It's good to be recognised

My parents used to tell me when I was a child that modesty is a virtue and we should not show excessive pride and self-satisfaction in our achievements.

However, I, as a little boy, just didn't understand, if modesty is a virtue, why people displayed their award certificates, banners or medals in their offices and drawing rooms and even had 'winner of certain stuff' printed on their business card.

I suppose, although modesty is a virtue, it is quite appropriate to let others know that our efforts has met with success. It is also important to remind others that we are formally recognised for something we have achieved and reliable in the field of a particular profession so that they may seek help from us when necessary.

I have taught at National Taiwan University for three terms since Spring 2008. Adjunct assistant professor as I am, I spend a lot of time in course planning, updating course content and offering students instructive guidance. Sometimes Fanne even complains that I spend far more time with students than with her.

However, hard work pays off. The course I offered in Autumn 2008, 'Musical Cultures Around the Globe', is selected as 'distinguished general education course, autumn 2008'. I received an award certificate from the university president yesterday and then gave a presentation on my course design and teaching approaches.

I've never received any award in public since I left primary school, nor have I ever dreamed that I would received an award after I become a 'teacher'. Although mum would probably say that I should be modest about this, I just want to say that modesty is a virtue but it's good to be recognised.

Por una cabeza—original by Carlos Gardel

(Carlos Gardel singing 'Por una cabeza' in Tango Bar)

Here comes the original version recorded by Carlos Gardel in 1935 for his last film Tango Bar. Read the words below (the Spanish lyrics and English translation quoted from Planet Tango) while listening to the historical recordings and you'll have a better idea what this song is about.

Por una cabeza de un noble potrillo que justo en la raya afloja al llegar y que al regresar parece decir: no olvides, hermano, vos sabes, no hay que jugar... Por una cabeza, metejon de un dia, de aquella coqueta y risueña mujer que al jurar sonriendo, el amor que esta mintiendo quema en una hoguera todo mi querer. Por una cabeza todas las locuras su boca que besa borra la tristeza, calma la amargura. Por una cabeza si ella me olvida que importa perderme, mil veces la vida para que vivir... Cuantos desengaños, por una cabeza, yo jure mil veces no vuelvo a insistir pero si un mirar me hiere al pasar, su boca de fuego, otra vez, quiero besar. Basta de carreras, se acabo la timba, un final reñido yo no vuelvo a ver, pero si algun pingo llega a ser fija el domingo, yo me juego entero, que le voy a hacer.

Losing by a head of a noble horse who slackens just down the stretch and when it comes back it seems to say: don't forget brother, You know, you shouldn't bet. Losing by a head, instant violent love of that flirtatious and cheerful woman who, swearing with a smile a love she's lying about, burns in a blaze all my love. Losing by a head there was all that madness; her mouth in a kiss wipes out the sadness, it soothes the bitterness. Losing by a head if she forgets me, no matter to lose my life a thousand times; what to live for? Many deceptions, loosing by a head... I swore a thousand times not to insist again but if a look sways me on passing by her lips of fire, I want to kiss once more. Enough of race tracks, no more gambling, a photo-finish I'm not watching again, but if a pony looks like a sure thing on Sunday, I'll bet everything again, what can I do?

Por una cabeza—the song version

(My first attempt to sing Carlos Gardel's all-time classic 'Por una cabeza' with two students from the Graduate Institute of Musicology, NTU, Madan on the piano and Jingting playing the harmonica.)

'Por una cabeza' and 'La cumparsita' are probably the two most famous and recognisable tango pieces of all time. While the latter was just a song written by the Uruguayan musician Gerardo Matos Rodríguez in 1917, the former was originally a song recorded for the 1935 film Tango Bar with its music by Carlos Gardel and lyrics by Alfredo Le Pera.

Most people came to know 'La cumparsita' through numerous small ensemble or larger orchestral rearrangements on various occasions and 'Por una cabeza' particularly from film scenes such as those from Scent of a Woman and True Lies. Wherever we encounter these two pieces, they are usually, if not always, rendered by instruments and seldom performed with their original lyrics.

I have found the original historical score, with lyrics, of 'Por una cabeza' on the fantastic TodoTango for about ten years since the site launched, but never had the opportunity to sing it to some instrumental accompaniment. Last week I presented the song at the welcome reception of the Graduate Institute of Musicology, NTU.

It was my first-ever attempt to show the original song version of this all-time classic. I found it so difficult to interpret the song in the way Carlos Gardel did, singing behind the beat, to allow an expressive quickening or slacking without altering the overall pace. This style can also be heard in many recordings of famous crooners such as Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole, who mastered the art of the rubato to phrase a melodic line while telling a lyrical story.

I don't think I've got the talent to sing like Nat King Cole. However, we should try more times in the future and see how we can hold the voice and instruments together in the way we hear in Gardel's historical recordings. After all, a lot of tango pieces are actually songs which should be crooned out rather than just played on the instruments.

I was wrong and Haägen-Dazs is never Scandinavian

Since I met Häagen-Dazs, the ice cream, more than 20 years ago, I have held a firm belief, without conscious reasoning and supportive evidence, that it is imported from Denmark. Not until yesterday did I learn that it has actually no connection with any Scandinavian country, nor is the brand name of any Scandinavian origin.

Having not dined out for quite a while, Fanne and I invited Dad to Korean BBQ at the food court in Shin Kong Mitsukoshi (新光三越), Xinyi New Life Square (信義新天地) near Taipei 101. As it almost hit 33 °C yesterday, I proposed to have some ice cream for pudding on our way back home to finish this hot day. We then walked to the next building in the complex and gave ourselves a treat at Häagen-Dazs.

When I was busy shovelling down the classic rum raisin, Dad posed a question to us: 'Where is Häagen-Dazs from?' Because my belief of Häagen-Dazs's Danish origin was just a preconception, I could not offer my father a definite answer.

After consulting its Official Site, I realised that Häagen-Dazs is a brand of ice cream created by a Polish couple, Reuben and Rose Mattus, in The Bronx, New York in 1961, and the brand name is simply formed of two made-up words which give a Scandinavian impression.

These two invented words really piqued my curiosity and therefore I dieceded to look for some theory for product naming.

In a long forgotten textbook on advertising management, which I haven't read since I received MBA in 1999, I found 'foreign branding', an advertising/marketing strategy in which foreign or foreign-sounding names are given to a product or service to influence consumer perceptions and attitudes by evoking connotations of foreignness and its implied cachet or superiority.

That's it. It reminds me of Elvis Castillo's classic 'She'. Things may not be what they may seem inside their shells. Häagen-Dazs is not derived from any Scandinavian word, I was simply beguiled by the Polish couple who created the brand, as well as, of course, the product's super-premium quality.

Those days of mixed tapes

I don't usually 'quote' photos or videos from friends' websites, but after reading Inez's latest post, I just cannot help 'copying and pasting' these images of a fancy USB-flash-drive-cassette on my weblog.

In 'The Mixed Tape Grows Up', Inez mentions an amusing conversation about mixed tape, in which several music lovers shared memories of mixed tapes and the efforts involved in putting a proper tape together. Although selecting songs for a CD compilation or an iTunes playlist is no easy task, she believes

when it comes to the blood, sweat, and tears involved in using music to pour out your soul to the object of your affections, the digital versions pale in comparison.

Likewise, although I have two iPods, which Fanne bought for me in 2005 and 2008, and today I use iTunes playlists and other digital audio editors, I do cherish those good old days when I used a dual-deck tape recorder, or simply connected two tape recorders, to make a mixed tape.

There wasn't a record player at home when I was a child and therefore I never had fun with stacks of LPs and 45s. However, when CDs and a CD stereo system were still a luxury in the early 1990s, I usually went to a classmate's place to make my own mixed tapes. It did take me a lot of time to plan, to make the most of a cassette tape, to jot down on a piece of paper possibilities in terms of tracks and to note tape counters.

So, the creative USB-flash-drive-cassette really drags me back to scenes of bygone days.

My most hated sounds at a concert

After attending several students' graduation recitals, I realise that I am much pricklier and tetchier than I think I am. I just don't understand why some members in the audience are so obsessed about making extra sounds at a concert where keeping silent during the performance is good etiquette.

Below are what drove me crazy at the concerts.

• Crumpling plastic bags (I don't think anyone in the auditorium who rubs a plastic bag means to make a good contrapuntal part for the programme on stage. Even though this is the case, I don't think the performer or the audience would appreciate it.)
  
  
• Opening and closing handbags with velcro or hook-fastener straps repeatedly (Can you have whatever you need from your handbags before the programme starts?)
  
  
• Humming tunes (Well, it is crystal clear that you are an expert and have essential knowledge of the programme despite its esotericism, but you don't have to recite the tune. The audience are able to hear it from the stage.)
  
  
• Coughing incessantly (No offence, but I suppose anyone who is suffering from virus infection in which the mucous membrane of the nose and throat becomes inflamed when kindly refrain from attending a concert should sneezing, coughing or other similar symptoms appear.)
  
  
• Shutter clicking (I've noticed it's a posh ritzy digital single-lens reflex camera, and therefore you don't have to draw our attention by making those cursed sounds over and over.)
  
  
• Snoring (I don't care at all whether the programme is so tedious or droning that you can do nothing but snatch forty winks, but don't make those irritating snorting sounds.)

I propose, if producing uninvited sounds while watching the performance is very much desired, then go to an Ibiza rave party instead of coming to a Western classical concert.

From shutter sounds to attitudes towards music listening

Photography and audio/video recording are usually prohibited at a concert in order to protect the intellectual property rights, but sometimes using a camera without flash may be allowed in stage events. Obvious, it is because the flash may cause disturbance to the performers. However, in my opinion, the bloody vexing shutter sounds should be forbidden as well; it causes annoyance, too.

I was invited to a student's composition concert yesterday (aye, another graduation concert). I was very much peeved by the incessant blasted shutter click sound and almost believed at one point that it was some sort of aural effect intentionally made for the concert.

Before the introduction of digital cameras, considering the cost of films and photo developing, an amateur or layperson would release the shutter with great caution.

In contrast, due to the increasing availability of digital cameras and improving storage capacity of memory cards, one may take as many shots as desired without worrying about film usage. If the image is not good enough or is taken by mistake, simply delete it and you lose nothing.

I suppose this may explain why the guy with a digital single-lens reflex camera kept pressing the shutter button with no interruption at my student's composition concert. I find a similar attitude toward music listening.

Before the arrival of the various digital formats of sound and duplication devices, people would play and listen to an album over and over, even though the record or cassette was purchased by mistake. People showed more respect to music because recordings were not as ubiquitous as they are nowadays.

On the contrary, as it is so easy to obtain a copy of an audio file from a friend or download one from the Internet, people just can't be bothered to listen to a piece once more if they are not caught by that musical work at first sight. They download it, then remove it from the playlist and finally delete it permanently.

Flowers received at a concert

It is quite usual, and might just be as normal as blowing a kiss to someone you adore, to present a bouquet to your favourite musician, singer or artist at the end of a concert. It is also common to see a star tossing back to members of the audience the flowers which have just been presented on stage.

However, it would be unusual to be handed a bunch of flowers from the musician or artist after a concert. It happened to me last night.

I was invited to a trombone recital, one of those many graduation recitals I have mentioned in the previous post. At the end of the concert, the student gave an informal address in acknowledgement of support and guidance she had received during her study and went through with a list of persons and names to whom she owed gratitude. Surprisingly, I was also on the list because, in her words, I had brought her 'other musics' from the world in addition to the Western classical tradition.

The student presented me with a bunch of flowers in the aisle in front of the stage after the concert on my way out of the hall. Fanne arranged them in a vase.

Season of graduation recitals

(Some invitations I received to students' graduation recitals)

It's been two years since I started teaching part-time at the National Taipei University of Education (NTUE). The course I conduct there is exclusively for students from the Department of Music, whereas what I offer at the National Taiwan University (NTU) is part of the undergraduate general education programme and therefore open to all students.

Apart from course intensity, teaching strategies and students' academic backgrounds, what makes the courses at the two respective universities distinct from each other is the extracurricular activities for lecturers and professors, that is, attending students' concerts.

As my students at NTUE are all 'music students', who usually have to give graduation recitals or composition concerts to fulfil the degree requirements, from time to time I am invited to these events, particularly in the buildup to the graduation season. I will have attended five concerts in May and some more in June.

Fortunately, I am not among any examination committee, since I believe refereeing a graduation recital would be twice more mind-consuming than marking an essay. I am solely a member of the audience.

Scanning through the invitation they handed to me, I am overwhelmed to see those publicity photos on some cards (How much have they spent?) and realise it would be wrong to assume that only superstar musicians need fancy posters and publicity stuff.

Listen to musics from the Silk Road

(Listen to a Macedonia folk song 'The Evil Grandpa' (Лош дедо, Losh dedo) performed by Aashti)

Because of my own interest as well as the necessity of collecting materials for my lectures on Musical Cultures Around the Globe, I have been studying musics of Central Asia, Middle East and the Balkans for the past two years. Recently I have collaborated with some groups such as Shantaal, Aashti and London Shamisen Club to promote in Taiwan musics from those distant lands.

While the musicians of the said groups deliver 'exotic' songs and pieces with instruments unfamiliar to Taiwanese ears, I offer the audiences some guiding comments on musical works, instruments and cultural histories. Last Thursday I was invited to host a live performance by Aashti at the Tsing Hua University.

Aashti is a group composed of six members, including three Taiwanese, two Macedonians and a Frenchman, who met at the Silk Road concert series organised by Taipei Chinese Orchestra in 2008. These individuls soon found common ground on the penchant for musics from the ancient Silk Road and decided to form a ensemble.

It might be curious how musics from the Silk Road are connected with Taiwanese, Macedonian and French musicians. In fact, the Silk Road is not a distinct highway but an extensive network of trade routes connecting East, South and Western Asia with the Mediterranean world, which also covers part of North Africa and Europe.

Therefore, the French flautist who masters the kaval, the singer and the tambura player from Macedonia, and three Taiwanese who play respectively the Uyghur satar, the tablah and the Persian Zarb are certainly representatives of the musical Silk Road.

As opposed to Western classical music, of which the repertoire has been well studied and for which listening guidance is available virtually everywhere, musics (either folk or classical) from the Silk Road are still new to the Taiwanese audience, perhaps as well as to those in the 'West'. I hope with our efforts people in Taiwan may come to know more about the musical cultures from this ancient network of trade routes.