A subtle but clear nod of the head; an audible intake of breath; a small bob of the instrument. The visual “cue” is essential in all forms of chamber music, but when one is confronted with frequent tempo changes, conflicting rhythmic relationships and bizarre technical demands, it can be the difference between a perfectly unified ensemble entrance and a horrible, bloody train wreck.
We had our first run of Donatoni’s Arpege (discussed in the previous blog entry) in rehearsal this morning, a piece that by the group’s admission is the hardest they have played in a long while.
I had been struggling with my cueing technique since I started with eighth blackbird in August, getting a lot of pain from various members of the ensemble: “What was that supposed to be?”; “I’ve got no idea what is going on”. Early on, I tried to mimic the small but insistant head-nods that Lisa, Matthew and Nick have made into a minor art form, but this was rejected in favor of the usual flutey technique: a small up-down motion of the flute, using the instrument like a conducting baton. I really bloody hate looking like a flute player, but one needs to confront reality…eventually.
When I stuffed up a particularly important cue this morning, Lisa burst out laughing. She apologised, saying that she couldn’t follow what I did but didn’t want to be a “cue bitch”. Nick immediately picked this up: “Great hip-hop name: Q-bitch”.
The run of the piece was actually something of a success, given the piecemeal nature of our rehearsal preparation. Matt felt, and everyone seemed to agree, that it was a pretty dry, academic run-through: “The whole piece sounds kinda like a technical exercise at the moment”.
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