also
seem to remember him on Steve Allen Show (one of my all-time favorites) quite
often - which is what made him so popular with my peers.

Biographies of Miller explain that the preferred smaller college environments to the
often cavernous settings in large universities. An interesting observation for
someone who was perhaps as great of a natural entertainer as he was physicist.

Page 361
Saved Rounds

But my story of Miller is of the influence of a truly great teacher. However, some of
my most influential teachers were not entertainers nor ever made any such
pretense. They never pretended or tried to be something they werent. Many were
quiet, soft spoken, and reserved. And though my stories about them may not be as
dramatic, ultimately they were equally effective as Miller and each played an
important role.

When I was training motorcycle safety instructors I often emphasized that they
should not pretend to be something they were not. If they could be funny or
entertain, that was okay, but I also cautioned them that it could become a liability
when it overpowered the curricula. It is the same teaching music. But in summary, I
would say the most powerful characteristic (knowing what you are doing is a given
and an entirely new topic) will always be honesty.

Expanding Horizons

03/14/12

An Amazon package arrived yesterday, delivering a copy of a newly-published book

I heard about the end last week. The Internet and E-Commerce are so amazing!
We can have just about anything we want when we want it. In this case, no going
to a book store, have them look it up (which prior to computers could be a real task),
order it, and then wait. Now we find it online, look for the lowest price, and order.

Over the weekend I was talking with Accordion Heroes 2012 activities with some
local friends. I remarked that one of our goals is expanding our young artists'
knowledge of the many aspects of the accordion.

Squeeze This is a cultural history of the Accordion in this country and I am anxious
to read it. A cursory look at the index and a quick flip-through made me realize I will
personally get to expand my own views as I journey into the pages of the book.

I spoke of Julius Sumner Miller in the last two blogs, and my friend who inspired
continuing into the second entry also touched a topic always consider critically
important, and that is the exposure of the young music student to musical
performance. From my earliest college days, professors emphasized the lack of
exposure by young musicians to musical performance and repertoire. I came to
realize that the sheer pleasure of listening to music, especially live performance,
would be something that would carry throughout my lifetime.

I do not like living in the Washington DC metropolitan area. I detest the traffic, the
infrastructure of the highway system, and the fact that I am not close to water (first
preference is the Pacific Ocean). But one thing I do like about the area is the
proximity of the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and the variety and scope of
world-class performances in all genres. This is almost enough to off-set everything
else. Jim and I are toally spoiled.

Page 362
Saved Rounds

A critical impact that college had on me was my first true immersion into non-
accordion music. I have written how Dr. Haag would pile us into his pale-green,
stick shift, 1960 Falcon and we would head out to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.
He always bought extra season tickets. In my early accordion days I heard Galla-
Rini, Magnante, Tito, Molinari, and countless other fellow-students. But now I
routinely heard the Los Angeles Philharmonic with the world's greatest conductors
and soloists. Now it was Rubinstein, Richter, Browning, Gilels, Van Cliburn, Dichter,
Serkin, Barenboim, Bachauer, Mehta - this becomes a very long list. And today, the
variety and standard of excellence at the Kennedy Center is probably exceeded only
in New York City.

The level of such excellent performances, both yesterday and today, represent my
standard. It is rare I don't come away inspired from a performance. If I don't ever
experience artistic excellence at that level, how can I know what I am trying to
achieve when I play accordion?

My friend told of a college professor in a rural town who chartered busses to take his
students to high-caliber performances. He also suggested that perhaps we should
be taking our young artists at Accordion Heroes to a performance at that level -
perhaps it is something some of them have never had the opportunity to experience.

It is likely something we cannot do - at least this year. But encouraging young artists
to experience a wide genre of musical styles is something we must do. And
hopefully they will also have the opportunity to experience true artistry, also in a
variety of musical genres. Depending on where they are, this could be a challenge -
but one that is worth the effort

Goodbye to a Friend

03/15/12

Toward the end of the day I do one last check of Email. I was shocked when I read
of the passing of long-time friend. My first thoughts were that he was just too
young. Glenn Harper was the Cadet-in-Charge (President) of the West Point Glee
Club my first year.

When I started my tenure as Conductor and Music Director of the club, Colonel
Schempf, my predecessor, told me that I would always remember the early years;
every last detail about people, places, and things. In time things would run
together. Over the years I have found this to be true, not only with the Glee Club but
with other things in my life that have continued for any extended period of time.

Glenn was a perfect match in my early days of working with cadets. I was a
misplaced accordionist and aspiring rock star suddenly placed in the center of the
United States Military Academy: an institution resplendent in nearly unequaled
traditions, history, and legacies. I started in the Academy Band, but after a year I

Page 363
Saved Rounds

was working with the Cadet Glee Club. one of the most popular activities within the
Corps of Cadets. The Army Officers who served as the Officers-in-Charge were
faculty members and a far cry (with the exception of Colonel Schempf) from the
leadership in the band. Nothing in my life previous had given any indication that I
would end up in such a position. And at that time I never had any idea that I would
remain at West Point for 23 years.

Both the Cadets and the Officer cadre made me feel welcome from the start. If I
ever had any negative preconceptions about West Point, they quickly vanished.
Glenn was an exceptionally kind and gentle person with a wonderful sense of
humor. He was one of the top cadets in his graduating class and at that time the top
cadets had the opportunity to go directly into medical school. We lost touch for a
very long time, but I learned he had become an extremely successful doctor.

When I started working with the Alumni Glee Club in the DC area several years ago,
Glenn was a member. His participation was a surprise I had never anticipated. At
West Point I accepted that my association with cadets would be during their time at
West Point. It was rare that I could stay in contact after they left. The life of a cadet
changes more dramatically after graduation than a typical university graduate.
That's just part of being in the Army.

Glenn changed less over those 37 years than anyone else I knew. I would have
easily recognized him on the street and his genuine sincerity and wonderful sense of
humor were still part of him.

In years past, with the exceptions of the Cadet Cadre, I spent very little time in
individual social interaction with members of the Glee Club. Their schedules were
just too full. I knew them through the rehearsals and performances and the hours
we spent crowded into military planes and chartered busses. Here I would
paraphrase one of Gregory's visions where he says we play music, we don't talk
about music to say, "we have friends, but there are certain parts of friendship that
are degraded when we try to explain them in words." Those are the parts that live
deep within us.

Several years ago the West Point Alumni Glee Club did the sound track for their
DVD of "The Long Grey Line" and then went to the French Embassy for a
performance commemorating World War II Veterans. There is one huge difference
between a solo performance and conducting, especially a choral group. As a
conductor, if you are comfortable, you can guide a group far and above hiding
behind a necessity to beat time. But in doing so, you open yourself to an interaction
with those you are conducting and even a vulnerability that is also very hard to
describe.

The impact of a WPAGC performance comes as much from the makeup of the
group as from the actual music, but in either event, it was the best the WPAGC had
ever sung. There is something about singing WW II songs and other military

Page 364
Saved Rounds

compositions to survivors and those who have dedicated their lives or lost family
members in a life of military service.

And from a person who continually speaks of musical analysis and craft in
performance, I must admit that I was emotionally touched. Throughout the
performance I could see it was having the same effect on Glenn. I couldn't look at
him. When it was over, he said two words that summed it all up, "It's okay". And I
knew what he meant. It was all he needed to say.

Plug and Play

03/18/12

There have been certain electrical items throughout the course of my life that have
lasted much longer than I anticipated. For example, my last two television sets each
lasted over 15 years and were replaced because they were just too outdated. They
were both fully functional when I finally replaced them. In contrast, it seems the
design of other things have become expendable. My first VHS recorder lasted over
ten years. On the other hand, a few years after their introduction one could buy a
CD or DVD player at a supermarket for less than $50.00: though some of these
items lasted less than a year and when they stopped working you threw them away.

Through the years I also watched the frustration of my parents in dealing with certain
evolutions: my parents nearly stopped buying CDs and DVDs as they couldn't get
the packages open.

As technology has evolved with an ever-increasing number of features, the ramp-up

time has also become more demanding; even more so with the attempts to make
things more user intuitive. Sometimes there is improvement, other times it seems
that making something user-friendly just makes the experience more frustrating.

An interesting experience that has occupied too much of my time for the last two of
days is setting up a new 'Smart' television. This experience has resulted in a time-
consuming challenge in adapting to a new technology - both in getting it set up, and
then learning how it works.

I worked with midi for many years, and in early times getting it set up and making it
work could be a very time consuming process. Even the sequence of turning on the
various components could mean the difference between successful functioning and
frustration. But I was able to take on each new challenge as I added something new
or went to new software: one task at a time.

However, today it is often an entirely new technological environment. The Smart TV

does a never ending variety of tasks. Same thing with the recent addition of an
aftermarket GPS/XM Radio/Ipod player/Smart phone unit I recently put in my car.

Page 365
Saved Rounds

Often documentation is not included as a printed document per se. It is merely

intuitive to the design.

But with my personality, I would not be satisfied until I had every last feature of the
Smart TV figured out. And it wasn't until I after I had gone to bed last night that I
finally figured out why I couldn't get the QWERTY remote paired with the system.
So I got back up and gave it another try - and it worked.

Now putting all this in some type of perspective for this blog, I might compare it with
playing a different acoustic accordion. Sure, the switches might be in a different
place, the response might be different; it may have a greater range, even a different
left-hand system. But the basics of producing tone are the same, be it can be the
1938 Excelsior or the new Giulietti. Though there is an increased challenge with
different bassetti positions, even that keyboard is still basically the same. With rare
exception, I can pick it up and play it.

I enjoy learning new technologies - and I am glad that I can figure most of it out. I
also know that when I successfully complete the challenge, the information is mine.
I love computers and I am convinced I would have completely fried my brains if they
had been around in my youth.

But I also know that my ramp-up time with new technology will likely be much slower
than by someone who grew up with computers. It is a different culture. I also
believe that the process of sharing music in the digital age is something that is likely
better understood by the youth. This is one of the reasons we want to get them so
much more involved in the evolution process of Accordion Heroes. Smart TVs and
the rest of it are integral to their environment. Just like having to occasionally open a
stubborn DVD case for my parents, I hope the youth may help us solve the
mysteries of using every aspect of the digital age for the accordion

A Blast from The Past

03/20/12

It's not an old song, not an old friend, not an old accordion - but rather a return to my
early graduate study at UCLA. I first started in systematic musicology but in very
short order changed to historical musicology. The programs in both disciplines at
UCLA were among the top in the country.

In some ways it was a hard decision. Systematic musicology offered a very wide
range of topics which aligned well with my eclectic range of interests; everything
from hearing loss to musical therapy. Curiously, my interest in ethnic instruments
(an important part of systematic musicology) was actually quite minimal. I had little
interest in the displays that lined some of the hallways in Schoenberg Hall. At that
time I didn't consider the accordion a candidate as an ethnic instrument, though
some of that was a less than a full understanding of the accordion's role in various

Page 366
Saved Rounds

aspects of cultural America. Even though UCLA did not formally recognize an
accordion major, it was my instrument and I felt fully accepted by the faculty and
other students. I played for university-sponsored concerts and activities as much as
anyone playing a 'legitimate' instrument.

Systematic musicology seemed to reflect a very relaxed environment at UCLA, but I

didn't have the same feelings about Historical Musicology. It was an extremely
demanding and unforgiving environment. I have often said that West Point
influenced my sense of professional values and leadership, but UCLA shaped my
sense of the responsibilities inherent to research. Honed to a point sharper and
more cutting than the highest level of competition, my sense of those
reponsibilities is something that has never left. It is rare that I haven't judged any
pretense of research from then up to the current day by those standards.

Much of that came from Robert M. Stevenson; a driving force at UCLA and
historical musicology in general. He became my faculty advisor. As a graduate
student, life could be terrifying if he didn't like you. However, it could even be worse
if he did. I wrote a few days ago about how Julius Sumner Miller was often openly
critical of the use of vocabulary and grammar by his students as well as his peers.
But Miller was part entertainer and one might even have been flattered, if not
amused, by the attention. Not so with Stevenson. His criticism cut like a knife and if
there was ever a pretense of humor it was lost on me. In any event, Stevenson liked
me. The Acting Dean of Fine Arts (who was the original logistical coordinator for the
Sinatra Competition) once told me that Stevenson had remarked in a faculty meeting
that I was one of the only people currently at the school who had any business on a
concert stage. Both of us knew it was a ridiculously absurd comment. But for
whatever reason, I was attracted to the genius of the man. My dad always said you
only improve when you surround yourself with people better than you are - and in
terms of discipline in research, it would have been difficult to find a higher standard.

Much of what I learned from Stevenson carried over into my professional life. I
learned to assign credibility only after checking sources. I learned to understand
and openly state my own biases when a decision would be made by someone else.
I learned not to express opinions unless they were called for and then only if I clearly
identified them as opinions. These traits served me well working with the military,
however, at other times they have not served me well as I regularly resort to a
position of intolerance when something I consider questionable is presented as fact
or as research.

I am on the second day of reading "Squeeze This", a Cultural History of the

Accordion in the United States. I plan to write a review when I finish. But whereas it
is difficult for me to passively listen to any musical performance (with some
exceptions) it is even more difficult to venture through such an effort as a critical
review of a book. In some ways it doesn't have as much to do with the effort of the
author - who is far less than successful at what she set out to do - but rather my self-
assumed position in reviewing the work - moving into another part of that cycle

Page 367
Saved Rounds

outlined by Stevenson. And knowing how to identify and acknowledge personal bias
while providing critical observations or even pointing out inaccuracies.

What's In A Name

03/22/12

For the past several days I have been reading "Squeeze This", a new book that
documents a cultural history of the accordion in the United States. The writer
presents an in-depth look at the accordion's rise and fall that cuts across the totality
of both the ethnic use and acceptance as a legitimate instrument; no doubt a huge
undertaking in slightly more than 200 pages.

Creating such a work would not be possible without a presentation of hard facts
combined with a lot of interviews. Establishing a credible balance between the facts
and the historical accuracy of the interviews (which by definition are often historically
inaccurate) is a challenge, but the larger challenge is providing an analysis - which
hopefully is accompanied with a declamation of bias, either by the story-teller or by
the writer. But alas, that is the stuff reviews are made of.

In the blogs, I become the story-teller. These are my stories. Very few things are
presented strictly as 'fact' as that would place different constraints on what I say. My
stories are my perceptions about things - how I view (or viewed) a particular event or
topic.

And there is one thread through the pages of the Squeeze This that immediately
brought my concentration to a halt; for to me it defined [my perception] a person's
ultimate paranoia with the accordion's fall, resulting in possibly the most powerful
reaction possible - disassociation.

I grew up with the John Sedlon Accordion Method (or whatever it was called). But
Palmer Hughes replaced it as the standard in the following years. Bill Palmer and
Bill Hughes. The Palmer Hughes Trio. I remember the pictures.

I first met Bill Palmer after he had been my judge in three different categories of the
Rocky Mountain Accordion Festival in Denver, 1961. I won the Top Open Solo
(Amateur), Top Open Professional (you didn't actually have to be a professional - I
was 15 at the time), and Open Jazz. It was my first venture out of Southern
California and had made the trip in our family trailer.

Bill talked to me at great length after the competition. I still have the score sheets
with his comments. Later he sent me some manuscripts of things he said his
publisher would not publish as they were too difficult. I remember him playing on the
concert that night - mainly St. Louis Blues on a 12-bass, bending the notes accented
with very distinct eyebrow choreography.

Page 368
Saved Rounds

In years following we met again at NAMM shows. By then I was demonstrating the
Giulietti Bassetti in the Giulietti room and Judith Linder was demonstrating the Titano
Converter in their room. Bill was a warm and engaging person and a fine musician.
I always enjoyed talking with him.

Fast forward to about 1972. I was now at West Point and in my first year as Music
Director and Conductor of the Cadet Glee Club. I had also started a more serious
venture into piano. It so happened that the West Point Band Director's wife was one
of the neighborhoods resident piano teachers and in conversation one day she
waxed and cooed about Dr. Willard Palmer and a new definitive publication of the
Bach Inventions. Out of curiosity I asked the name of the publisher and she said
Alfred (same as the method). I wondered how this could be coincidence.

In any event, Willard was doing a presentation in Delaware Water Gap in a few
weeks and we decided to go together. I never mentioned Bill Palmer or any
association with accordion.

We arrived at the hotel; the meeting room even had a large Yamaha Grand with
the lid on the high stick. The audience was mainly women piano teachers and I
thought many of them were ready to swoon. I quietly approached Dr. Willard and
Bill threw his arms around me in a big bear hug. In my ear he quietly said, "great
seeing you, please don't give me away." My piano teaching friend's shock continued
through the ride home, but I never explained.

We listened to the presentation. At one point someone asked for a demonstration

on the piano, but he politely refused saying that after all, he was a conductor, not a
pianist.

I was told that years later that Willard once again became Bill and rejoined with his
accordion heritage (Judge Judy would scream at me that this is hearsay, but it's
okay as I am presenting this as my story). He even played for accordion club
functions. I even caught a YouTube of him playing.

One thing for sure, he was influential in the world of accordion - and a great
musician. But one thing that stopped me in the book was the indiscriminate
switching between Bill and Willard. If it would have followed a chronology or been
explained, I think it would have added to the story. My perception was that when an
academic credential was needed for punctuation, the choice was Willard. But this is
my story - and I can't tell his. And I present my story as my interpretation - how I
saw things. But when I saw him in that hotel room in Delaware Water Gap, I
remember the feeling of embarrassment over being associated with accordion.

I often go as William Cosby rather than Bill - but mainly because of confusion with
the comedian. But one thing for sure, I am NOT funny. LOL

Beethoven and the Sopranos

Page 369
Saved Rounds

03/23/12

After nearly a week, my mind continues to ponder details of "Squeeze This", a

Cultural History of the Accordion in America. The book addresses both the ethnic
use and the recognition and rise of the accordion as a legitimate instrument in the
last century. While there are certainly connections between the two, my personal
experience is more directly related to the legitimate side, which provides the
opportunity for a greater bias toward my own personal observations and analysis.

One of the purposes of this blog has been to share my personal stories with the
hope of bringing people and experiences to life - but always with the caveat that
these are my stories - and not presented with any pretense of representing a
historically accurate chronology.

I have quoted Donald Rumsfeld in this blog numerous times, "There are things we
know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say there are things that
we now know we don't know. But there are also unknown unknowns. There are
things we do not know we don't know." I know or knew many of the people
mentioned in the book from the legitimate side of the accordion; in most cases this
went beyond a chance meeting or acquaintance. We shared musical exchanges as
peers - and the musical exchanges were exclusively what I was interested in. In
some instances, my experiences cause me to challenge some of the analysis
presented in Marion Jacobson's book. Sometimes I may agree the analytic
outcome, but not with the explanation of how she got there. At times there are just
too many holes, contradictions and gaps.

One in particular are discussions of the legitimate accordionist's desire for original
music. It is not a secret to anyone that the accordion does not have the repertoire of
the piano (an instrument we are often compared too, mainly because of the ability to
stand as a solo instrument). There is mention of great efforts to commission original
music (especially by the AAA), and how these efforts were not supported by the 'old
guard'; which introduces questions of personalities vs. the actual music. But to me
there is some unacknowledged silliness in all this.

I prepared for an AAA International Competition and competed in three Coupes

during the mid 60's. At that time I was studying with one of the oft-mentioned
members of old guard - Anthony Galla-Rini. Some of the required test pieces were
commissioned. 50 years later, I don't play any of them. In fact, I don't ever
remember playing any of them after the obligatory performance for the Coupe. I am
certainly not against contemporary music or against music written for accordion - but
using the discussion contained in the book, my interpretation of the result of the
commissioning process might explain a different outcome.

Back to the piano and the rich repertoire heritage (there are a thousand more details
than I can present here regarding style, etc., but please bear with me). Chopin was
a pianist. Brahms was a pianist. Beethoven was a pianist. Liszt was a pianist.

Page 370
Saved Rounds

Rachmaninoff was a pianist. Their work fills volumes. Had they not understood the
piano I will never be convinced that someone could have met with them for a couple
weeks, given them a piano, and taught them enough about the instrument to create
masterworks.

So the question becomes - at what disadvantage were we placing a commissioned

composer handing them an accordion for a couple weeks and asking them to write
for the instrument? And what did we expect as an outcome?

So were the old guard 'anti original music' or really not as anxious to embrace
something that wouldn't compete with a good transcription? And I personally agree
with Liszt that transcriptions can effectively be used to demonstrate additional
capabilities of an instrument - though a similar stigma has often been in parallel with
piano transcriptions - look at the dilemma of Horowitz.

I will be the first person to tell you I am not an expert of original accordion music.
But I would also suggest a short list the people who are - and unfortunately their
insights were not included in the book. The list would start with Joe Macerollo, one
of my contemporaries, who has been in the original accordion music field for the
long haul. John Torcello is another person. Joe Natoli. Joseph Petric. (I know two
of these are Canadians). I would also ask - as an accordion community, have we
supported them?

Recently in the blog I mentioned original works by Tito Guidotti, and Joe Natoli
commented he also thought Tito had perhaps created some of the best original
music for the instrument. Compositionally, some aspects of Tito's music are
problematic. But he understood the instrument and what would sound. For that
there is no substitute.

So my quest for more insight on contemporary accordion music would begin with the
people I mention above. When I don't know something, I try to turn to people I trust
who do. It would not be founded on a commentary on the problematic
commissioning efforts of the AAA. I must also say I an delighted when I hear that
Joe Macerollo is having Michael Bridge (one of his students) playing works by Tito
and Natoli.

It is not my intent to diminish the efforts in Marion's book. It is a monumental effort

and long overdue. But in the end, the outcome for the accordion is the actual music,
and it is difficult for a book to bring to life music that isn't (or hasn't been) heard or
doesn't stand on its own. In this regard, she fails as miserably as some of the
original music. And unfortunately, from her book I am not convinced she knows the
difference. Personally, I don't want to hear a piece that must be explained. And
much of the time, curiosities presented in the pretense of art tend to bore me.
Though if they are presented strictly as curiosities, they might be fun. In summary,
enthusiasts should enjoy being enthusiasts, and not make pretenses that they are
anything more.

Page 371
Saved Rounds

Today's Recommendation

03/24/12

During some channel surfing last night we happened upon the 1939 movie,
Wuthering Heights. A performance Mozart's Turkish March from a scene in an
elegant drawing room caught my attention . The thing I first noticed was the sound
of the harpsichord which I immediately recognized as the Landowska-Pleyel variety -
something I have talked about numerous times in this blog.

With the capabilities provided by a high-definition large screen and a close up of the
player's hands I confirmed my suspicion: it was a Pleyel. But it did not look like
Wanda. But through another marvel of current technology (the Internet) I found it
was actually Alice Ehlers, the first student of Wanda. In her later years Alice Ehlers
was on the faculty at USC and was a neighbor of a good friend who had moved from
the same street I lived on in Torrance to Palos Verdes. But that is another story.

Listening to her play and watching her digital articulation at the keyboard reminded
me of why I was so influenced by Wanda Landowska, especially in my approach to
Bach. Even though the sound production is radically different between harpsichord
and accordion, many of the digital articulations required to realize musical phrases,
especially in a multi-voiced composition, translate very well to accordion - perhaps
even more than on a piano. Though the accordion has more control after a note has
been played over either the piano or harpsichord, it is difficult to make one note
louder than another when played consecutively (which can at least be done at the
onset on a piano).

I surrendered my record collection shortly after my move to California in 1991. My

recordings of WTC I and II by Landowska were some of my most prized treasures.
However, they are again available on ITunes and I would recommend them to any
accordionist - especially those venturing into baroque. Every one of the preludes
and fugues are wonderfully unique, each being carefully thought out to bring forth
her musical vision - and the variety is stunning. Despite some criticism of her
interpretations through the years, it is worth a listen.

Playing Bach like bad Brahms on an accordion is not that much of a challenge.
Getting the emotional power of Brahms within the tonal limitations of a Harpsichord
while remaining faithful to the compositional structure of Bach is quite an
accomplishment; though realize the construction of the Pleyel helps. (Check out the
c# minor fugue from WTC I.) I have also discovered through the years that many of
the details translate into almost everything I play.

Go Wanda!

Old Dogs, Old Tricks and Meaningless Rants

Page 372
Saved Rounds

03/26/12

Recent events have caused me to take several extended looks back into my
accordion past. When I returned to playing several years ago I had no idea of how
far my new journey would take me. It started with a 1938 Excelsior that was loaned
to me, however, in short time I decided I wanted to play bassetti again.

When it came to bassetti, the desire for a dual system free bass was my first
priority. For the last fourteen years of my initial accordion career I played
instruments that were all free-bass; no chords. However, prior to when I stopped
playing in 1978 I knew I wanted a dedicated stradella for a number of reasons. So
when I started the search for a bassetti, the dual system was the natural choice.

I had a sharply-focused view of what I wanted to do in the accordion world in the

60's and 70's. My desire was to use the accordion as a classical instrument, though
like some of my peers, I also played some casual gigs to make enough money to
justify writing off my expenses. However, by the time I stopped playing in 1978 and
made my migration to piano it seemed a moot point as there were few opportunities
for a classical accordionist or even playing casual gigs.

I was at the end of an era. The golden age had run its course. I thought I had a
realistic view on the accordion's most severe limitations; mainly in the absence of
original repertoire. But I could live with that. There was more baroque music than I
could ever play and I was not above playing transcriptions. I was also selective with
the original repertoire I played.

When I returned in 2009 after my departure in 1978, I began with my 1978 mindset.
My views had been frozen in time for 30 years as my separation from accordion had
been complete.

But as I began sticking my head up from the bellows in 2009 I got a view of what
was going on and wondered how I might fit in. I also searched for people I had
known. I was sometimes amazed to see who had died disappeared, survived,
abandoned the accordion, and who had moved on to other ventures.

Early on I renewed what had been a very brief relationship with John Torcello and
shortly thereafter with Joe Natoli; someone I knew of, but had never met. I also
came back into contact with Stephen Dominko. I was most interested to explore
where their adventures in both accordion and life had taken them. Though we were
from different parts of the country and studied with different teachers, our musical
goals had not been that different. In my opinion we shared some very strong things
in common; perhaps even a common mindset that ultimately had an impact on both
our musical and personal lives. And with few exceptions, it was very unique.

I have talked with each of them - about what was, where we are now, and where we
think we might go. None of these were long conversations as we were starting from

Page 373
Saved Rounds

such incredibly strong common elements from our backgrounds. I was anxious to
hear what they would have to say.

So what are these common links? What do we represent?

The most critical thing was our association with Julio Giulietti and the free bassetti
(free bass) system. Julio's vision of a 'legitimate' accordion was free bassetti -
something that would ultimately end up on the world's greatest concert stages -
something that would be included in the music programs of public schools. Over the
years people have said that free-bass is an enhancement to the accordion - an
accordion is not an accordion without stradella. But this was not so in Julio's vision.
Free bassetti defined the legitimate accordion. Loose the stradella with the added
weight and girth. Giving up stradella (even the practical aspects) was a big decision,
but one we were willing to make.

And regardless of whether Julio was right or wrong on any or all of his vision,
carrying out that vision had an enormous impact on how each of us approached the
accordion as a musical instrument. It was certainly a 'winner-takes-all' or no-
compromise solution. Adopting this vision might be seen as the ultimate
commitment to accordion as a classical instrument; becoming detached and
'exclusive' from many practical ethnic uses (if you had any intention of playing
accompaniments in the left hand). An exception would be jazz.

Maybe the pendulum had swung too far - at least for some of us. But the critical role
assigned to an all free-bassetti instrument also developed a technical facility and
levels of musical capability in the left hand that are not demanded with a converter
system, where you can hit a switch and go back to the power of the good-ole
stradella. Perhaps it is a different way of defining absolutes.

But it is not right or wrong, just our thinking that makes it so. Balance. But are there
take-aways from our no-holds bar period that will translate to something of value to
today's players? Is my observation in some younger players of the desire for
increased use of the chromatic system of the left hand accurate? Is the pendulum
ready to start a swing to the other side?

Bored Again, Or

03/27/12

Squeeze This, my most recent read, talks on many levels of the accordion's fall
from popularity: how the music and instrument we loved were displaced by rock-and-
roll. But now, some people are looking for the accordion to save the day by adding a
human touch to the otherwise all-electric all-whatever plethora of contemporary pop
music. Oh, and there are also some experiments where sort-of-play-at-accordion-
players experiment with the noise the instrument can make in the process.

Page 374
Saved Rounds

Okay.

I wrote yesterday of coming into the golden age as it was ending. And through the
years I have become attracted to things after their run of popularity or even after
their reasonable lifespan. As an example, I was beyond thrilled when an AGC
Bonham amp arrived at my house yesterday following a successful score on Ebay.
40 years old; but in my estimation still the best accordion amplifier ever made. But I
knew what it was and have a specific intended purpose. But what if I would have
discovered Game Boy today rather than back in the 1980s?

But back to Squeeze This, or better yet, back to the time I discovered rock-and-roll.
My parents despised every part of it. "It is a fad that will never last." But it did last.
Yet a question not addressed in Squeeze This is why? Or why it is given almost
exclusive credit for displacing the accordion? I would also ask how much the two
issues are interdependent.

But even before that, how much does the author know about the originis or
experience within the rock culture credited for replacing the accordion?
Beyond an amateur accordionist, is/was she also an amatuer rocker? Does it really
make difference? Realize the discussion has absolutely nothing to do, critical or
otherwise, with Marion Jacobson or the book, it is rather the ability to launch the
same topic from another perspective.

In high school and in the first two years of college I abhorred rock. Then I
discovered it. Discovery was not a gradual process, it engulfed me. I wasn't
climbing the mountain, I was walking through it. However, it didn't displace my
interest or passion for either classical music or accordion. Ultimately it came to
enhance it - perhaps more than any other influence. How could I get rock's energy
into my accordion performances?

Maybe I discovered something in rock music similar to what individuals discovered in

Guido Deiro in the early part of the century and later with Dick Contino. It was
excitement, energy, and an expression of sexuality at the most basic level. The
guitar became the weapon of choice for rock (and was often seen as the accordion's
biggest enemy). Something else not mentioned in Squeeze This was the
technical prowess of some of the rock guitarists. Though it had started with Les
Paul, guitarists like Jimi Hendrix did things with an electric guitar that just seemed
technically impossible, or at least things no one had thought of before. There was
also a new honesty, especially in vocals. Someone with something to say could say
it and not be necessarily judged on the technical ability they needed to say it. Dick
Contino is right-on in his book where he speaks of how excitement and passion can
be displaced with too much emphasis on technical accuracy. And competition can
place an unreasonable weight on technical accuracy.

The Tiger did not save the accordion world, especially with a marketing strategy
entirely based on too many people who didn't like or support rock music anyway.

Page 375
Saved Rounds

The accordion wanted to remain exclusive, but perhaps it was too late and way off
target.

I have very wide tastes in music - especially contemporary pop music. But I have
often found the only realistic way to experience it is in the right culture - like going to
hear Rap music performed in South-Central LA, or taking a ride in one of the cars
with the outrageous, bass-pounding sound systems. When you get inside, it is
another world. It's like that rollercoaster ride when you go over the lip - you might
love it or you may decide never to do it again - but for that moment you are along for
the ride and have surrendered control. The pages of Squeeze This come alive when
Marion describes traveling through the south attending ethnic accordion events.

In the earlier days of rock Guild Guitars brought in a local rock band to demonstrate
their new line of amplifiers at a special NAMM concert (patterned after what the
accordion manufacturers had done for some years). The group was uncomfortable
about the event knowing that many music dealers hated the noise and only tolerated
rock enough to make a sale. But the National Sales representative told them as
they were ready to perform, how can merchants effectively sell these products
if they know nothing about the culture? And in at least Los Angeles, it wasn't long
before there was a new breed of sales people at a new breed of music store.

But alas, perhaps the first part of knowing the culture is being able to determine if
the accordion is a fit in the first place. The Tiger obviously wasn't. It could never
compete as a lead instrument with an electric guitar. Any accordion player would
have known this.

However, (as identified in Squeeze This ), the accordion is being heard in an

increasing amount of today's music as a color instrument. And perhaps part of that
success is based on the honesty thing I was talking about earlier in rock. But some
claim that the the honesty in the 1960s started being displaced with merchandising
in many parts of rock as early as promoters could figure out how to do it.

Living in Southern California in the 60s I got to hear a lot of rock acts - many as they
were starting their career. I was rarely bored. I also can't imagine that I would have
been bored hearing Guido or Dick. So the question is - where
will tomorrow's excitement come from? What will define the 'it'?

Closer: the title of this blog is based on a song by one of my all-time favorite rock
groups. I will send a complete set of my CDs to the first person who identifies both
the song and group. Previous winners (Tony Grieco) are eligible.

Second closer: Thanks to Marion and her book for providing so many blog topics!
Though an embarrassment in its intended purpose, it may have some value as an
excellent example of absurdely bad research.

The Studio System or Why I Hated High School

Page 376
Saved Rounds

03/28/12

I started studying accordion as the direct result of a door-to-door salesman making

his rounds one early summer afternoon in 1952. It was a time when some services
still came to the home, like milk delivery and the Fuller Brush Man. I even remember
house calls from the family doctor.

I remember the Fuller Brush man but I can't recall his name. He lived at the corner
of Felbar Avenue and Torrance Boulevard - the corner lot of our tract, Torrance
Gardens. The stucco exterior was painted a rather ugly dark brown and delivering
his brochures to neighborhood houses several weeks before he would make his
rounds was one of my first ventures into this country's workforce; a position I
inherited from my brothers. I made two or three cents for each drop, checking off
addresses from a sheet he provided. Occasionally someone would come chasing
after me, shoving the brochure back in my face or throwing it on the ground behind
me. That was okay; I would so mark my sheet and I got the two cents anyway. The
Fuller Brush Man was a nice guy, though I remember my mom remarking that he
sure had a way to get you to buy stuff.

So a door-to-door salesman selling accordion lesson packages was not that

unusual. But I have told that story before. What I would talk about today is how the
concept of the accordion studio fit into my childhood experiences. I have to again
thank Marion for the topic as she presents the accordion as being marketed
through studio systems rather than as part of a music program in a school. All
this brought back memories, some with strong emotional ties.

First, I have tried to think of what other 'solo' instruments lurk within a school
system. The biggies: piano, organ, guitar? None that I can think of. The piano
'studio' might be Ms. Franstadtster teaching out of her home, or even going house-
to-house for the weekly lessons (from personal experience I can tell you there some
advantages to the go-to-the-home system - you occasionally get fed or watered, and
you can leave when you are finished - not having to deal with the lingering student or
parent-who-wants-to-talk syndrome).

Music Instruction in the schools was rarely one-on-one. There were occasional
small groups, but certainly not the amount of time you got when you were willing to
pay. The school music programs were about the ensemble. The orchestra. The
band. The marching band. The choir. The glee clubs. The marching band might
play for the weekly football rally, and the choir might perform at a Christmas (now
called holiday) Assembly - but most performances were special recitals for parents
and friends. An audience of student peers can be very rough.

Even as a kid I often looked from the Bettie Thomas Studios to what kids did in
music at school. We played and played a lot - both at the studio and at every
imaginable program throughout the South Bay area. Accordion was big then and
there was great demand for the Torrance Accordionettes. There was even the

Page 377
Saved Rounds

weekly radio show broadcast 'live' from the studio. Parents were highly involved,
either watching from the audience at band practice or schlepping us all over the
place. I thought this was a much better deal than the public school music program.
The students and teachers formed a strong community both inside the studio and
out. The studio system had a cost, but in retrospect, all the studios I ever dealt with
were extremely fair and the payback was enormous.

Many of my friends from Bettie Thomas continued into professional or teaching

careers. Others used their skills to enhance their lives. I had one young friend who
eventually ended up in a 1% motorcycle gang, about as rough as you can get; and
even from him I never heard anything but the fondest memories about 'the studio',
his musical friends, and Bettie.

As for the ensemble experience, there was lots of that. The concept of an all-
accordion ensemble might be challenging to the trained musician; however, consider
this: the most an accordion can play out of tune is how much that particular
instrument is out of tune (I know that is not absolutely true, but for this example it
is). So whereas the finest accordion symphony will always have default tuning
issues (until birth of the all-Roland orchestra) the most elementary accordion band
will also have 'some' tuning issues. In the first case (the Ultimate Accordion
Symphony - UAS), it is not ideal and is an elitist's example of a downside in all-
accordion ensembles. In the second case (Elementary Band - EB), it is a blessing.
If this doesn't make sense, attend one of your local elementary school orchestra
recitals - though in reality you should go anyway because the world will always need
more string players. You will be completely dazzled at the variations in intonation. It
may even increase your appreciation of a musette accordion.

So perhaps the studio system compartmentalized the accordion culture, but did the
value of the studio system outweigh the geographic or social limitations as a result of
that compartmentalization?

Julio wanted the (all-bassetti) accordion in the public school systems. It was an
ongoing priority for a long time, but at times I don't think it was completely thought
out. However, I read an article this morning about a similar effort by Jim Rice in
Williamsburg. But from what I see, Jim is combining some of the unique attributes of
the studio system into his public school efforts. Perhaps adding those attributes
might be the thing that could make it work. There are a lot of smiles and the kids
look to be having a great time.

Who's Your Buddy?

03/29/12

Yesterday I told stories about my personal experiences in the world of the accordion
studio system. Though the concept is not new, my use of term 'studio system'
is. But in either event, following yesterday's blog I have two follow-on topics; one for

Page 378
Saved Rounds

today and one for tomorrow. I have talked about some of it before, but perhaps it
will be presented here with a slightly different perspective.

In yesterday's blog I made reference to studio friends. Today I remember a very few
of my elementary school friends. In contrast, I recently reconnected with Robin
(Thomas), Bettie's second daughter and we went on for quite some time naming kids
from the studio in the 1950s. First names, last names, where they lived, where they
were from, the names of their brothers and sisters, even the brand of car their
parents drove. Studio life and accordion had a very high priority in my life. Certainly
higher than elementary school.

Shortly after my return to accordion I took on a student. I thought it might be a nice

gesture to 'give back'. Every week it was something different. Couldn't practice
because of soccer. Couldn't practice because of special tests. Had to skip a couple
lessons because of this or that: the dog had hemorrhoids. Whatever. I finally
rescinded my offer to teach. We were making no progress. I am not anxious to
have a student come to the lesson to practice. It is a severe waste of time and I
don't have the patience. A while later I tried to help another student a bit more
advanced and it was the same thing. An ongoing series of excuses.

I might have a hard time defining the difference between priority and obsession - but
even at this age I know I can still do obsession well. But what does it take to do
something well? Edith Oppens once said to me, "the only wife or mistress you will
ever have is the piano."

As a kid, no one ever told me that. They didnt have too. (Even though it was the
accordion, not the piano.)

But that doesn't seem common today. There seems to be such a rat race to make
sure a kid becomes a balanced person. But I would ask, if you are continually
running from one thing to another, do you ever get really good at any of them?

My dad had an interesting philosophy which has proven true in my experience. He

said that if you achieved true excellence in one particular thing you were more likely
to achieve excellence in other things because you knew what excellence was. To
him, it was more important to experience excellence than try to spend a lifetime
defining it. Excellence should be a way of life. You couldn't go through life doing
things half-assed occasionally deciding you would do something really good - it
would just not work that way.

Aube Tzerko said you should play every note as if you were playing it on a concert
stage, and you listened to every note you played like you were sitting in an audience
(paraphrased). This is certainly another way of saying the same thing. And I
recently heard Michael Bridge tell workshop participants, if you always practice with
a concentration on accuracy, how can you make mistakes (another paraphrase)?
Same thing.

Page 379
Saved Rounds

During my tenure at West Point I was part of Project Enrichment: a large group that
took a look at the entire West Point experience from the Cadet perspective. Cadets
were doing (and expected) to do too many things, and often did not do any of
them well beyond that they were potentially developing a mentality that accepted
mediocracy as a norm. The results of Project Enrichment were far-reaching
changes to almost all parts of cadet life.

In the last several years I have watched the interaction of ballet students in some
highly structured programs. A West Point friend was rather surprised when I
recently mentioned something about ballet, commenting, "I didn't realize you knew
your way that well around a studio." It was the studio word that caught my attention.
And whereas the word has a lot of connotations, one thing it sometimes represents
is the opportunity for immersion. It also allows the opportunity for self-assessment.
Imagine the alternative - being stuck in the middle of no where with no one around. I
hated public school, but thank goodness there wasn't home schooling at that time
(though I am sure I would loved the concept). I am sure I would have been even
more neurotic than I am.

And tomorrow I want to journey into some thoughts on the money aspects of the
studio - and ask the question, is there value in watching someone run a successful
business? Possibly even being self-supporting? Even making a lot of money? Is
there something wrong with that model? Was "It's evil, wicked, mean and nasty,"
presented as truth or is it really a parody?

Supersize that?

03/30/12

This is an unusual morning. I am not in the commuter van. Instead I am waiting for
my car to be serviced. I recently read that a young accordionist played his accordion
in the service area while waiting for their family car to be repaired and the workers
were so impressed the work was performed at no cost, but I have not had that
experience, yet. And to be honest, I don't know if it is worth a try. What if the
mechanics didn't like what I played? Do I want to deprive someone of the morning
news programs? Or worse yet, Judge Judy?

Perhaps the closets I came to something like that was years ago when I was
working at West Point and lived in Cornwall on Hudson, New York. Julio Giulietti
was with me. Julio didn't drive, so we had been someplace or were going
somewhere. Anyway, it was time to eat.

The Cornwall Inn, a local restaurant, was owned by a chef named Robair (I don't
remember his last name). Originally a 'famous' chef from New York City, Robair was
now semi-retired and very eccentric. When he was in the mood he would take a
single party on a given night. No menu, no prices - if he accepted your request to
dine he would tell you what he would be cooking that evening.

Page 380
Saved Rounds

One of my friends, Natalie Santoro, was from one of the oldest families in Cornwall
and good friends with Robair. As the Santoro children had grown up and moved
away and the patriarch had passed on, Natalie's mother used the huge family home
as a guest house and through the years built a group of elithe recurring guests.
Natalie was one of the few people who could guarantee a reservation. Rumor was
that Robair had played accordion at one time and Natalie was convinced it was a
good fit.

As some background, another friend of mine, an Army Colonel assigned as a

Permanent Professor at West Point had tried for years to get a reservation to
dine the Cornwall Inn. Natalie made the call and they were set. It an anniversary
present for his wife. The evening came and they were greeted by Robair at the
door. When he opened it he looked at the Colonel, informing him that a leisure suit
was not appropriate attire for his restaurant, especially when his wife was wearing a
beautiful evening dress. But he let them in. He did not miss the occasional
opportunity to correct some of the table etiquette of the Colonel. But the wife was
thrilled and the Colonel was thrilled that she was thrilled - so I guess it was worth the
exorbitant price. Robair always suggested the wine - naturally all imported - and few
were brave enough to ask for the price. If you had to worry about such things you
had no business being there in the first place.

So the reservation for Julio was set. I have never been a big fan of elite dining, so
this was Natalie's thing and through the years I knew it wasn't worth arguing about
as she generally ended up being correct anyway. Julio was in a polo shirt and a pair
of slacks. Natalie had convinced me, against great protest, that I must wear a formal
three-piece suit. And we set out to the Cornwall Inn (which was actually within easy
walking distance from her house).

I wasn't too shocked when Robair didn't say anything to Julio on his dress. I knew
Julio well and his entire character was wonderfully infectuous. Natalie was dressed
to the nines. Robair said what he would prepare for the meal and Julio said that was
fine. Sitting at the table Julio looked at Robair and said he was not French, but
actually Italian. Yes, Robair agreedm Northern Italian. Then half in Italian, half in
English the story unfolded how Robair had studied accordion many years previous in
New York. And it somehow came about that he had studied with Julio's father and
had bought an accordion from him. (I don't speak Italian, so I am not even remotely
sure of any of these details). But there was some kind of long-term history.

I would describe Julio's table etiquette as enthusiastic European. Lots of hand

gestures sometimes with the assistance of whatever eating utensil was at hand, or in
hand. But this was never an issue with Robair. They had a grand time and the food
was extraordinary. After we were done, Robair dug out his New York Excelsior for
me to play, but Julio had heard plenty of New York Excelsiors. I was instructed to
fetch my bassetti and ended up playing what seemed like an entire program - plus
some obligatory Italian songs. It was after 3:00 a.m. before we left.

Page 381
Saved Rounds

But I have become sidetracked. I originally intended to write about charging for what
we do as accordionists. Instead you got another Julio story.

But that will come another day.

The Golden Age of Piano

04/01/12

After we lost my Mother a short while ago my brother asked if I wanted him to send
her CD collection. I asked how many CDs she had and he said perhaps close to
200. Wow.

Though my dad supported my musical efforts, I don't know if he was really into
music. And if he had a preference, I am sure it was more of the big band era -
something you could dance too, or the ethnic styles they heard in their many trips
into Mexico.

However, my Mother loved music; especially the classical piano repertoire. She
couldn't get enough of it. My dad retired quite early and they bought their first RV -
an Avion travel trailer (similar to an Airstream) and set out for a journey that lasted
nearly 17 years. On one particular Easter they called the three sons home and
informed us they were selling the house and we could take what we wanted - the
rest was going to a garage sale. They were serious about all this.

It was the era of 8-track and they soon had one in both the car and the trailer. I
spent a lot of time copying classical albums to that format. It was a challenge
aligning movements of symphonies to such a rigid format. But the cassette tape
emerged and I got to repeat the process. I had a very large record collection and
copied most of the classical music over to cassettes. I am sure my dad was glad
when the Walkman came on the scene.

The process again started with CDs, but in the early days but you couldn't copy
them. So she started a CD collection. It always provided the opportunity for the
perfect gift - and soon she belonged to several CD clubs as local stores often didn't
have offer much variety in classical music.

So when my brother made the offer to send the CDs, I was anxious to see what she
had been listening too.

I have blogged to death about the accordion's golden age, but perhaps the middle of
last century might also be considered a golden age of pianists. I remember the
seasons of the Los Angeles Philharmonic with one great pianist after another. A
concert pianist could draw an enormous amount of money. A recent biography on
Vladimir Horowitz related how he was always concerned about the business end of
his concert career and commanded more money than any of his peers.

Page 382
Saved Rounds

Anyway, when I opened the two boxes of CDs much of that age was waiting inside.
Even recently I was all over YouTube and Amazon looking for recordings or
performances of Ivan Davis. I was disappointed in not being to find that much. But
in her collection, they were there. Emil Gilels. Gary Graffman. Misha Dichter.
Vladimir Ashkenazy. The list went on and on. There were two and three
performances of the same work by different players. My Mom could articulate the
differences in their playing. Always in kind, flattering words. I remember Albert
Goldberg, long-time music critic of the Los Angeles Times, questioning how good
the ear of a non-musician could be in picking up extremely minute details in
technique or articulation. But she could do that. She would point out a one or two-
note difference in a highly complex, virtuosic passage, or minute differences in
pedaling.

As I got old enough to drive and buy concert tickets we would sometimes attend
concerts together - especially if I knew it was a pianist she particularly liked. One of
her favorite performances was Arthur Rubinstein at UCLA Royce Hall. It was his
80th birthday and we felt as if we could have reached out and touched him from the
side balcony on the keyboard side. And he played brilliantly. And I am sure my dad
was glad he didn't have to go.

Later artists are represented in her collection - and we sometimes talked about
them. Jim and I are also lucky to hear some great performances at the Kennedy
Center with NSO. But I don't see lines of 8' banners announcing a plethora
upcoming performances of pianists framing the walkways. It is a different era.

So as I wrap this up I am looking at a collection of Horowitz recordings done

between 1930 and 1951. For the past two days I have been in the process of
migrating all these over to my IPod. It is another tool of survival for my van rides to
and from work. Probably one-third of the CDs bring up the invitation to copy the
information to Gracenote; perhaps a confirmation that many of these CDs are not
that wide-spread or even out of print.

Interestingly there is one lone CD still encased in shrink wrap. Never opened. Never
played. It is "Celebrating the Mass, Our Lady of Angeles Young Adult Choir". I
looked at the year - 2000. I am sure my brother bought it for her after Mass one
Sunday - most likely their youth choir or a visiting youth choir. It represented
another critical part of her life. I am certain there is was some magic for her. I will
also listen to that. For her.

Technology

04/02/12

During breakfast I started through some of my mother's CD collection. I couldn't

resist the early mono recording of Horowitz playing the Liszt B minor Sonata. I was
literally blown away.

Page 383
Saved Rounds

Some years ago, before I left West Point, Colonel William Schempf (Ruthanne's
father) gave us tickets to hear Horowitz at the Met. It was a very generous gift, and
certainly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I had never heard Horowitz play live, but
he had become an idol through the series of new recordings he did in the 1960s.

But there were a couple of additional points of interest this morning. One was that
the recording was in mono. I remember my first introduction to stereo. It was at my
first accordion teacher's home in Whittier. When she stopped teaching at Bettie
Thomas because of the drive, we went to her home once a week for my lessons.
Bettie had absolutely no problem with this. Anyway, her husband had an early
stereo tape recorder. It came with to detachable speakers and a demo tape that
instructed the listener to place the speakers in different positions. To the sides - one
in front of the other - one in back of the listener - and who knows what else. There
were mainly recordings of trains and other sound effects.

Ruthanne's father often commented that he did not care for stereo recordings. He
preferred mono. At the time I found that a strange comment, but through the years I
have a better understanding. I also had enormous respect for his ear. As a
conductor, his sense of balance and perceptions of achieving tonality [especially
pitch] were rarely matched. And the ability to hear is unquestionably the higest pre-
requisite for a musician.

I found myself interested in such things when I first started recording the accordion.
And people like Alan Emig explained a lot, often in a crude form of mentorship. The
problems of phasing distortion and everything else were things they had dealt with
all their lives. How do you make things sound correct? How do you make your
recordings sound better than those of your competitors? How do you make sure you
are compensating for how your own mind compensates when you listen?

Technology can make things more exciting, entertaining, or whatever. But it can
also create new problems. As an example, the emphasis on subwoofers in today's
cinema and even home audio. During a direct-to-disk craze some time ago there
was a recording of the two Holst Suites for Symphonic Band and the jacket liner
warned the buyer to start with the volume low, as the realistic sound [sic] of the bass
drum may likely do damage to the speakers. And the bass drum was loud. Actually
too loud. But it was a gimmick (of sorts). Whatever. But watching a home movie
through a multi-channel audio system, or even when someone drives by you in a car
with a sub so loud you can't hear your own sound system - it finally caught on.

But even though the EMI re-issue of the Horowitz recording has been criticized for
being over-processed in terms of noise reduction, I felt I was listening more to the
music than the technology. Alan used to say that a single mike can't lie. A single
ear can't lie. (Alan's first rule of mixing, use one ear to get proper
balance). Horowitz wasn't bigger than life - I didn't feel like the piano was in my
kitchen or like I was inside the piano - it was just right. I felt I was accurately
hearing every nuance and detail of his playing.

Page 384
Saved Rounds

And the playing was exquisite. I might not have guessed it was Horowitz as there
was such a minimum of affectations and mannerisms in his earlier playing.
Technically he could have gone against any of the modern players - with a musical
clarity and balance of pure brilliance. And surprisingly, never overdone. It was a
refreshing break for the morning.

This tells me that James Bongiorno's article on Trinaural sound is worth another
read. But for a great amount of the music I listen too, I can live with the sub blasting
away. It is a sound I have come to expect. I also like the explosions in the movies
to pick me up off the sofa, or at least wake up the dogs. I am certainly not going to
sell my subs or my Crown ITechs. And if I ever play stereo wars with the
neighborhood kids, I will win.

Hard and Fast or Slow and Long?

04/03/12

I imagine myself with a book of matches sitting at the side a bucket filled with an
unknown liquid. It could be crystal clear water, crude oil, or even gasoline. I begin
striking the matches and tossing them one-at-a-time at the bucket. I really don't
know what I want, and I really don't know what I might get. But that is okay. If the
bucket is filled with water, it will extinguish the flame. If it is filled with crude oil and
the flame survives the fall of the match, it may ignite in a slow, smoky burn. If it is
gasoline, I am in the wrong place.

However, I want something to happen, so I take it to the next level. I take a torch
lighter and point the flame into the bucket. The result will again depend on the
contents of the bucket, but if it is in any way volatile, I have increased my odds of
igniting it.

This imagery was triggered this morning as I was looking at the new monthly
publication of Accordion USA News, but the imagery is more deeply fueled by the
recent work with Accordion Heroes.

Accordion USA News is primarily what the title states. Accordion News. A large
majority is self-reported activity and I would suspect the majority of the readers are
accordionists; interested in what is going on in other parts of the accordion world.

Communication efforts are an important part of Accordion Heroes, but the goal is to
expand the potential audience. The first effort is toward young players. The second
effort will continue to non-accordionists.

Now back to the visualization of the liquid and the match and how it ties into all this.
The liquid is our potential. The match is what and how we use it to ignite or launch
our potential. And the goal is to light it with some form of sustainability.
Sustainability is our procreation.

Page 385
Saved Rounds

So the first question, what is the potential represented by the liquid? Is it stale,
murky water that will ultimately extinguish or deteriorate any source of ignition
applied to it? Or is it something with the volatility of gasoline, where any spark
match would cause a violent, but quickly expended explosion: a few seconds of
fame. Or is like the fuel for a kerosene lamp that could be adjusted for maximum
brightness with minimum waste?

In the 1970s I would have said the potential had become stale. The water had
stopped moving. It was polluted, one of the only real outcomes being to provide
comedians and sitcoms with a source of humor at the instrument's expense. I don't
know if any amount of ignition would have accomplished much of anything.

But perhaps there is new hope. The bias is missing from younger generations. The
accordion can be heard in an increasing number of musical efforts, from
commercials to pop songs. It's recognizable. It's even fresh. So perhaps there is a
potential that can be ignited - not with the intent of an explosion, but something that
can be sustained and through both natural selection and our efforts might burn
brightly.

The purpose of Accordion Heroes is to assess that untapped culture (our potential),
and help focus the flame that will light it, and eventually find ways to make it shine
brightest. If there is a departure from some other similar ventures, it is in a less
restrictive definition of an increased identity (and popularity) for the instrument. Too
many restrictions will often kill something before it ever has a chance of life on its
own. The accordion has its own examples of this.

Accordion Heroes has adopted some initial steps to start this process. The first is to
find new players, to bring them together, and encourage them to network with each
other. The accordion cannot be sustained without them.

Second is to change some of our approach as the 'old guard'. Our goal is to
encourage and provide guidance to the next generations; to challenge and assist
them, not by putting down our instruments, but by qualifying in every aspect of
musicianship; especially playing. We adopt Gregory's words of not talking about it,
but doing it. We don't lecture them about how they might do something, we show
them. Then we encourage them with our confidence that they can and will succeed
on their chosen path - applauding, rather than criticizing that path.

So if we are striking a match or a flame, it isn't to draw attention to ourselves, but

rather to unite in igniting a new culture. A culture that will not be defined by our
visions or limitations, but by the imagination and talent of tomorrow's accordionists.

Self-imposed Limitations

04/04/12

Page 386
Saved Rounds

For five years in the early 1990's I worked at the National Resource Office of the
Motorcycle Safety Foundation. It was the things dreams are made of for the
motorcycle enthusiast: motorcycles and more motorcycles day and night.

MSF is sponsored by the motorcycle manufacturers & importers and one of the
reasons for the location in Orange County, California, is proximity to the many of
motorcycle industry's corporate headquarters. When I was there one of the benefits
was the use of a factory-owned motorcycle. They were swapped out regularly as
the industry wanted MSF to have current models readily available for use in safety
videos or print media.

In addition to their motorcycle safety Ridercourses MSF has also been directly
involved in licensing standards and testing used by the states. Occasionally a state
would alert us that a constituent had claimed their particular motorcycle would not
negotiate part of the licensing test and would ask us to check it out.

I remember with some amusement one such call. It was a BMW aimed primarily at
the sport riding market and it had a relatively wide turning radius. The bikes were
imported in low numbers and were intended for experienced sport riders. It was
unusual that an entry-level rider or a seasoned rider who was finally getting
licensed would use this particular model for their test. But such things happen. It
was an excellent excuse to get one from the factory to check out the bike's ability to
negotiate the test - but also for the opportunity just to ride it.

The manufacturers were very cooperative with MSF, and in this case they had one
of the new models that was going to be used for a magazine article and photo
shoot scheduled for the following week. We could have the bike for the weekend
with the caveat that we put at least 600 miles on it prior to return on Monday. That
way it could have it's first service before being turned over to the magazines. Oh,
and also, don't crash it.

The bike arrived mid-day Friday and we immediately set up the licensing skill test in
the parking lot. Program staff members at MSF were highly skilled riders and all had
worked in rider training and testing for a long time. We knew that what might be
easy for us could be challenging for an entry-level rider. The additional requirement
to avoid a tip-over added a realism that would also have been a very real concern to
a new rider with a new (and very expensive) motorcycle. It ended up being one of
the very few bikes that MSF recommend not being used in the skill test. Perhaps it
could be done, but it was not a realistic requirement for a new rider.

Fast forward several years and I am teaching a course at Camp Pendleton. A young
Marine arrives on one of these particular BMWs for Instructor Training. He only had
owned the bike a few days. A couple of my assistants were concerned that he
should warned not attempt the course as the technical requirements were nearly the
same as the test. I suggested they not say anything for now and let's just see how

Page 387
Saved Rounds

he did. Worst case he would blow through some cones or put a foot down. Not a
big deal There was no real danger and at this point he would not be scored.

The Marine completed every one of the maneuvers with no more difficulty than any
other Instructor candidate on any other motorcycle. No one told him it was hard or
he couldn't do it. So he just did it.

I gained a lot of usable skills working with so many trainers, instructors and new
riders in learning to ride, learning to teach others to ride, or learning to train
instructors who would teach others to ride. Riding a motorcycle is a complex
combination of mental and physical skills. In some ways learning the physical and
mental skills is not that much different than learning to play an instrument, though
the risk for injury is much higher.

One of the first things I learned was not to tell someone that something is difficult or
hard. First, difficulty in a physical skill is likely relative. One person might find the
maneuver of swerving difficult and maximum braking easy. For someone else it
might be exactly the opposite. But one thing for sure, if I preface something as
being difficult I will generally create that reality. If I just show them something and
say, try this - most often they will just do it. Then you can refine the skill. Maybe
even some of what Gregory says could be applied here - we don't talk about riding
motorcycles, we ride motorcycles.

When Dr. Ray Ochs came to MSF and started major revisions of their curriculum in
the late 1990s the amount of talk explaining things was reduced to an absolute
minimum. When I first started teaching people to ride (and instruct) in the old
curriculum we "taught them to ride in the classroom and practiced on the range".
After seeing the results of the new MSF curricula in place I came to relize, "we
confused them in the classroom and then tried to fix it on the range." It worked - sort
of - but mainly because people really wanted to learn how to ride that motorcycle
above everything else; which is a key characteristic of adult learning.

I have been lucky throughout life because very few people told me I couldn't do
something. Sometimes they might suggest having me clarify what I wanted to do
and might suggest ways I could get there, but they rarely said, you can't do that.

Some of the things I learned through the course of my musical study became
intuitive as they were so completely ingrained in every part of my young life (like
what it takes to play). But other experiences, like learning to teach people to ride a
motorcycle, were a new look at learning something - and when it came time to teach
it I needed to know what what I was trying to do and if I was effective in doing it.
Ray often talks about self-assessment as an ultimate goal - knowing our capabilities
and what we can do to improve them, or knowing things perhaps we cannot
improve.

Page 388
Saved Rounds

This is one of the reasons I think it is so important for someone to have experienced
competence as a performer before qualifying themselves as a teacher. And some
people are just not cut out to teach or don't want too. It is also important for
someone to be able to self-assess; like when Galla-Rini told Amy Jo Sawyer that he
wasn't a jazz player; that was not his area of expertise.

But our personal limitations shouldn't be used as limitations for others, and this
should also apply to organizations. We shouldn't tell them they can't do something
because we couldn't do it or don't think it can or should be done.

So when someone comes to me with some crazy idea or concept I think is totally
outrageous, my first comment is often, "cool!", rather than, "you can't do that," or
"that won't work" (unless I know it can be dangerous, like pulling an inline skater
behind a motorcycle like water skiing which we tried and quickly realized was not a
good idea). And when I hear something and think, "I never thought that was even
possible," it is likely someone didn't tell someone they couldn't do something.

Today's blog is probably way too long, but there was a crash on 95 and I am still
sitting in traffic. Sorry about that

A Confusing Title
04/05/12

Yesterday's blog title was Caste Systems. The blog entry I finally posted had
absolutely nothing to do with the title, but I never changed it. I start each morning
waiting for a blog topic to pop into my head. Sometimes I think of a topic the night
before, but that only works when I remember what it was, probably less than 50% of
the time. I usually start out with a title, but by the time I have finished writing
something else often fits better. I enjoy coming up with something I find personally
amusing or something that will draw the interest of the reader.

Writing the blog has become a discipline. As I am still working my day job and
forced to ride this van every morning I will likely continue to write. And who knows, I
may continue after I stop working as it will have become a habit.

In other parts of my life I have written in a journal; but that is quite different
something from published for everyone to read. The journal was whatever came
into my mind at that moment. Much of that would never be appropriate for a blog.

Sometimes writing it is not easy. I stare at a blank screen and wonder what I am
going to write. But as soon as I hear Jim's words in my ears saying, "why don't you
give it a rest for today," or "why don't you take a break" I know that is when I must do
it. Call it discipline, call it obsession, or any number of things between, it is the way I
approach priorities in my life. Several things fit in this category. The order would be
in which ones are absolutes. My short list would include practicing and working out.
7 days a week, above everything else.

Page 389
Saved Rounds

In college I remember the story of a famous composer (I think it was Stravinsky, but
the philosophy matters more than the name) who said that he composed every day.
He didn't wait for inspiration, but rather approached it as a craft. It was a discipline.
The second story is about Stravinsky, where a young aspiring composer, upon
meeting him enthusiastically babbled that on that very morning she had written an
outline for a symphony, finished the second movement of a piano sonata, and
finished orchestrating the finale of the last act of her opera (I know, it is a gross
exaggeration, but used to illustrate my point). She asked what he had done. "Well,"
he replied. "this morning I added an accidental to an eighth note." And after a
pause he continued, "and this afternoon I erased it."

One thing I am often accused of is talking around a point, rather than just coming out
and saying something. It is a trait that is likely an influence from my father, but one I
have not found the desire to give up - yet; at least in my personal writing. But with
that in mind, I would say that both stories of Stravinsky belong to yesterday's title -
Caste System. If I were much younger I would love to write a book on the subject -
though I would likely publish it for free on the web - as the readership would likely
not be larger than those who read this blog.

The Caste System (this is the term I would coin) is something that is intuitive to the
world's most elite artists (music, dance, etc.) but outside the comprehension of those
where it is not intuitive. It allows rules to be broken, contradictions, and
inconsistencies; yet these are often embraced as the baseline for artistic genius.
The same actions by individuals outside the Caste System are grounds for justifiable
criticism for contradictions and inconsistencies. Those who have it know (at least at
some level) they have it; though when proclaimed, like humility, it is lost. However
the balance between self-esteem and confidence in one's compentency are almost
always extremely out of balance (by normal standards) for these individuals.

If there is a pecking order in the arts (or perhaps even in life), at the top levels the
differences are greater than the sum of every step between. But at that level, I
would also say the competition, as we would know it, is totally gone. There is no
need for it.

If I were to ever venture into this undertaking it would be more in the form of "the
Secret" or "Celestine Prophecy" than a research paper. Perhaps it would resonate
within people to where they would search for a reality beyond empirical fact -
perhaps something they can find in themselves but something that cannot be fully
explained. But then again, what is art?

Countdown

04/12/12

Page 390
Saved Rounds

I have always liked numbers. They put things in perspective. They can be used to
measure or track improvement. For me they are a critical part of any pragmatic
approach to music.

I have talked of the Cosby rating system for technical and musical competence. I
am often asked to define a player's level of proficiency. Rather than say, they are a
student, I am able to pinpoint it much more precisely, and there are even two tiers
within the student level, PB, or pre-beginner 1 through 6 and then level's 1 - 10. It is
possible for a PB to directly to one of the 1 - 10 levels without going through the
entire progression of PB, but after that it is sequential. The system is actually quite
complex with many factors. The second level in all this would be P, or professional.
This designation has more to do with application of one's playing than a level of
technical proficiency. A student at even at level 4 might have a higher level of
technical proficiency than a P, but the outcomes are different.

Another example of numbers. I remember the first part of my lessons with Tito;
Hanon opened up to one of the scale pages, and playing the scale assignment of
the week. There were two columns of hand written metronome markings at the top
of each page - one for hands together and the other for right hand alone. My goal
was not only to thoroughly master the scales of the week (Tito insisted on both
harmonic and melodic minor) but to perform them with absolute precision and
accuracy at a given speed. When accomplished, I progressed to the next scale.
What increased the challenge was the progression of scales through the circle of
fifths - as the speeds were increasing, so was the perceived difficulty of the scale (as
seen from the perspective of a student - this changes in time where playing in keys
with less accidentals is often more difficult than keys with many accidentals). Those
pages were worn.

Edith Oppens called herself a 'scale lady' . But rather than the circle of fifths, scales
were chosen based on level of difficulty, determined by differences in fingering
consistency between the hands and the placement of sharps and flats. We started
with D Major, possibly the easiest scale from this perspective. Bb Major was one of
the more challenging. The expectation was to have equal mastery of any of them.
All the major scales have the same fingering anyway, it is just the question of the
relationship between the hands (different issue on stradella where all fingerings are
the same) (also different on bassetti where there are 3 basic fingerings) and the
position of the accidentals under the fingers for a particular scale. You learned to
start the fingering progressions in any part of the sequence and the concentrations
were on the turn-arounds - typically the most problematic part of scales anyway.

Gregory Stone's approach was equally pragmatic, but actually with underpinnings
that were more chromatic and mechanical in nature (given the diatonic keyboard).
In theory you could practice this without being able to read a single note of music.
Aube's approach (at least initially) was similar. For my personal use today I use a
combination of the two for static exercise.

Page 391
Saved Rounds

Another application of numbers is the selected sequence (or number grouping) in

practicing sections of songs. Typically it is in three or four, depending on the song.
But just like working on turn-arounds and placement of the hands, the same thing
can happen in sequencing. I often tell Jim to play to the next downbeat (or strong
count) when practicing sections. But the next step will be the ability to make any
note within a sequence the strong note. This is relatively easy in sections of 3 or 4,
but try it in groups of 5 or 7 in music composed in groups of 3 or 4. Play to the fifth
or seventh note regardless of the compositional intent. It is perhaps more of an
exercise for the mind than the fingers but will work wonders with the fingers. Start
with the first sections of Hanon or with scales. Then move to something like a
Chopin or Stravinsky Etude.

If one tried to explain all this mathematical theory to a student it would most likely
confuse them beyond belief. Rather it is better to tell or show them what you want
them to do (which means you must be able to do it yourself). The time to
understand the theory may come, and it may not. If the student can do it, it doesn't
matter. Gregory showed me patterns he used with students. He didn’t explain
them, he just showed me and I watched his hands and listened to the notes. Edith
said, "do the scale like this," using slightly exaggerated wrist motions in a curcular
motion. "Relaxed, even weight."

But no matter how you look at it, ultimately it is all numbers.

Does Anybody Know What Time It Is?

04/13/12

Does anyone really care?

At least one person does - and caught the fact that it is Manon, not Mignon. Kudos
to Jim who knew it was indeed a ballet, not a steak.

Many years ago in my summer session on historical musicology I was reporting on

a very obscure Russian opera. I kept referencing how it had not fared well either at
that time or in years passing. As I would mention (in a figurative sense) 'Anals of
Opera' I could see Robert Stevenson roll his eyes.

He finally said, "excuse me, don't you mean 'Annals of Opera'?"

Well, I replied, in reference to this opera anals is more likely the appropriate word -
at which he laughed. I considered it a quick save and also a great accomplishment.
A smile from Stevenson was rare. A genuine laugh was nearly unheard of.

Repelling Off Dimes

04/16/12

Page 392
Saved Rounds

In 1991 I ended 23 years at West Point in order to take a position at the Motorcycle
Safety Foundation in Irvine, California. I can't say it was a hard decision - I knew I
wanted to go. First there was the lure of returning to the land of my youth, the
greatest draw being the proximity to the Pacific Ocean. Second was being closer to
my parents, old friends, and family. The only thing better would have been going
back to the Westwood, Venice, Santa Monica, El Segundo area. But Laguna Beach
was more than an adequate substitute.

West Point had run its course. Colonel Schempf, my predecessor of sorts, wrote a
book on the history of the West Point Band with a final chapter on the West Point
Glee Club. It has yet to be published. He once told me that he was concerned
about things being said about people who were still living. But in any event, he
trusted me with the manuscript and it was a great read.

Another thing Colonel Schempf told me, also related in the book was that over a
period of time the Academy had ultimately turned on every person who had held the
position of Teacher of Music; himself included. The Academy had not turned on me,
but promises of promotion were long since forgotten. My pay grade and salary were
about half that of my counterparts at the Naval and Air Force Academies. I was
disappointed but West Point was known for low GS grades and I knew the situation
was unlikely to change.

As the time for my departure approached there was talk of a going-away celebration
which I asked not to happen: but it did. It was a lunch (we owned the Academy’s
main catering facility) and most of the staff from our section attended. I had no great
sense of sadness, no sense of impending loss of friends, really no great emotional
feelings at all. It came time for me to speak and my remarks were short. I spoke of
those who had arrived at Cadet Activities (which had become the Directorate of
Cadet Activities) the same time as me; and nearly all of the were also still there. It
was a very tight and loyal group that stayed almost unchanged, with the exception of
the rotating military staff, for many years. The commitment was 24 / 7. Given the
nature of what we did it had to be; and it was expected. Many were about the same
age as me, but today almost all of them have passed.

After the breakfast I went back downstairs with Shirley Roberts, my assistant, who
would be taking over the position of Extracurricular Activities Manager. She was one
of the hardest working and most conscientious workers I have ever known and we
had become very close friends. I emptied the contents of my in-box in the trash and
formatted my hard drive (you could do such things then - in the current day such a
thing would be unheard of).

Two weeks later I was working in California.

My next several tenures were not as long. Motorcycle Safety Foundation lasted
slightly less than five years before a downsize, forced by decreased motorcycle

Page 393
Saved Rounds

sales, resulted in dismissal of nearly all the staff. There were no ceremonies and
hardly any good-byes.

After seven years at the Naval Safety Center in Norfolk we had a lunch at the local
Chinese Restaurant right off base - the one Jim and I ate at our first night in Norfolk -
all of our possessions and our two dogs sitting in a the van parked in the lot. There
was an office-cooked breakfast at Headquarters Marine Corps when I left there after
three years. Again, no speeches, no great drama.

And now I am in the final stretch prior to retiring from US Department of

Transportation. I really don't want any hoop-la or coordinated, mandatory fun when I
leave. In fact, I have tried to keep news of my departure to an absolute minimum. It
is time.

Some years ago when I was in Atsugi Japan I saw a movie called "Office Space".
At the time I thought it was a bit bizarre, but through the years it has become one of
my cult favorites - sometimes with more truth than one might believe.

Last night we watched Horrible Bosses. From an artistic perspective it was

considerably sloppier than Office Space. But whereas both are satirically overstated
much of the humor's success comes from elements of truth.

Repelling off dimes is a military expression used to describe the remaining time of a
tenure. One-digit-midget is another one. Maybe my resolution after retirement from
the Federal Government will be to stop using military slang. Instead I think I will
continue in my efforts to invent new accordion slang.

Single Digit Midget

04/17/12

Note: Some might rate today's blog as PG-13.

Should I continue writing the blog after I retire with any regularity it is likely I
will venture into areas from my life outside accordion. To date I have been holding
back on other topics as I defined my blog boundaries as my stories and opinions on
"all things accordion and about accordion." However, I have not hesitated from tying
accordion to some pretty remote topics.

Like today's title: Single Digit Midgit. Another utilization of an expression from the
anals [see the blog of several days ago] of military slang. Sometimes these
expressions have a parallel meaning in a civilian world, sometimes they don't.
Sometimes the variations of meaning in a civilian world is like the differences in
some Spanish words between the cultures of Mexico, Puerto Rico, and Central
America. Use the wrong expression or word and you could possibly offend
someone or even worse.

Page 394
Saved Rounds

There are those who run to Wiki when they hear a new expression to find their
approved solution [another West Point expression], then monopolize the
conversation as they attempt to correct you on your use of the expression. They
don't comprehend you actually don't give a rat's ass about Wiki's definition; the
expression is something you inserted into an otherwise boring or banal conversation
for punctuation, color, or possibly comic relief. And their proclaimed assertion of
knowledge and digital prowess demonstrated by a look-up on Wiki that is even faster
than the CPU speed of the computer they utilized is further demonstration that they
are clueless. In any event, the moment and possibly even your punch line have
been ruined. Some of these individuals are so obnoxious they might be categorized
as a new breed - sort of a digital yuppie: certainly beyond boring. Where is the true
spirit of the 1960's when you need it?

About 6 weeks into Cadet Basic training at West Point the new cadets are rewarded
with a Sunday-afternoon reprieve and are allowed to visit the homes of staff and
faculty. Someone determined it is a pivotal point in the time-line of their experience
and a break will help them realize there is an end to the challenging experience.
There is a huge transformation in the six weeks; at least in the communication skills
of the new cadets. They have engulfed a new language, an entire slate of new
expressions, and it overpowers everything else. The same thing happened when I
went into Army Basic Training. We not only learned a new verbal communication
repertoire, our thought processes embraced them as well. Priests even used the
expressions in the Sunday sermons. Many of us even dreamed in our new system
of communication. Perhaps this is where Rosetta Stone found the basis for her
language immersion techniques.

But in time, most of these fade, though we may think about them on occasion with
some level of short-lived amusement.

The motorcycle world also has a very strong language and communication set, a
dead giveaway for newbies who often give themselves away by trying to use an
overabundance of words that show they belong. "Scooter, brain bucket, crotch
rocket, cage."

And even the accordion demonstrates something of its own communication world.
"The box. Squeeze. Double Cassotto. Hand made. Mano Tipo [sounds like a
condom]. Dural [sounds like a cigarette]." I don't remember hearing any of these
prior to my return, but perhaps they were there and I was protected from them by my
parents and teachers. I am also not saying they are bad or good. They just are.

Perhaps I am becoming desensitized. Hearing some of these no longer raises the

hair on the back of my neck the way it did a couple years ago. I am less likely to
compare it to a child being taught cute little names for genitalia or necessary body
biological functions.

Page 395
Saved Rounds

However, as a disclaimer or an admission of personal bias, this is being said by

someone who names his accordions. But to that I would answer that most of the
world's priceless string instruments are identified with a name. And naming things is
sometimes driven by a deep-rooted spiritual concept.

So when I hear 'squeeze' I am just as likely to think of things other than accordion,
like squeezing out a load. And hopefully there is not a similarity in the result.

Perceptions

04/19/12

A short while ago I had just finished plaing a short program. A member of the
audience came up and commented, "The sound of that accordion is fantastic. There
is nothing like the old accordions." He was somewhat suprised when I told him that
the accordion I had played was one of the new ones.

Some years ago a friend who owned a piano store that featured Yamaha called me
to say he had a Aeolian Knabe grand that he was going to wholesale and I could
have it for the price they would give him. Had it been an original Knabe rather than
one of the labels of later years I am sure he would have put it in a featured position
in his showroom.

I went with my friend to try the piano. The action was like driving a cement truck and
there was almost no bottom end, the bottom octave produced more of a thud than a
pitch. The pins were loose. They felt like they could be almost turned by hand.
But this Knabe had that woody quality in the mid-range that reminded me of a good
1920's Steinway.

I got a couple of my motorcycle friends, borrowed the store's delivery van,

and brought the Knabe home. A short while later one of the Steinway technicians
was preparing a piano for a concert at Eisenhower Hall and I had him take a look
and listen to the bass strings. He did some work on the hammers and I think he
might have put a couple twists in the actual strings, but in any event it was improved.

The Knabe became my practice piano of choice. Despite the loose tuning pins, it
stayed in better tune than any other piano I had ever owned. I learned the Brahms B
flat Concerto and the Liszt Sonata that year on that piano - I would say it was a rare
day when it wasn't played at least 4 hours. The woody character became
even richer and the bass could adequately balance the overall sound.

I had several of piano technician friends at the time who loved scrutinizing the details
of any piano they came across; most likely because they were newer to the craft.
Looking at the piano from a construction or technical standpoint, everything was
wrong. But I don't even remember anything other than a smile from anyone who
ever sat at the keyboard and played it. It was a player magnet.

Page 396
Saved Rounds

At the trade show where Yamaha introduced their new S400 series pianos more
than one person wanted to start pulling it apart to see why it had such an incredible
sound. One of the designers who had come from Japan was heard saying, "but if
you had a date with one of the most beautiful women in the world, would you want to
pull her apart to analyze what made her so perfect, or would you rather enjoy your
time with her?"

I have similar thoughts when I hear people talk about accordions. It has this, or it
has that. That other accordion is like a Chevy - this accordion is the Rolls Royce.
Many people can recite all the reed makers and other details of construction. But
they miss the real point, how does it play? Will it do what you want it to do? How
does it feel (not only the size and weight, but when you play it)? How much air does
it use? How even is the tone? I have played some of the would-be Rolls Royce
accordions and someone might proclaim them as technically perfect: but musically
there just isn't very much there.

Another interesting point is consistency. When I was preparing to buy my last

Steinway the sales rep would call me whenever they got a new batch from the
factory into the New York showroom. One thing about the New York Steinway
showroom; each of the rooms was acoustically stunning. You can hear the pianos
under the best imaginable condition. And as you started narrowing your search they
would move the pianos into the same room so you could try them side-by-side.
They would also move them around in the same room so you could play the same
piano in the same position. It wasn't that one piano was better than another, but
each was unique, and there was often more variation that you might imagine.

Yamaha used to tell me that the Yamaha was more consistent from instrument to
instrument than the Steinway - largely because of the construction. The same thing
is true with accordions that are hand crafted. There can be quite a variation.

But there is another dynamic here. When we got the last piano for West Point from
Steinway before I left, Jack Davis, who was the Organist and Choirmaster at West
Point and one of the finest musicians I have ever known, was invited to be on the
selection committee. His reaction was interesting - by nature, a Steinway will have
the quality, it was more a matter of the playing bringing out the characteristics of that
particular instrument. He suggested letting them select the piano for us.

Tantivy

04/23/12

Sometimes you will hear a soldier talk of the brown-shoe Army, but such
conversations will more likely be generic to older times than a chronological date
and the same is true in this blog.

Page 397
Saved Rounds

Where the soldier has his brown-shoe Army the accordionist may be seen to have
his orange-book method - and indeed I am from the John Sedlon era. If Palmer
Hughes was published in 1952 it had yet to make it to the Bettie Thomas Studio,
home of the Torrance Accordionettes.

You can still buy Palmer Hughes today. To find Sedlon you will need to scour the
listings on Ebay. Through some of my teaching escapades I eventually became
familiar with Palmer Hughes. Until a short while ago lurking through one of Dale
Wise's file cabinets I had not looked at a Sedlon book in many years. I have
sometimes thought that Palmer Hughes introduced too much too fast - one or two
new things with each song. However, this certainly provides the incentive to buy lots
of extra books increasing both teacher profit and student experience. But as I turned
through the pages I realized that Sedlon was also fast-paced.

It is fun to observe what Palmer Hughes thought would engage the student at the
time the method was published. There are pictures you could actually color (and I
suggested this to students over the years, but none actually took me up on it); there
are historical/trivia notes (whatever), and there are often words that accompany the
songs. Of these three things the words have always provided the greatest
amusement, though the pictures have always been close second - especially when
you link them to the words.

Enter the Hunting Song with the words 'tantivy' written under the horn call (Jim's
lesson de jour). I could never determine why, but I have always found tantivy
hysterically funny. Now they could have changed a few notes and called it 'Farmer
in the Dell', but that would likely have been too childish or not butch enough for the
young accordion student. And who knows what Hi Ho the Derry-O means anyway (I
did a quick search on the internet but it was going to take more than the 20 or 30
seconds I was willing to give to my search). All this music, word, trivia stuff starts at
the beginning in Palmer Hughes Book I with 'Batter Up', with the picture of the kid
and the baseball bat. It looks at the student as if to say, "it is okay that you are
playing accordion instead of being outside with the other kids playing baseball. And
hopefully this is your choice rather than something being forced upon you by your
parents." I added the second comment.

So let's make the kid smarter about music and trivia and let's make the words fit
(who knows, maybe this was a trick to make it easier to memorize). But every time I
hear the Hunting Song or Farmer in the Dell, tantivy, tantivy, tantivy rattles around in
my brain until some other musical idea replaces it. It is almost as bad as the
commercial for Eastern"s (car sales) in the DC area. Try to get that one out of your
head. I dare you to search it on YouTube.

I am not ragging on Bill Palmer. I am sure he is somewhere having a great laugh

with me. I could never expect less from someone who would bend notes playing St.
Louis Blues on a 12-bass complete with eye-brow choreography at a multi-state
accordion competition, which certainly requires more coordination than I have.

Page 398
Saved Rounds

Jim does not see the amusement I have with Tantivy; but my humor is generally lost
on almost everyone anyway, a fact I accepted many years ago. Most likely the adult
student will find the pictures and words amusing. But what about the young
student?

I am sure Palmer and Hughes were involved in the words and music, but what about
the artwork in their method books? What a great doctoral thesis this would be.
Whatever the answer, the method book has remained enormously successful for a
very long time. Hopefully the kid having trouble with tantivy can at least stay inside
the lines with his crayons. But this is coming from someone who only barely passed
art and music in kindergarten. I will guarantee you that none of my artwork ever
made it to the fridge.

Standing on the Corner

04/25/12

Roll back to the mid 1960's and the UCLA Men's Glee Club, Donn Weiss conductor.
I only did one year in the Men's Glee club and in 1967 I had no idea that I would
eventually become the Music Director and Conductor of the West Point Glee Club or
that eventually we would sing in Westwood, California or that we would invite Donn
to West Point to guest conduct the West Point club.

I was the instrumental soloist for the UCLA club - playing the musical interlude so
the club could give the voices a break. We performed a lot that year and our
adventures even included a trip to Hawaii.

Donn's premier group at UCLA was the highly acclaimed Madrigal Singers but
Donn always had a fond place in his heart for the Men's Glee Club - and all-men's
groups were still popular. He presented a wide variety of music with the Glee Club,
some to entertain and some to educate: something I did with the West Point Glee
Club. The expectations of an audience for a Glee Club performance were different
than they were for a madrigal group. I remember a time when one of my hard-core
biker friends came to a concert of the El Camino College Chorale. His first comment
was that he finally figured out why they called it a chorale - he had never seen such
a collection of beef on a stage. He followed that comment saying one of the
sopranos should have received special recognition for opening her mouth the
widest.

But in any event, the UCLA club was great fun and attracted a lot of talent both from
inside and outside the music department. At the end of the academic year the Club
performed an annual concert in Schoenberg Hall where alumni would join for the
singing of the final encore - 'De Animals A-Comin'. But another favorite of Donn's
was Standing on the Corner Watching All the Girls Go By from "Most Happy
Fellow". There were special musical moments for Donn, you could tell from a
certain smile on his face, and this song had several of them. I don't know if the high

Page 399
Saved Rounds

school audiences ever got the same yuck out of the song that Donn did, but at least
they didn't boo or throw things.

But after this very long introduction, my view on the title of that song takes a very
different direction. When my Grandfather retired in 1955 as a pipe fitter for Standard
Oil of California, they presented him with a pocket watch and a set of luggage. The
luggage was really something, made in a beautiful brown leather. There were plans
for travel and enjoying life. Not too long afer the big day we packed them up in the
famly station wagon and drove them to Union Station in downtown Los Angeles and
they were off to see relatives in Missouri. It seemed fitting as my grandparents on
my Dad's side had come to Southern California on the railroad from Hisperia,
Washington. I still can see them boarding the train, Grannie with a fresh cut corsage
on her jacket and Gramps in a suit with one of those ridiculously wide ties. It was to
be the start of a second life.

As the years passed more of the life was spent at home waiting for visits from the
grandkids or making the Sunday afternoon trips to our house in Torrance. There
were a lot of soap operas and TV wrestling. When it came my Dad's time to retire
he vowed that he didn't want to sit on the porch and watch the world pass by - so
they sold the house and did the RV thing 12-months-a-year for the next 17 years.

My brother's and I often commented that maybe Gramps was having done physical
labor all of his working life. But we also wondered if my Dad was running away from
something - like what would ultimately become the impending responsibility of caring
for his parents.

But all their experiences are now in the past, and I am now looking at retirement in a
couple more days. So it will become my turn. My oldest brother, who retired a few
years ago, commented that if I thought I was busy now, wait until I retired. And I
wonder if there is a parallel between the insanely hectic schedule of today's youth (I
don't know how any of them ever manage enough time to learn a musical
instrument) and the geriatric set.

I will have time to practice, but also know that my body will only tolerate so much
playing in a given day. There are tons of things to do around the house, but I don't
know if I want my existence to revolve around scouring bathrooms.

So the challenge will be to find a balance. I still have an extremely wide variety of
interests. And if there is one regret to aging, it is not having enough time to do all
the things I would like to do. I consider that a blessing.

ACCORDion Moms

04/26/12

Page 400
Saved Rounds

Jim and I have very different tastes in television, and sometimes the things we end
up watching are a compromise from those differences - often things neither of would
watch on our own. Last night it was Toddlers and Tiaras, the night before that it was
a marathon of Dance Moms Miami.

I love reality TV - Hardcore Pawn, Judge Judy (and every other judge show), Repo,
Bridezillas, whatever it is, bring it on. Much of it is totally mindless and over the top.
Years ago I remember someone saying that people will do almost anything to get on
television - that still seems to be true. Even the disclaimers on some of these
programs hint that at least some of what you are about to see is staged.

Toddlers and Tiaras and Dance Moms. Talent: occasionally. Stage mothers from
hell: guaranteed! Throw in some over-the-top shtick from colorful coaches and
teachers and you have the makings for the fastest hour you ever hope to see on
television.

I have often told of the enormous support my parents provided in my music career. I
have also repeated Sylvia Prior's words of, "parents, give your children the gift of
music." But somehow I don't think the out-of-control antics of coached parents like
you see on some reality television is what she had in mind. Sylvia's vision is a
strong, structured nurturing: certainly not the mother's tirades and combative antics
and bleeped swear words. Tears. Name calling. Fat. Ugly. Untalented.

That was certainly not my experience - never any part of it. There was
competitiveness between studios and even players, but when it was all done it was
fun and there was genuine acknowledgement of success. That is not to say there
wasn't the pressure from parents to succeed, and the occasional (or not so
occasional) passive aggressive barbs. But for the kid with an adequate level of
compulsive obsession, these weren't really necessary. It would certainly be a
tedious reality show. Mother's quietly knitting or reading a book while the kids
practice, father's outside smoking cigarettes or a pipe talking about mowing the
lawn.

But there is a final thought on all this (which will mean more if you have actually
seen Dance Moms Miami). As I watch Lucas, an extremely talented and trained 10-
year-old dancer, I am totally amazed. What he does defies his age. But some years
ago we had a lot of kids just like Lucas whose talent was playing accordion. Nearly
every corner studio had their Lucas, or stable of Lucae. And the competitions were
full of them - often very difficult to name one of them a winner.

We dont have that today. But perhaps we will see a change in the accordions
culture: kids pushing the envelope of what can be done, so the audience responds,
"I can't believe that is actually even possible." And then if we can cultivate the stage
moms (and find family's with a LOT of money), we can have our own reality show.

RiderCoaches and Stage Moms

Page 401
Saved Rounds

04/28/12

I just finished my last full day at work. Monday I sign out for good. But be
forewarned. I am sure the scope and content of this blog will change.

For the past 20 years my day-time job has been to save lives by finding ways to
reduce crashes on the nation's highways. All of it was really important stuff.

But now I can turn my attention to more important things, like Toddlers and Tiaras,
Dance Moms Miami, Wife Swap, Repo, and lest I forget, Judge Judy. Some years
ago parents in our local parish were complaining about the Simpsons. It was
the worst of the horrible vile stuff one found on television. Our parish priest
surprised all of them when he started a series of Sunday sermons about the
Simpsons episode of the week. He said that one could look at the program as pure
garbage, or one could look at the moral message; and most of those messages
were relevant if not outright powerful. The kids found new interest in going to Mass.

I ask myself questions, especially when it is anything that involves today's kids. With
all the competing activities how do they really achieve excellence in anything? Also,
how appropriate or effective is the extraordinarily aggressive attitude of some of the
parents, teachers and/or coaches on some of the reality shows? "You are going to
ruin my reputation." "Second place is unacceptable."

Obviously much will depend on the child: what is effective for one might not be for
another. It also depends on the effectiveness of the methods used by the teacher. I
worked with several motorcycle trainers who were extremely corrosive in their
criticism. But for these particular individuals it was a way to break the ice. It was
entertainment. Their students were quickly laughing which was one of the best ways
to get them to relax; and often, getting someone to relax will fix many problems. But
other instructors have been nasty and not achieved any result. In these cases
students see it as an attempt to intimidate, and it can cause them to fail even more
miserably or to rebel to the entire process. It is unlikely that any positive objective is
being met.

For me the most effective teachers have been those who demonstrated standards
(often with no words) and then exceeded them. They never gave the impression
you could not succeed. Many times people do things because no one told them they
can't. They teachers were also there to learn with you, .sometimes giving the
impression they were learning even more than you were. There was value in the
experience for both of you. Over the years I have gained a greater appreciation for
the Motorcycle Safety Foundation's decision to change the name from Instructor to
RiderCoach. It implies a partnership and makes an enormous amount of sense.

I realize editing and presentation in some reality shows changes what I see in a
given situation, or changes what an editor, director or producer wants me to see.

Page 402
Saved Rounds

But perhaps some of the value judgments are easier to evaluate when the examples
are more extreme - have pushed the edge.

So I am entertained with reality shows, but I also see the opportunity for evaluating
personal values and interaction as ultimately I am looking at myself. So Father John
had it right

Final Countdown

04/29/12

Tomorrow morning is my wake-up. I decided I will do the last day at work as I have
done for the past 5 years and ride the commuter van for the last time. I have been
riding the van for four years and have seen the rotation of riders. People don't talk
very much on the commuter van - they usually sleep, listen to music, or occasionally
read. The US Department of Transportation Building is right next to the Navy yard
and most of the van riders are civilian employees for the Navy. There is one lone
Marine officer. It has taken a long time to even learn the names of other riders, let
alone get to know anything about them. Ah, the cold, faceless world of the
commuter.

This passage in life reminds me of when I left West Point. It is hard to imagine that I
will not have to get up at an exact time and go through an all-too-familiar ritual -
though I imagine in time that is what I will do as I like regimen. We also have a
relentless set of alarm clocks - the dogs. When they decide it is time to get up, you
might as well give up and get up.

Through the years I always enjoyed practicing first thing in the morning. That is a
habit that has not yet returned. I always liked the feeling of never having to worry
about getting the time to practice later in the day or having something come up that
would interfere. There a couple times I have practiced moderately early; mainly
when I had a plane to catch or something to do mid-day. But that was around 7:00
a.m. In the past, early was 4:00 a.m. That way I could get in three hours before
breakfast.

On Thursday I went through my sign-out list in preparation for retirement. I started

at the DOT library first thing. What a surprise to discover I had signed out a
research document from 1977 that had never been returned. I had signed it out four
years ago in preparation for a revision of the motorcycle training curriculum
standards that were being updated - one of my projects. Someone else had taken
over the project when I moved from motorcycles to traffic records and the document
had never been returned. The librarian was young, but in every sense had every
trait of the stereotypical librarian and insisted I return the document before he would
sign my sheet. So much of my day was spent locating a copy of the document -
which I finally found. But how do you loose a 400 page document? So that was my
potential major drama - refused retirement because of a lost research paper.

Page 403
Saved Rounds

So tomorrow is the final day in a long-running period of my life. Some of it has been
very rewarding. Some has been frustrating. But for the past several years, and
really only for the past several years, it has just been very tedious. For most of my
career I was inspired and could become enthusiastic about almost any assigned
task. At West Point, the Motorcycle Safety Foundation, and the Naval Safety Center
it was always about doing the right thing for the right reason. But that changed in
the final years - it became all about 'how do I look doing this' rather than, 'am I doing
the right thing'.

I am reminded of my feelings about school prior to college. It was just tedious. It

was just something I had to do. And worst, I didn't see how and where I really made
a contribution. Perhaps it was because I was so engaged in music - that was all I
wanted to do. I saw everything else as getting in the way.

As I have aged I know that I can't sustain that kind of energy into a single thing -
there needs to be a balance. So the challenge over the next several months will be
in finding that balance. Both mind and body will demand that.

Retirement -- Finally!

05/11/12

I have been retired for a little more than a week and it has been one of the craziest
periods of my life. First was a trip to Las Vegas, Nevada, where I met my brother to
drive over to California to pick up two accordions. The same day I left they
started on major rennovation to the house foundation ramping up the dog
management to new heights -- a reminder of when the Hurricane took out the fence.

So ten days into retirement I am finally going to post the blog I wrote on my final ride
to DC for my last work day. It is amazing how much has changed since then. So far
I have only been able to sleep past 6:00 a.m. one morning. Hopefully that will
change soon.

Wake Up! (from the morning of April 30)

The last morning has arrived - finally. It seems the last month has passed too
slowly. People have said it takes some time to get used to not working every day,
but in my case I doubt that. Over the past several years I have been out twice for an
extended period. The first time I cut off a toe and had it reattached and the second
time I broke my ankle. On both occasions friends said I would be stir crazy and
anxious to get back to work in short order. They were wrong. I didn't miss it at all
and would have been delighted to have never gone back.

I started my pre-retirement push yesterday with a major geographic in my personal

living space. I lived in two different apartments for a short while when I was in
Laguna Beach. Even though I didn't have many possessions I seemed to be

Page 404
Saved Rounds

constantly trying to get everything arranged. I would spend a lot of time visualizing
how I would have improved efficiency and flexibility with a different layout. I would
thoroughly plan it out in my mind; but when everything had been moved it rarely
improved anything. The big culprit was my sound system. Each of the subwoofers
alone was the size of a large refrigerator and when you started moving such big
pieces around in a one-bedroom apartment there wasn’t even enough remaining
room to move about without literally climbing over something.

Another contribution to my perceived current need for a geographic is some major

foundation work that will start on the house tomorrow morning. Workers will need
access to the basement and will need to come through the garage. It will be a time
of major dog management at the highest level.

Then on Wednesday I am off to my brother's home in Las Vegas. On Thursday at 0-

dark-thirty (my final day for military slang) we we depart for California on a Super
stradella and Super Continental quest. Although Giulietti sold many Super stradellas
they are almost impossible to find. Either the owner's won't part with them or they
are completely trashed. It was by chance that my friend Gerry Kass spotted a 6/3
Continental. When he told me about it I realized it was not just a Super Continental,
but a jumbo-box (my term) cutaway.

There were several transitional bassettis in the earliest days, but the cutaway is
likely the rarest of the rare. I got my first jumbo box (the original bassetti, pedestal
button, 8 sets of bass reeds) (see the picture of Roberto on the Accordions page of
the website) in about 1961. The first time it went back for service, it came back with
a new, improved left hand. Low E had been added along with registers for both the
bassetti and stradella. A year later it on another routine maintenance trip it came
back with the new, patented left hand system fitted to the big box. The final result of
the new left hand was an instrument of greatly reduced depth and reach to the
buttons on the left hand side - but in the cutaway transition it was the best of both
worlds. The sound of the huge box and the improved mechanism. And a 61-note
range in the bassetti.

I had my cutaway for about 5 years. I competed in three Coupes, recorded the first
two Accordion Masterworks albums and the three albums for Gregory Stone. In all
my years and travels I don't remember seeing another one of them. I didn't even
have a remaining picture of the one I had until Amy Jo Sawyer sent me one a short
while ago.

Roberto plays like I remember the original bassettis. The pedestal buttons don't
bother me as much as I remembered disliking them after the introduction of the
standard button. It is a very different sound than the newer instruments; perhaps a
bit more Gola-esque.

My current weapon of choice is Fabian: the raised-block, big box 6/3. Sonically it
was the culmination of everything Julio had achieved in his quest to improve the

Page 405
Saved Rounds

bassett. The size of the box had been increased over the instruments from the late
1960s and 70s and the raised block (my term) bottom octave added power to the
bass. Fabian is a powerful, capable instrument. He will do anything I ask of him.
Now I hope I get a chance to see how well my memory serves me with the cutaway.
Prior to Fabian I had always said the cutaway was the best dual system Giulietti ever
made. Truly the best of both worlds. The jumbo box, the golden age of
craftsmanship, and the improved left hand system.

Over the years there have been things (especially cars) that I have wanted but was
not in a position to purchase. Then the day sometimes came many years later when
I could get one - but often not the new version, one of the original ones. By the time
I got my hands on them, they were usually old - had seen a lot of service and / or
abuse, and were only a shell of what they had originally been. Complete restoration
was often much more expensive than the resultant value.

All the accordions I had in the old days were new when I got them. They were
maintained to the highest possible level by Julio's technicians. Stephen Dominko
said it best, "Julio spoiled us." Fifty years have passed since the right hand of the
cutaway left the factory Castelfidardo - and 47 years since the new system left hand
was added. I understand that from the start. This is certainly a seasoned
instrument.

But who knows - there were so few cutaways - I have started working through some
old paperwork to see if this one was possibly the one that was replaced with the V2
in 1968. That would be beyond incredible. It disappeared without even a goodbye
when it was swapped out. But perhaps we will be reunited.

Standing in the Center of Chaos

05/12/12

We have just finished the second week of home repair. Major home repair. The
kind of home repair where one entire side of the house has been dug up to the
bottom of the foundation - a trench, if you will, almost 14 feet deep. On two other
sides of the house there are series of holes where helical piers (yes, it is as
expensive as it sounds) are being installed to provide a reienforced footing for the
foundation.

However, we are very lucky. The contractors show up each morning and work, not
like other situations where they show up late the first day, putz around for a couple
hours, and then you don't see them for weeks at a time. We have certainly had that
experience too many times. Now if the rain holds out so they can finish.

This home was built in the 1970s in what was the first 'out of the city' development in
Fredericksburg. It is a heavily wooded area with hardly one inch of level ground
anywhere. In the 1970s there was less knowledge about shifting soil and what that

Page 406
Saved Rounds

would mean to a house settling over time. It is not a problem today, but who knows
that other problems may surface in currently built homes years from now.

So this is not that different from some accordions built through the years. There are
many accordions built in the 1950s and 1960s that are still being played. A lot of
accordions were imported from Italy during that time, and there was fierce
competition by both the manufacturers and importers over improvements that would
make the instruments sound better and make them more durable. You saw it in the
ads.

In many ways these improvements were successful. Some of the instruments from
that time have had very little maintenance - and some of them have been played
professionally and played hard. But there have also been some things that did not
fare as well - and these become the parallels to the problems I am currently facing in
my house.

There is another parallel with vintage accordions and vintage homes, and that is bad
repair work. With a drop in the instrument's popularity came a drastic reduction in
the people who can service them. It can sometimes be seen as an aging fleet but
unlike the airlines there is no infrastructure to ensure minimum specifications.

Even good accordions with minor problems can become much less valuable when
unknowing hands have been inside. Fifty or forty years ago the fleet of accordions
was new. Most of the service was very minor; primarily adjustments.

When I first came back to playing and found my first dual-system bassetti I was
unfortunate in allowing someone to do what should have been some very minor and
routine work. The results of their extreme incompetence ended up in repairs equal
to what I paid for the instrument and being without it for a combined time of nearly
nine months. Absolutely absurd.

However, a resolution finally came. I finally did find people I could trust, people who
actually know something about the instruments, and people who are honest

For all my previous accordion life I typically only had one accordion. It was all I ever
needed. I now find myself with several custom-built Giuliettis. For me it is not a
fiscal investment, but rather a part of my history. I find it personally rewarding to
know these instruments did not become merely someone's curiosities - too often
subject to fiddling or other modifications. That is the last thing Julio would have ever
wanted. Rather they are something I appreciate for what they are with no other
expectations.

In 1978 I asked Julio to sell me a Super stradella. He wouldn't even talk about, not
understanding how I would want to go backward after playing all-bassetti for almost
20 years. I finally found my Super stradella and it is a wonderful example of why

Page 407
Saved Rounds

these accordions were the ultimate weapon-of-choice. I also recently found a dual-
system cutaway. Another treasure from my history.

Earlier I mentioned innovations and improvements and I find it interesting that the
most competent Giulietti bassettis (in terms of realizing repertoire) were some of the
last ones he made; from a transitional time of craftsmen, when consistency was
perhaps not as high as it had once been. So even right up to the end, Julio was a
visionary in terms of the tonal capabilities of the bassettis. He achieved a
contiguous balance in the lower ranges of the bassetti that I personally feel is
missing in some of the newer bayans, where the lowest octave often seems like
another instrument. I also feel the musical use of the bayans has adapted to this
sound, sometimes at the expense of pitch accuracy which was one of the initial
purposes of free bass.

Evaluating Failure

05/28/12

Some time ago I listened to a friend relate her story of working on a very large
project. She said she had been shocked when someone had said, but what if it
fails? Failure was something she had not considered; not thought possible. But as
unpleasant as the thought might have been, she had to come to grips with the
possibility that the project could fail in spite of what she and her partners had worked
to accomplish. In retrospect the Betty Ford Clinic did not fail.

I retired about a month ago; something I have looked forward too for a very long
time. But the past month has not been what I thought retirement would be all about.
It has been the crazier than the previous ten years combined. Immediately on
retirement I started some major structural work on the house which ramped dog
management to new levels. I also traveled to the West Coast to pick up two
additional Giulietti Supers and am grateful to my brother, Gerry Kass, and John
Torcello for making that endeavor relatively painless.

However, work on Accordion Heroes went from balancing a plethora of complex

moving pieces to full-on damage control when it became necessary to cancel the
event.

So looking back at the past month, I am grateful that I have been finally able to get
the structural problems with the house resolved. I am absolutely thrilled at finally
locating an absolutely pristine Giulietti Super stradella and the rarest-of-the-rare
Super Continental cutaway 6/3s - the instrument that accompanied me to three
Coupes, four recordings, and the Sinatra and Atwater Kent Competitions And then
the disappointment of Accordion Heroes 2012.

Accordion Heroes, or at least the concept surrounding Accordion Heroes, evolved

into something that at least had outward appearances different than the intent of the

Page 408
Saved Rounds

original event. Accordion Heroes was created to provide support to the young
players and to carry-on the American culture of the instrument; something I have
written about to great lengths in these blog entries. As Accordion Heroes unfolded
this was to be accomplished through an aggressive slate of artists; first to attract
enthusiasts and provide a funding base for the event, but more importantly to
provide mentors to the young players. This relationship was very carefully defined
and great care was taken to retain the versatility of the instrument and the diversity
of those that play it.

In retrospect, it was likely a combination of factors that limited enough interest for
people to commit to registration - the economy, timing, and push-back from the
perception that it would be in competition with the AAA and ATG (which it was never
intended to do).

Many years ago on a family vacation my family chanced to meet with my Aunt and
Uncle and their hoard of kids at a campsite in Richardson's Grove in the Redwoods.
It was a time of sleeping bags, tents, and cooking over a wood stove. My Dad and
Uncle Jack had made a huge batch of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, but somehow
from the journey from the fire to the wooden picnic table most of it ended up on the
ground. Normally it would have been something we kids would have eventually
eaten being hungry and realizing nothing else was forthcoming. But on this
occasion there was great mashing of teeth and consternation over the loss over this
great culinary prize; a realization of something of value once something was lost.
Our carrying-on was great amusement for our parents.

I was reminded of that event when I read some of the internet babble of people over
the cancellation of Accordion Heroes - they were so looking forward to hearing what
would certainly have been the greatest collaboration of the America's young talent in
one place at one time. They were so looking forward to hearing Jorgen, after such a
long absence from the US. But with only two exceptions I couldn't find where any of
these people had registered to attend the event.

But the message I see from all this is that the world of US accordion enthusiasts is
not ready for any new ideas on how to support the instrument - or that Accordion
Heroes 2012 was seen as different enough to get buy-in. When the dust
clears none of it will make a difference anyway, and that is also okay.

A final personal story. Some years ago when DVDs were on the horizon there was
industry push for the new technology. But there was also big push back on formats
and how people would align with different parts of the industry (another way of
saying greed). There were many cautions to 'wait' to see what evolved. From a
personal standpoint I was tired of VHS and looked forward to a new format. Despite
warnings from friends, I bought one of the early machines and started a collection of
DVDs. To the waggling of friend's fingers I would simply reply, if people don't buy
into new technology it can't survive - and I am tired of VHS tapes, even though you

Page 409
Saved Rounds

can re-record on them. And now I am replacing my DVDs with Blu Ray. It is
interesting to watch things evolve. Except in the Accordion world.

30 Days and Still Counting

05/30/12

It is raining here once again. Each time it rains there is a delay on completing the
repair to the house. We are now at 30 days and still counting - but hopefully the end
is in sight. The hardest thing is the effect on the dogs routine, who must be out for
their morning exercise and comfort break and back in before the construction
workers arrive at 7:00 a.m. So much for sleeping in.

Each day since retirement I take on projects - not big ones, just small things that I
know need to be done. I actually accomplished my first one this morning when I
finally got my cell phone to properly back up.

My project from yesterday was shortening the left hand strap on Fabian. It has been
too loose for some time though I have somehow been able to manage it. Fabian is a
dual system, but when I play something that is strictly stradella I tighten the left hand
strap as the left hand is not crossing the 6 rows of stradella to play the bassetti.
There was no more adjustment so my hand was flopping all over the place. I had no
control. My accuracy on Fabian for stradella was getting so bad I was practicing
stradella rep on either General Bill or on Jason.

So yesterday it was off to Dale's with the left hand strap in hand. I took it out of the
accordion as I didn't want to schlepp Fabian out into the heat. But upon examination
of the strap I realized it should be replaced. It was seriously worn.

Dale brought out boxes of bass straps and we finally found one about the same
width and material. Jason and Bruno (the two new Supers) both have the original
all-leather bass straps of yesterday and I have played them enough to appreciate
the materials on the newer ones - sort of a velveteen. It has a more consistent feel,
especially as one starts to sweat. Dale had a couple super-wide straps but I could
not see how they would work as well for what I do. (I apologize for still not having
pictures of the two new instruments on the website.) Then it was back home to
reinstall in Fabian and a bit of practice to start the process of stretching it out.

I am wondering how the hierarchy of the instruments will sort out. Fabian is still the
concert instrument of choice but I am certain that Jason will become a serious
contender. Going by serial numbers, Jason is the oldest instrument, but Roberto is
the oldest left-hand (dual) system. Jason and Roberto are both jumbo boxes,
though Jason is a cutaway. Fabian and Elizabeth or both big box, raised block - with
a totally different sound - in both hands.

Page 410
Saved Rounds

Jackson (the Super stradella) is more like Siegfried (Ring) or Prince Siegfried (Swan
Lake). He is not intimidated by any of the others nor will he succumb to anything or
anyone. From a Giulietti pre-bassetti era (almost), there are no apologies or
excuses. Bruno has a take-no-prisoner attitude (Jim and I are still going back and
forth on the name).

The back yard is once again filled with construction workers. They came despite
the rain. Luke (the Alaskan Malamute) announced their arrival. And now it is time
for me to get on with today's tasks. Not a lot of substance in today's blog, but
sometimes life is just like that. Sometimes it just isn't that profound.

Dance Moms DC

06/03/12

Last night it was up to the Kennedy Center to see the Bolshoi Ballet's Coppelia. Our
latest obsession de jour with reality television has been Dance Moms and Dance
Moms Miami. And the Dance Moms DC were out in full force last night with their
young daughters in tow. All I can think is that there were no competing dance
competitions and someone told them that the content of Coppelia would likely be
palatable to a young dancer. And lest we forget the launch of the new season of 'So
You Think You Can Dance.'

I had a fleeting thought last night about the training programs at Vaganova and at
the Bolshoi and wondered if there is a hoard of mothers standing on the sidelines
providing comment on the course of instruction: or even in this country at SAB or the
ABT School.

I have always retained an immense respect for the musical talent of Roger Wagner,
but I have remained even more fond of his cutting sense of humor that kept
generations of singers entertained during rehearsals; at least if you were not on the
wrong side of his tongue.

He had some favorite topics, some that evolved and some that were ongoing. One
that evolved was when Martin Bernheimer became the critic for the Los Angeles
Times, replacing Albert Goldberg. With Albert, Roger could do nothing wrong. With
Martin, he could never get it right.

An ongoing topic was church choirs. One of my favorite stories related to the local
choir director telling his members, "don't worry, God will like it." This worked as an
excuse for everything from wrong notes to intonation. Then Roger would go into
high gear antics. "What are you thinking, that God is an idiot? God has perfect
pitch. He doesn't want to hear bad intonation."

Roger’s attitude was amusing, but to achieve his point, he was often extreme. And
the people he was working with took it all in appropriate context and were greatly

Page 411
Saved Rounds

amused. I never saw anyone offended. The local choir director likely could have
taken great offense.

And that brings me to one of my favorite topics - the enthusiast. Not when the
enthusiast is an enthusiast, but when the enthusiast doesn't realize the distinction or
need for a distinction between the enthusiast and the professional or the possible
impact from their lack of knowledge or experience.

An extreme example to illustrate. I work out every day. I often see people helping
their buds with some miracle routine they read about in a magazine - monster abs in
only an hour a day or some other silliness. They didn't have the ability to evaluate
the original article, and actually know very little about abs or physical conditioning for
that matter. But somehow they have figured it out on their own and are now sharing
their new-found information. They have become the guru. I have seen people
injured through such ignorance - injured to where they couldn't work out for an
extended period of time or even needed surgery to repair damage. When I first
became interested in Pilates some 15 years ago the instructor wouldn't let a
newcomer take a class until they had enough private sessions to understand the
basics of positioning and breathing.

Personally I believe there is a hierarchy in both talent and knowledge. And one part
of mastery within that hierarchy (over and above the ability to do whatever it is) is
knowing what one knows and what one doesn't know. When the Dance Mom starts
telling the teacher what he or she should be doing, it is an illustration of this
misconception at a pretty high level (presuming the teacher knows what they are
doing - which is another topic).

And we have a lot of that in the accordion world. Will it likely cause permanent
injury? Probably not. Will it hold back the progress of the instrument? Probably
not. But will a combination of events perhaps leave a lasting imprint that may cause
someone with at least a modicum of sense to give a good eye-roll? Putting the
image of the accordion once again at point zero of what we are trying to escape?
Possibly. Maybe it already has.

Early to Bed

06/07/12

Early to bed, late to bed. It doesn't matter when the dogs decide they want to go out
early in the a.m. you don't have a choice. You get up and let them out.

Last night on (what I think was) a rerun of Dance Moms, Abby was telling one of the
top young girl dancers that she needed to be prepared at all times to perform this
difficult solo Abby had choreographed for her. She said she would call on her to do
it, but the young girl would not know when. Abby was pretty abrasive about it,
though I don't know how much of her true abrasiveness is edited in to give the

Page 412
Saved Rounds

reality show more punch. The look in the young girl's face was somewhere between
confusion and apprehension. Abby said it was part of her training.

As a young Torrance Accordionette (I am still somewhat confused about that name

when I think back to my youth - often wondering how it influenced other things in my
life) Bettie Thomas had a similar philosophy. But it was never a threat. There wasn't
any tension and kids weren't singled out. You never knew when Bettie would call on
you to play a solo. And unlike Abby, where it was reserved for the uber-talented:
Bettie treated everyone equally. It was never treated as a big deal. She didn't get in
your face with the warnings of doom. She simply announced who would play the
next solo during the course of a perfrmance.

There was also no ranting about how your playing would reflect on her reputation.
Everybody played solos. And there was very little discussion afterward. No finger
pointing, no scolding, and likewise, no picking the kid up in the air with heaps of
praise when it was over (which might have been difficult if you were still wearing the
accordion.) It was all just matter of fact. You came, you played, you left.

So at that point in my life, just like the other kids ad Betties studio, the motivation
came from within. Though some motivation came from the parents (they were
enthusiastic about what their kids did) I rarely remember even traces of competition.

And in retrospect, I think this was good. There was lots of time later in my youth to
get really neurotic. I once asked Stephen Dominko if Rudy Molinaro really ranted,
raved, and carried on like Julio Giulietti said he did. Julio had several
facial expressions that he would use when describing very select people or
situations. Two of the most memorable were talking about Rudy and talking about
prostitutes on Heroin (don't know how that one really came up). I remember Julio
almost breaking into a sweat when he spoke of Rudy. You could see the kid's fear
reflected in Julio's face. (I know people who actually knew Julio are laughing when
they read this as it reflected more of his wonderfully infectious personality than
actual fear. Julio was a character.) This guy knew how to motivate them to play!

But with Bettie, it just wasn't a big deal. Playing was just something you did. Maybe
like the carpenters that installed my deck. Pounding nails and getting things level
are just something they do. They certainly didn't look nervous doing it.

And Rubinstein never really looked nervous when he played. It was just something
he did. And he always gave the impression that he enjoyed doing it. Jim often
speaks of dancers who convey the 'love of dance'. They also talk of it often on So
You Think You can Dance. Rubinstein always looked like he loved to play. In
contrast, Horowitz fought demons most of his life, but who knows if the demons were
from the piano or other non-musical things.

So what works? What is most effective? Abby screaming in kids faces with threats
about her (Abby's) reputation or Bettie calmly sitting there holding her accordion,

Page 413
Saved Rounds

playing along with the band, and calling on each and every kid to play their solo -
and giving every one of them equal respect and credibility for being ready to play
their piece, be it batter up or some virtuosic tour de force.

When I was training motorcycle instructors and riders I always found it better to keep
them relaxed. When they were relaxed they could better focus both their mental and
physical skills. They usually performed better and the drama level stayed at a more
reasonable level.

So how often is that world-class musician channeling untold energy from the
universe in a daring fete technical display? The audience and even himself not
knowing the outcome. If he will survive in triumph, or if it will all come apart in
disaster? The really good ones, probably never. They are well within their
performance zone, though some choreography to the contrary might be a crowd
pleaser.

And how much does the methodology of the teacher influence that? Like everything
else, it will depend on the student and circumstances. But personally I see more
danger in the antics of an Abby (if they are in fact real and not something
embellished by reality television show editing). My preference would be to focus on
that spark within the student (if it is there in the first place) - and help them find the
way to best ignite it while staying in balance both emotionally and musically.

Curiosities

06/14/12

I have probably written on this topic before; if so (and you read it), I apologize.

I recently met with my brother in Las Vegas and we drove to California to pick up two
treble clef Supers; one dual system bassetti and one stradella. It was the first time
we had spent any time together following the passing of my Mother a few months
ago.

My family has always been very close and we have always maintained the ability to
speak quite freely on almost any topic with a minimum of self-induced drama, though
I don't know how much drama is not self-induced. We spoke of family 'stuff',
pictures, books, memorabilia. What is the real interest by grandkids and great
grandkids? What happens to it? Things that were cherished treasures - lovingly
pulled from drawers on special occasions to recall a huge variety of memories and
experiences. There is obviously interest from my two brother's spouses, but the
interest decreases with each generation. My brother and I spoke with fondness and
had quite a few laughs of things that would likely only have meaning to us - and both
commented that the memories would likely die with us. It sounds morbid, but neither
of us approached it that way. It is life and as it should be.

Page 414
Saved Rounds

And I have thought of how a similar thing relates to the old accordions I have
collected. I have often written of how very few of my accordion generation had more
than one accordion. We didn't collect them - we couldn't afford it and there wasn't
really a need. But fifty years later I now find myself with 5 Giulietti Supers (three
treble clef) and a new-generation Classic 127.

John Torcello has one of my previous V2's. He wanted it for the same reason I did
when I bought it from Julio in 1978 - a backup for his instrument. You can't go to
your local music store (or even to the factory for that matter) and buy one. It is
unlikely the factory would even want to build one in the first place. The free bass
instruments they make now are all converters.

So now I find myself with this collection of accordions. Are they a monetary
investment? Certainly not (with the exception of the stradella). Would they have
great resale potential? Again, not likely. To many in our field, the Giulietti bassettis
are old school. Something that someone who is curious about exploring free bass
can pick up for a minimal investment. And often after they pick them up, they
discover it is more effort to learn the system than they anticipated and
the instruments are really big. Worse situation, they convert them to a stradella; and
they equate this to increasing their value.

However, unlike the pictures from the drawer that can help recall memories, to me
these accordions are something you can play. And having re-entered the accordion
world and taking a rather extended look at what's going on, I would say they are
quite different than the current offering of converters. While it is true that the musical
and technical approach to the converter is different than what we did so many years
ago, the capabilities (both technically and even more so musically) are also
different. From my view today - at this very moment, I think Julio was onto
something. He took on some of the inherent difficulties in the free bass concept, but
his solution was different. Somehow he achieved a rather amazing tonal balance
throughout the range of the instrument - quite different than the overpowering bass
(amplified by much of the repertoire) in the bayans that in some ways is more akin to
a stradella on steroids (I have sometimes called this a chromatic stradella). In the
repertoire written for the instrument it can be effective, but it can also turn Scarlati
into something akin to a German drinking song or Bach into really bad Brahms.

When I originally went on my quest for a free bass I knew it would not be wise to
learn a new left hand system at this point in my life. I wanted to find the instrument
my hands had been familiar with. I eventually found what I was looking for. But
unlike what some colleagues said about being obsolete and old school, I also have
come to appreciate what Julio had accomplished. But this is not in the plethora of
Ebay Giuliettis - it is in what I would call his 'ultimate' instruments. The instruments
he envisioned on the stage at Lincoln Center. To confuse the matter there is also
the run of one-off's and special built instruments. But in defense of Julio, he was
always looking to improve the instrument and was willing to take risks or to build
something special.

Page 415
Saved Rounds

Someone looking to explore bassetti on a budget will likely not do searches for Gola
dual-system instruments. In addition to very few being available, they are insanely
expensive. Converters are also likely to be too expensive. Thus enter the Giulietti.
At this point, the perfect solution for the curiosity. Perfect for some inept fondling
only later to be forgotten in a case, or worse yet, castrated into some abortion.

So when Jim (or others) asks about my increasing collection of Giulietti bassettis, I
can only say that they have value to me. I considered making the converter
transition early on in my initial search, but I am now glad I didn't. Fifty years ago,
Giulietti was my instrument of choice; a decision made for a single reason - the
accordion would do what I wanted it to do both musically and technically. And it still
will.

But perhaps that is like my brother and I looking at old pictures and talking about
times long past; akin to looking at black and white Ansel Adams photos taken with
an 8 x 10 film negative. At least the solution wasn't to digitally remaster them to
color - they can stand for what they are; artistic masterpieces that will survive for
decades.

And when someone says that the Giuliettis are 'old fashioned' or 'old school' I can
accept that. But for me I can appreciate them for what they are and what they will
do, which I consider unique. And I hope I don't get to the point where they need be
sacrificed to someone's curiosity. They deserve more than that.

Old Dog, New Tricks / New Dog, Old Tricks

06/25/12

With completion of the Accordion Heroes Picnic I finally have time to return to the
blog.

Michael Bridge's arrival in Fredericksburg at the start of last week provided the
opportunity for collaboration on what I have coined as diatonic fingering (at least for
the moment) which is a part of the Accordion Barre. But there was also extended
discussion on the status of the accordion in general; not only in terms of a relation to
other instruments in the cultural realities of a wide variety of art, popular and ethnic
music, but in terms of the evolution into the left hand free bass systems of current
accordions. It seems there is too little discussion on these topics, but perhaps this is
driven by a lack of understanding or possibly even a perceived need for interest, of
how all this fits together, why it might be considered important, and how it will
ultimately influence the instrument's future or how to avoid unrealistic expectations.

Whereas I shared my musical and pedagogical heritage with Michael, the

opportunity for extended and detailed sessions with him allowed me to gain a much
deeper understanding into the musical and technical aspects of the current converter
left hand. Technically, the system is even more complex than I comprehended.

Page 416
Saved Rounds

In the earlier days of what could be called the modern accordion, the right hand, be it
piano or chromatic, was quite straight forward. With the exception of switches and
the addition of a tone chamber, it still hasn't changed that much. Not the same in the
left hand. The stradella system, though originally intended for a relatively simple
pragmatic purpose, was the complex mystery. And all kinds of things happened on
that side of the bellows. Nations, or at least US enthusiast associations and guilds,
were divided over almost everything. Treble clef to bass clef. Battles over full chord
and approved notation. All that other good stuff. Then, along with questions of
legitimacy I have so often talked about, came loyalty to pitch accuracy - which drove
the evolution of registration systems.

Along came bassetti, which ultimately was intended to simplify the left hand. Initially
introduced as an addition to the stradella (yes, I know there are exceptions), the
complexity of the chords and need for endless registration changes were gone. The
goal, at least as far as Giulietti was concerned, was for it to be straight forward - just
like the right hand. Sort of like an accordion version of WYSIWYG. With this
concept the hands could be seen as equal partners. A left hand could be as simple
as a right hand. Several of us from that era fell into the center of that school and
played (play) all free bassetti instruments with no, or a minimum, of stradella. And
Ebay is filled with an abundance of Giulietti all free-bassetti instruments.

Unfortunately this wasn't accepted quite as planned for an enormous number of

reasons. The ideal solution did not evlove as equal utilization of the hands. Each
had unique capabilities. And the dual systems were eventually replaced with the
chromatic converter (no relation to the original Titano quint). The evolution from
complexity of stradella to bassetti turned back to stradella with converter, in a
system far more complex than any stradella could have imagined. If there currently
is concern over two systems in the left hand it will ultimately be dwarfed by an even
bigger concern for musical decisions involving use of the left hand. Even within the
converters, there are considerable variations in reeds and registration in both
systems, which can result in drastic tonal changes from one octave to the next.
Certainly much more noticeable than the break on your father's Boesendorfer
Imperial.

But whereas some might say the world (or at least the accordion) is heading in the
direction of too much complexity (something that would discourage new players); in
the hands of those who successfully play them, it's simply not an issue. If anything,
they want more. They use the complexity as both a technical and musical resource -
and with players like Michael, occasionally they are effective at it. And it is exciting.
As Gene Detgen used to tell me, it is not what it is, it is what it does.

And perhaps that is the instrument's true strength. The complexity and capabilities
of an ever-changing left hand.

So part of what Michael and I were about this week was discussing how one could
achieve a total physical and musical mastery of the instrument; that’s what diotonic

Page 417
Saved Rounds

fingering and Accordion Barre is about. It can be applied to any keyboard, or any
system, and is applicable at any level. It is musical, but it is also physiological and
mathematical. It is intended for multiple keyboards, or mirror use of the same
keyboard. It is also fun.

The Blog Returns – Enter Jackson

09/13/12

One of my first goals after returning to the accordion a couple years ago was to get
an original Giulietti Super stradella. I wanted a Super stradella back in the late
1970's before I stopped playing, and as I have written in this blog, I tried to buy one
from Giulietti. Julio didn't want to hear it. "Why would you want to go backward?"
After all, I had played all-bassetti instruments for a lot of years.

Upon my return several years ago I located two dual-system Supers rather quickly
and have since added two more to the collection. But that elusive Super stradella
still lingered in the back of my mind. Though the dual-system Continentals have a
full 120-bass stradella, there is a difference in the balance and response of the
instruments.

My thoughts go back to the time first time I guest conducted one of this country's top
symphonies. I had some apprehension as the conductor accompanied me toward
the stage for the introduction to the orchestra and I will never forget his words. He
promised a musical experience beyond anything I could have ever imagined; a
musical satisfaction beyond description. Once you did it, nothing else would ever
compare. The ultimate musical opiate (my words). He was right: there was nothing
like this.

I had similar feelings about my initial experience playing a Giulietti. When I played
that first instrument back in 1959, nothing had compared, and I intuitively knew that
nothing else ever would. I never knew what happened to the Dallape Super Maestro
it replaced, and frankly didn't care.

More than fifty years later I still feel the same way. Though I was lucky enough to
locate several bassettis early-on, finding a Super stradella was more elusive. Most
have either been literally played to death or the owner will not part with them. I had
literally not touched a Super stradella for nearly 50 years, yet the memory remained
that strong. And I have not been disappointed as two of these magnificent
instruments have come into my collection.

Fifty years later I finally have the collective experience to describe what I like about
these instruments: what makes them stand apart, makes them unique, makes them
special. And it is not extra screws in the reed blocks or other sundry sales-pitch crap
that (in the global scheme of things) most often doesn't make much difference. It is
how they play, how they sound, how they respond, and if they hold up.

Page 418
Saved Rounds

It comes down to what the player expects from the instrument, and perhaps that has
changed over the past 40 years - as reflected in many of the modern instruments.
This can be seen more in the free bass instruments, but it has carried over into the
dedicated stradellas. I would say the two main differences are in clarity and in
transient response, which ultimately is a capability that is not as well understood
today. Many of the modern bayans will play quite loud, but often at the expense of
transient response and clarity.

I am thoroughly enjoying Jackson and Ryan. They inspire me and respond even to
the slightest musical request. They don't need to be over-played to be musically
satisfying. I never feel like I have reached their limitations, which is more about
transient response than loudness. They inspire.

But I would also caution the novitiate that these accordions are not the run-of-the mill
Ebay Giuliettis. Giulietti had several model levels - the 'Super' being the elite of the
elite (stradella and bassetti). Think of the person buying the Chevette and thinking it
will be the same as a 1963 split-window Corvette; after all, aren't they both
Chevrolets? And the Super in original condition will likely be harder to find than the
1963 Corvette.

Sometimes I hear things which really set me off; either because I personally find
them totally inaccurate, absurdly ridiculous, or with no rational relation to accordion,
let alone anything musical. They rarely make it to the pages of this blog because I
question that my opinions ultimately might not have any real purpose (other than my
ego). They are victims of my delete key. But once in a while I let one sneak
through.

PBS has been airing the Met's new production of the Ring, and Bruhnhilde was
echoing off the walls of our home into the late hours. I have been going around in
circles for the past several days with Jim about vocal quality. The center of the
argument has been about Maria Callas and how she felt about her own voice.
Though I have recognized the translation of her acting ability, I have never been a
big fan of her voice.

A few weeks ago I was helping with sound reinforcement for an accordion event. A
rather enthusiastic (however perhaps uninformed) bayan player was saying that his
instrument was designed to have the power to play inside or out without any
amplification. He didn't need it. That was one of the advantages.

I thought of the scarcity of true Wagnerian singers. How many mortals can compete
with that orchestration let alone have the stamina. Then I thought about another
angle. Marine Corps Drill sergeants rarely rely on any amplification - and even a
partially competent one could make more noise with their voice than a singer. But
which would I want to hear?

Page 419
Saved Rounds

The largest venue I ever played on accordion was Eisenhower Hall Theater with an
audience in excess of 4,000. I also played Royce Hall at UCLA at the seating
capacity over 1,800. The sound from the Supers filled those rooms the same way a
fine singer's voice or any other musical instrument would. And when I have heard
Strads played at the Kennedy Center it is the quality of the tone that brought tears to
my eyes, not the sheer volume.

The Wagner's Ring Cycle and the Accordion

09/14/12

This week has already been a triple delight with PBS having aired the first three
operas from Wagner's Ring Cycle. In my youth I didn't particularly care for Wagner;
not an intense dislike, but no real resonance. I still remember one final exam where
we were asked to provide a harmonic analysis of the first 16 measures of the
introduction to Tristan; endless suspensions and who knows where the tonal center
was. As an 18-year-old with future Coupes to enter I didn't really have either the
time or patience for this.

But something happened as I approached my 30th birthday and since then Wagner
has remained unchallenged in the top two of my favorite-composer-short-list.
Something caused me to turn loose and let the music take me on its intended
journey: a journey that engulfed me in uncompromised levels of vision, passion, and
power. The raw power of rock music had replaced any interest I had in jazz some
ten years earlier. But this was so much more. It all came together.

I have always liked loud. Wagner can get quite loud. I have always liked big works.
Wagner is beyond big. Not only is it begat in his vision, but sustains in real-time
performance.

One of the things over the past three nights that has amused me the most is Jim's
shock at details of the storyline. Gods, half-gods, incest, violence, greed, betrayal,
decadence. I am sure Mitt Romney would not approve of the moral message.

There are certain levels of presumed believability contained within the nightly
television experience. Jim and I have come to agree that the antics in reality shows
like Dance Moms and Bridezillas are likely enhanced for entertainment purposes;
either through direction or editing. Then we move up a level. I was asked recently
about the believability of the storyline behind Teen Wolf (one of my favorites), and
said, why not? Compared to the Ring, it is pretty mild.

From an artistic standpoint, the demands behind every artistic detail of the Met's
production of the Ring are likely outside the scope of us mortals. Singers, orchestra,
set design, even the pure scope, all of it. Absolute artistic brilliance. And if there is
a fourth dimension in art - something that transcends even the human experience
and sustains through time, in my opinion the Ring is also on the top of that short list.

Page 420
Saved Rounds

Sometimes it's about the good old days, and sometimes it is about the good new
days. 'Live from the Met' in HD formats is certainly the good new days. The video
production and sound quality are stunning. And now for the connection to
accordion, I am listening through a vintage set of Rectilinear III speakers that were
designed by Jim Bongiorno, an audio engineering genius and Giulietti jazz artist who
also did some electronic work for Julio.

So tonight we will conclude with Gotterdammerung. I already have chills thinking of

those final parts of the last act: especially that last statement of the Valhalla motif. It
is perhaps my favorite musical event of all time. If art can be bigger than (our
individual) mortal life, this is it.

So when it comes down to the decision to watch an accordion internet master class
or ride with Brunhilde into the flames of Valhalla, for tonight I must opt for Wagner.
And thank god, I don’t think anyone has transcribed a Ring Cycle greatest hits for
accordion symphony.

Bellows-po-luza

09/17/12

I have stayed away from the topic of bellows-shake during the course of this blog.
From my perspective it is a rather complex topic, and for me the jury is still out on
parts of it.

In years past, the bellows-shake was an effective staple of many of the accordion's
pop super-stars. At a minimum it was exciting, and in some instances it was (and
still is) carried to extended expressive capabilities; Tony Lovello immediately comes
to mind. Above all, audiences loved it. There was no need to turn on the 'applause'
lights.

However, in years past, the bellows-shake was not a staple of what some
considered 'legitimate' accordion music. But that has changed. Many of the original
works and transcriptions seem to be cascading overdone iterations and reiterations
of bellows manipulation, shake and otherwise. But to me, the musical result is not
the same as the pop use. Maybe it is something akin to the migration of a hard-rock
song to Muzak (elevator music). It also seems that the accordion's most wonderful
expressive characteristics are easily disengaged. The expressiveness is gone. The
ability for individual nuance and fine-tuned articulation is minimized. Yawn. Tricks
for the sake of tricks. A little goes a long way. I become almost immediately bored
in 90% of the bellows-shake sections in 'legitimate' accordion music. There are
some exceptions, but few and far between. And it seems audience reaction in these
is not akin to pop applications. Several evenings ago at the Accordion Heroes
Concert in Fairmont West Virginia, Michael Bridge received a well-deserved
response at the conclusion of a stellar performance of a transcription that had lots of
bellows-shakes. But it was absolutely nothing to the enthusiastic audience

Page 421
Saved Rounds

explosion when Michael and Cory Pesaturo tore into a bellows-shake section after a
triple modulation at the end of Clarinet Polka during their spontaneous duo encore.

Or am I missing something?

I would love to hear one of the current over-abundant-bellow-shake-transcriptions

redone eliminating all the bellow-shakes. I think they could gain a new musical
energy and better use the expressive articulation capabilities of the instrument. Or
perhaps we should put the composers or arrangers with Dick Contino or Tony to
discover that aspect that makes it so exciting; turning the bellows-shake experience
into a real audience pleaser for the classical audience.

Or perhaps there should be a Coupe category either for all bellows-shake or sans
bellows-shake. Categories seem to have been developed for about everything
else? Why not bellow-shake?

But something else came to mind at the AH concert in West Virginia. We are
hearing more and more accordion in commercials and even in some popular
music; and it is being well received. I have heard people refer to the accordion's use
as a (tonal) color in these instances. But it certainly works. But is that expressive
aspect of the instrument too often neglected or replaced by a zillion notes
(regardless of the genre or tempo) in our day-to-day playing? Are accordionists
afraid that audiences will not be satisfied with a raw simplicity?

Rubinstein and Horowitz used to receive some of their most cherished encore
moments with the simplest offerings; pieces that every player in the audience had
likely played, like Schuman's Traumerei from Scenes from Childhood. But the level
of artistry in these performances was work of the gods. Something that was
remembered long after the Liszt Etude had faded from the audience's memory.

I know Stephen Dominko performed both Traumerei and The Poet Speaks. And
without a single bellows-shake.

Barnstorming Accordion Boogie

09/19/12

I have a recording of Accordion Boogie I made in my youth. I was at my

barnstorming best. It was all about how fast and how loud I could play. No finesse,
no nuance, little variation; power through it.

I can still remember my Grannie and Gramps listening to my performances in the

family living room. Gramps would get these dazed looks on his face, like someone
had pointed a fire hose at him and turned it on full blast. Grannie would make
occasional nods, like someone agreeing with something said in a foreign language

Page 422
Saved Rounds

that she had not understood. And the accordion was never enough. I had to have it
plugged into my amplifier so I could get the full effect.

By the time I got to college I was out of my barnstorming phase. If I were not playing
a 'gig' I would never even think of playing anything like Accordion Boogie, a polka, or
a waltz. If asked, I would refuse without apology. Even the big stradella
transcriptions weregone from the repertoire. No more Konzertstuck or Cappricio
Brilliante. Transcriptions were limited to the musical accuracy that could be
achieved through the bassetti and were carefully thought out. After Tito, jazz was
replaced with my rock band, and this never included an accordion. My mind set had
changed. It was about accuracy and technical precision. Gramps and Grannie still
listened, and surprisingly the reactions were often the same. The cycle was
complete with the all-bassetti instruments.

Fifty years later it is not unusual to see 'legitimate' (would be classical) players play
all types of music, ethnic is certainly in vogue as well as pseudo pop styles that often
have identities tied to the accordion. The barnstorming approach is often present (if
not self-required by the performer) in many of these presentations. It is as much
theatre as it is music. There are thousands of notes, lots of flash, and as mentioned
yesterday, lots of bellows-shakes.

The style of Dick Contino, often criticized by legitimate players in years past, lives.
But even today, there are some very unique aspects to Dick's playing that are rarely
duplicated. Dick's approaches the instrument using the entire hand to create a
certain sound. I would compare that uniqueness to what Hendrix did with a guitar. It
is total, complete, and works.

Sometimes when listening to pop music I am more interested in audience reaction

than the actual performance. Sometimes I see that same look Gramps had. But
times have also changed. Music, actually most sound in general, is loud; in your
face. I rarely go to a theme park or even a theatre without ear plugs. When I
entered the rock world in 1967 high sound levels were integral to the genre. And it
was something I loved about rock. Now it is part of everything.

So roll forward some 50 years and I find myself preparing for a performance on
General Bill (the rocker-switch Excelsior) later this week . I will be doing the musical
break for West Point Alumni Glee Club. I played a full recital for the same audience
several months ago and it was filled with the technical feats and the big stradella
transcriptions. And I succumbed to making what was hard even harder, faster, and
probably too intense.

So for fun, for this time I decided to include Accordion Boogie which I have not
played for at least 50 years. For the first couple run-throughs I was back at 12 years
old. Faster, louder, doubling up on everything. Then for some reason I tried backing
off. Play the notes (almost) as written, but concentrate on the articulation. Bring out
the small details through the use of the bellows. Make it talk. Make it fun. Turn off

Page 423
Saved Rounds

the fire hose for something more akin to the Priest sprinkling the faithful with holy
water; hopefully making the audience listen for detail.

He's Back

01/11/13

After nearly 7 months of retirement, a couple physical injuries, dealing with the
aftermath of Accordion Heroes, and even surviving the Holidays, I am finally able to
re-prioritize enough to get back to the blog. As several friends suggested, the
adjustment to retirement has been more challenging than I thought it would be. Too
often it seems that at the end of the day I am saying that I just can't get anything
done. But on the upside, it is rare a day passes that I don't get to watch at least two
episodes of Judge Judy and I anxiously await the return of Teen Wolf. Jim
continues to suffer through all this.

On a slightly less-comedic note, I am delighted to be have time to practice. With the

exception of summers in high school, I don't know if there was ever a time in my life
when practice could be my highest priority. There were always things like school
and work. The trade-off: I am fully aware that the body can only do so much. And a
further reflection of reality, the mind can only sustain a finite amount of concentration
at a single sitting. Efficiency in allotment of practice time is more important than ever
and I am fortunate to have learned that skill at an early age.

All that being said, my primary goal is to exchange extended van-writing sessions
with musical examples. To that end I have begun preparation to provide musical
examples to much of what I have included in these blog pages. The downstairs
bedroom is being converted into a recording and video studio and I have taken to
sharing a sleeping area with Tyler, Molly, and Lilly. So far they have not objected
and seem to enjoy exchanging their dog beds for a Tempurpedic. In fact, Tyler was
grumbling at me last night when I insisted it was crate time.

I am planning a three-pronged approach to all this. First will be demonstrations of

how the transient response of an accordion is so essential when made an integral
part of melodic line and vertical harmony.

The real value of an instrument is how its capabilities can be used to enhance
musical intent, and ultimately how this realization eliminates the need for
choreography and affectations. Other than structural competence, the realization of
musical intent is the paramount measure of what an instrument can do. You can
describe how it's built, extra screws in the reed blocks, whatever, but bottom line, it
isn't what you claim it is, but rather what it can do. When we heard Stephen Isserlis
perform last year with NSO, the sound of the Stradivarius in the opening passages
of the Walton Cello Concerto is what brought chills to every fiber of my body. But his
understanding of the unique characteristics of the instrument in general and this

Page 424
Saved Rounds

instrument in particular was ultimately equal to the instrument; and this is perhaps
the part most accordionists don't understand; especially in terms of vertical harmony.

Second will be a realization of what I call the Accordion Barre (which ultimately is
inclusive of vertical harmony; but there are a thousand prerequisite steps to
achieving control of vertical harmony). Accordion Barre is a sequential process for
mastering the ultimate realization of tone production and control of the instrument.
And the ultimate mastery of the concept of the Accordion Barre will be measured in
self-assessment, control of the instrument and one's ability for musical analysis.

I have read that Glenn Gould became disenchanted with the concert stage, disliking
the competitive nature of continually having to prove oneself with each
performance. A steady diet of performances exclusive to accordion-player
audiences with given expectations might be viewed as even worse - possibly
creating a spiral leading deeper into the musical grave so often described as
plaguing the current accordionist; a perceived requirement of faster, increasingly
garish offerings. Two personal terms I will certainly revisit are 'tinka tinka plink plink'
and 'honking'.

I was blessed in my musical upbringing to appreciate the expression of art in

unlimited genres. I was encouraged to focus on my instrument by world-class
musicians who were otherwise completely unfamiliar with the instrument. "Learn
your instrument and learn to make music with it." Not a single one of them ever
looked down at the instrument. But this required learning from a bigger pallet than
other accordionists, or for that matter exclusively the discipline of music.

Maybe that's why I embrace everything from racing GP motorcycles to monster

trucks. But for me, tying such a wide variety of interests back to accordion requires
different types of analysis to rise above mere entertainment (which I achieve from
the likes of Judge Judy and Teen Wolf).

And perhaps that analysis occasionally drives the reasons I rag on things like the
over-use of bellows-shake in 'classical' (whatever that is) accordion music and
deification of accordion bands as an art form (and cringe to the bone when I hear
they are required of young players in order to participate in an event).

And the third part of my three-pronged approached will be an extended presentation

of 50 years of Giulietti. Over the past several years I have acquired 6 Supers - four
bassetti and two stradella - representative of the progression of Julio's ultimate
dream. Each has a story, each has a unique sound, and each is a thrill to play. It will
be great fun sharing them with you. Even Elizabeth (the only girl) - with
her unforgiving, 'take no prisoner' attitude.

On the Steps of Concertgebouw

01/12/13

Page 425
Saved Rounds

It is the mid 1950s. A major event, at least in the accordion world, has been
announced for Southern California. The Hohner Accordion Orchestra, all the way
from Trossigen, will be playing at one of the downtown venues. It is most certainly a
'must attend' event.

We pile into the 1955 turquoise-blue Ford station wagon on what was my first
experience with a professional presentation. Somewhere in my archives I still have
the program. Trusting my memory the cover of the souvenir program (an extra cost
item) had a picture of the orchestra, resplendent with players holding accordions on
the steps of the Concertgebouw concert hall. As an aside, it was quite a few years
later that I came to consider Concertgebouw my all-time favorite symphony.

It was the first time I had ever seen or heard a chromatic accordion. In fact, I don't
know if I even realized there were such a thing. But I remember reading the review
in the Los Angeles Times which said (I paraphrase), "why is it that when
accordionists get together they think they have to play in groups?" For regular
readers of this blog, I have told this story before, but hopefully there is a slightly
different spin with each reference. I realize now this was my first experience with
tinka-tinka-plink-plink.

I have also told the story of the Bettie Thomas Studios and the band hierarchy.
There were those charts with a matrix of colored stars as you progressed through
the ranks. All that was so cool - when I was seven and eight.

As the years passed I played in Glenn Stead's bands and later for a very short time
in the Yale Accordion Symphony and finally for Galla-Rini's Diamond Jubilee in his
Symphony. By the end of that venture I vowed I would never again play in an
accordion band - and stayed true to my word until I made my comeback at the ATG
a couple years ago. In a weak moment I agreed to play in the VIP ensemble, but
dreaded the thought of the upcoming experience for the next several months. And
my expectations were fully realized. The full power of my earlier decision was
reinforced.

Now, there is an exception. At the Florida Smash I played with the ensemble, and it
was a lot of fun. But in that case, the intent and expectations were entirely different.
It was people having a great time and building some basic musical skills in the
process. It was not being passed off as some monumental musical experience.

But back to the serious events. My absolute least favorite selection at the Galla-Rini
Jubilee concert was Swan Lake. I detested it. Today I realize that Galla-Rini and I
shared a passion for the final act of Swan Lake; too often (in my opinion)
overshadowed by the second act. He used parts of the music in his
transcription from that last act. Today I cherish the last act of Swan Lake - I don’t
know if Tchaikovsky ever equaled that level of passion and power in any of his other
ballets (at least for me). But I don't know if one would ever fully appreciate what is
there without experiencing it with the full power of a symphony orchestra,

Page 426
Saved Rounds

accompanying the level of dancing competence the ballet demands. When that
happens, the sound and experience overtakes every bit of the physical senses and
soul. It becomes an experience you don't want to ever end.

Somehow the honking of an accordion symphony with an over-amplified bass

accordion and percussion playing way too loud doesn't cut it. But realize I would
also be one to point out that even a high-level concert band playing Reinzi Overture
(another favorite of accordion bands) with the clarinets squawking out those triplets
at the forte repeat of the opening theme can be less than satisfying - though at a
level far above the accordion band. After all, there is no amplified bass accordion
(though I have seen an amplified double bass) and the percussion is generally kept
more at bay. But - with the symphonic band it might be a question of taste in
repertoire selection. There is some great original music for symphonic band.

So before you hate me too much for ragging once again on accordion bands, for me
it is a question of purpose, perception, and musical taste. In perspective, a monster
truck can have more artistic finesse than an accordion band (which is neither good
or bad, it is our perception that makes it so). And accordionists will quickly point out
that other instruments have historically gathered to play in groups (this fact was in
the Yale Accordion Symphony promo materials). But I doubt that I will race off to the
Kennedy Center to see the World Saxophone Orchestra do the complete Swan Lake
Suite.

The fascination with accordionists playing together continues today. It is rare, when
I meet someone that they don’t suggest that I play a duet - ether with them or
someone they know. But there is more to that story.

There is a lot more to this discussion, but this particular blog is already too long.
And as a segue into my upcoming non-blog venture, I am waiting for hardware to
arrive. The software came yesterday. Hopefully the hardware will arrive toward the
end of next week.

Until then, I have some hot topics planned for the blog.

That Perfect Duet

01/13/13

Yesterday I spoke of people wanting to play with me, or suggesting that I play with
someone else. In the past several years I have seen some of the country's better
players do duets, both ad hoc and rehearsed (though more likely rehearsed but
presented as ad hoc) as a part of some super accordion extravaganza.

Perhaps I was in a cocoon during my younger years, but I don't remember this being
done. As a young kid (primarily during Bettie Thomas Time) it was considered great
fun to honk through one of our pieces in a strange form of duel that ultimately

Page 427
Saved Rounds

became a competition of who could play the fastest, loudest, or a combination of the
two. And later (during the Tito years – early teens) I remember playing out of a fake
book with friends, alternating turns of providing accompaniment and 'taking the
lead'. But in all those years, and up until my re-born exposure to the modern
accordion event, it would have been unimaginable to have seen Charles Magnante
storm the stage in the middle of Galla-Rini’s set to engage in a duel on Vivo. I don't
ever remember doing any kind of duet (especially ad hoc) until my early return. I
have since added that as the third thing I don’t do. In years of old, it was something
you didn't see.

My awakening to this new phenomenon was the night after my ATG comeback when
Alexander Sevastian (Coupe and Galla-Rini competition winner) and Cory Pesaturo
(digital Coupe winner) did a crazed honk through Konzertstuck, which I had played
the evening before. It was great fun (I guess), but at the time I didn’t have enough
background to wonder if this was a goof on my performance the night before (my
initial thought) or if was an opportunity to use a rehearsed shtick provided from my
performance the night before (in other words, this had happened before).

Now in being honest with full disclosure, at one of the Sunday master sessions when
I was studying piano with Edith Oppens she instructed me to play one of the
Stravinsky Etudes concurrently with one of her other students. She was trying to
help me get the feel for what I coin anticipated harmonic downbeats). It is
something I can do on accordion, but had a difficult time doing on piano.

Please do not misinterpret what I am saying on this topic as being a personal value-
judgment on something being good or bad. That is not the intent. The judgment I
am first most concerned about is self-assessment, and ultimately I must decide what
I can and cannot do and what I should and should not do. I admitted many years
ago that improvisation (especially jazz) was not my thing. I could certainly hack my
way through a combo or wedding gig, but my ad libs were never an art form and
certainly nothing I would write home about. I will leave the jazz to the likes of Ahmad
Jamal.

The second part relates to something Aube used to say (and for me, this is critical in
my current stage of musical life); nothing is ever tentative. Every note is played like
you are performing for an audience. You listen to every note like you are the
audience. I carry this an additional step at this point of my life, based largely on an
understanding of the effects of age on muscle memory. Again, an artist like Ahmad
can achieve improvisation to the highest of levels.

A third and final thought: I have not touched a piano since I started playing accordion
again. First, I can no longer straighten the fifth finger of my right hand. It is difficult
for me to reach a tenth on accordion, whereas in earlier days I could easily reach a
twelfth. Translated to the piano keyboard, my limit is slightly more than an octave
and this can be severely hindered based on what other notes are played at the same
time. Second, I can compensate on accordion based on a muscle memory that was

Page 428
Saved Rounds

acquired at a very young age. In contrast, despite the fact that I engaged in very
serious study of the piano for an extended time, there were certain techniques I was
never able to fully master. This would likely be different for someone who mastered
piano technique at an earlier age than I did, and if they played both piano and
accordion it might not be an issue.

I have become side-tracked on the original intent of today's blog, which was to
discuss the concept of transcriptions knowledge of musical styles, selection of
repertoire, and what is commercially accepted on the concert stage for music of all
genres. But be assured that these topics intimately tie in with what I have been
discussing above.

For the enthusiast, it doesn't matter. Play the instrument and have fun. Do what you
want to do; and that is perfect. But for those engaged in quests of re-engaging
some of the musical and technical brilliance of what I call the America's golden age
of accordion there may need to be a pause; to first understand those things that
have been lost, through both tradition or changes in mechanical design and
instrument competencies as well as the current status of the business of music. In
this regard it requires knowledge, perspective and discipline - and that should
include where we come from, where we currently are, and where we would like to
be; regardless of the musical genre. And I would further question if some of the
organizations with missions dedicated to this purpose are, in fact, undermining the
accordion even further - for whatever reason.

Ensemble Playing and Basic Skills of Musicianship

01/15/13

Yesterday I had a rather long chat with a good friend and the topic turned to the blog
of a couple days ago. He reminded me that both he and I had learned the basic
skills of ensemble playing in the accordion bands of our youth. That conversation
leads to perhaps my longest blog.

I described my early years at Bettie Thomas; and the band characteristics I

described ironically were humorously repeated in combo gigs I did some years later
in one particular pick-up group where the hot jam consisted of 25 choruses of
everyone playing melody on Alice Blue Gown in B flat. In reality I cherished those
early years with Bettie Thomas as there was a special camaraderie and a certain
sense of excitement of everyone doing something at the same time. I learned that it
wasn’t like a solo, you had to keep going. There were no pauses for the hard parts
or if you missed something. There was no conductor. Bettie sat at the end of the
first row and started each song and we knew to join in. And though the tempo was
likely to increase, we generally ended together. There were some important skills
being learned there.

Page 429
Saved Rounds

My next stop was with Glenn Stead at the Compton Music Center. We now played
in parts and needed to learn to count and know when we were supposed to come
in. Mr. Stead, who directed, was also very specific about watching him and also
listening to the other players and achieving a balance both within sections and as an
ensemble. In the more advanced bands we even played published dance band
arrangements from the actual parts written for specific instruments requiring us to
transpose at sight. That is not to say that there wasn’t the occasional 'race' where
his main concern became holding us back and trying to keep us together. There
was also the camaraderie and it was also fun. But in retrospect, it was a learning
experience. And these were good things for a pre-teenager to be doing. Many
years later when playing in the Catskills or even with different combo groups it was
necessary to transpose, like when a guest singer insisted on doing New York, New
York in F sharp rather than F.

The Yale Accordion Symphony was very disciplined. The music was difficult and
there was a well-defined hierarchy in seating and positions. You were expected to
be able to play (and know) your part. There was a lot of symphonic repertoire and it
was a different type of exposure into new genres of music. The players were a bit
older and Oakley, and occasionally Melba, treated the group as would a real
conductor. There were some lessons here also, but by now I was in a freshman in
college and was making weekly trips to hear L.A. Philharmonic during their concert
seasons. I was also singing in college groups under several superb conductors and
playing written accordion parts with non-accordion ensembles. I even served as
rehearsal accompanist (on accordion) for some college presentations of Broadway
shows. It is likely that through exposure to all these new things I became
increasingly less interested in Accordion Bands. One Professor, Dr. Robert
Haag, had an enormous influence on me at this time encouraging me to become a
musician who was an accordionist rather than an accordionist trying to become a
musician. There is a big difference between the two. For me, that challenges he
provided lessened the need for an accordion major at school. Another common goal
presented by many of my professors was that a musician would be accepted as a
musician and musicianship is musicianship regardless of what the instrument.

My life-journey ultimately took me into a very long career as a conductor at West

Point. My visions on ensemble playing and how conducting related to achieving a
level of musical success evolved over the next 20 years or so. When I had my first
meeting with Sam Krachmalnick, who was one of my conducting mentors when I
returned to UCLA for post graduate work in the mid-1980s, he informed me that you
can either conduct or you can't. It is a capability you are born with. His mission
would be to teach me those things that represent a universal language to a
performing group. It wouldn’t matter if you spoke the same language or not. We
spent the first several months on bringing the right hand to a 'ready position, and
how the conductor guided the group through a series of preparations. Everything
was provided in the preparation. Aside from telling them where we will start or
correcting a wrong note, I rarely say anything to a group I am conducting, other than

Page 430
Saved Rounds

the occasional break to entertain with some stupid story. The only caution I provide
is that it will be wise to pay attention as I rarely do something the same way twice.

I discovered that most of the same techniques work with players at all levels. In fact,
at one accordion event many years past I did a workshop on conducting for non-
musicians. It was something to entertain mom and dad, brother and sister while the
accordionist of the family was doing something of value. It was amazingly
successful.

So bringing all this to a close; what is the purpose; what am I trying to say?
Accordion bands were an important part of my musical upbringing as it was for the
majority of my musical age peers. They were typically part of the studio system. It
was not rare to see it extremely well done. But such a system does not exist today;
there just aren’t enough young players and even a diminishing group of teachers
who would have the experience to pull it off. And this might be seen as unfortunate
for a young person with an interest in accordion.

I have a special place in my heart for the accordion enthusiast - very often people
who have discovered the instrument at a later age and often lovingly fit the
accordion into a very demanding life-schedule. They love everything about the
instrument (in my opinion likely much more than the accordion-musician or musician-
accordionist I describe above) and can't get enough of it. To these purposes, there
can be few better ways to get together and have some fun than to play together in a
group. And it would be my last intention to ever discourage them in these activities.
And it is unfortunate that Accordion Heroes was cancelled last year as one of the
programs was to introduce players and would-be band leaders or even club
organizers on how to build musicianship and musical skills in an ensemble while
maintaining every bit of the fun, or even increasing it.

But as some kind of deification (second time using this word in the last several days)
of the accordion band escalates; when it becomes the core of the plan to legitimize
the accordion; and when it potentially side-track or even hinders the process of
musical development to a young talent by developing bad skills (bad in terms of
misunderstandings on the basics of ensemble playing usually catalyzed by someone
who can't conduct), then I get irritated. To me it is a wasted resource. I often say
that good musicianship is good musicianship. The opposite is also true. There are
too few young players to waste. I would be more inclined to encourage them to
become musicians who play the accordion and develop the ability to know how to
find resources do this.

I wrote of my experience in the VIP band at my return to the ATG a couple years
ago. Be assured that what I described was only my reaction; if these feelings were
more universal there would be no participants (with a few exceptions). It is unusual
that one of the two most musical moments from that event came from an accordion
band - but it was not the VIP band, it was the Galla-Rini band. As I listened to their
final rehearsal there were moments that were absolutely exquisite. If what Sam said

Page 431
Saved Rounds

was true about being born with the ability to conduct, Esther Lanting has it. She also
brings something else that is more difficult to describe, and it is not in playing the
role of the tyrant. Perhaps Esther is the Albert Schweitzer of the accordion.

In another part of my life I was considered a Subject Matter Expert on motorcycle

safety. In that capacity I was often even more cynical than I am in music, and
motorcyclists can be even more sensitive than accordionists. Cosby lists and rating
systems have not been limited to music. I used to maintain a list of the all-time
stupidest things ever done in the name of motorcycle safety. But the one on
promoting the accordion is still very close hold.

So play away.

Rewind - Rhapsody in Blue

01/16/13

Over the past several months I have started the preparation process of a lot of new
bassetti repertoire. There is new stuff; but I am also finding it enlightening to revisit
pieces I may have performed a long time ago. Sometimes it is just a read-
through; enough to confirm it is something I would not want to play again. But
sometimes there is more, either musically or when I recall something that happened
when I was learning the piece.

Rhapsody in Blue was one of the major pieces I worked on with Tito. It was literally
one of the first things I learned on bassetti, playing from a transcription by Flavio
Flogi that Julio Giulietti had somehow brought over from Italy. Because of
copyrights, an accordion arrangement couldn't be published in this country. I have
mentioned before in this blog that it was something I prepared for competition but
never played again. I didn’t feel like I could make it work musically. I relearned it in
1978 and even included it on Silver Taps, but still never felt 100% with performing
the piece.

But curiously, when I did play Rhapsody in Blue, or even announce it, audiences
would get excited. It was even one of the few classical things I played that my
brothers liked. There is just something about it.

So once again, I have dusted it off and figured I will give it another try. I speak at
length of the accordion's heritage in the Americas during the golden age in the
pages of this blog, so why not play something by one of the most recognizably
American composers?

I have three copies of the published arrangement for Rhapsody in Blue. This was
required for competition, photocopies were not allowed without a certified release
from the composer or publisher. And it is interesting that the particular copy I picked
up this time was the original one from my lessons and it has all kinds of notes and

Page 432
Saved Rounds

comments written in Tito's hand. Those have not only been a delight, but also a
revelation. They have acted like a catalyst, bringing the piece alive and have
also accelerated the preparation. There are comments like, slur these notes, smear
this, build here, bring out this line, play this with the wrist, prepare for bellows out on
this measure, etc.. It is one of the few times in my experience where written
comments have continued to mean anything after any period of time. For that
reason, I have almost never written anything on my music.

The other challenging thing about Rhapsody in Blue is the alternating and
concurrent use of the stradella and bassetti system. There is more concurrent use
than in anything else I have ever done and is in some (but not all) ways similar to the
approach I have called using the left hand as a chromatic stradella, certainly
anticipatory of much of today’s practice. And when I get the studio up and running
hopefully I hope to be able to share some of Tito's insight with both Rhapsody and
his original works.

Never Enough Time

01/17/13

As I continue my return journey to the accordion, the primary focus is to play; not in
a club combo or for weddings, but to the purpose I worried about the most in my
younger years - having adequate time to refine my competence as a musician.
There were always the distractions of school, work or using 'gigs' to make additional
money, or perhaps even that monetary justification of why I would spend so much
time learning to play or investing in expensive instruments.

When I was in my piano era I went throug a similar situation. I was playing 6
different regular gigs five nights a week and made excellent money - enough to
afford the pianos of my dreams. But at the end of the day, when I had spent
between 3 - 7 hours playing these gigs, it was hard to get motivated for serious
practice. My hands were tired and my brain was fried.

In the regular gigs there was a camaraderie with many of the regular patrons. I
looked forward to seeing them and would often play their favorite songs before they
even requested them. There was also camaraderie with fellow members of a
combo, especially the ones with excellent players. I often started any given evening
with enthusiasm, wanting to see how well I could play. This could be accentuated
when it was a particularly good evening with an enthusiastic crowd. But this would
often wear off quickly. The playing went to auto-pilot and the distractions of
whatever might be happening became much more interesting. At a wedding it was
sometimes the wait to see what happened as the crowd got increasingly
intoxicated - the occasional fight or someone falling into the table that held the
wedding cake. It was no longer about what I was doing musically.

Page 433
Saved Rounds

For some, putting up with all this might be a necessity - those who have committed
to making a living as a working musician. And in time, the musical output might
continue at about the same level regardless of what is going on. But I could find it a
challenge to shift gears when I was preparing for a master class or practicing.

I have always been influenced by what happens about me musically. I will almost
never listen to someone performing before me as I will pick up on their traits. It is
similar to when I was conducting testing for motorcycle riders. If the first rider would
screw something up, or even tip over, I knew others would do the same thing.
Sometimes people who had done exceptionally well in a class would suddenly be
making mistakes or not be able to perform a maneuver.

Perhaps this ties to what I was often told by my father; always surround yourself with
people who are better than you are. Back to motorcycles. I would hear new riders
talk of an adopted hero who had survived all these horrible crashes - some of them
even paralyzed from their injuries. I would quietly ask them, why not choose a hero
who never crashed and figure out why? And I understand why my parents were
always seeking new teachers. They were looking for someone who would present
new challenges.

When I attend a performance of someone like Evgeny Kissen I am inspired and I

can almost immediately hear a difference in my playing. I pick up on the midset.
Even Jim will comment on it. I can also be influenced when I hear something I don’t
consider as something I want. Then there is the conscious effort not to do
something. An example for me is Lang Lang; because I can also take on those
traits. Though I appreciate his technical prowess, to me it can come off as too
erratic, even garish. The musical intent is second to the show. Given his incredible
success and recognition I must acknowledge that my strong feelings might come
from the realization that my playing can easily become a circus act - worsened by
the fact that the accordion might be seen by many as a most appropriate candidate
for the big tent. And all this is certainly not white or black; good or bad.

But if there is one thing at the center of all this, for me it is the necessity to be able to
play. I have worked with Michael Bridge a bit on his preparation of Tito’s Sonata di
Bravura. It is not something I could easily sight read so I knew it was time to dig out
the music and learn it. There are stylistic details of Tito’s music that, in my opinion,
need to be demonstrated. They go beyond what can be shown in the written score.
I am an extremely strong believer that you can't teach something you can't do, or
haven't done at the level your student is trying to achieve. Michael is playing this on
bayan, but he has a high level of technique. I would never pretend to be able to
teach someone the chromatic right hand keyboard. I have declined interest in
teaching potential students new to chromatic keyboard and don't understand how
someone could do that. But understand that when the early pioneers of bassetti
started that endeavor we had no mentors. Neither Tito, Galla-Rini, or Don Balestrieri
played chromatic free bass. But there were no other options. There were a few that

Page 434
Saved Rounds

played the dual system, like Mogens Ellegaard and Flavio Flogi, but they were
continents away. It was also many years before Skype.

Even on piano, where I studied with some of the finest pedagogues in the U.S., I
have backed away from teaching. Even though I made my way through major
works, I knew there were piano techniques I would never master. These were things
at the most basic pianistic level. I remember playing a Beethoven Sonata at one of
Edith Oppens master classes. The other students were amazed at the digital
dexterity in some of the 16th note passages. But on something like the 2nd Chopin (a
minor) Etude, they were equally amazed that I had a most difficult time with the
simple bass-chord patterns in the left hand. I simply didn’t own it and it is unlikely I
ever would. What would be even worse would be if I didn't acknowledge (self-
assessment) that didn't own it, or worse than that, know the difference.

Finally

01/18/13

UPS delivered the new computer late yesterday afternoon so I can finally start
putting the studio together. Though tempted from time to time with things like the
ADAT, I have been a long-time hold out on fully entering the digital recording world.
Even my midi projects were ultimately mastered to analogue tape masters. But alas,
tape became increasingly difficult to find and expensive. And though I could do all
the calibrations and adjustments on the old Ampex machines, once we moved to
Virginia it was nearly impossible to get anyone to do the work they might occasional
need.

So last night was one of the first times in quite a while that I was up late futzing with
something. The last time was working on a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle that Jim
started and I felt needed to be finished.

I have embraced computers since the Corps of Cadets at West Point switched from
calculators to PCs. The Academy offered the staff and faculty the same computers
for their personal use at government cost; which at that time was an incredible deal.
We also got one for work. The computer became my new obsession. The on-site
service facility that Zenith Data Systems was required to maintainwas two doors
down from the Glee Club rehearsal room and I soon got to know the techies. It
wasn't long before I had an additional computer at work where I would 'test' new
hardware and software - my objective being to see if it worked and if I could break it.
My fun meter was pegged.

I supervised the initial installation of the network in our division and was soon acting
as the LAN administrator. Dedicated IT people for each section were yet to come.
West Point became connected to a series of UNIX servers and one could even
reach the main frame without going to a dedicated terminal. And with all this came

Page 435
Saved Rounds

some perks, like being the person your boss would call when he couldn't figure
something out. You became his favorite employee.

Then it all came to an end. I left West Point for a position with the National
Resource Office for the Motorcycle Safety Foundation in Irvine, California. My new-
found computer experience was exciting to my boss during the interview, but when I
arrived, the dedicated IT person did not share her enthusiasm. I was seen as a real
threat and never given much above the least possible access to the system:
meaning I could print my documents. We didn’t even have Email.

I still had my personal machine, but without the continued access to the
administrative side and all the good stuff, I quickly fell behind the developing
technology. By the time I left MSF and went to the Naval Safety Center, IT had
developed into a monstrous entity (rice bowl) with security that would challenge Fort
Knox. But I still stayed active on my own, and fortunately, the prices on computer
stuff have continued to drop.

So I am really a geek at heart. And to date I have been a die-hard PC user. I have
5 working PCs that I lovingly use and care for. I have kept at least one as a beta
machine – to try new programs and also to see how well I can make it work. Then I
crash it and see if the programs I have developed to restore it actually work. I keep
my oldest laptop to see how long it will run before it dies.

When I started doing music stuff on computer in 1991 I continued to use PCs though
I knew the 'standard' was Mac. Even the latest releases of the outdated midi and
scoring programs I use (when I started using them, they were the standard) are
quirky. I can usually find a solution, but sometimes it is a very time consuming
process. So I figured that I would finally succumb to my many geek friends' long-
term advice and switch the music and media projects to Mac. So last night I started
that process.

When I got my first computer, one of my few friends with PC experience told me how
he ramped up a new system. He would get a large table and spread all the
components out on it so he had lots of room to make connections, get to power
switches, and have a visual image of what was going on. So that is how I have
started this project. I set up a large table and plan on getting everything working
properly while still easy to get to. It will also give me a better idea of how much
access I will need once I migrate all this to the studio.

So the first part was setting up the Mac and starting the installation of the software
and hardware. The other good part about the table-in-the-center-of-the-family-room
concept is that the dogs can enjoy this experience with me (Jim is away at his
Mom’s birthday celebration in CA). But more accurately, it is much better if they are
not left out unsupervised for any great length of time. Tyler has been known to
sneak in the occasional 'mark' if no one is around.

Page 436
Saved Rounds

I know this is an accordion blog, so I am off now to practice.

A Storytelling Rhapsody

01/20/13

I occasionally receive comments on the blog and usually repost them in the regular
section. Thanks to Bruce Triggs for his comment the Rhapsody in Blue post of a few
days ago:

I'm quite interested in the early jazz accordionist Cornell (Smelser) who reportedly
was one of the only performers authorized to play Rhapsody in Blue. Very sad that
his version, which was broadcast on radio, was never recorded, I'd love to have
heard it. Cornell played with Ellington and many others as a session guy in New
York, and I'm always on the look-out for more of his recordings. If he and Mario
Perry hadn't both died young, Jazz accordion might have a different history.

When I was working on Rhapsody in Blue with Tito I heard it said that he (Tito) was
the only person who had been 'approved' to play Rhapsody in Blue, and
unfortunately I don’t know of how one would ever check that out. Similarly, Bill
Palmer once told me that he had been turned down on a request to publish a free-
bass arrangement of Clair de Lune. I also remember one Magnante performance
where he introduced a piece saying, "they won’t allow me to publish an arrangement
of this piece, but they can’t keep me from playing it." (Or something like that.)

Two thoughts here. First is a reminder that my goal in the blog and Anecdotes has
been to bring the people and events back to life by telling my story. It is rare that I
give a date or report a sequence of events, unless it is to support the story. It is a
different component of history and provides a different insight into other times and
events. As an example, I could recite the dates and details of the Viet Nam war. It
could be nice, neat, and (hopefully) accurate. Or I could tell the stories of my friends
who were called to serve. Tell of how it interrupted the lives of a newly-wed couple.
Tell of how they became addicted to drugs; how they felt when they were spit upon
when walking down the street in uniform when they came home. How they were
hated by a nation that had demanded their service. I could tell of the long-term
effects of agent orange, and sadly, how too many of them ended dying in the war or
of taking their own lives after they returned home.

There has been a recent interest in the value of storytelling as can be seen in a new-
found urgency to get the stories of World War II Vets still living, as when they are
gone, their stories, in their own words, will be gone also.

I don't want to take on the responsibility for reporting the historical part in these
pages. But I do have my own story which I will typically try to preface with my known
biases.

Page 437
Saved Rounds

I have not heard of Cornell, but that doesn't mean anything. Different sides of the
country, most likely different times, and obviously no internet. I hope that someone
might come forward who has additional information, and ideally, someone who might
have known him and could tell their story. That might help bring Cornell to life for
another generation.

My second point is a caution. There is a current commercial airing for an insurance

company that has a rather attractive girl talking to a neighbor asking him about what
he is doing (reporting something to his insurance company with his cell phone). He
tells her. She says that he can't do that with his company. He asks here how does
she know that? She replies, she read it on the internet. It must be true. Then she
says she is waiting for her date she found on the internet. He’s a French model.
Her neighbor asks her how she would know that? She replies, because she read it
on the internet. And the neighbor replies that, 'so everything you read on the
internet is true?' And she replies that it can't be on the internet if it isn't true. The
guy arrives and is obviously not a French model. A bad paraphrase, but I am sure
you get the picture.

There is a lot of stuff on the internet, but for me, checking and evaluating the
background and bias of the person writing is usually more critical than the topic.
And often the writers don't know (self-assessment) either their competencies or their
biases (also self-assessment).

But back to storytelling and an example of how storytelling had an impact on me. I
recently did a review of Dick Contino's book, "The Beauty of Imperfection, The Dick
Contino Story." He goes beyond dates and events, he tells his story; how he
interacted with society, his music, his successes, and imperfections. As I read those
pages I could feel the instrument against me, hear the sounds of an accordion being
played to the limit, feel the adrenaline rush from crowds 100 times the size most
accordionists will ever play for (at least in the U.S.), become consumed in the day-
to-day demands on a superstar, feel the fear of the draft and other inner-demons,
feel the success of overcoming them. Before reading that book I knew very little of
Dick Contino - have never met him or heard him play in person. After that I felt I
knew him. And when we had a long conversation on the phone a few months later,
it was like talking to an old friend. And at this time, those are the most rewarding
parts of life.

The Silver Wheel Power-Stradella

01/21/13

Back in 1960 I was at the top of my teen-age, power-stradella thing. Armed with my
silver-wheel, treble clef, Super I was ready to take on the world. I wasn't unique;
there was an entire army of crazed young players with amazing ability. The halls of
accordion events were a blast of unbridled, untamed enthusiasm and virtuosity. This

Page 438
Saved Rounds

was very little tinka-tinka-plink-plink in those days, or at least that I was aware of.
That was to come later.

But as I wrote in the Anecdotes, that was all to change in 1961. Julio Giulietti
introduced me to the bassetti and it was not too long thereafter that I had my own
instrument. It was the addition of a second left hand keyboard, but it was also an
instrument with different characteristics.

When I hear of the the stories of Peter Soave, and later Michael Bridge (whom I
have come to personally know quite well) making the decision to change to
chromatic accordion with a converter left hand, I have a great appreciation of what
they went through. I was only dealing with the new chromatic left-hand bassetti
system. They were dealing with chromatic-system keyboards on both hands.
Though their change might initially seem even more radical (total immersion with no
fallback safety net), when they were done they were only dealing with two keyboard
systems: chromatic and stradella. When I was done I was dealing with three: piano
keyboard in the right hand and bassetti and stradella in the left.

Many piano-accordion players who invested in early bassettis ended up not doing
much with the bassetti system. With a given facility in the right hand, a shift of a few
inches in the left hand position took them back to the familiarity of the stradella. And
in frustration of learning the new system and the additional reality of not having a lot
of music to play (or more accurately not knowing what to play), there were many
who found themselves wrestling a very large instrument - carrying a lot of additional
girth. It wasn't an instrument you would want to stroll with, and probably not the
ideal choice for your average club date or wedding. So many didn't do a lot with
bassetti.

I fell into a second category. Tito was inspired and wrote for the instrument. That
inspired me to play what he had written. He also had a wealth of ideas on other
things I could play. My stradella efforts ceased almost entirely. Within a couple
years I was playing instruments that only retained the bass and counterbass rows of
the stradella and a five-row chromatic system: a left hand system Julio called the
V2. Julio later made the Continental V, which also dropped the bass and
counterbass rows. The advantages to these designs were a relatively compact and
light instrument, especially when compared to today's converters. My V2 was
probably about 26 pounds. But there was the commitment to an all-bassetti
instrument.

But my point today has to do with learning and the effect of the learning environment
and a person's age.

When I went into Basic Training for the Army I had never shot a weapon before. I
had never any remote desire to do so. So when the Army handed me my M14 and
told me what to do, I just did it. I had absolutely no reference to do anything else.
My bunkmate had shot all his life; member of the NRA and who knows what else.

Page 439
Saved Rounds

As we moved on, I got the second highest score in the company when we qualified
on the range, consistently firing Expert. He had to re-qualify a half-dozen times and
barely qualified as Marksman. He just had too much experience to overcome and
he was seriously depressed by all this.

It was the same when I was training motorcycle instructors and new riders. It was
not unusual for a person with no experience to surpass people who had been riding
for years. You told them what to do, and they just did it. There were no bad habits
to break.

However, and this is a big however, the initial, and more critical, lasting results are
directly influenced by age. And that is not good or bad, it is just a fact - and one that
the adult student of accordion should remember in measuring his or her progress.

And once again I am experiencing all these phenomenon in the ramp-up of my new
digital recording efforts. Though I have been immersed (another obsession) in
analogue recording from my first Pentron Recorder up through Ampex Multi Tracks,
the all-digital domain is entirely new for me. The immersion concept is even more
complete in that I am using Mac (which I have never used) rather than PC (with
which I am very familiar). So in some ways, it seems almost everything is new and
some of the fall-backs are gone. So hopefully this will all play out like the M14
experience.

But another thing I have learned over the years of being a trainer, the more I figure
out myself, the more I will understand and the more I will retain. The initial
investment of time might be more, but the payoff will hopefully be in an increased
working knowledge base.

So I was up again last night trying to figure some things out. And there were actually
some small successes. Now its off to practice time and dog management.

Gradus ad Parnassum, Tico Tico & Rhapsody in Blue

01/22/13

I clearly remember a specific moment from one of the earliest family vacations. We
were all piled in the back of a pre-1950 Mercury woodie station wagon headed up to
Yosemite National Park. It was dark, I don’t remember if it was late evening or early
morning, but my Aunt Harriette woke all of us kids up so we wouldn't miss the
Wawona Tunnel. She was so excited I knew this must be a life-changing
experience. I remember it being dark and don't remember being able to see
anything and wondered, what's the big deal? She woke us up for this?

Many years later the West Point Glee Club was returning from St Louis on a very
late Amtrak Train. They had added an additional car for the club that must have
been a reject from some defunct commuter line, and in addition to being crowded,

Page 440
Saved Rounds

there was no heat or electricity in the car and it was in the middle of winder.
Someone had acquired some blankets and the cadets were making the best of an
otherwise miserable ride. At one point the conductor made one of his few
appearances into our car to announce we were approaching Pennsylvania's world-
famous horseshoe curve. A few of the cadets actually came up with enough
energy/interest to look out the window, only to wonder, "what’s the big deal", or "who
cares?"

So that brings up the question: over the years have certain things lost their appeal or
attraction, or is it just a matter of timing?

And in a sudden flash of reality I humorously thought of a few different blog posts of
the last several days only to wonder if certain things in the accordion culture have
lost their appeal over time, or are certain things timeless?

The first one that comes to mind is Rhapsody in Blue. If I were to ask a younger
person if they have ever heard or heard of the piece, what would they say? I have
said it is one of the few things I played that my brothers liked, but was that because
of our new 1950s RCA Orthophonic Hifi and the Columbia Record-of-the-Month Club
that had featured the works of Gershwin on one of the monthly offerings? That
record got played to death and was enjoyed by everyone. But many share the
fascination with the Rhapsody in Blue, especially accordionists. If I remember
correctly, Henry Doktorski even has a webpage dedicated to those who played the
piece, which I have always found a bit strange as the arrangement could be anything
from a Deiro 'easy big note' to a full-on transcription. And carrying this thought
further, does the accordion have it’s own secret gradus ad parnassum for different
genres of music? And does Rhapsody in Blue represent the culmination of
accomplishment for one particular genre?

Now other popular accordion pieces have sustained time and are still campfire
favorites - like Konzertstuck. It's good for serious classical, even for the Russian
players. It's also good for a playful romp as an impromptu concert duet. And there
are a few new ones - like Czardas. It has definitely taken on a much bigger role in
the past several years.

And of course, there are the long time survivors, like Tico Tico. And I guess if I can
make lists and rating systems for almost everything, I can certainly categorize music
(which I actually have always done, but not written that much about in the blog). So
where do things like Tico Tico and Dizzy Fingers fit in? Is there even a hierarchy
among these. I recently heard Michael Bridge do a concert-type paraphrase on Tico
Tico. But has anyone ever done it for Dizzy Fingers? I am most certainly not putting
them down, they are great fun and I have been known to indulge.

But back to Rhapsody in Blue. Where does it stand in all this? Is it worth the effort
to learn it? I have already even planned the introduction - tying an American

Page 441
Saved Rounds

composer to what I call the American Accordion Tradition. Sounds like a crowd
pleaser to me...

Choices: to blog or ??

01/24/13

I have been pretty consistent with my commitment to once again make regular
entries in the blog. Until yesterday. A lingering problem with a tooth ultimately had
me at the Endodontist for a root canal. The Lodine wasn’t working and after a few
X-rays my regular dentist said it was likely to be a complicated root canal. That was
on Monday. By Wednesday (yesterday) I was starting to swell and was glad to have
the appointment.

The Endodontist confirmed it was complicated as I was one of the unique people
with a root that split deep down in the tooth. The usual procedure didn't work so
ultimately I will be going back on Tuesday for a surgical procedure - attacking it from
the bottom of the tooth. Hopefully it sounds worse than it actually is. However, he
showed me some interesting things about my teeth, like having extra roots on many
of them that curve, twirl, and tangle together. I don’t know how I have lived all these
years without that information.

Then after some errands, it was finally practice time, work out time, and then dog
management. I finally got to work for a while on the new studio project quite late in
the evening.

On the night before last (which is what I intended to report in yesterday's blog) I did
my first dry run with the accordion just to see if everything was working. I am using
my traditional approach to something new (at least in computers): get familiar with it
first, then read the documentation. This way I get used to the look and feel and then
use the documentation to fill in the gaps and search for answers questions. For me
it is a faster ramp-up and I retain longer.

When I first started playing with computers I was told not to be afraid to try things;
you couldn't hurt anything, and worst case, you could start over. Now this can
sometimes be somewhat hazardous, like when a co-worker wanted to park the hard
drive on her computer (guess how many years ago that was) and couldn't remember
the command. After she typed format and pushed return, she thought it might have
been the wrong command and unplugged the computer in the middle of the
process. Then she called me.

I had a great time exploring the new programs program into the wee hours last
night. Once I started recording with the accordion the night before I played a pretty
good variety of material. The live stuff is pretty straight forward and in some ways
similar to old-school analogue recording - but with a lot more options and seemingly

Page 442
Saved Rounds

unlimited resource. For the price of one roll of 2" analogue tape (15-30 minutes
recording time) I could literally by three 1TB hard drives.

However, I also have a lot of stuff on midi that I want to revive, and that will be more
complicated. I need to learn how to integrate virtual instruments with voices I want
to use from synths and stand-alone boxes. But when I am done it should be closer
to a one-stop-shopping concept and less complicated.

So as I get all this put together, the daily blog writing should be at least partially
replaced with some music and video. And until then, if the blogs get shorter or
disappear for a day or two, it is because I have become engrossed in the studio
project and am not sitting in a dentist chair

Aunt Wanda's Quilting Party

01/25/13

Yesterday was an interesting day. First thing was waking up to snow. I was a
bit surprised as I bought a snow blower a few months ago and was certain that if I
bought it there would be no snow. But the snow amount was so small forcing
me debate for at least 30 minutes on whether it was worth using the snow blower.

Enough of the weather report (but this might tie in toward the end if I don't forget or
the blog gets too long)

I finally overcame my procrastination yesterday and started work on the room I will
use for the studio. And I am sure you will not be surprised when I tell you there is a
related story. Actually there are two of them.

The first involves one of my favorite icons, someone who influenced me enormously
in my early days and her influence continues to the present day. My introduction to
Wanda Landowska was her recording of the complete Well Tempered Clavier. It
was recorded between 1949 and 1954; but by the time I got my copy it had migrated
to a box set with 6 LPs.

Wanda brought Bach to life for me. It was more than a reading. Every performance
was her realization of the unique essence of each of the works. Wanda was largely
responsible for re-popularizing the harpsichord, and though being authentic by
design, the harpsichord is technically more limited than some other 'modern'
instruments. However, the variety she achieves is absolutely astonishing, yet
always remains unmistakably Bach. Even the steel-frame Pleyel has never been an
issue for me.

Wanda's influence on me was far broader than her Bach, and I feel the value to be
gained by enjoying and perhaps even studying what she does is especially valuable
to any serious accordionist. Every work is a transcription, but not in the typical

Page 443
Saved Rounds

accordionist jargon which often carries a negative connotation. Rather it is a

realization of the music based on a comprehensive understanding few achieve at
her level. Through Wandas brilliance, Bach flows from the instrument with purpose,
power, and passion while she remains faithful to the style. No choreography,
musical or otherwise. It is consistent with what Tzerko said: remain faithful to the
intent of the music (through your analysis) and the rest will take care of itself. There
are some who will say that she is dated, but for me, her work will stand-alone as a
treasure for generations.

As you can see, even the mention of Wanda gets me all fired up. At about the same
time I discovered her WTC I read in her biography of the process she used to record
the WTC. They started in the studio, but this was to be an immense project and it
was soon moved to her residence – where the majority of the project was
completed. She spoke of how the different parts of her home were adorned with
heavy quilts and blankets to facilitate the recording. And if it is good enough for
Wanda, I figure it is a good place for me to start in working on my studio. So I
started in with the installation of moving quilts in the new studio . The next part of
the process is to adjust the position and thickness to get the right sound (and
hopefully at least partially mute the sound of the furnace and dogs).

I used the solution format once before when recording Little Boy Who Flew with the
Dragons (Lauren Michaels and William Cosby, ca. 1994). At the time I was living in
an apartment on the Pacific Ocean in Laguna Beach and we transformed the
bedroom and the bathroom into studios for recording the vocals. The only problem
was when the upstairs neighbor flushed the toilet we had to do another take. But the
experience was magic and many of our friends encouraged us not to re-record the
work in a formal studio.

So I am in the middle of quilting. But it is not a quilting party like Aunt Dinah’s in
Seeing Nellie Home. It is a Landowska Quilting Party.

Now for the tie-in to the weather. They are predicting snow tomorrow (I actually
looked at the weather forecast this time), so I need to go get more quilts before the
snow. Then perhaps in the next day or two, record a few Preludes and Fugues from
WTC.

Thanks Wanda!

Something to Get Excited About

01/26/13

Woke this morning to a snow shower. Combined with the cold weather over the past
several days nature may be providing a solution to the tic infestation we had last
year.

Page 444
Saved Rounds

We are going to see National Ballet of Canada's production of Alice in Wonderland

tonight at the Kennedy Center. The reviews have been strong, and it is interesting
to watch how a presentation of a new work unfolds and also how it is received. I
also think it is something that should be of special interest to accordionists with an
interest in increasing the acceptance of the instrument in a non-ethnic or non-
popular environment.

Several weeks ago Jim and I were watching an extended presentation about the
ongoing artistic and professional operation and structure of Paris Opera Ballet.
Ballet has a core repertoire and as much tradition as any art form, but there is
interest in keeping it alive with new works and endeavors, something considered
critical for both the audience and the dancer. How do you bring in new audiences?
How do you keep dancers engaged?

The company has historically produced contemporary works; in terms of music,

technique, and presentation. But at the meeting in the video presentation,
they discussed that the new works typically did not bring in as many new audience
members as they would like, and very few were in their target of younger people. So
their intent was good, and though it may be artistically successful, it might not be
self-supporting.

In my opinion, there is another category to a new work. And it is likely that this is
where Alice in Wonderland fits (though I will hold judgment until I see it). This
category would include works like Mathew Bourne’s Swan Lake. These are
productions that unfold and can be marketed more like musical theatre than the
traditional story ballet. It can sustain extended performances, even on Broadway.
Jim was in a production with Virginia Ballet Theatre of Dracula which also fit in this
category.

So the question becomes, is it possible that these productions will build interest in an
art form to where people will want to see more, even to explore the classics or other
new works? Did new audiences who went to see their favorite popular singer in
Pirates of Penzance on Broadway decide they might be interested in going to see
Gotterdammerung or Falstaff? Did audiences who happened upon Bourne's Swan
Lake wonder what the traditional production might be like and buy a ticket to see
ABT?

I talk a lot about ballet but the situation is not that different in other classical art
forms. I have heard it said that when Boulez became Music Director of the New
York Philharmonic, part of the intent was to bring a wider range of contemporary
music (I cannot attest to the accuracy of this statement - so if this is innacurate,
please point it out).

There are examples of music directors & program managers including new works
even though they know they will lose money - because they feel it is something that
should be done. When Bill Yost was the Director for the Fine Arts Program at West

Page 445
Saved Rounds

Point he scheduled programs that he knew would not make money, because he
thought they should be there for the people that might attend. And when you are
making a good profit on your program and have the support of your underwriters you
can do that.

So what about the accordion? Unlike a symphony or ballet we don't have a inherent
catalogue of music that would be attractive to a generic concert-goer. But I am
possibly in the minority when I would say that we have the ability to perform certain
parts of repertoire from other genres that are acceptable to the would-be supporter
of 'classical' music - and there is even a heritage that too often we shun.

I mentioned transcription yesterday, and I think it is a concept that is grossly

misunderstood by too many would-be legitimate accordionists, or more accurately by
people posing as promoters of the accordion through associations or otherwise.
First, a transcription can support or even transcend an original work - retain or
even enhance the original musical intent. What if someone were to shun Ravel for
orchestrating Le Tombeau the Couperin? An absurd thought. Second, a
transcription can be used to demonstrate capabilities of an instrument beyond or in a
different way than what original compositions might do. Liszt certainly did this. And
thankfully more recent critics have become appreciative of the value of his
transcriptions, both in terms of the piano’s capabilities and in terms of a renewed
realization of the original work. They might even be considered a treatise on
effectiveness in transcriptions.

One part of me thought that the musical requirements for the International Galla-Rini
Competition were pretentious and ridiculous. They removed too much responsibility
for knowledge of the instrument or what an individual can or should play from both
the judge and performer. Galla-Rini explored a wide variety of musical styles on
accordion and wrote both original works and transcriptions. Some of it was
successful, some was not. Why not structure the competition the same way. Let the
performer decide what to play, and then judge him or her on whether it is effective or
not? That would certainly be much more true to his legacy than saying none of the
music he wrote would qualify for the competition.

When I competed in the Sinatra Musical Performance Competitions (the only

accordionist to ever do so) I played a mixture of original compositions and
transcriptions. There were no guidelines other than length of the first presentation.
They liked the Liszt Rhapsody. The liked the Ibert. They did NOT like the Chopin
Etude. But the comments weren't about the piece or even how I played it; they didn't
think it was a good musical selection as I didn’t make it work on the instrument. That
was a life lesson for me. I need to know what I really shouldn't play. But the other
part of that lesson - I need to be comfortable in what I can play. If Zubin Meta didn’t
have a problem with the Liszt transcription, why should I be concerned when an
accordionist does? If Leonard Bernstein put Stephen Dominko on stage with NY
Phil doing a movement from a Chopin Concerto, why should he be concerned when
an accordionist tells him he shouldn't play that? Is he 'setting the accordion back'

Page 446
Saved Rounds

(their words) or are they? And Bernstein even explained the purpose and value of a
transcription to the audience.

So I encourage young players to develop a sense of self-assessment. I also

encourage them to become familiar with a musical world larger than the accordion -
all parts of it. Some of them might listen to me, and I know that others consider me
an old fart.

I think it is great they know the accordion repertoire and have an appreciation for
contemporary music. But they should also know what sustains the rest of the music
world - and perhaps how they or the accordion can fit into it

One Pill Makes You Larger

01/27/13

Last night we spent the evening with National Ballet of Canada's production of
Adventures of Alice in Wonderland. I spoke at length yesterday of contemporary
works and audience acceptance, and exploring new ways within established art
forms that could have an appeal for an increased audiences. Based on the nearly
spontaneous standing ovation from the capacity crowd at the end of last night's
performance, I would say that NBC was certainly on target.

Ten performances of a single work in the Kennedy Center Opera House is a big
undertaking. And the Adventures of Alice in Wonderland has every aspects of a
major show: sets, costumes, scenic design, sound design, music, multi-media, cast -
what else can I include? It would hate to even estimate what such an show would
cost to produce and stage. I would say, however, that it unlikely that your local ballet
studio or even regional company will be able to undertake it in anything close to the
original concept.

There were moments last night when my mind drifted to other major shows - some
when technology was evolving, and others more recent. Todd Rundgren's tour with
the Sphinx and pyramid first came to mind. Resplendent with lasers and all kinds of
special effects, he took the theatrical rock concert to new heights. Then a few years
later there was Cher's Farewell concert (which we have on DVD). Costumes,
entrances on huge elephants, an immersive catalogue of music, dancers, what else
could you imagine?

It is curious how this was in such contrast to much of the (musical) mentality of the
1960s, where much was anti-capitalist. A person could have enormous success
with a less than stellar voice, Grateful Dead could encourage sharing personal
recordings of their performances. And one could feel like a family member at a
performance of Quicksilver or (one of my all-time favorite groups) Love.

Page 447
Saved Rounds

So the pendulum swings and it is diverse. And though my warped sense of humor
may sound cynical or even caustic at times, I consider it all perfect. I also enjoy an
exceptionally wide variety of it, especially when I can experience it in the intended
environment.

And when I speak of the accordion, its institutions, players, instruments, or even
repertoire, what I am hoping to do is encourage young people interested in the
instrument to look beyond the accordion to life itself. To know what is happening in
the rest of the world around them. I might try to reach them through shock or
sometimes through humor. But I encourage them to explore. I do not pretend to
have any answers of how the future of the accordion will unfold. It is becoming their
world and those are their answers.

Sometime before I retired I was speaking with a co-worker who happened to have a
PhD and the topic came to philosophy. I had a philosophy minor in college and he
made the comment that philosophy was the most useless of all disciplines; after all
what were you going to do, stand around on park benches and argue? In the
collection of Bill's lists there is one for the stupidest things I have ever heard and this
certainly qualifies for the shortest of the short lists. To me, the study of philosophy
was the most critical of all my experiences in college, as it taught me to understand
value systems and also understand how thought processes evolve through time and
civilizations. The most important part is understanding how value systems are
impacted by limitations of their application in the real world. And most value
systems are challenged by the biases placed on them, either through application or
interpretation.

So my question today is what am I going to call dispensable art. Is there such a

thing? What qualifies? So many things in our lives today are outdated before we
either learn how to use them. But some of these have great value at the given time.
People can make enormous money with them. And the next question, what about
the throw-away art of yesteryear? And how do we apply our value systems on
those?

Do we create for future generations, or do we create for now and let history decide
what happens. Or is it a combinaton of both?

NBC is a world-class act!!!

First Steps

01/28/13

I did my first recording in the new quilt room yesterday. I had several false starts as
it took a while to figure out the routing system - and the realization that there were
things I still needed to configure in the setup. In the early PC days very little was

Page 448
Saved Rounds

intuitive; some said to the point of creating a 'right of passage' for would-be users.
Then, as the PC became more popular, tasks started getting intuitive.

I literally started with MS Word Version 1. I remember a review where it said if a

person started with MS Word vs. Word Perfect it would make sense, but the
transition would be more difficult for the Word Perfect person. There was a ramp-up
to MS Word if you really wanted to use it as a word processor vs. a typewriter with a
screen (which you could also do) - and you literally had to do almost everything.
You had to understand the difference between hard and soft formatting, and if you
wanted to use style sheets, you had to create them yourself. It was a rather involved
process. But in the office environment, the payback was worth the effort.

The as the program evolved, eventually into Word for Windows, it became more
intuitive. And even more intuitive. Eventually it became intuitive to the point that it
could be very difficult to figure out how to turn something off when the computer
program knew less about what you wanted than you did. The other thing was the
rearrangement of menus. It seemed that every new version of Windows or any of
the Office programs took some form of hidden glee in hiding menu items; which you
usually discovered when you were on a tight deadline and needed to finish
something.

On accordion I started with a 12 bass, then progressed to a 120 bass and eventually
a bassetti. But with the decision to convert to an all-digital recording process, and
the desire to stay with the industry standard, it is more involved. When you crack
the door you are faced with a huge program - and as you move forward you discover
that it is even more powerful than you originally thought.

But that is the same when you are progressing through acoustic instruments, at least
when you are still in the learning process. At first, you are impressed, if not
overwhelmed. But as the artistry develops, you comprehend the complete potential,
and can take that instrument to that potential almost immediately. It might only take
a few notes or a short part of a piece. Then it is about making music on that
instrument within it’s capabilities and using its unique characteristics. Then the
instrument becomes a tool rather than a curiosity.

And I believe the same thing happens with computer programs. When you get over
being amazed and overwhelmed, you can concentrate on the task for which the
program is designed. I have some friends that can do this with a computer program
as quickly as I can do it with an accordion. They understand how computers work -
the logic and processes are in their skill set. And that should be the goal of the
accordionist. To understand how to use the instrument to produce music. It all
sounds logical and simple, but application is a lifelong challenge - probably more so
for an instrument than a machine. And perhaps that also defines the difference
between an instrument and a machine

CPB

Page 449
Saved Rounds

01/29/13

I have spent the last several days doing some test takes with the new rig; trying
different combinations of mics and placement. My goal is to keep it simple and
repeatable. Bottom line, I think few people realize how difficult it is to record the
accordion. But it is likely that every musician says that about their particular
instrument.

I have been playing with a few thoughts in my head. When we first hear our
recorded our voice it sounds strange when it is coming from speakers rather than
our own head. As part of the vocal recording process it is often necessary to relearn
what it sounds like when it is recorded.

The accordion sounds different when we are playing it, in my opinion much more
than a piano. The stereo effect is certainly much more pronounced. There might be
some fun things to explore here, like if you could recreate what it feels like when you
are playing a silver wheel Super or black wheel 6/3.

I was originally disappointed that there were not more sound libraries in ProTools;
then last night I discovered where they are located. Whew! When you consider
everything that is packed into that software package, it is quite a value.

So at this point, I would say it should be a long time before I get bored. Only thing I
have to worry about now is CBP - the natural successor to PPB and APB.

Stage Two

01/30/13

I feel like have started into the second stage of my ramp-up into my new recording
project. First was to get it up and running and do some initial live tracks. Now I
have started to transfer and transform some of my previous work to the new
system. This forces me to adapt what I know to the new system, and also makes
me realize some of the details I have forgotten from old projects. Revisiting what
were some rather complex, at least for me, technical challenges and recalling the
process I used to reach a solution is helping more than confusing. It should all fit
together in a synergy. Eventually.

Some years ago when I was starting my life as a motorcycle train-the-trainer, I

attended the Motorcycle Safety Foundation's Chief Instructor Course. At that time
MSF had migrated from the original Motorcycle RiderCourse to the new Motorcycle
RiderCourse:Riding and Street Skills. I was one of the few people who had very
little knowledge of the earlier course. My elapsed time from becoming an Instructor
to becoming a Chief Instructor was less than two years. This was unheard of. Most
had been Instructors for at least five or even ten years before applying for the CI
Course.

Page 450
Saved Rounds

The CI Course of the day was extremely difficult. The pre-course work was
immense and the attrition rate, if you made it to the first day, was extremely high. It
was brutal; physically, intellectually, and emotionally. Similar to my Army experience
with firing a weapon, my roommate was the guy with all the previous experience. He
was constantly saying, "well this would have been this way with the old course", and
I would question him on why it would make a difference? And to the purpose of
finishing the course, his knowledge, or more accurately, his inability to ignore the
knowledge, made it seemingly more frustrating for him than for me. They said to do
something 'this way', and I did.

A few years later I ended up working at the MSF National Resource Office and one
of my assignments was to track all the changes in the curriculum standards for rider
training through the various iterations of the courses; all in preparation for a
totally new course. But by now, I could stand back and look at the larger picture - a
sequence of transition over a period of nearly 20 years. As I worked on this project
the logic for many things became clear; and one of my goals was to determine which
made sense and which didn't. Which had measurable value and which didn't. And
how they had come to pass. It was now time to evaluate and compare.

I think a similar thing will happen as a person learns a new skill or craft. Adult
learning shows that it is sometimes better to pick up the entire task first, then go
back and fill in details. When I work with someone as a music coach, I will often just
suggest they do or try something - especially if they are younger, either in age or in
skill. Then when the time is appropriate, I will fill in details. The reverse process,
explaining how something works and why we need to do it in a certain way might
work or even be a better choice under certain circumstances (especially if the risk
level is high), but knowing that difference is where a teacher comes in. For me, the
less I say, the better.

Then the bigger big picture comes into play. Putting it all together with other life
experiences. In my opinion, this is what separates the true craftsman or artist.
However, realize that being the consummate craftsman or artist in a given task might
not be a reasonable or desirable goal. And again, that is where a mentor can play a
valuable role; helping establish an effective system of self-assessment.

Take 427

02/01/13

As I promised, the blog is likely to get shorter as I become more involved in making
music. I am still in the ramp-up phase of my recording project and hopefully will
have some things to share on the website soon. However, I am sure you realize
'soon' can be somewhat relative.

Page 451
Saved Rounds

The big decision now is on finalizing the room and what direction to go on
microphones and preamps for recording the accordion. I know the sound I would
like to achieve.

When I was very young, my Dad would bring home GSA catalogues for Ampex and I
would imagine my ultimate recording set-up. My dream in the 1950s was an Ampex
601-2 with the 620 monitor speakers. I could imagine them in a control room with a
couple microphones for the accordion. That never happened. It was just too
expensive, though I had the opportunity to try a mono 601 at home for a few days,
and it was impressive.

Many years later I had several Ampex 601-2 machines, mainly as a curiosity as by
this time I had several of the full-size Ampex recorder/reproducers. Through the
years working with recording engineers like Armin Steiner Alan Emig, Bill Lazerus,
and some real talented folks at Bearsville I learned a lot. The Accordion
Masterworks Albums, Music Emporium and the Gregory Stone Albums were done in
commercial studios. And though I took nearly a year to do a room sound design for
the studio in my first home in Cornwall, and some of my ideas (like bass traps)
worked too well.

Today's technology has opened some great possibilities, but possibilities need to be
tempered with taste. I have always liked a very hot sound, but getting that sound
without resembling a badly amplified accordion is a challenge (sort of a loose
parallel to my constant references to Bach sounding like bad Brahms). My desired
outcome would be what Armin Steiner and Alan Emig achieved, and this was in
drastically different studios with completely different acoustics and configurations.
They could listen to the instrument and know what to do to make it sound right in the
given room. There was an absolute minimum of any EQ or effects. My starting
point always involves listening to one of their recordings. I would also say that likely
the personal recordings I liked best were usually the simplest. Often 'direct to two' of
live performances.

So it is again time to play (both the instrument and whatever equipment I ultimately
employ).

Ambience

02/04/13

I have many scattered thoughts this morning; perhaps I can relate some of them to
accordion.

West Point's Cullum Hall was constructed in the late 1800s as a memorial dedicated
to the officers and graduates of the U.S. Military Academy. When I arrived at West
Point in 1969 it was the location for Saturday night Plebe Hops. There remained
only one USMA Band 17-piece dance orchestra and their performances were pretty

Page 452
Saved Rounds

much limited to formal events. It was an age of rock bands and the era of the DJ
was yet to arrive. To me, the rich decorations of Cullum seemed weirdly out of place
when the rock bands cranked up.

At that time (I don't know if it carries to the present day), there was something called
Plebe knowledge; all kinds of interesting facts new cadets had to know. And one of
those facts was the number of lights in Cullum Hall - 340 to be exact.

What is most bizarre in my thoughts this morning is my increasing fascination with

the number of LED lights throughout my home. They are on everything from the air
freshener to the dehumidifier. The prize goes to FIOS for the most lights. With the
cable modem, DVR, Internet Modem, Router, and who knows what else, there is a
nonstop bevy of flickering lights. There are lights when the device is on, but just as
often lights when it is off. There is certainly no need for night lights; the real
challenge would be to actually get the room totally dark. Some day I would like to
actually inventory and count all the lights in the house; then compare it with some of
my friends.

Then there is the constant sound. Heating, air conditioning, devices, even buzzing
from light rheostats. I can still feel the absolute silence at night when we would go to
the Redwoods on our camping trips in the 1950s. It was also really dark as the tall
trees blocked whatever moonlight there might be. But even in the house, night time
was nearly silent. And it was dark.

It seems that in most places you go, the overall level of sound has increased.
Disneyland was once a stickler on how loud a band could play in Tomorrowland.
The last time I was at one of the parks I had to put in my ear plus on several
occasions (I almost always carry a pair). It is hard for a musical review of Lion King
to compete with a nearby rollercoaster without getting really loud.

As a result of Aunt Wanda's recent quilting party, my practice room is now much
quieter than before. And even though it is acoustically dead and I don't personally
crave playing in dead rooms, I must say there is something enjoyable about playing
in the room. I recall trying to play in the practice rooms at college. Even though they
were supposedly sound proofed, you could always hear an assortment of other
people in other rooms. I had many friends who could buckle down and concentrate,
but I always found it difficult to accomplish much.

So for me, the higher level of silence is a true joy. However, I have friends who
thrive more in the midst of various levels of chaos. By themselves they have a hard
time doing anything.

I often write about concentration, paying attention to what we are doing and listening
to what we are playing. I think one of the most challenging things an aspiring young
musician must learn is concentration; both level and length. Sometimes if I stumble
on a passage of a piece I can't remember (I almost never practice with music), I will

Page 453
Saved Rounds

think of something else and repeat the section on motor memory; just let the body
take over. But for me that is a cop-out - less effort than digging out the score.

The measure of preparation is full concentration for the duration. Knowing every
note, every finger, every detail, all of it. Being able to start at any place and being
able to put it together in combinations of non-symmetrical patterns. For me you
need to reach that point before you can 'hear' the music in your head and realize
with no or little conscious attention to the physical requirements. And for me, the
ideal pallet for learning those skills is freedom from distraction.

Achieving a balance

02/05/13

While working with a young accordionist yesterday I found myself talking about
balance of the hands, both left and right. In my years of accordion study I don't
know if I remember ever having one of my teachers use this specific word, or for that
matter, addressing the concept as a subject.

Some of my topics and words I have coined to describe them, are compilations of
experience, accordion and otherwise. Some are also colored with a particular bias -
which is also a culmination of experience, accordion or otherwise. Two that
immediately come to mind are honking and tinka-tinka-plink-plink. Simple summary
definitions of these would be (for honking) less-than-flattering tone production
worsened with overplaying the instrument, and (tinka-tinka-plink-plink) using the
instrument like a typewriter with little or no attention or understanding of musical
purpose or intent. Think of how your notation program will create a hearing of the
notes you have entered completely devoid of any passion, or for that matter, devoid
of any artistry. Give a monkey an accordion and eventually he will play all the notes
of Konzertstuck: perhaps an (infinite) way to describe a failure to achieve anything
resembling musicianship.

But the concept of balance is more serious than tinka-tinka; and is certainly
something one can achieve. Edith used to spend enormous amounts of time
describing how to sit at the piano as she said it had an enormous influence on how
you produce tone. Hovered over the keyboard and it stays inside the instrument.
Sitting upright the sound from the instrument fills the room, perhaps even to be seen
as a parallel to good vocal technique (though she never used that comparison).
Similarly, Sam spoke at length on body position on the podium.

When I was starting to relearn stradella after a 40 year absence I found it most
useful to study the fingering and hand positions Galla-Rini used in his more complex
arrangements and transcriptions. At first these would not seem intuitive - but I
quickly started to comprehend what he was doing. He achieved a balance of the left
hand; often with the additional benefit of minimizing the necessary shifts of the hand
which assists in bellowing. The hand remains in a more natural position with less

Page 454
Saved Rounds

shifting, twisting, and crossing of the fingers. The hand feels balanced, and when
this happens everything else seems to work better. It also quickly starts to feel
'right'. What would seem to be dangerous technical situations have workable
resolutions.

With further introspection, I have long known that the same thing happens in the
bassetti and the right hand. This drives the system of fingering, and it also drove the
desirability to have the bassetti buttons distanced away from the left hand strap - as
Julio did in the all-bassetti instruments. We used to tell Julio that you needed to 'use
the hand' on the bassetti - possibly even more critical than with the right hand in that
you typically don't use the thumb. I am always curious about relying strictly on finger
dexterity when playing a converter, where the buttons are all the way out against the
left hand strap. Does this ultimately impact what can be safely done with the left
hand or limit the technical capabilities? And given the characteristics of much of the
current playing, has the repertoire and playing style been influenced by this situation
(I have often spoke of using the converter free bass as a chromatic stradella)?
There have seen several occasions where young converter players have remarked
at the left-hand capabilities of some of the older 6/3 or 5/4 players. "How do they do
that?" Another aspect I consider overlooked is the potential level of resistance in the
converter buttons. On most of them I have played the action is extremely light, and I
have been told by manufacturers (who actually show no real interest) there is no
way to increase this tension due to the design of the complex converter mechanism.

Now the important question becomes, does any of this really matter, or could it have
any influence whatsoever on the future of such instruments? What has evolved has
resulted in certain realities; like the over-presence of the bottom octave in the newer
instruments.

Years ago Julio spoke of the characteristics of the Russian instruments - decades
before most of us ever heard one, let alone played one. He spoke of the power in
the left hand and based on the evolution of his instruments (I have a representation
of nearly all of them) he worked to get more power. But there is a difference in what
he did. First was his concern for overall size. My 6/3 is rather large, but much
smaller than a converter. And he worked on the lower range - but kept the balance.
So in this case it is both musical and technical balance.

But back to balance of the hands, I feel it is also extremely critical in the right hand;
not only for fast passages where there is a desirability to equalize the God-given
strength in the individual fingers (Tzerko concept), but also in assisting in tone
production in lyrical sections. And in my opinion, this balance will provide a much
more musical solution than any amount of choreography (which unfortunately is
often aimed at solving the same musical challenge).

Hopefully when I get the video part of the studio up and running I can address this
more. When I was working with the young accordionist yesterday I could show him

Page 455
Saved Rounds

and he immediately understood and could apply what would work for him to his
playing.

What’s Natural Ability Got To Do With It

02/06/13

My middle brother was a natural athlete, as was my father. Give them almost
anything physical, and they could typically do it. When Phil decided he wanted to
surf he was standing on the board the first or second day. When my Dad and I
rented a pair of jet skis (the original Kawasaki stand-up kind), he was standing and
able to steer almost immediately, while each of my attempts ended up in rather
spectacular face plants into the lake. My Dad was in his 70's at the time.

My oldest brother and I did not have that same level of physical talent. It took longer
to learn to do something. My Dad used to say that learning things too easily could
be a curse, as one may not stay with something long enough to get really good at it
or they would just become bored. Edith Oppens remarked several times in my
lessons that her daughter, Ursula Oppens, learned at an extremely accelerated
pace, and that it could be difficult as her learning pace was so fast she was not
forced to grow with the music (today Ursula is one of the country's premier concert
pianists, specializing in contemporary repertoire that few could even attempt).

I was not a natural when I started accordion. It took time and a lot of work to
develop a technique. There were those around me who learned much more
quickly. But once I had something, I generally retained it.

I often speak of other disciplines, art forms and otherwise, and try to show how there
more carry-overs than one might think. And sometimes, when the outcome is more
directly measured as a strict competence at the physical skill, it is easier to pinpoint
what equals success, or measuring the influence of physical talent. For me, one of
the best illustrations comes from teaching people to ride motorcycles. It is
something I was heavily involved with for nearly 25 years. Also, I worked in
developing and evaluating training curriculum and license testing which ultimately
had established measures to measure competence at performing skills. We often
started with people with no previous experience and recorded their progress through
defined performance standards; in some cases, being able to pass an end-of-course
evaluation or even a State license test.

Likely the most interesting situation was watching the new motorcycle rider in the
MSF RiderCourse. After many years and training a lot of Instructors I came to a
conclusion (this is my conclusion, not that of MSF) that person's success in a course
would parallel the entry level more than personal effort or desire. It could be seen as
a defined window, and I could often predict someone's final level of competence
within the first few moments. Often, no level of desire or effort would bring a person
with less physical skill up to the entry level of someone with a high level of skill with

Page 456
Saved Rounds

minimal effort or desire. The problem here was that that person who really wanted
to ride a motorcycle on the street likely would do so, and often not recognize their
skills were quite modest. This is where it was so critical to emphasize self-
assessment and the level of risk in riding a motorcycle. But there are an infinite
number of levels between the two.

Perhaps this is the same as Sam Kracmalnic telling me during my first session with
him that a person could either conduct or they couldn't. All he could do was give me
the tools so any ensemble, anywhere would understand what I wanted them to do.
Then the rest of it became my responsibility.

So the ultimate question is what one does with the skill set, and I guess that first
requires that someone understands the skill set and can self-assess where they
stand. And with an instrument, the skill set is not solely measured in the number of
notes someone can play and how fast they can play them. But first, they must have
the skill set, and the self-assessment also helps that person understands how their
skills work for them.

I would remind the reader that this blog is a series of my stories and my experience.
It is certainly not for everyone - I am sure some will think all this is absurdly
pretentious and others will not see a purpose for it. However, what I find interesting
is that many of the blog readers who are not accordionists (they are professional
non-accordionist musicians, dancers, motorcycle professionals, and athletes) often
find these concepts 'intuitive to all but the most casual observer.' Many of these
concepts are integral to their areas - 'givens' if you will: sometimes so much so that
they can't see why I find it so necessary to discuss them. And they are essential,
either for survival, or to reach artist goals.

All this came into focus this morning as I was watching the DVD, Dancing for Mr. B.,
where Maria Tallchief (one of the greatest and most successful balerinas of all time)
tells of Balanchine saying to her, "if you could only learn to do battement tondeau
correctly, that is all you would have to know". In my opinion, that is the concept and
level of discipline we need to bring to accordion.

Enough is Enough

02/08/13

Gang,

I was reviewing the blog last night in preparation to continue work on the index. In
total, between Anecdotes and Saved Rounds there are over 500 pages and 229,396
words. The writing encompases a period of nearly three years - roughly in parallel
with the time since I started to play again.

Page 457
Saved Rounds

Anyway, I have told my stories - some of them more than once. Some friends from
the past have contacted me as a result of all this, often calling attention to
adventures I had forgotten. That has been a delight. The internet provides the
opportunity for people to search for names that are often all but forgotten, and from
the website statistics and the occasional Email, there may be some references that
might be of personal value or interest completely outside the original intent of this
blog.

Page 458
Saved Rounds

9/11, 344 accordion tone production, 294

accordion, 425 honk, 140, 174, 220, 286, 289, 317, 352, 426,
12 bass, 450 428, 429, 455
adult student, 323, 324 ping, 33, 220
as a legitimate instrument, 284, 300, 344, 370, Accordion USA, 386
374, 422 Accordionists and Teachers Guild (ATG), 19, 22,
as a social instrument, 215 42, 43, 44, 47, 78, 99, 123, 124, 127, 162, 163,
as a tool, 296 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 170, 172, 173, 200,
cool, 186, 187 208, 410, 427, 429, 433
culture, 186, 359, 379, 387 accordions in the public school system, 214
duet, 429, 442 Acoustic Control Amplifier, 269
duet (rehearsed shtick), 429 Adams
enthusiasts, 212, 343, 372, 410, 413, 418, 430, Ansel, 417
432 adjudicating, 191
golden age, 348, 374, 375 adult learner, 352
hand made reeds, 313 self-assessment, 112, 151, 154, 231, 232, 235,
industry, 358 238, 245, 246, 253, 254, 256, 341, 352, 381,
inflatable air bag, 193 389, 426, 429, 436, 439, 448, 452, 458
instrument manipulation, 172, 197, 198, 206, adult learning, 96, 97, 323
209, 231, 422 expectations, 352
internal amplification system, 275 affectations, 94, 191, 278, 386, 426
original repertoire, 216, 271, 300, 315, 358, 371, Afghan Hounds, 138, 139, 185, 217
372, 433, 448 air button, 114
position, 111 Air Force, 64, 69, 101
prodigy, 253 Alabama
studio system, 378, 379, 432 Fort Rucker, 345
transient response, 425 Alaskan Malamute, 138, 185, 412
will it float?, 193 Alfa Romeo
Accordion and Guitar World, 22, 160, 201, 334 Spyder, 295
Accordion Association of Southern California A-List New York, 205, 212
(AASC) Altec Lansing
Festival, 192 A-7, 290
Accordion Barre, 217, 218, 219, 220, 231, 235, Amazon, 348, 363
236, 237, 238, 241, 267, 417, 419, 426 ambience, 306, 307, 308
vertical harmony, 426 American Accordionists Association (AAA), 19, 22,
accordion case, 330 42, 43, 44, 86, 200, 371, 372, 410
Anvil style, 105, 257, 331 Invitational International Competition, 22, 43,
canvas bag, 331 183, 305, 371
overhead compartment, 105 American Ballet Theatre (ABT), 278, 446
SKB mil-spec, 105, 331, 333 Bright Stream, 221
standard, 105 Ampex, 76, 131, 211, 441
TSI and new challenges, 106 350, 211
Accordion Connection, 311 351-2, 77
Accordion Federation of North America (AFNA), 354, 77
175, 236, 350 601, 211, 453
accordion forum, 211, 226, 279 601-2, 211, 453
Accordion Heroes, 128, 150, 346, 347, 355, 364, 620 monitor speakers, 211, 453
367, 386, 387 forum, 211
Artist Showcase, 351 Hackensack Office, 211
cancelled, 409 Amtrak, 442
Concert in Fairmont West Virginia, 423 amusement parks, 125
Concert in West Virginia, 423 An American in Paris, 107
Accordion Heroes 2012, 363, 409, 410, 425, 432 Anchor’s Aweigh, 3
Accordion Heroes Picnic, 417 Annex Studios, 58, 59
Accordion Masterworks, 406, 453 Antonio and the Ballet de Madrid, 55
Accordion Masterworks II, 106, 130, 150, 211, 309 Arase
Accordion News USA, 348 Randy, x, 23, 79, 161, 357
accordion player’s butt (APB), 98, 99, 101 Arizona
Accordion Plus, 135, 205 Kingman, 66
semi-annual recital, 283
Accordion Shaped Object (ASO), 102

Page 459
Saved Rounds

Army, 10, 24, 53, 61, 62, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 72, 74, Piano Concerto, 10
83, 89, 95, 98, 101, 103, 144, 147, 152, 153, Barenboim
158, 213, 251, 329, 399 Daniel, 363
Basic Training, 441 Bartell
direct commission, 74 Patricia, 351
motorcycle safety instructor, 343 bassetti, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 26, 29, 31,
trip wires, 181 32, 33, 38, 44, 46, 48, 58, 75, 78, 79, 81, 84, 85,
Walter Reed Hospital, 252 90, 91, 93, 107, 111, 112, 114, 115, 116, 117,
Arndt 121, 122, 126, 134, 140, 143, 150, 154, 155,
Nola, 317 160, 161, 164, 165, 166, 170, 184, 200, 206,
Arnold 210, 215, 226, 241, 284, 287, 288, 305, 316,
Tex, 69 327, 342, 357, 361, 374, 415, 418, 450, 456
artistic freedom, 307 pedestal buttons, 17, 29, 79, 122, 292, 328, 406,
Ashkenazy 407
Vladimir, 145, 285, 286, 384 bayan, 104, 111, 126, 171, 187, 188, 209, 210,
Astaire 226, 328, 409, 416, 420, 435, 456
Fred, 223 Bearsville Sound Studios, 77, 106, 453
Atlas Beethoven
Banshee Horns, 258 Concerto #5 Emporer, 10, 262
Atwater Kent Scholarship Awards, 36, 213, 410 Ludwig van, 10, 24, 28, 35, 36, 37, 52, 116, 117,
Auld Lang Syne, 148 118, 125, 224, 371
Auntie Mame, 360 Sonatas, 24, 54, 116, 213, 222, 316, 436
Avion, 383 Waldstein Sonata, 28, 35, 36, 44, 78
awards, 303 Behind the Bellows, 197
Bach, 209 Beiber
Chorale Prelude, 286 Justin, 347
inventions, 35 Belfiore
Inventions (Palmer edition), 370 Maddelena, 194, 195
J. S., 35, 49, 75, 78, 104, 118, 171, 224, 444 Bell Accordion, 205
played like bad Brahms, 373, 416 Belling
Riemenschneider (Bach) Chorales, 213 Andrew, 54
Toccata and Fugue in Dm, 17, 78 bellows-shake, 239, 422, 426
Well Tempered Clavier, 35, 49, 54, 100, 112, on the piano, 264
144, 188, 318, 342 triple, 197
Bachauer Benny
Gina, 363 Jack, 316
back strap, 149, 239, 240 Berens
Baker Mike, 313
Alicia, 351 Bernheimer
Balanchine, 458 Martin, 412
Dancing for Mr. B, 458 Bernstein
George, 125 Leonard, 447
Balestrieri Betty Ford Clinic, 409
Ars Nova, 49 Bieber
Bach Prelude and Fuge in d Minor, 242 Justin, 228
Donald, x, 26, 34, 35, 37, 49, 108, 144, 213, Bird Cage Theatre, 5
218, 221, 242, 243, 254, 286, 299, 308, 318, BMW Motorcycles, 388
436 Bolshoi, 221, 278, 412
ballet, 92, 96, 134, 135 Coppelia, 412
barre, 218 Bongiorno
classical, 218 James, 386, 422
Ballet Nacional de Cuba, 277, 285 Trinaural Recording, 386
Baltimore Catechism, 298, 320 Bonham
bands Audio Guild Amplifier, 101
accordion, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 11, 21, 24, 27, Audio Guild Corporation (AGC), 258
30, 33, 37, 38, 39, 41, 44, 45, 64, 68, 69, 71, Bonham amplifier, 76, 258, 375
84, 104, 128, 134, 135, 136, 137, 168, 172, Don, x, 12, 76, 101, 258
173, 286, 317, 379, 428, 430, 431, 432 Borge
Bank Victor, 316
1960’s rock venue, 354 Boston Pops, 146, 187
Barber, Samuel Boulez

Page 460
Saved Rounds

Pierre, 446 Redwoods, 304, 454

Bourne Richardson's Grove (Redwoods), 410
Mathew, Swan Lake (production), 446 San Diego, 49, 345
Brahms San Fernando Valley, 56
Intermezzi, 156 San Francisco, 18
Johannes, 133, 371 Santa Clara, 164, 166
Piano Concerto #2 in Bb, 41, 188, 297, 397 Santa Monica, 100
Bridezillas, 402, 421 Torrance, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 12, 24, 25, 40, 66,
Bridge 172, 354
Michael, 168, 187, 351, 372, 417, 423, 435, 440, Torrance High School, 24
442 Torrance Municipal Auditorium, 5
Britten Van Nuys, 56
War Requiem, 52, 53, 146 Venice, 335
Bronfman Wawona Tunnel (Yosemite), 441
Yefim, 262, 267, 278, 285, 320 Westwood, 30
Brown Yosemite National Park, 304, 441
Bob, 69 California Polytechnic College, 61
Browning Callas
John, 10, 363 Maria, 420
Buick Camaleri
Betty (1977 Le Sabre), 301 Charles, 38
Burger King, 125 Danza Latina, 38, 44
Burke Canada
Diane, 131 Toronto, Ontario, 38, 44, 123, 305
Sonny, 53 cancer, 297
Cain Capehart High Fidelity Systems, 260
Paul, 206 Capitol Records, 58
Caisson’s Song, 3 Capolla
California Lou, 118
Brooklyn, 302 Carol
Camp Pendleton, 388 Christina, 37
Catalina Island, 3 Carter
Colton, 344 Chuck, 120, 156, 254, 290, 308, 309, 340
Compton, 9, 166, 172 Caste System, 391
Cucamonga, 11, 127 Castelfidardo, 29, 47, 48
Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 59, 146, 262, 263, Castle
309, 363 Jo Ann, 94, 95
El Segundo, 1, 322 Cayce
El Segundo High School, 198 Edgar, 335
Fern Greenwood Elementary School, 1 Celestine Prophecy, 391
Fort Ord, 65, 95, 179, 329 Center Stage, 135, 218, 238
Ft McArthur, 67 Chevrolet
Glendale, 30, 40, 169 Chevette, 420
Hemet, 345 Corvette, 75, 153, 189, 198, 267, 296, 301, 335,
Inglewood High School Auditorium, 278 343, 420
Irvine, 344 Chopin, 10, 32, 36, 52, 54, 57, 104, 116, 117, 118,
Knott’s Berry Farm, 5 145
La Jolla, 49 Ballade, 52, 316
Laguna Beach, 193, 394, 406, 445 Etude, 36, 54, 222, 393
Long Beach, 6, 7, 16, 29, 66, 128, 302 Etude Opus 10, 447
Long Beach Municipal Auditorium, 6, 9, 128, Etude Opus 10 #2, 299, 436
175, 302 Frederic, 371
Long Beach Naval Shipyard, 302 Grand Polonaise, 10
Los Angeles, 2, 8, 10, 13, 22, 24, 26, 27, 30, 37, Scherzo, 52
44, 45, 48, 51, 52, 53, 58, 60, 62, 63, 64, 65, choreography, 92, 93, 94, 134, 182
107, 115, 137, 144, 146, 147, 163, 169 Cigler
March Air Force Base, 344 Jerry, 47
Ontario Airport, 345 Clark
Palos Verdes, 373 Dick, 44
Queen Mary, 303 Cliburn
Rainbow Pier, 302 Van, 36, 182, 213, 272, 339, 363

Page 461
Saved Rounds

Van Cliburn V-Piano Competition, 203 Jack, 410

cognitive dissonance, 341 Cross
Colorado Cynthia, 276
Denver, 15 Crown International
Columbia Record-of-the-Month Club, 442 I Tech Amplifiers, 386
Community Concerts, 27, 278 Crucianelli, 7, 270
competition, 192, 302, 305, 316, 341 Dallape
Compton Music Center, 7, 8, 11, 15, 431 Super Maestro, 10, 11, 12, 84, 239, 270, 419
Concertgebouw, 427 Dance Moms, 412, 413, 414, 421
Confederation Internationale des Accordeonistes Dance Moms Miami, 402, 403, 412
(CIA), 303 Dance of the Buffoons, 8
Connecticut, 304, 311 Davine
Connsonata, 12, 201 Robert, 212
Contino Davis
Dick, 93, 197, 347, 348, 351, 376, 423, 424, 439 Ivan, 383
The Beauty of Imperfection, The Dick Contino Jack, 398
Story, 348, 439 de Falla
converter Manuel, 37, 161
chromatic, 197, 209, 375, 416, 418, 456 Ritual Fire Dance, 37, 161
quint, 17, 20, 22, 37, 154, 156, 170, 171, 369 Debussy
Cordovox, 69, 100, 102 Clair de la Lune, 20
Cosbey Claude, 20, 27, 32, 87, 118, 155, 156, 169
Bess, 54, 55, 61, 65, 322, 401, 424 Fireworks, 155
Grannie, 199 First Arabesque, 27
Henry A, 6, 54, 55, 65, 277, 401, 424 Preludes, 213
Henry and Bess (grandparents), 1 Deffner
Cosby Music, 276
Anecdotes, 306 Deiro
Bill, 54 Guido, 376
Bill (comedian), 340 Overtures, 276
Edith C, 1, 2, 5, 6, 9, 15, 16, 21, 26, 28, 41, 44, Pietro, 6
47, 55, 65, 66, 99, 126, 140, 344, 345, 347, Quicksilver, 128
383 Tranquillo Overture, 157
Phil, 1, 2, 5, 41, 61, 129, 207, 253, 255, 401, Demor
457 Vince, 351
Robert L, 1, 5, 9, 61, 329, 401, 409, 415, 417, Denny’s (restaurant), 39, 40
457 Department of Defense, 212, 213, 251, 254
Robert W, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 12, 15, 16, 17, 21, 26, Department of the Navy, 199
28, 41, 44, 55, 65, 66, 96, 98, 99, 126, 140, depression, 345
198, 199, 207, 254, 269, 277, 282, 285, 335, Desert Storm, 235, 268
346, 347, 360, 368, 380, 383, 401, 410, 435, Detgen
457 Gene, 225, 419
Saved Rounds, 306 DiCarolis
Cosby Music Tony, 69, 70
Celebrations, 76, 77 Dichter
Compendium of Descriptive Etudes, 76 Misha, 363, 384
Count Seven, 76 DiMaggio
Cow pies, 76 Christian, 20
Dark Eyes, 104, 116, 161 Disney
Jerusalem, 127 Disney World, 131
rating system, 276, 392 Disney World, EPCOT Center, 132
Sonata, High Energy, 75, 76, 77, 103, 232, 252, Disneyland, 123, 131, 132, 144, 237, 272, 454
292 Disneyland, Peter Pan ride, 272
Coupe Mondiale, 9, 34, 38, 42, 43, 44, 46, 47, 79, Mickey Mouse Club, 237
82, 93, 100, 123, 136, 162, 167, 168, 202, 286, dispensable art. See throw-away art
294, 303, 305, 318, 342, 371, 421, 423 Dizzy Fingers, 9, 128, 442
medal, 304 Doktorski
test piece, 271 Henry, 442
Versailles 1966, 242 Dominko
Crockett Stephen, x, 29, 32, 36, 40, 44, 45, 46, 77, 79,
Harriette, 441 97, 118, 136, 144, 161, 244, 292, 304, 305,

Page 462
Saved Rounds

306, 311, 312, 313, 323, 326, 336, 351, 374, chromatic, 221
407, 414, 423, 447 diatonic, 32, 57, 98, 203, 221, 299, 417, 419
Don Loper, 19 facilitation, 203
Donna Reed Show, 307, 340 fingering systems, 18, 31, 287, 456
Doogan Flogi
Kim, 90 Flavio, 19, 433, 436
Doors Floren
This is the End, 315 Myron, 1, 5, 7, 93, 99
draft, 24, 61, 62, 64, 74, 147, 250 Florida
drag racing, 125 Miami, 71
drug-induced mentality, 355 Florida Smash, 177, 205, 208, 239, 427
dual system, 79, 85, 115, 121, 122, 126, 170, 197, Participant Band, 427
207, 374, 408, 411, 415, 417, 418, 419 Forbes
difficulties, 327 Rand, 55
earthquake, 331, 333 Ford
Eastern Regional Championship, 195 E-350 Super Van 2010, 247
Ebay, 192, 321, 375 Falcon Ranchero 1961, 247
Edwards Falcon Sedan 1960, 262
Jonathan, 316, 317 Fox
Ehlers Virgil, 77
Alice, 373 France
Einstein French Embassy, 365
Albert, 360 Versailles, 47, 123, 242
El Camino College, 5, 24, 25, 28, 41, 55, 56, 61, free is good, 321
87, 155 Frontalini, 5, 270, 304
Chorale, 28, 41 Frontiere
Elektra, 59, 60, 211 Dominic, 317
Ellegaard Fuller
Mogens, 123, 436 Jeannie Weaver, 25
Emig Fuller Brush Man, 377
Alan, 58, 59, 60, 106, 211, 385, 453 Galla-Rini
Eppenheimer 100th Birthday Party, 169
Howard, 165 Accordion Concerto #1 in G Major, 38
equalizer, 353 accordion orchestra, 37
ultimate equalizer / honesty, 354 Anthony, x, 9, 17, 19, 20, 21, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31,
Excelsior, 69, 72, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 89, 160, 206 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 44,
General Bill, 89, 91, 160, 185, 190, 202, 203, 45, 46, 47, 49, 50, 55, 56, 57, 62, 78, 103,
204, 206, 210, 251, 288, 373, 411, 424 108, 110, 116, 117, 118, 123, 126, 128, 136,
General Bill (key action), 289 145, 152, 161, 162, 163, 165, 166, 167, 168,
General Bill, Julio Giulietti Restoration, 204 169, 171, 172, 173, 200, 213,218, 220, 221,
New York City, 279 239, 241, 242, 249, 254, 259, 265, 267, 286,
Rocker Switch, 72, 185, 203, 206, 210, 270, 287, 294, 299, 307, 308, 311, 312, 318, 342,
279, 288, 382 350, 357, 363, 371, 390, 429, 433, 436, 447,
World War II Accordions for the Army, 206 455
Facebook, 126, 132, 157, 160, 165, 167, 309 band arrangement of Swan Lake, 428
Farfisa, 48, 69, 101, 102, 131 bass registration, 210
Transicord, 101, 102 bassetti transcriptions, 242
Farrell Diamond Jubilee, 37
Suzanne, 239 Diamond Jubilee Ensemble, 172, 427
Farrow Dina, 29
Mia, 55 left-hand utilization, 241
Fassnacht Master Class DVD, 266
Peter, 113, 313 President Emeritus, 42
Fast and Loud Competition, 120 Ronnie, 29, 40, 169
Fender, 12, 101, 140 studio, 30
Dual Showman, 258 tone production, 241, 294
Ferraro Accordion Studio, 1, 2 Galla-Rini International Competition, 166, 167, 170,
Fiedler 171, 188, 191, 192, 197, 198, 209, 273, 284,
Arthur, 146 286, 319, 342, 447
fingering Galliano
bassetti, 241 Richard, 102

Page 463
Saved Rounds

Gem Combo Organ, 205 stradella, 419

Gershwin Super, 10, 11, 12, 13, 17, 19, 77, 84, 86, 90,
Preludes, 107 101, 122, 140, 184, 210, 270, 304, 311, 336,
Rhapsody in Blue, 17, 19, 37, 75, 154, 164, 433, 406, 409, 410, 415, 440
438, 442, 443 Transformer, 79, 170, 197, 207
Gian Scala, 29 V2, 407, 416, 440
Gilels Zero Sette, 296
Emil, 363, 383 Gizzi
Giulietti, x, 11, 12, 15, 16, 17, 22, 26, 28, 29, 44, John, 147
58, 69, 71, 76, 77, 79, 82, 85, 86, 89, 90, 91, Glutsch
101, 103, 105, 112, 113, 116, 118, 121, 122, Werner, 103
126, 133, 160, 161, 170, 183, 196, 257, 296, Goldberg
312, 361, 408, 417, 418, 419 Albert, 384, 412
5/4, 89, 90, 122, 186, 210, 327, 328, 456 Goldsmith
50 Years Of, 426 Fred, 261
6/3, 89, 122, 150, 184, 186, 197, 337, 406, 407, Goldwater
456 Barry, 42
Anita, 28, 71, 194 Goodman
bassetti 12-bass, 229 Benny, 56
Concerts, 200 Gorton
Connie, 89, 90 Chris, 351
Continental, 85, 91, 121, 336 Goscicki
Continental V, 440 Chet, 68
Continental V2, 77, 327 Gould
Cosby's naming of left hand bassetti systems, Glenn, 60, 318, 319, 355, 426
327 gradus ad parnassum, 442
cutaway, 406, 407, 409, 410 Graffman
Dark Eyes, 103 Gary, 383
dressed in drag, 195 Gray
dual-system, 184 Gary, 54
Elizabeth, 90, 91, 93, 94, 105, 127, 131, 160, Gretsch
183, 202, 210, 248, 292, 327, 328, 336, 412, amplifier, 7, 257
427 Grieco
Fabian, 89, 90, 91, 93, 94, 105, 150, 160, 183, Tony, 89, 93, 105
185, 188, 202, 210, 229, 248, 292, 327, 328, Gross
336, 337, 407, 411 Arnie, 69, 70, 224
Jackson, 412, 420 Groves Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 158
Jason, 411 Guidotti
Julio, x, 16, 17, 18, 22, 23, 28, 29, 32, 39, 44, Adrian, 254
45, 46, 47, 48, 59, 66, 67, 71, 72, 77, 78, 79, American In Japan, 23
81, 82, 84, 85, 86, 91, 93, 103, 104, 112, 113, Concerto Di Bravura, 23
114, 116, 118, 122, 126, 133, 154, 155, 160, Hollywood Fantasia, 19, 20, 21, 22, 183, 188,
161, 165, 183, 190, 194, 200, 205, 206, 214, 190, 208, 209, 232, 292, 357
216, 225, 262, 293, 302, 311, 312, 313, 326, Jazz Scherzo, 19, 20, 21, 190
327, 329, 334, 374, 379, 381, 382, 407, 409, Sonata di Bravura, 435
414, 416, 417, 433, 440, 456 Sylvana, 19
Julio's real dream, 230 Guild Guitars, 377
Leader 1, 79 Guitar Center, 304
Neofonic, 45, 58, 79 Haag
new Classic 127, 89, 91, 105, 115, 150, 185, Dr. Robert, 24, 25, 28, 30, 262, 285, 286, 363,
202, 208, 234, 239, 241 431
New York shop, 71 Hahn
Norma, 71 Ove, 169
plastic key tops, 183 Hammond Organ, 74, 108, 119
raised reed blocks, 328 B-3, 258, 310
Roberto, 247, 292, 295, 296, 327, 328, 406, 407, Model A, 296
412 Handel
Ryan, 420 Harmonious Blacksmith, 35, 49
Sebastian, 89, 91, 92, 93, 94, 105, 127, 131, Hane
150, 160, 166, 183, 185, 242, 248, 333 Carl, 200
serial number, 194 Hanon

Page 464
Saved Rounds

C. L., 26, 32, 57, 98, 297, 392, 393 Jacobson

Happy Birthday, 13, 168 as an amateur rockist?, 376
Hardcore Pawn, 402 Marion, 371, 378
Hardester Jamal
Jane Skinner, 25, 28 Ahmad, 429
Harper Jane
Glenn, 364 Hannah, 351
harpsichord Japan, 52, 64, 152, 154, 162
Pleyel, 318, 373 Atsugi, 395
Harpsichord Javi
Pleyel, 444 Neeme, 262, 285
Hay JBL
Herb, 78, 211 Paragon, 322
Herman Professional Monitors, 322
Woody, 107 jet ski, 207
Herold Jones
Mort, 116, 200, 201 Spike, 316
Hit Paraders, 8, 9, 166, 172 Judge Judy, 146, 340, 370, 381, 402, 403, 425, 426
Hohner, 17, 22, 26, 27, 47, 69, 85, 100, 101, 102 Julliard, 13, 67, 168
Accordion Orchestra, 427 Kanu
Electrovox, 69, 100, 101, 102 Billy, 5, 6
Gola, 17, 85, 100, 122, 331, 417 Kass
Morino, 26, 200 Gerry, 194, 220, 221, 229, 409
Transachord, 27 Kawasaki
Holst Jet Ski, 457
Gustav, 385 Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, 262, 278,
Suites for Symphonic Band, 385 312, 320, 336, 363, 384, 412, 421, 428, 446,
Holzhauer 448
Fred and Lari, 42, 123 Kent Records, 58, 107
Hope Kenton
Bob, 69, 310 Stan, 60
Horowitz keyboard action
Liszt Sonata in B minor, 384 deep, 289
Vladimir, 35, 36, 44, 58, 128, 142, 223, 228, key noise, 289
235, 355, 372, 383, 384, 386, 415, 423 King
Horrible Bosses, 395 B. B., 58, 107
Hudson King Brand Music, 70
Helen, 1, 2 King Contest, 58, 69, 70, 125, 128, 129
Hulme Kissen
Donald, x, 22, 36, 79, 100, 149, 351 Evgeny, 116, 117, 135, 359, 435
Hurricane Irene, 333, 335, 336, 344 Knott's Berry Farm, 123
Hurricane Isabelle, 333 Knowlton
Ibert General William A., 72, 82, 204, 206
The Little White Donkey, 447 Mrs. William A., 160, 204, 251
Illinois Koelz
Chicago, 22, 44, 129 Hans-Guenther, 103
improvisation, 321 Krachmalnick
Indiana Sam, 431
Indianapolis, 324 Krackmalnic
integrity, 255 Sam, 455, 458
Inter-American Music Review, 158 Kracmalnic
Intergallatic Accordion Symphony eSpeciale (I Sam, 213, 221
ASS), 316, 317 La Tosca, 22
Intonation, 110 Landowska
Isserlis Wanda, 104, 318, 359, 373, 444
Stephen, 285, 336, 426 Well Tempered Clavier (recording), 444
Italy Lang Lang, 435
Ancona, 48 Lanting
Castelfidardo, 407 Esther, 433
Rome, 47, 48, 158 LaPadula
It's a Small World, 131, 132

Page 465
Saved Rounds

Johnny, x, 9, 10, 12, 101, 127, 128, 144, 152, Desperately Seeking Susan, 301
258, 276, 351 Into the Groove, 301
Layton Magnante
Benny, 240 Accordion Boogie, 424, 425
Lazerus Charles, 9, 10, 21, 22, 23, 34, 39, 46, 104, 116,
Bill, 59, 60, 453 118, 145, 152, 259, 350, 363, 429
Lecuona Holiday for Bases, 116, 259
Malaguena, 115 Holiday for Chords, 116, 259
Lee Midnight in Paris, 116, 117
Carolyn, 62, 63, 65, 66, 69, 70, 71, 74, 95, 96, Magnatone, 9, 12, 45, 101, 276
305 280, 257
Leslie Speaker Cabinet, 22, 69, 101, 149, 258 Malta, 38, 46, 54, 123
Levant man boobs, 99
Oscar, 107 Mandala
Levickis George, x, 11, 12, 19, 36, 111, 127, 128, 144,
Martynas, 284, 319 258, 307, 351
Libertango, 95 Tony, 11, 19, 307
Life with Father, 307 Manginelli
Lincoln Center Albert, 351
Avery Fischer Hall, 297 Manhattan School of Music, 98
Metropolitan Opera House, 384 Manny’s Music, 71, 72
Linder Mariinsky
Judith, 20, 156, 369 Vaganova Academy, 412
Liszt Mariinsky (Kirov), 278, 285
2nd Hungarian Rhapsody, 36 Marine Corps
Franz, 35, 46, 104, 157, 227, 371 Headquarters, 251, 356, 395
Hungarian Fantasy, 36 Traffic Safety, 300
Hungarian Rhapsody #19, 36, 43, 44, 45, 97, Marine’s Hymn, 3
213, 242, 249, 447 Marocco
Mephisto Waltz, 241, 242, 249, 342 Frank, 176, 188, 350, 351
Paganini Etudes, 36 Marshall Amplifier, 258, 269
Sonata in B minor, 36, 41, 161, 297, 397 Maryland
Spanish Rhapsody, 22 Baltimore, 89, 91, 271
Transcendental Etudes, 36, 117 Maschler
transcriptions, 447 Jamie, 351
Valse Obliee, 36 Mason
Little Boy Who Flew with the Dragons, 445 Monica, 312
Little Boy Who Flew With the Dragons, 141 Massachusetts
Little Miss Sunshine, 15 Westfield, 77, 79
live performance, 110, 127, 144, 145, 228, 263, Mayorga
286, 363, 453 Lincoln, 44
Long Beach Music Center, 7 McDonald’s (restaurant), 40, 125, 126
Los Angeles Music Store, 2, 303 Mehta
Los Angeles Philharmonic, 24, 53, 213, 262, 363, Zubin, 363
383, 431 Mencaccini
Los Angeles Times, 92, 348, 384, 412, 427 Aldo, 205
Louisiana Mendelssohn
Fort Polk, 329 Cappricio Brilliante, 424
Lovello Capriccioso Brilliante, 16
Tony, 239, 248, 422, 423 Rondo Capriccioso, 19
Luzon Spinning Song, 45
Bill, 4 Violin Concerto, 9
Lythgoe Mercury
Nigel, 285 woodie station wagon, 441
Macerollo Merry Widow Waltz, 3
Joe, 90, 351, 372 Merzlak
Macintosh, 437 Florence, 55
Mack Meta
Ted, 8, 9, 166, 172 Zubin, 53, 447
Ted Mack and the Original Amateur Hour, 8 metronome, 7, 120, 298
Madonna Metropolitan Opera, 420

Page 466
Saved Rounds

Michaels Local 47, 63, 147

Lauren, 141, 445 Local 802, 147
Micro Seiki Mussorgsky, 26, 56
DDX1000, 290 Boris Gudanov, 56
Microsoft Word, 269 Night on Bald Mountain, 26
midi, 366, 436, 444 National Accordion Association (NAA), 233, 234,
Mighty Accordion Band, 317 235, 239
They Said It Couldn't Be Done, 316 Trade Show and Convention, 236
Miller National Association of Musical Merchants
Abby, 414, 415 (NAMM), 20, 22, 71, 149, 156, 200, 225, 236,
Julius Sumner, 360, 361, 363, 368 313, 369, 377
Steve Allen Show, 362 National Ballet of Canada
Miss Universe Pageant, 128 Adventures of Alice in Wonderland (production),
Missouri 446, 448
Kansas City, 41 National Champion, 123
St. Louis, 99, 123 National Competition, 19, 42, 46, 47, 123, 167
Molinari National Highway Traffic Safety Administration
John, 6, 9, 145, 363 (NHTSA), 199
Molinaro National Symphony Orchestra, 116, 262, 267, 285,
Rudy, 118, 313, 414 357, 384, 426
Monter Natoli
Irena, 55 Joe, 372, 374
Monti Navy, 1, 61, 66, 81, 101, 152
Czardas, 442 Naval Safety Center, 300, 395, 405, 437
Moschino Free Bass, 64 work for, 356
Most Happy Fellow, 134, 135 Nelson
Standing on the Corner, 401 June Lusk, 25
motorcycle, 186, 240, 295, 296, 313, 342, 346 Nevada
Army Motorcycle Safety Program, 199 Las Vegas, 405, 415
Harley Davidson, 189, 296, 328 New Jersey
Harley Davidson 'Butkus' (FXRSDG), 301 Palisades Parkway, 205
Harley Davidson 'Rooster' (1977 XLCR Cafe New York, 304
Racer), 301 Albany, 89, 91, 93
Motorcycle Riding Courses, 186 Balmville, 148
Motorcycle Safety Foundation, 81, 96, 112, 113, Carnegie Hall, 215, 220
126, 153, 154, 181, 199, 313, 343, 344, 346, Coney Island, 302, 335
388, 394, 395, 404, 405, 437, 457 Cornwall, 69, 74, 75, 79, 91, 106, 119, 158
Motorcycle Safety Foundation's Chief Instructor Cornwall Inn, 381
Course, 451 Cornwall on Hudson, 69, 74, 75, 79, 91, 158,
MSF Motorcycle RiderCourse, 451 381
MSF Motorcycle RiderCourse:Riding and Street East River (New York City), 309
Skills, 451 Empire State Building, 302
MSF National Resource Office, 452 Greenwood Lake, 68
safety, 196, 300, 303 Hudson River, 310
safety helmets, 105, 308 Hudson Valley, 261
trainer, 306, 308, 321, 415, 457 Hunter Mountain, 281
training, 362, 404, 441 New York City, 64, 68, 69, 70, 71, 78, 90, 112,
Yamaha V Max, 189 119, 125, 132, 135, 141, 144, 147, 278, 302,
Moulin Rouge, 8, 9 305, 309, 363
Mozart, 9, 18, 98, 118, 135 Newburgh, 147, 148
Turkish March, 372 Rockefeller Center, 108, 308
Mull Statue of Liberty, 302
Richard, 75 Storm King Mountain, 310
muscle memory, 170, 320, 352 Woodstock, 77, 119, 175, 356
Music Center March, 9 New York City Ballet, 278, 285
Music Educators National Convention (MENC), 41 New York Philharmonic, 446, 447
Music Emporium, 59, 63, 64, 96, 137, 191, 205, Niemi
225, 245, 258, 268, 341, 342, 354 Leo, 216, 257
musical sincerity, 284, 285 Lois, 216
Musician's Guild, 63 Nightingale
Musician's Union Floyd (James), 17

Page 467
Saved Rounds

NORAD Band, 64 Peterson

Nu Pike, 6, 302, 303 Paul, 340
Cyclone Racer, 302, 303 Petosa, 29, 183
Nunzio Petric
Charles, 79 Joseph, 372
O’Brien Petrilli
Lt. Bob, 65, 66, 67, 69, 70, 71 Frank, 89
oazlid, 70 philosophy, 449
Ochs piano
Dr, Ray, 389 American Steinway, 90
Office Space, 395 Baldwin, 201, 285, 310
Oppens Boesendorfer, 60
Edith, 14, 78, 119, 125, 132, 202, 214, 235, 269, Boesendorfer Imperial, 418
299, 380, 429, 436, 455, 457 golden age, 383
'scale lady', 392 Grotrian-Steinweg, 116
Ursula, 457 Hamburg Steinway, 90
Oral History, 163, 166, 306 Hamilton, 201, 261
Oregon Kimball, 201, 274
Portland, 18 Knabe (Aeolian), 314, 397
organizational culture, 306 Sohmer, 309
Orme Sohmer, 308
Dr. Gordon, 25 Steinway, 26, 58, 70, 76, 90, 120, 121, 202, 285,
Oscar Maples Ford, 7 309, 310, 314, 397, 398
Otis World Piano Orchestra, 203
Johnny, 107 Yamaha, 370, 397
Our Town, 214 Yamaha, 313
Owens Yamaha S400B, 398
Tom, x, 5, 7, 31 piano player’s butt, 98, 99, 101
Pacific Music Supply, 225 Piano Shaped Object (PSO), 102
Padwin Piece of %*& (POS), 102
Dave, 245 Pilates, 413
Pageant of the Arts (Laguna Beach), 193 instructor, 207
Palmer Pippin, 254
Bill, x, 20, 156, 212, 369, 400, 438 Pirates of Penzance, 446
Clair de Lune, 438 Planet of the Apes (movie), 317
Dr. Willard, 369 playing-at music, 191
St. Louis Blues, 369, 400 Pollara
Palmer Hughes, 91, 96, 115, 259, 276, 351, 369, Jim, 82, 84, 86, 90, 91, 92, 94, 95, 96, 106, 112,
399 115, 125, 160, 163, 164, 174, 185, 208, 214,
tantivy, 399 217, 221, 236, 254, 255, 262, 267, 276, 277,
Pancordion, 7 283, 284, 285, 286, 292, 293, 308, 311, 312,
Tiger, 376, 377 320, 331, 333, 334, 337, 344, 345, 363, 384,
Paris Opera Ballet, 446 390, 393, 400, 402, 412, 414, 417, 421, 435,
Paul 437, 446
Les, 376 practice time, 234, 264
Paul Revere and the Raiders, 44 practicing, 291
PBS, 316 press, 245, 253
PC, 437 Prior
pedagogy, 320 Sylvia, x, 13, 17, 19, 23, 75, 94, 119, 166, 167,
Pennsylvania 175, 191, 192, 236, 307, 402
Delaware Water Gap, 370 Sylvia (the calf), 236
Horse Shoe Curve, 442 Sylvia Prior Concerto Competition, 176
Philadelphia, 68, 79 prodigy
York, 165 Tito, 253
Pentron tape recorder, 9, 441 Prokofiev
performances, 298, 341, 355, 357 6th Symphony, 263
wedding gigs, 274 Piano Sonata No.7, 20
Pesaturo Queen Contest, 90, 128, 129
Cory, 168, 205, 351, 423, 429 Rachmaninoff
Peters Humoresque, 54
Roberta, 109 Sergei, 223, 371

Page 468
Saved Rounds

Radio City Music Hall, 74, 310 Rosetta Stone, 396

Ravel Roy Rogers Museum, 163
Gaspard de la nuit, 315 Royal Ballet, 278, 312
Jeux d’eau, 20 Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, 338
Jeux d'eau, 117 Royal Danish Ballet, 278, 285
Le Tombeau the Couperin, 447 Rubinstein
RCA Orthophonic Hifi, 442 Arthur, 10, 33, 239, 262, 355, 363, 384, 414, 423
Rectilinear III, 422 Rudd
Rectilinear III speakers, 422 Mark, 194
Repo, 402, 403 Ruggerio
Rhode Island Mike (Orchestra), 62, 354
Providence,, 146 Rumsfeld
Rice Defense Secretary Donald, 157, 212, 371
Jim, 379 Russell
Richmond Anna, 316, 317
Franco, 13 Salomovich
Richter Paul, 51
Sviatoslav, 10, 145, 363 Santoro
RMI Electric Piano, 69 Natalie, 381
Road House, 287 Sash
Roberts Leon, x, 22, 32, 289
Jerry, 5, 6, 215 Sawyer
Shirley, 394 Amy Jo, 390, 406
rock Scarlati
psychedelic, 190 German drinking song, 416
rock band Scarlatti, 209
Big Brother, 137 Domenico, 54, 75, 118
Black Pearl, 268, 269 Sonata, 171, 319
Buffalo Springfield, 137 Sonatas, 54
Canned Heat, 137 Schempf
Cher, 448 Colonel William H, 68, 69, 70, 71, 74, 364, 384,
Doors, 137 394
Doors (This is the End), 315 Marjorie, 330
Fair Befal, 268, 269 Ruthanne, 98, 120, 282, 330
Grateful Dead, 228, 448 Teacher of Music, 394
Hendrix, 424 William (book on West Point Band), 394
Howling Wolf, 58 Schmidt
Illinois Speed Press, 137 Aloys, 231
Iron Butterfly, 137 Ole, 35, 45, 103
Janis Joplin, 137 Toccata #2, 35, 45, 54, 55
Jimi Hendrix, 376 School of American Ballet, 412
Lady Gaga, 284, 293 Schools with Accordion Majors
Love, 137, 448 Denver with Robert Davine, 212
Madonna, 290, 293 Houston (Bill Palmer), 212
Quicksilver Messenger Service, 448 Schubert
Rhinoceros, 137 Franz, 14, 36, 104, 120, 133, 210
Sly and the Family Stone, 138 Wanderer Fantasy, 14, 36
Todd Rundgren, 448 Schumann
Touch, 191 Kindersehen, 45
United States of America (Columbia), 55 Scenes from Childhood, 423
Rocky Horror Picture Show, 229 The Poet Speaks, 423
Rocky Mountain Accordion Festival, 15 Traumerei, 423
Denver (1961), 369 Schwarzkopf
Roland, 102, 104, 149 Norman, 235, 268
all-Roland Orchestra, 379 Schweitzer
International V-Accordion Competition, 202 Albert, 433
Romiti. Secor
Richard, 161 George, 64, 65, 68, 69, 71
Romney Sedlon Accordion Method, 3, 4, 259, 351, 369, 399
Mitt, 421 Seneshaw
room acoustics, 338 Marguerite, 2, 4

Page 469
Saved Rounds

Serkin Gregory, 33, 34, 37, 44, 54, 56, 57, 58, 115,
Rudolph, 363 116, 128, 150, 162, 163, 165, 166, 188, 209,
Sevastian 220, 221, 252, 254, 272, 281, 305, 315, 359,
Alexander, 168, 429 387, 392, 406
Shakespeare Gregory (recorded albums), 453
Hamlet, 358 I Remember Grandma, 115, 150
Shostakovich Jeff, 340
Bright Stream, 221 Let’s Dance, 56
Shrine Auditorium, 37, 53, 146 Prelude Arabesque 2, 58
Silver Taps, 75, 78, 106, 130, 154, 164, 433 St. Petersburg Conservatory, 221
Simpsons, 403 stradella, 14, 15, 16, 17, 22, 29, 33, 38, 46, 58, 78,
Sinatra 79, 81, 82, 84, 85, 90, 91, 93, 103, 104, 106,
Frank, 34, 36, 53, 54, 55, 58 111, 115, 117, 118, 121, 122, 124, 126, 142,
Musical Performance Awards Competition, 34, 150, 155, 161, 164, 165, 186, 187, 197, 206,
36, 53, 58, 76, 156, 368, 410, 447 210, 216, 241, 249, 287, 288, 327, 374, 409,
skiing, 75, 153, 281, 300 415
skills chromatic, 209, 210, 358, 416, 434
accordion core skills, 219 Stravinsky
mental, 124 Etude, 393
motor, 96, 97, 122, 124, 219, 324 Igor, 56, 125, 145, 223, 315, 391
physical, 112, 324, 352, 389 Symphony of Psalms, 145
skill set, 458 studio queen, 135, 136, 308
smoking, 8, 13, 118 style
So You Think You Can Dance, 285, 412 chamber music, 284
Soave jazz, 8, 9, 13, 14, 16, 18, 21, 22, 45, 54, 55, 58,
Peter, 440 64, 68, 91, 93, 100, 101, 102, 103, 108, 127,
Soltes 137, 140, 161, 168, 188, 209, 321, 361, 375,
Rabbi Abraham, 72 429
Sommers pop, 18, 45, 54, 93, 95, 100, 102, 127, 137, 168
Joan Cochran, 169, 172, 173, 174 rock, 108, 137, 140, 143
Soprani, 2, 4, 5, 270, 304 Sullivan
Sound Recorders Studio, 58, 59, 60 Ed, 69, 74, 136
sound reinforcement Sundqvist
professional, 290 Jorgen, 410
Souza Sunset Sound Studios, 59
Washington Post March, 134 Super Trooper follow-spot, 261
Spike Jones Jr. and the Toonerville Trolley, 64 Suzanne Farrell Ballet, 278
Springsteen Swayze
Bruce, 108 Patrick, 287
Squeeze This, 363, 368, 370, 376, 377 Take the A Train, 8
Stead Tallchief
Glenn, x, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 118, 119, Maria, 458
136, 166, 172, 173, 213, 218, 231, 250, 259, Tchaikovsky
265, 267, 287, 307, 427, 431 Peter, 10, 20, 36, 37, 47, 162
Steiner Piano Concerto #1, 10, 36, 262, 278
Armin, 44, 45, 46, 58, 59, 60, 107, 453 Piano Concerto #2 in G Major, 20, 37, 47, 243
stereo vibrato, 12, 101 Swan Lake, 38, 135, 286, 317
Stetson teachers
Dr. Rodney A, 10 music, 177
Stevenson Technique
Robert Murell, 156, 157, 158, 214, 368, 393 point of reference, 181
Stewart Teen Wolf, 422, 426
Martha, 125 test piece, 22, 38, 39, 43, 44, 164
Stone The Competition, 149
Accordion Tzigane, 33, 58, 128 the Secret, 391
Blues for Nat King Cole, 33 Thomas
Brazilian Carnival, 58, 222 Bettie, x, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 12, 65, 134, 135,
Concerto Breve, 33, 58, 115 136, 149, 172, 173, 259, 260, 303, 306, 307,
Cristina, 223, 225 323, 379, 385, 399, 414, 415, 427, 429, 430
descendant of Liszt, 221 Bettie Thomas Studios, 378
Fantasia Napolitana, 33, 57, 223 Robin, 379

Page 470
Saved Rounds

throw-away art. See dispensable art 100th Night show, 71

Tico Tico, 442 422H Bailey Loop, 69
Tilt Accordion Soloist (Band), 250
Hannah, 102, 103 Amphitheatre, 304, 310
tinka-tinka-plink-plink, 440, 455 approved solution, 396
Tinker Polka, 4 Band, 64, 67, 68, 74, 76, 77, 141, 162, 224, 304,
Titano, 17, 37, 49, 101, 156 310, 364
Converter, 369 Band Building, 67, 77
Tito Beast Barracks, 261
(Guidotti, Tito), x, 6, 9, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, Benny's Tavern, 196
19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 26, 44, 75, 91, 93, 94, 95, Cadet Basic training, 396
103, 108, 111, 117, 118, 119, 126, 127, 136, Cadet Field Training, 356
137, 161, 162, 166, 167, 175, 183, 190, 200, Cadet Fine Arts Forum Chamber Series, 77
208, 218, 236, 253, 254, 265, 267, 286, 289, Cadet Glee Club, 69, 70, 71, 72, 74, 75, 76, 78,
299, 307, 311, 321, 350, 357, 358,363, 372, 98, 102, 108, 109, 132, 152, 261, 282, 297,
392, 424, 429, 433, 434, 436, 438, 440 308, 310, 321, 364, 394, 400, 442
Tito & Prior Accordion Mart, 13 Cadet Glee Club Reunion, 310
Toddlers and Tiaras, 402, 403 Cadet Hop Bands, 71, 74
Tokarski Camp Buckner, 77, 78, 301, 356
Mary, 254, 312 Conductor and Music Director of the West Point
Tomlin Glee Club, 339
Lilly, 109 Eisenhower Hall, 74, 75, 77, 109, 115, 121, 141,
tonal capabilities, 18 310, 311, 397
tone chamber, 314 Eisenhower Hall Theater, 421
double, 313 Eisenhower Hall Theatre Staff, 261
wooden, 314 Fine Arts Forum, 278
Torcello Fun, Travel and Adventure (FTA), 68
John, 79, 81, 372, 374, 409, 416 Glee Club, 109
Torrance Accordionettes, 2, 3, 7, 378, 399, 414 Lake Frederick, 261
on roller skates, 260 Lake Popolopen, 301
Torrance Unified School District, 1, 2, 214 leadership system, 356
transcriptions, 9, 18, 26, 35, 36, 37, 75, 117, 142, Michie Stadium, 71
143, 144, 145, 162, 173 Mighty Incredible Vegetable Band, 68
Trojan motorcycle safety instructor, 343
Cathedral in Ruins, 35, 54, 55 Music Director and Conductor of the Cadet Glee
Vaclav, 35 Club, 356
Turner new cadets, 261
Ike and Tina, 58, 107 Office of Cadet Activities, 72
Turowski Office of the Commandant, 74
Bill, 77, 79 Organist and Choirmaster, 398
Twilight Series, 150 Plebe Hops, 453
Eclipse, 150 Project Enrichment, 380
New Moon, 150 Quarters 100, 72
Tzerko Ski Slope, 281
Aube, 34, 36, 40, 49, 56, 146, 151, 213, 220, staff and faculty member, 213
222, 230, 235, 265, 274, 295, 380, 392, 429, Stewart Field, 68
445, 456 Superintendent, 72
UCLA, 5, 30, 34, 36, 37, 40, 51, 52, 53, 54, 56, 62, Teacher of Music, 394
67, 70, 74, 92, 110, 137, 142, 156, 157, 161, Thayer Hall South Auditorium, 74
190, 213, 283, 301, 322, 348, 367, 431 United States Naval Academy, 61, 79
choral program, 297 Universal Accordion, 2, 101
historical musicology, 367, 393 University Glee Club (New York City), 297
Madrigal Singers, 400 University of Southern California (USC), 25, 30,
Men's Glee Club, 400 213, 373
Royce Hall, 384, 421 UNIX, 437
Schoenberg Hall, 367, 401 US Department of Transportation, 208, 356, 395,
systematic musicology, 367 404
United States Military Academy, 55, 64, 68, 83, 98, Van Damme
99, 112, 115, 126, 140, 147, 158, 180, 204, 251, Art, 9, 166, 195, 350
301, 302, 304, 305, 306, 310, 311, 332, 338, Meadowlands, 166
357, 360, 364, 394, 405, 453 Vel’s Ford, 7

Page 471
Saved Rounds

vellum, 70, 162 Wasahington Metropolitan Accordion Society

Venglevski (WMAS), 202
Stas, 351 Washington
Verdi Seattle, 309
Falstaff, 446 Washington DC, 82, 91, 146, 278, 305, 363
Vereen Washington Metropolitan Accordion Society
Ben, 310 (WMAS), 177, 200
Viet Nam, 24, 64, 65, 71, 74, 83, 98, 147, 158, 250 Weiss
violin 'De Animals A-Comin', 401
Stradivarius, 285, 336, 421, 426 Donn, 213, 297, 400
Virginia Standing on the Corner Watching All the Girls
Arlington, 92 Go By, 401
Center for Spiritual Enlightenment (Virginia Welk
Beach), 335 Lawrence, 1
Charlottesville, 309 West Point Alumni Glee Club, 72, 82, 92, 146, 152,
Fredericksburg, 84, 92, 99, 150, 165, 166, 408 159, 177, 203, 204, 252, 365, 424
Lake of the Woods Church, 204 The Long Grey Line, 365
Norfolk, 81, 164 Western States Accordion Festival, 6, 11, 12, 16,
Virginia Ballet Theatre 29, 78, 99, 127, 128, 175, 211, 302
Dracula (production), 446 WFO, 295
Virginia Railway Express, 319 Where the Action Is, 44
Virginia Symphony, 92 Whiteman
virtuoso, 235, 293, 294 Paul, 19
Volkswagen Whitney Studios, 59
Micro Bus (1966), 305 Wicca tradition, 321
von Suppe Wife Swap, 403
William Tell Overture, 71 Williams
von Weber Star Wars, 317
Accordion Boogie, 424 Winklhofer
Concertstuck, 10, 11 Sharon, 161
Konzertstuck, 9, 47, 168, 240, 429, 442 Wisconsin
Piano Concerto, 37 Kenosha, 22
Vox Wise
Amplifier, 269 Dale, 102, 104, 116, 118, 205, 230, 283, 411
Continental organ, 196, 248 Fireside Concert, 230
Super Beatle Amplifier, 258 Pro-notes, 231
Wager, Roger Woodstock, 356
Master Chorale, 51 World Accordion Orchestra (WAO), 203, 317
Wagner World Saxophone Orchestra, 428
Gotterdammerung, 422, 446 World Trade Center, 345
Reinzi Overture, 38, 428 wrist band, 279
Richard, 38, 51, 98, 151, 259, 282, 283, 317 Wuthering Heights, 372
Ring Cycle, 292 Yale
Roger, 412 Accordion Symphony, 427, 428, 431
the Ring, 420, 421 Darryl, 27
Tristan and Isolde, 151 Melba, 25, 26, 27
Valhalla motif, 422 Oakley, x, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 145, 200, 213,
Wagner, Roger, 51, 52, 70, 146 221, 307
Chorale, 64 Oakley Jr., 26
Los Angeles Master Chorale, 52 Paul, 26
Wahl Yale Accordion Academy, 26
Dora, 37, 63, 65, 96, 140, 245 Yale Accordion Orchestra, 26, 27
Walton Yost
Cello Concerto, 426 William (Director of Fine Arts Program at
Warren USMA), 446
Ed, 76 Zero Sette, 48
Loraine, 76 Zimbalist
warrior, 251 Efrem, 223

Page 472