Landings, endings
Just had a great week off at home (I'm finding scheduled time off to be a real necessity these days - gotta maintain that equilibrium in life!). Thus the absence of blogging on my end last week - I've been enjoying (as I'm sure you have) Sam's great series on outgoing concertmaster Jorja Fleezanis.
I feel fortunate to have worked with Jorja over my three seasons with the Minnesota Orchestra, and luckier still to have known her not simply as a musician but as the force of nature that she is. The amount of focus and the intensity of her musical intent is always palpable, and her devotion to maintaining that very visceral connection to sound transcended her personal feeling about what she was performing (once, after a rehearsal for a tricky mid-century Soviet piece that was obviously new to the orchestra, she dryly commented, "Well, that's not without its merits.")
Those who only saw her in performance missed the most distinctive part of her wardrobe - Jorja has a great collection of quirky, colorful shoes, which I remarked on often - it's all a part of her very individual style.
But what I admire most about Jorja is her ability to parse a conflict, musical or otherwise, find a workable solution, and instate it with directness and a minimum of fuss - she saved the drama for the music itself. It's a rare clear-headedness, the hallmark of a great leader - and a great lady - along with her lively humor and generosity of spirit. She will be missed.
But Jorja is not the only departure; we are also bidding a very fond farewell to hornist David Kamminga. Rank-and-file members of orchestras tend not to get splashy spreads in the local paper when they retire, but if anyone deserved one, it's Dave, who, at 42 years or service, has one of the longest tenures with the MO (perhaps the longest? I've got to do my research...) that I know of. He's also one of the many Minnesota Orchestra couples - his wife Marcia Peck is a longtime member or our cello section (unabashedly adoring - and adorable - picture below):
Dave's musicianship, steadfast enthusiasm and gentle spirit will be missed, but one of the things we will miss most about him is known only by the lucky few who have been on a Minnesota Orchestra Tour: every time the Orchestra is on a flight together, upon landing Dave chants a fragment of the second theme of the last movement of Tchaikowsky's 4th Symphony, to which everyone responds, "Hey!". My understanding is that it's a kind of Russian prayer of gratitude for the safe landing (although it just sounds like "labidabida dostoyeva" to me...). It's a funny tradition, and one that I'm sure caused distress to the passengers around us (not to mention the flight attendants who might have thought we were about to stage a hijacking).
So, here it is, my tribute to Dave - "the chant" from 5 of the 6 flights we took as an orchestra on this spring's European Tour (the last one was on our flight from Amsterdam to the Twin Cities - someone asks "Where is it?", principal horn Mike Gast points to the back of the Airbus 330, and then you can hear it, faintly, above the din):
Dave has passed the torch to violinist Michael Sutton - Mike, you've got some very big shoes to fill...
I feel fortunate to have worked with Jorja over my three seasons with the Minnesota Orchestra, and luckier still to have known her not simply as a musician but as the force of nature that she is. The amount of focus and the intensity of her musical intent is always palpable, and her devotion to maintaining that very visceral connection to sound transcended her personal feeling about what she was performing (once, after a rehearsal for a tricky mid-century Soviet piece that was obviously new to the orchestra, she dryly commented, "Well, that's not without its merits.")
Those who only saw her in performance missed the most distinctive part of her wardrobe - Jorja has a great collection of quirky, colorful shoes, which I remarked on often - it's all a part of her very individual style.
But what I admire most about Jorja is her ability to parse a conflict, musical or otherwise, find a workable solution, and instate it with directness and a minimum of fuss - she saved the drama for the music itself. It's a rare clear-headedness, the hallmark of a great leader - and a great lady - along with her lively humor and generosity of spirit. She will be missed.
But Jorja is not the only departure; we are also bidding a very fond farewell to hornist David Kamminga. Rank-and-file members of orchestras tend not to get splashy spreads in the local paper when they retire, but if anyone deserved one, it's Dave, who, at 42 years or service, has one of the longest tenures with the MO (perhaps the longest? I've got to do my research...) that I know of. He's also one of the many Minnesota Orchestra couples - his wife Marcia Peck is a longtime member or our cello section (unabashedly adoring - and adorable - picture below):
Dave's musicianship, steadfast enthusiasm and gentle spirit will be missed, but one of the things we will miss most about him is known only by the lucky few who have been on a Minnesota Orchestra Tour: every time the Orchestra is on a flight together, upon landing Dave chants a fragment of the second theme of the last movement of Tchaikowsky's 4th Symphony, to which everyone responds, "Hey!". My understanding is that it's a kind of Russian prayer of gratitude for the safe landing (although it just sounds like "labidabida dostoyeva" to me...). It's a funny tradition, and one that I'm sure caused distress to the passengers around us (not to mention the flight attendants who might have thought we were about to stage a hijacking).
So, here it is, my tribute to Dave - "the chant" from 5 of the 6 flights we took as an orchestra on this spring's European Tour (the last one was on our flight from Amsterdam to the Twin Cities - someone asks "Where is it?", principal horn Mike Gast points to the back of the Airbus 330, and then you can hear it, faintly, above the din):
Dave has passed the torch to violinist Michael Sutton - Mike, you've got some very big shoes to fill...
Labels: good byes, inside the orchestra, jorja fleezanis
posted by Sarah at
9:12 PM
2 Comments:
You're almost exactly right on the wording - it's "Labidabida, dostoyava!" Labidabida isn't Russian, it's just gibberish, and dostoyava means "enough." No one's clear on whether "enough" refers to enough flying, enough touring, or enough of something more cosmic, like life. (Which would be a very Russian sentiment.) But then, the dude who started this tradition was Italian, so who knows?
It was a pleasure to watch Mr. Kamminga's delightful way with children at this year's series of KinderKonzerts. He will be missed by Minnesota Orchestra audiences of all ages. I wish him the very best!
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