Chicago 1990

After all, it is only a short sketch of more than three minutes. It has the top conductor nanny to lead the orchestra through the early stage. Now the level of the band's performance is quite high, and Song Ya can't find any flaws.

Just now because I was too focused on picking out the problem, the brain entered a wonderful tunnel effect. In which part of the attention is paid, only a narrow area centered on that part is left in the hearing and visual field. It became very fuzzy, as if disappeared from the world.

Soon, the ensemble stopped abruptly, and all the musicians looked up at themselves.

"E..." Song Ya touched her chin and pretended to think, but she was actually delaying time to ease the feeling.

Everyone was waiting quietly, only the faint sound of dripping water was heard in their ears.

He knew that it was the trumpeter who was taking the opportunity to press the water release button to drain the saliva blowing into the trumpet body and the telescopic tube, preparing for the next playing.

"you."

He had to do something, put his hands around his chest, walked to the fat cellist's side, and the other party immediately turned gray again, "Starting from the eighteenth bar." Song Ya ordered.

The fat trumpeter quickly turned the sheet music in front of him to the eighteenth bar page, "123..." gave a beat, and the fat man played the melody accurately alone.

"Ok."

After listening to the solo for a few bars, he signaled that the fat man could stop, then tilted his head and smacked for a few seconds, "I didn't hear anything wrong, how about you?" He smiled and asked the chief violinist who should help check in.

The other musicians all laughed quietly, and the lead violinist also shook his head with a smile.

The fat man took a long breath and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

After this episode, the depressive atmosphere in the rehearsal room was completely relaxed, and the young musicians moved their bodies or played with their instruments.

I don't have the confidence and authority to treat them like Barenboi, or the jazz conductor in the Apocalypse movie just now, at least not when I have not caught the handle.

There is no synthesizer, no modern equipment, pure technology, so many people here, who can I teach?

The competition within the top orchestra is also very fierce. He remembers that he met several young trumpeters who were invited to record the accompaniment during the recording of truets a few years ago. At that time, he was the candidate of the orchestra, but today he did not see a familiar face, nor did he I heard that they got official positions later and they should have been cruelly eliminated.

In short, the industry model invented by Europeans is naturally hierarchical. The chief, the second and then the next row. Every time a musician moves a small place forward, it is equivalent to a big step forward in his career, and vice versa. Generally, there is no cynicism. Guys.

The team strength is definitely okay, and the coordination of baba yetu after rehearsing for so long is okay. Then only fine-tuning according to the original apocalypse is the only thing left to do, otherwise the total effect of the performance will not match what is in your mind, and you will be given to the command behind yourself. Work brings a lot of trouble.

"Okay, next I need your voice to be clearer and more prominent."

Song Ya selected the musician who played the sand hammer and gave the order, "Let's start from the first bar..."

123...He silently waved the baton.

The sand hammer began to sway.

"No, no, it's more powerful, uh... how do you describe it? Bring the wildness of Africa, let's do it again, 1234..."

There won't be any thorny head that violates Yang and Yin, and the other party soon adjusted to Song Ya's satisfaction. He closed his eyes and compared the original song in his mind, and nodded his approval.

The rehearsal went on smoothly, and time passed quietly.

"Ok, let's do it again collectively."

In the middle of the second ensemble, Barenboi quietly returned to the rehearsal room and only stayed for a few seconds. Because the conductor had no time to distract, Song Ya paid no attention.

Probably hearing the changes, such as the more prominent sand hammering, Barenboy left with a stern face.

Song Ya heard the sound of closing the door, turning his head to see only the back of him leaving.

"Okay, rest for fifteen minutes."

When the ensemble was over, "Mr. Barenboi!" Song Ya ran out quickly and chased him in the corridor, "I'm sorry, I made some changes privately..."

"No, of course the music you write is best performed in the way you like."

Barenboi didn't smile, but he didn't really get angry either. "I also want to apologize to you. My attitude was a bit bad before...I was not right to people."

"I understand, I shouldn't be late, and I shouldn't bring unrelated people."

Song Ya apologized again and asked, "Is it the reason for the Christmas concert rehearsal?"

"A lot of things, forget it, go back, don't let them wait too long." Barenboi pointed to the rehearsal room.

"Okay, eat together tonight?"

"can."

Song Ya watched him go away, asked old Mike to call Linda over his cell phone, and told him to find the best restaurant near the symphony center to book a table, and then send some equipment over.

Fifteen minutes later, the rehearsal continued, and he continued his fine-tuning.

Soon, he finally had a'performance opportunity'. The drummer of Huaguo Drum was obviously distracted and made it too late.

Because there was a Latina who helped to turn over the sheet music.

In a symphony performance, in fact, some musicians spend most of the whole time sitting with each other, such as the harp used in Baba Yetu, but when they’re supposed to make a sound, the sound of the instrument must appear accurately. Inattention, it is easy to enter early or late.

"stop!"

Song Ya lifted his left hand and made a sharp fist. The whole group immediately stopped, focusing on the drummer.

"What were you doing just now!? Thinking about life?" Song Ya was secretly delighted, walked over and stared at him, openly.

"Sorry aplus." The young drummer lowered his head to admit his mistake.

Song Ya took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and the apocalypse was here again, still one of the segments in the film rehearsed by the jazz band.

Shakira...love you, he looked at the Latin girl who sat obediently behind the drummer and also looked at him with a smile.

This small turn made the drummer misunderstood, so he was even more apprehensive, "I won't do it next time." He added.

"What? I didn't hear clearly, speak louder!" Song Ya raised the volume first.

"I won't do it next time."

"Bigger!" Song Ya suddenly leaned over and shouted loudly in his ear.

"I won't do it next time!" The drummer yelled with a twisted face.

"Ok."

The effect was very satisfying. Song Ya glanced at the chilling other musicians and walked back to the conductor position, "Let's start again, 1234..."

In the afternoon, I will rehearse with the choir. It will be the closest rehearsal to the actual performance. The reason why it is the closest is because the female solo singer Leah Salonga cannot come. The Broadway performance task is very heavy, and she is in Baba yetu. There are not many chants, and I only take time to come to Chicago from New York occasionally.

Song Ya announced the end of the rehearsal on time according to the schedule given by Barenboi.

The musicians neatly packed their instruments and belongings and left one after another.

"Are you hungry?"

Song Ya asked Shakira who was holding her waist with both hands.

"Fortunately, you are a true genius dear." The Latin girl star eyes.

"Well, I know, many people say that."

Song Ya embraced him and continued to study the conductor score. Of course, he knew that he was not a genius, but when he reached the stage of being a conductor in a concert of a top orchestra, he could only use his best to make up for his weakness.

Shakira didn't bother him anymore. The two stayed quietly for a while, and Linda personally led someone to send a set of professional recording and radio equipment.

"Just stand here, the direction is right..."

Song Ya arranged the position of the microphone before putting the music score and other documents into the bag, "Linda, wait to accompany us to the restaurant?"

"Okay." Linda, who was in charge of the reservation, promised, "Who is it at noon?"

"South African singer, choir conductor, principal violinist, and possibly some other members of the band, I have made an appointment."

Song Ya answered.Conductor is a position that requires overall planning ability. The main role is actually to guide the orchestra to achieve its artistic goals during rehearsal. No one would think of supernormal performance on the spot. The problem of rehearsal and proficiency will be solved naturally. When you actually perform on stage , The musicians will not specifically stare at the baton before deciding how to play, only when they need to see the conductor before playing the part on the score.

Therefore, communication is also very important, and pulling relations is one of my strengths.

"Hujao!"

A group of people went to a nearby French restaurant. The South African male singer had already waited. He is not the most famous national treasure singer in South Africa, but he is at the time when his voice and professional level are the strongest.

"What?" Song Ya knew he was saying hello to himself, but didn't understand.

"Swahili, hello," Linda reminded in a low voice.

"Uh...hehe, no response for a while, hujao!"

"Say sijao when responding to greetings..." Linda said again.

Finish it all at once, really!Song Ya glanced aggrievedly at Linda, wiped the sweat from his forehead, "sijao, sijao..."

Other guests also came one after another. Work is work and life is life. After get off work, everyone will not talk about music. The atmosphere is very relaxed.

After eating, Song Ya mentioned that she went back to the rehearsal room, because the two middle school choirs, one from the public school where he studied before, and the other from the private one who later transferred, are all old acquaintances.

"Aplus, long time no see."

The white female music teacher in the public middle school was more emotional, "Remember us back then..." She looked a little older, and she embraced with excitement when she met.

"How can I forget that I can have today, all because of your care when I was in the school band..."

Under the admiration of the male and female middle school students, Song Ya said with a smile, “If you didn’t lend me the tape recorder and utility room, I wouldn’t be able to make a second-hand store. Then my life would be true. It's hard to say..."

"Yeah!" The female teacher choked with relief.

"Hey, boy!" At this moment a familiar voice sounded nearby.

Song Ya turned his head and saw a red-faced old white man with a beer belly. He was indeed an acquaintance. The former Dow Vice President said, "...sir, how are you..." and shook hands quickly.

"I..." Dow's vice president pointed to the business chorus where half of the people had come in. They were all old men and old ladies.

"Oh, then you are also the funder of the renovation here?" Song Ya patted his forehead.