LA Phil On Tour Journals

The End of the Tour

Mick Wetzel | November 16, 2007

The end of our tour has arrived, and we are on our way home. Our last concert was in Madrid, Spain, at Teatro Zarzuela. The program consisted of three compositions by Sibelius, Pohjola's Daughter, Symphony No. 3, and Symphony No. 1. It is one of the trickiest programs of the tour, and it never got any easier. Because of the challenging acoustics and logistics of this particular hall, and because it was at the end of the tour, it might have been tempting to not put our hearts into this performance but that sort of thing is not in us. I have played in many different halls with this orchestra over the last 14 years, and we have made some less than perfect halls resonate beautifully. This turned out to be the case in Madrid. In my conversations with my colleagues following the concert, we shared the perception that Esa-Pekka, in spite of the hall, was digging in his heels and giving it his all. I found his passion very motivating and contagious, and that contagion extended to the audience. It was a great way, musically, to end the tour.

In my role as the writer and organizer of this journal, I have had my eyes opened on many levels. I have always had an appreciation and respect for the professionalism and passion of my fellow players. They give me a personal and instrumental standard to reach for. I have also, through this experience, had a keener eye for the work and dedication of our crew. They have hauled our stuff all over the European continent and back home again with the tender loving care that belies the physical strength and stamina of these guys. But I must confess that, in the eye-opening category, our Philharmonic staff has revealed themselves to be the unsung heroes of the tour. I am sure I will inadvertently omit some, and I apologize in advance, but…Guido Frackers from TravTours handles all the logistics of getting us where we need to be in terms of transportation. This is a man who is an expert traveler and arranger of travel, and he just happens to speak seven languages fluently. I feel pretty sporty being able to speak English and French fairly well until I encounter Guido speaking Dutch to one person, Czech to another, and Spanish to yet another. His assistant, Garrit Jan, was also very helpful and efficient. We had Jeff Pursell handling security very adroitly, with Dr. Robert Wolfe and Dr. Andrew Wachtel as our tour doctors.

I wanted to get a picture of our Philharmonic staff, consisting of Gail Samuel, Chad Smith, Adam Crane, Laura Dixon, Jeffrey Neville, Daniel Song, and Bill Williams, but they were never in the same place at the same time; those who were doing post-concert work were where we had been, those who were working at the concert itself were with the orchestra, and those who were doing the advance work for the next concert were where we were going to be. I am thankful for their dedication and all their hard work. I would especially like to thank Gail Samuel for preventing me from taking the wrong stairway, a six-inch margin of error that would have made the difference between a final destination of LAX or Bora Bora.

When the Philharmonic played its final notes of the tour in Madrid on Wednesday, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief and outwardly demonstrated this with the customary shuffling of our feet, an orchestra musician's subtle version of a standing ovation. With a new awareness of the work that lay ahead for the staff over the next two days, I can happily report that they were successful, because I am writing this from my kitchen in La Cañada.

Swiss Air

Mick Wetzel | November 15, 2007

The Los Angeles Philharmonic, while on tour, is subjected to less than ideal conditions because of the travel schedule, performing in a new hall with its own unique acoustical challenges in each city, adjusting to unfamiliar sleeping conditions, etc. But every effort is made to make us comfortable so that we can best represent our country and our fair city of Los Angeles. Sometimes the conditions are challenging, but more often they are favorable and even fun.

For the last hectic leg of our tour we are traveling on Swiss Air from London to Barcelona, finishing with Lisbon and Madrid. This is the toughest part of the tour because of the attrition alone, but it is also difficult because it is three concerts in three cities over three days. Ouch!

But one of the cushiest elements of this last leg of the tour is our air travel. We are traveling via a Swiss International Air Lines charter flight. We are traveling on the same Airbus A320 on all three flights, a very attractive and comfortable means of travel. But most importantly, we are traveling with the same flight crew. They are awesome.

As we boarded the aircraft in London, there was a little extra stand-around time and I had the opportunity to chat with a member of our crew. Being the airplane geek that I am, I asked if since this was an international charter flight, would it be possible to sit in the jump seat during the flight. Juan, one of the flight attendants, said he would ask the captain. My boldness was rewarded with a very cool experience:

Captain Rolf Gehring and 1st Officer Marc Schroeder

Approach to Barcelona Airport
Landing on 25 right
Landing to the West

"Descend to 3000"
"Swiss 9324"

We descend from the bright blue of 30,000+ feet of altitude down through the white puffy clouds.

"Descend 3000 confirm Swiss 9324"
"3000 confirm, Buenos Dias"

Captain Gehring and 1st Officer Schroeder are not used to having an audience, but they are surely performers. I enjoyed watching them perform their jobs. The do it with a practiced ease and expertise manifest in their using only fingertips as they guide this massive jet full of LA Phil members; that can only come from years of practice... and I know "practice."

"Preceding traffic ahead, slow to 160"
"Swiss 9324 confirm"

"Establish 25 right"
"25 right confirm"
"9324"

"Wind at 300.05 degrees"

"Gear down"

The runway is in sight at this point.

"Flaps at full"
"Check"

Schroeder calls altitude — "500"
Automated voice calls:
"400
300
200
100
50
40
30
20
Retard"

Then we bump and touch down on the tarmac.

The work continues as they reverse full and on with the after-landing check. This experience was illuminating for me because this is yet another example of what it takes to move an orchestra around the world.

The entire crew at our concert in Barcelona

I can't say enough about our flight attendants and how they have pampered all of us. They are efficient and effective in their jobs. Captain Gehring and 1st Officer Schroeder as well as their colleagues, Karin, Ruth, Anna, Thomas and Juan, all attended our concert in Barcelona and were very enthusiastic, but my secret was that I was the true Swiss Air groupie.

November 14

David Howard | November 14, 2007

For whatever reason, so much seems larger-than-life on this tour, whether it's on a grand or intimate scale: The audiences, rapt with attention and then tumultuous with applause. And then a casual encounter with a concertgoer coming to the stage and welcoming me to town. Shopping in the endless, dizzying halls at Selfridges in London, and then happening upon a tiny icon sale at a Russian Orthodox church next door to our Paris concert hall. (It's not so easy understanding Russian spoken with a French accent.) Being overwhelmed by an enormous Giacometti show at the Pompidou and a few days later discovering the perfection of the small Courtauld gallery in London.

Everywhere the people are welcoming and enthusiastic, to the point where they've gone completely against type, as in the Parisian waiter who insisted on standing outside — for some time — on a cold night to hail us a taxi after a marvelous cassoulet meal.

So that does bring up the food. And this is not trivial. Great mussels and frittes at a Belgian restaurant in London. Incredible choucroute and oysters at a Paris brasserie. A cheese shop with miles of chèvre for sale. And then the prices. Also not trivial. Thirty dollars a day for hotel internet access, nine dollars for a room service pot of tea, fifty dollars for a yoga class.

But in the end — and even our heartiest and youngest orchestra members know this — we are not on vacation. The musical challenge of performing all seven Sibelius symphonies, plus thorny scores by Salonen, Stucky, and Sariaaho, is the largest larger-than-life experience on this tour. The orchestra has stepped up to the plate, and the audiences have literally roared their approval.

Saariaho

Patricia Kindel | November 14, 2007

Patricia Kindel and Monica Kaenzig

My favorite part of this tour has to be the songs by Saariaho [Quatres instants], which were sung fantastically by Karita Mattila. It is both a musical moment and, oddly enough, a visual one too, that will live on in my memory.

These songs were new to us. We had a rehearsal in L.A. in October, then two weeks later, a rehearsal in Paris. To watch Karita and Esa-Pekka interact was delightful. They spoke Finnish to each other, laughing like two friends who just love the opportunity to work together.

The performance at the Barbican felt electric from the start - partly because of the two rehearsals weeks apart, and partly because of Karita: she looked stunning and has a presence on stage that takes your breath away.

My favorite memory for the tour was a very passionate movement that ends on a high note (a note we had not heard before, because Karita had a cold a week earlier). Tonight we heard it. Finishing the song on that high note, she spun around to face us with her eyes closed and frozen in movement. EP had frozen as well, with his arm outstretched to the corner of the podium rail. Neither moved. As Karita slowly turned towards EP their eyes locked. We were all frozen - no one breathed for what seemed like forever. Karita finally turned to the audience, still gathering her composure. EP regained his poise, and we in the orchestra did as well.

We were all immersed in that moment... a magical moment.

Jogging in Europe

Stacy Wetzel | November 13, 2007

Mick and Stacy Wetzel

One aspect of touring which I truly look forward to is sizing up the different exercise possibilities in each city we visit. I'm finding (as I advance in years!) that jogging not only helps me stay in shape, but actually keeps me alert for evening performances. I'm lucky that on this tour I've found the perfect running partner - my husband (and fellow Philharmonic violist) Mick! We staked out some pretty neat runs shortly after our arrival in London.

Our first was a brisk jog just around the corner from our hotel, down Kings Way and across Waterloo Bridge, our destination being the pedestrian path along the Thames River. The weather was quite crisp and, except for the mad rush of constant pedestrian traffic on our run back to the hotel, we enjoyed "ticking off" prominent landmarks as we jogged past them: Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and 10 Downing Street being the highlights.

The next day we tried something decidedly less urban and found our way to Regents Park just north of where we're staying. A beautifully laid out park with high hedges and rose gardens still in bloom made this run a delightful way to begin the day before our 10:00 rehearsal.

On the advice of a nearby shopkeeper, we ventured out to Hampstead Heath (a 30-minute ride on the "tube") in north London, where we found the most spectacular run of the entire tour. The heath is a series of rolling hills and gentle knolls with wide stretches of open grassy areas and winding paths carpeted in dense leaves. The fall colors were brilliant under a deep blue sky and we thoroughly enjoyed seeing the homey sights of babies being paraded in prams and dogs chasing after each other.

When we arrived in Paris we only had time for a quick stroll around Park Monceau (conveniently located just a few steps away from our hotel), but we promised ourselves that we'd be back! Our first real run in Paris was a happy mistake - serendipity at its best - as we found ourselves, after 20 minutes of solid pounding on the hard pavement, standing directly in front of... the Eiffel Tower! We looked at each other and immediately launched a rapid run (it was just a little chilly!) up the steps to the second deck. We then took the elevator (alas, the only way) up to the third deck, where our efforts were rewarded with a brilliant early morning view of the entire city. Needless to say, the run down was considerably less taxing!

The following day, on more good advice from Marc, our most engaging doorman, we took off for Bois de Boulogne, a massive park just west of the city with several lovely lakes and paths galore. We circled the Arc de Triomphe on our way there, and then ran down Avenue Foche, a wide boulevard flanked by stately old apartment buildings fronted by trees marching down the avenue. This ambitious run lasted well over an hour and allowed us to "nix" our running plans for the next day. (Yes, there was a collective sigh of relief from the jogging duo of Wetzel and Wetzel!)

But we did return, the day before leaving Paris, to Park Monceau. It was another early morning run in misty rain, with children scattered here and there on their way to school and the occasional fellow jogger zipping ahead of us. I kept hearing strains of Yves Duteil (the French Neil Diamond) floating through my mind… "Au Parc Monceau/Entre les grilles et les arceaux..." playing over and over. Ah, the perfect closing jog to a perfect stay in France.

Now back in London, we've mostly rested and walked. We do have some jogging possibilities ahead of us in Barcelona, Lisbon, and Madrid, but with the traveling schedule intensifying dramatically, this may be it for our dynamic jogging duo. Maybe, just maybe, we can still squeeze in a quick run or two…

November 13

Robert Vijay Gupta | November 13, 2007

Robert Vijay Gupta

So far, we've been on this European tour for a little more than a week, and while the stellar level of music-making has been the main focus of my first tour with this orchestra, I've really grown to appreciate the determination and discipline required by members of a touring, first-class orchestra, especially given our challenging repertory. I didn't quite know what to expect from the whole tour experience, but I've learned that pacing oneself mentally and physically throughout the two-week journey is paramount. Many in this orchestra have become touring "veterans," but continue to practice and perform with tremendous intensity and integrity; one of our most vivacious members has been in this orchestra for more than 50 years! I respect him immensely.

This has been a tremendously positive experience so far. We started our tour at the Barbican in London. The interior of this beautiful hall is surprisingly different from its modernist outer façade. Being used to the bright colors at Disney (after less than four months on the job), I discovered that the Barbican supported a darker, richer overtone, and was not nearly as responsive as our beautiful hall back home in L.A. Concertgoers and Barbican staff alike mentioned that they had never before heard a bass section sound the way ours did on this stage.

The Barbican is a comfortable hall to play in, although what the audience hears is very different than what we experience on stage. I had a chance to listen to a sound check of the Saariaho [Quatre instants], and the sound projects from the stage surprisingly well, compared to how unresponsive the hall feels as we play on stage.

After two concerts at the Barbican, we moved on to Paris, to play at the Salle Pleyel. This is a larger, brighter sounding hall, with a huge, sweeping orchestra section, and high balconies. The winds projected beautifully here, and despite the huge stage, I could hear balances within the string sections far better than I could in London. What was amazing at the Salle Pleyel was how we were welcomed by the Parisian audiences; their enthusiastic ovations seemed endless, as they received and appreciated every piece with joy.

We move on to the Iberian Peninsula tomorrow. Performing in Europe is a very different experience from performing in the U.S., not only because of the audiences, but also because of the venues in which we perform. A performance hall serves as a physical manifestation of a culture's appreciation and respect of the performing arts, as we know from experience in Los Angeles. Touring is far more than only performing in another country - it's one culture presenting and wholeheartedly offering its greatest accomplishment, its art, to another. Spain, here we come.

"Talk to the Train Manager"

Leticia Oaks Strong | November 12, 2007

Leticia Oaks Strong

I'm not one to wander far from the group or participate in high adventure, so when I found myself stranded at the Brussels train station by myself with no credit card and very little cash, I wasn't sure what the outcome would be. I was on my way back to Paris from visiting my sister, who lives near Mons, Belgium. I had had a lovely time visiting with my nieces and nephews the previous day, and I had to get back to Paris in time for the 8:00 concert that night. My sister and her husband had arranged for my trip and with ticket in hand I waved goodbye at the Mons train station. Everything was great until I got to Brussels.

I always like to make sure I'm doing the right thing, so I stopped in at the information desk to make sure I was going to be getting on the right train. I was then informed that I had missed my train to Paris and my ticket was non-exchangeable and I'd have to buy another ticket. There wasn't much sympathy from the woman behind the counter as I explained that I had read the ticket wrong (apparently) and I had no credit card and not enough money. (At this point all I could think of was those commercials: "Never leave home without it!") She said I would have to talk to the train manager.

Being from the States, my knowledge of trains is next to nothing. Who was this train manager? I wandered up to the platform knowing that I needed information. Of course I would get back to Paris; I just needed to know what my options were. I talked to an official at the platform and told him my dilemma. "No credit card?" Okay, I know it was a bit silly, but I was so worried about it getting stolen that I left it behind in my hotel safe. I'd heard too many stories. Funny thing is I had my passport on me because I needed it to get into the NATO base, SHAPE, where my sister took me shopping. Shopping — that's where my money went. Could I bribe someone with the chocolate and Advent calendars that I had bought for my kids? I didn't even try; no one seemed to be in a good mood.

I found the train manager for the next train to Paris. He was nice enough to allow me to get on the train if I could arrange for someone to meet the train in Paris with some way of paying for my ticket. Fair enough. I always like to play by the rules. Problem was I didn't have time to call and arrange that before that train left. At least I knew there was a way.

I had over an hour until the next train, so now to find a telephone. I could see no way to put coins into the telephone — they would only accept credit cards! I wasn't ready to admit defeat, so I asked at the information desk for a call center where I could phone and then pay at a desk.

On every tour we are given a tour book. Anything we need to know is in that little book. I thumbed through those pages knowing that our personnel manager, Jeff Neville, had a European cell phone. He was my lifeline. Sure enough, he answered, and I begged him to help me out of my predicament. It's always nice to hear a calm voice when you are frantic inside, and just hearing his voice gave me hope. He would go to my hotel room, get my credit card, and meet me at the Paris station at the appointed time.

Now all I had to do was wait and talk to the train manager for the next Paris train. My heart was pounding as I tried to explain the situation to him. He waved me off, saying something about my needing to buy another ticket. The train was about to leave. What should I do? I'm not one to defy authority; I do what I'm told. I turned to the platform manager who had been trying to help me talk to the train manager. "Just get on the train. You will be in Paris and then you can work it out." Being one to obey, I thought it best to take his advice, though I felt a bit unsettled. What was the train manager going to do to me when he saw me on the train?

I had about half an hour to find out. He was not pleased, although he didn't yell at me. I assured him that I had arranged for someone to meet the train with my credit card, and then I would pay the extra fare. He told me to stay on the train when we got to Paris, and then he would talk with me.

During the rest of the trip (about an hour) I talked to the man across from me. He was, of course, wondering what my problem was. As I learned about this Parisian, he also learned about me as a member of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. I also told him about my family back home and showed him a picture of my five young children.

When the train manager returned near the end of the journey, he informed me that I would need to pay the fare plus a fine for getting on the train without a paid ticket. This would come out to about 130 Euros ($200). Did I have 10 Euros as a reservation for the ticket I was going to buy in Paris? There I was, fumbling for any money at all in my bag. I couldn't even find the five Euros I knew that I had!

The Parisian man next to me began talking to the train manager in French. He must have told him about my being in the orchestra as he made motions that I play the viola. At one point my new friend asked me to show the picture of my children to the train manager. He looked at it and shortly thereafter said, "Okay. It's okay." Then he left. I didn't know what he meant, so when I found my five Euros, I went to his office and offered it as a down payment. He refused to take it. When the train stopped in Paris I obediently stayed until I saw him again, and he waved me off the train, saying, "It's okay." He kind of smiled (finally!) as he waved goodbye.

Jeff Neville was there at the station with my wallet, and I was so happy to see him! The cab ride back to the hotel was uneventful; when it came time to pay the fare I handed Jeff my remaining five Euros and felt rich because I had that plastic card in my wallet.

Confessions of a Touring Trumpeter

James Wilt | November 9, 2007

James Wilt

It was a dark and stormy night. OK, so maybe it wasn't stormy or night, but it was dark. When my alarm clock shrieked to life at 6 a.m., playing some hip British cross between hard rock and ritual sacrifice, I glanced through heavy slits and knew there had been some kind of terrible mistake. Yes, I had intended to set the alarm for 6:00. No, I had not planned on staying up "bonding" with my colleagues the previous night until 1 a.m. Sleep had been fitful and intermittent, woefully inadequate for the day that lay in front of me.

The plan had looked reasonable on paper when concocted in the comfort of my own home weeks earlier. The mission was simple: get thyself to Greenwich to teach a master class at Trinity College. I had met the head of the brass department, Roger Argente, back in 2002 when both of us were invited to fly to Tokyo to participate in the Super World Orchestra. Why it wasn't called the Super Duper World Orchestra is beyond me, but I digress. It would be a great opportunity to meet up with Roger, who seems plucked from the same lineage as Benny Hill, and to hear for myself what all the fuss was about regarding British brass playing.

I resisted the urge to hit the "snooze alarm," a well-practiced maneuver, and pulled my sorry self off the sheets and into the shower. Forty-five minutes later, I was heading toward the Holborn tube station with horns and dirty laundry in hand. (You see, one must think ahead on tour, and I was trying to drop off a load of laundry to make sure I had clean tighty-whities through the end of the tour. They could not guarantee they'd have it ready before our departure for Paris, though, so I made a mad dash back to the hotel to drop off said laundry and try to make up some lost time.) Soon I was on a train to the "Bank" station, where I would then connect to the DLR, an acronym for desperately lost, really. Not having lived in a city with a subway system, negotiating a trip that any three-year-old Londoner would have done easily was not, well, child's play. It all worked, though, and 40 minutes later I was standing in Greenwich, a beautiful town on the outskirts of London.

I made my way to Trinity College, which in a former life housed the Old Royal Naval College. It is a beautiful campus, and it stirred something deep within me. Perhaps it was something primordial, a yearning for the homeland you get when you hear Celtic music, whether you were born in Inverness or Indianapolis. Or it could just have been last night's debauchery revisiting itself, which is far more likely. I met my escort, and was led to the room in which the class would be held. All around me, I heard the sound of some truly gifted and inspired players sharpening their weapons, ah, I mean, warming up. I was beginning to wonder what I had gotten myself into. As the zero hour approached, I thought I heard someone mutter, "dead man standing," in my direction. Never let them see you sweat. Unfortunately, I had anticipated a much cooler environment, and had encased myself in cotton undershirt, button down dress shirt, cashmere sweater, and leather jacket. Oops. Neither the hot train ride nor the sweltering room did anything to promote the illusion of calm, cool, and collected.

After Roger delivered an introduction that would have made Donald Trump blush, I laid out how the class would go, expecting great participation from the trumpeters, and letting them know that, while I could work with them on solo repertoire, my expertise was primarily orchestral. The first horse out of the chute put up a very difficult solo piece and started pasting it to the wall. You have to understand that part of being a trumpet player often means proving you're the baddest a** in the room. A thin bead of sweat formed over my brow as ten testosterone-charged trumpeters watched my reaction, which was a little thing I like to call "stoic panic." Finally, I heard a crack or two in the foundation of this player, and a little grin spread over my face - I could see the path to "high ground." I worked him over for about 15 minutes and slowly sensed the room warming to this Yank. The next participant pulled up an even harder piece, one I had last seriously worked through over 20 years ago. Did they not hear that I was an orchestra guy? They were definitely "laying for me." However, luck was on my side that day, and again I was able to find something brilliant and revelatory to tell the kid, and showed them there was still a little life left in the old dog. The class went on for two hours, and I got through it without offending the players, the school, or the Queen. In my book, that qualifies as a rousing success, though one that left me spent and in search of a long nap.

Always the glutton for punishment, I have another class lined up at the Royal Academy of Music when we return to London in a few days. I wonder if they know I'm an orchestra guy?

November 8

Dana Hansen | November 8, 2007

Dana Hansen (seated) surrounded by her LA Phil viola section colleagues at Salle Pleyel in Paris

It is a truly wonderful thing to play with the LA Phil, but playing with this orchestra on a European tour is even better, in my opinion. Musically, everything has been completely exciting and beautiful. The fact that before concerts I get to explore Europe's treasures means I am constantly full of inspiration before I even step on stage.

I was able to visit seven galleries/museums in London (and we're not even done there!). These included the National Gallery, the National Portrait Gallery, the Photographers' Gallery, the Serpentine Gallery (in Hyde Park, where the leaves are all golden), the Tate Modern, the Courtauld Institute of Art, and the Victoria & Albert Museum; they were all fantastic! One funny thing: a favorite painting of mine, Manet's Bar at the Folies-Bergére, was recently exhibited at the Getty Center in L.A., and sadly, I did not get to see it at the time. So, I was thrilled to find it at the Courtauld, its permanent home!

Here in France, I've been to the Louvre twice...so far. I have plans for the next few days, though. I am particularly looking forward to the Picasso and Rodin museums, and, of course, the Musée d'Orsay. I adored the works by Georges de la Tours at the Louvre.

In Spain, we spend one measly day in Madrid. Luckily, my friend, our principal oboist Ariana Ghez, and I will stay on a bit, so we can visit the Prado!

Interview with Esa-Pekka

Mick Wetzel | November 7, 2007

Mick Wetzel and Esa-Pekka Salonen

I had a brief conversation with our Music Director, Esa-Pekka Salonen, backstage at the Barbican Centre in London, right after our rehearsal for tonight's concert:

Sibelius   Lemmink?inen's Return
Salonen   Wing on Wing
Sibelius   Symphony No. 2

Esa-Pekka is such a well-traveled person due, in large part, to his professional pursuits as a conductor. I have been curious about his tastes and preferences and how they compare and contrast across such a broad spectrum of locations, such as Helsinki, New York, Cleveland, and Tokyo. But I was most particularly interested in asking him about how he would compare his current home of Los Angeles to his former/future home of London. Esa-Pekka, within the last two decades, has become an Angeleno. This is in spite of his proud Finnish heritage and also in spite of having made his home in London at some point in the past; he will be spending more time in London in the future as the director of the Philharmonia.

When I asked him to compare the two cities, his thoughtful response was that he hadn't lived in London recently enough to make a fair judgment. But I pressed the issue by asking him more specific questions:

How would you compare the symphonic halls of London to Walt Disney Concert Hall?

He said that when he travels to London to conduct other orchestras, "It confirms the same thing that we have always thought?we have a Strad." Being a string player, I appreciated the comparison of Disney Hall to the work of one of the finest violinmakers ever to walk the planet (thank you, Frank Gehry). He went on to compare Disney Hall with many of the other great concert halls of the world, including the Philharmonie of Berlin and Symphony Hall in Boston, and concluded that all these halls do what they were designed to do very well, but ultimately these "other halls are great older halls built for another era and can't take a full modern orchestra. Disney Hall is the best modern hall by far."

How would you compare the LA Phil and the Philharmonia in terms of your mode of communication?

"I have found that I can work equally well with both orchestras. No translation is necessary." I gathered clearly that Esa-Pekka wasn't referring to any barrier of language but rather about something more instinctive. EP is a very non-verbal communicator from the podium, and he feels his "language" is even deeper than English or French or Finnish or even the pattern of the baton. "I have found that there are certain orchestras that I can work with where no 'translation' is necessary. It is not rational but rather extrasensory. There must be a chemistry." Thankfully for us and for our colleagues "across the pond" in the Philharmonia, we speak that "language."

What about food? When in Los Angeles or London, which culinary choices do you prefer?

Whenever I have asked Esa-Pekka a question, he has without fail been thoughtful in his responses. I always feel that the "hard drive" is whirring through thousands of possibilities. But his response to this particular question was concise and immediate. "In L.A., Japanese - in London, always curry. Outside of Japan itself, L.A. has the best Japanese food. Of course, London has fantastic Indian food." When I mentioned that on past tours I had wonderful Indian food in Paris, the look that he gave me was probably the same expression that he would give me after a missed entrance or a wrong note. He is refreshingly clear in his convictions — much as he is in his music making.

Golden Era of the Los Angeles Philharmonic

Mick Wetzel | November 6, 2007

Stacy and Mick Wetzel

Stacy and I had the honor of sharing dinner with Philharmonic Board members Ann and Tony Cannon and Philharmonic Director of Public Relations Adam Crane. It was after our concert in Paris at Salle Pleyel (November 6), which made it a late-night meal but?is it possible to find a bad dinner in Paris? Mais oui, but there are so many wonderful choices that make this a difficult venture.

We talked of many things relative to the Phil, and I suppose that it was a little self-congratulatory since all five of us are of course connected to the Los Angeles Philharmonic, though from vastly different angles. But honestly there are so many things to be self-congratulatory about. We have a current music director who is fantastic, highly sought-after, and really a rock star here on the Continent. We have an incoming music director who is the envy of the free world (and every other part of the planet for that matter). We have a great board, a great President and CEO, an amazing staff, a great Hall, etc. In the colloquialism of my extremely cool 15-year-old daughter, "It's all good."

I am convinced that as we look back on this epoch 20 years from now, we will see it as the "Golden Era of the Los Angeles Philharmonic," and they seem to appreciate "gold" here in Europe.

Los Angeles Philharmonic Board members Tony and Ann Cannon with Los Angeles Philharmonic Director of Public Relations Adam Crane (center)

Cocktail of Disorientation

David Allen Moore | November 5, 2007

I rmbemeer reeicinvg an eaiml ocne taht siad taht the bairn olny nedeed the frist and lsat lteetr of a wrod to be in the crorcet pstoiion in oderr for a wrod to be cmpoheerisnlbe. The early part of the tour experience is a lot like that for me. The length of travel, lack of sleep, lure of the pub, and general excitement of performing on tour all combine to form a cocktail of disorientation. Familiar elements are present that help to ground me: my wife, daughter, and mother joined me on this trip, but I still feel like it takes me a while to get my bearings.

Tours never cease to amaze me. I know that many of the members of the orchestra wear the same veil of fatigue and confusion that I do, yet somehow we manage to come together to perform concerts that are nothing short of electrifying. The support staff (management, stage crew, travel agents, etc.) routinely perform feats that for me personally make David Copperfield look like a cheap parlor trickster. For example, the last time I saw my bass it was in L.A., yet everywhere I go to perform it appears intact and ready for the next concert. Intellectually I know it's not "magic," but even after almost eight years on the job I am still struck with child-like awe at the fact that I don't have to schlep my own gear across Europe.

Later in Paris I hope to write again. I am planning to visit (logistics permitting) with two giants of the bass world: François Rabbath and Renaud Garcia-Fons. They are both personal and musical heroes of mine, and I hope to introduce them to you in a later entry.

Still pinching myself after all these years.

November 1

Gloria Lum | November 1, 2007

Gloria Lum

Upon arrival at our hotel after an overnight flight from LAX, everyone's concern is the same: clean up, eat, and stay up as late as possible. The first night of sleep is never a problem. It is the first full day and second night that will dictate how quickly we can adapt to the new time zone. So, on the first morning in London, the first order of business is finding coffee. Starbuck's has invaded every street corner here. But preferring to sample local fare, a couple of colleagues and I opt for Valentino's, a small café which promises a full English breakfast for 3.90 pounds ($8.00). The coffee is excellent and we end up lingering for over an hour deep in conversation.

While on tour, the orchestra tends to split itself socially along instrument lines. There are the bass boys, the brass guys, and the freshman class, to name a few. While some cross pollination takes place, we tend to find our "people" and stick with them.

A visit to the British Museum is next on the list. Museums are always a favorite destination of mine. I find them calming, relaxing, and a good way to reacquaint myself with dim memories of art history courses from my college days. We see the Rosetta Stone and the Elgin Marbles and say hello to Cleopatra who, at the ripe old age of 17, is forever enshrined in the Egyptian mummy collection.

We head to Covent Garden next looking for some local color. Although there are many shops to visit, nothing catches my fancy and we end up at another outdoor caf? for lunch, coffee, and more conversation.

What, you may ask, occupies the minds of musicians on tour? The answer is simple: the orchestra itself. That is, the music, past and future performances, what went wrong, and what went right. By profession, we are intensely self-critical and completely dependent upon each other. The amount of concentration needed to play perfectly and precisely together while fighting jet lag is tremendous. This tour seems particularly daunting just from the sheer amount of music to be played. But that is the nature of the job: focus, precision, and beauty when the downbeat comes, no matter what.

Our evening concludes with a wonderful Indian meal at Hasan Raj. Without planning to, we run into another group from the orchestra. You would think that with all of the restaurants in London, one could successfully avoid one's colleagues; not so. We decide on an early evening in preparation for tomorrow's rehearsal and concert. Armed with various sleeping aids, we head back to the hotel with fingers crossed for an uninterrupted night's sleep.

The Theremin

Joanne Pearce Martin | October 31, 2007

Joanne Pearce Martin and Stacy Wetzel in a London taxi on the way to a rehearsal

Fresh off the bus from Heathrow, and after a quick splash of water on our faces at the hotel (our suitcases hadn't been delivered yet!), a small group of us met back in the lobby to start our adventure. The brave ones: violinists Martin Chalifour, Mitch Newman, Ingrid Chun, and Lawrence Gamma, cellist Danny Rothmuller, and myself. Never mind that we were all starving; the first objective was to get ourselves to North London as quickly and economically as possible. (This is London, after all, where a single ride on the Tube is four POUNDS!) Once we were in the vicinity of the jazz club, then we could quickly grab something to eat, we hoped.

Fast forward to a group of jet-lagged musicians in the Tube station, trying to figure out the best way to do this — eventually, we all bought our "Oyster" cards — a nifty card you can top off at any time, which gets you multiple Tube and bus rides for a fraction of the "single ride" costs.

A quick trip on the Tube was followed by a five-minute ride on a double-decker bus (ladies and gents, can you spot the American tourists — oh yes, they must be the ones running up and down the steps!). By the way, it's quite difficult getting up and down those steps while the bus is lurching away in heavy London traffic — it seemed so much easier when I was 9 years old).

A short walk through the streets of north London, a turn of a few corners, and we were suddenly faced with a wide open space — almost like a small Italian piazza — silent and dark — and there was a slight chill in the air. The Vortex Jazz Club stood like a beacon, with its glass windows glowing from its own green and blue neon. We could see through the windows that the action was UPSTAIRS, so that's where we headed.

At the top of the stairs, we went through the doorway and were instantly transported into another world — a warm, dark room, with a distinctively "jazzy" vibe. It reminded me of the places I used to go when I lived in New York, but those were full of smoke. There were about 10 or 12 very small tables, and only about half of them were full — the rest of the folks were either at the bar in the corner of the room, or just standing around. There was definitely a feeling of anticipation in the air. A small stage held a grand piano, a drum set, and smack dab in the middle, the instrument which was the VERY REASON for this quest of ours: the Theremin!

The "WHAT"??????, you might say. Well, I need to backtrack for just a moment: back in May of this year, during our two week "Shadow of Stalin" series at Disney Hall, we performed an obscure Russian piece which called for a Theremin player. A local Angeleno named Charles Lester came in and played with us. I already knew about this fascinating instrument, but had never had a chance to try playing one, or even see one in person.

The Theremin was invented in the 1920s by a Russian gentleman named Leon Theremin — it is considered the world's first electronic instrument. It basically consists of a box containing circuitry, two antennas (one vertical and one "looped" horizontal), and a speaker. These 2 antennas have a magnetic field around them, so when a player steps up to it to play, a "hum" plays over the speaker. When the player subtly moves his or her hands around in the proximity of the Theremin, the pitch of the hum changes, as well as the volume. One of the most incredible (and difficult!) aspects of this instrument is the fact that one NEVER TOUCHES it to play it! It's all about coordinating the movements of the hands IN THE VICINITY of the Theremin. (One hand controls pitch with the vertical antenna, the other controls volume and articulation with the horizontal.)

Pamelia Kurstin, the young woman whom we came to hear tonight, is one of the most highly regarded players of the Theremin today — believe me, very few people have the patience and the ear to learn to play it well. There is a real "cult" following for the Theremin, but it's certainly out there (in more ways than one!).

The show began almost 45 minutes later than advertised (!), but that gave most of us a chance to run downstairs and munch on some very interesting and spicy Caribbean food at a small stand next to the club. (I love big cities!)

By the time Pamelia began her first solo set, the place was jammed — it was standing room only. From her first notes, even in a short warm-up, she held us captive. (She even begged everyone not to be so quiet as she warmed up!) But can you blame us?!? The experience of hearing a Theremin played, and played WELL, is quite arresting. She performed a series of improvisations in which she utilized her set-up of electronic pedals, which were connected to the Theremin. This enabled her to "loop" phrases, allowing her to play along with herself in multiple layered tracks. She certainly achieved some FASCINATING effects — the range of timbres and pitches and moods she was able to create was absolutely mind-boggling. I sat there wondering what Mr. Theremin would say today if he could hear this, much like how I often wonder what Mozart could have done with a great MIDI-synthesizer set-up! A few of us remarked that Esa-Pekka would have loved this — if the timing were better, I'm sure we could have probably figured out a way to include him.

After the first set was over, Pamelia took a break, and we all met with her. She was thrilled that LA Phil members would come to her show! She knew that we were going to be there, because I had been touch with her via email during the past week. She has agreed to give me some lessons when she is in Los Angeles, where she has some family. (Did I forget to mention that my wonderful husband Gavin secretly arranged to BUY me one of these things over the summer?!) The problem with me is that once I'm interested in something, I get a bit obsessive — I guess I couldn't stop talking about the Theremin back in May, and by July, we had one sitting in our living room!)

Anyway, Pamelia was a delight to meet in person. She had many interesting things to say about her experiences in music (not just on the Theremin, but on violin, viola, cello, and piano). It gave us some real insight to her as a person, as well as a musician.

For her second set, Pamelia was joined onstage by a pianist, a saxophonist, and a drummer for some free improvisation — and FREE IT WAS!... the kind of freedom that can stir up feelings of envy in a classical musician? although thanks to a lot of contemporary music, we do get to sample that freedom at times. I should mention that at this point, our violinist colleague Guido Lamell was able to join us, after having dinner with his family — thanks for making the trek out by yourself, Guido!

All in all, this was a truly unique musical experience, and I'm glad my colleagues and I were able to stretch ourselves mentally and physically to make it — it was certainly well worth it. What a fabulous way to start sampling what London has to offer!

October 31

Mick Wetzel | October 31, 2007

On Monday at 7pm sharp we left Disney Hall for LAX by bus. After what seemed like a very long 9 ? hours, we arrived at London Heathrow to a beautiful, sunny afternoon. We arrived at our hotel very tired and hungry. London has a plethora of wonderful restaurants so the choices for dinner were nearly overwhelming. My wife and I chose a fish and chips place, The Fryer's Delight. Others chose more exotic fare for dinner. But the most interesting entertainment choice of the evening was made by a group of musicians, lead by our keyboardist, Joanne Pearce Martin, who attended a musical event not to be found anywhere else on the planet.

Moving an Orchestra Across the Ocean and Back

Mick Wetzel | October 30, 2007

LA Philharmonic Orchestra truck

It takes efforts on many fronts to project our musical pursuits to a European audience. As musicians, we work very hard to bring our "product" up to the highest standards but without our Production Director, Paul Geller, and his crew of Stage Technicians, Cesar Melgar, Alex Quintanar, and Michael Sheppard, our musical pursuits would quite literally never fly. These are the people who do the thankless, behind the scenes work that we all appreciate so much. They make us musicians feel almost as if we were at home no matter where we are, so that we can perform at our best. It is staggering to me what they move:

• 115 trunks containing such items as wardrobe, instruments, double bass stools, conductor's podium and desk, timpani, bass drum, other percussion instruments, harps, and an Apple iMac computer
• All of this weighs in at over 11 tons and takes up over 3,000 cubic feet
• It is shipped to Europe in a B747 cargo airliner
• While in Europe it travels by truck—over 4,100 miles of driving

Just to give you an idea of how much we trust these guys and how much we depend on them, I don't let very many people even carry my own instrument, but I completely trust these men to ship my precious viola thousands of miles across the ocean and back. No pressure, guys!

2007 European Tour Begins

Mick Wetzel | October 29, 2007

Today 106 members of the Los Angeles Philharmonic are traveling as a group to London to begin the 2007 European Tour. On a personal level, there are many things to prepare, above and beyond the rudimentary packing that we all must do. These preparations are as varied and different as the individual circumstances of each member of the orchestra. Some must shop, some must make arrangements for the care of a home or pets, others must make arrangements for the care of young children?a truly daunting task. I speak from my own experience of having had to make arrangements for our two teenagers and one pre-teen while we are away. But I must confess that it is my wife Stacy (a member of the Philharmonic's first violin section) who does the lion's share of the arranging - I am just the errand boy. These necessary arrangements are made by all those who have responsibilities at home in addition to our Philharmonic lives, but I thought it might be interesting, if not exhausting, reading to hear from Los Angeles Philharmonic woodwind player Cathy Ransom Karoly (flute), who is married to Jonathan Karoly (cello), also a member of the Phil.

Managing Family and Tour

Cathy Karoly | October 29, 2007

Jonathan and I thought for many months about how we would manage our family and this tour. We both play in the orchestra, AND we have a two-year-old daughter named Hannah and 10-month-old boy/girl twins named Ian and Eva.

We considered bringing them all, plus four grandparents and a babysitter (three kids under the age of three require a LOT of help!!!), but the expense and expected wear and tear on us seemed to outweigh the benefits of having them with us. We knew that leaving them all home wouldn't be a great idea since Hannah is a handful, and we couldn't quite imagine having both sets of grandparents stay at our house the whole time to care for them (these kids require at least three grandparents to manage them!). We also considered the option of Jonathan staying home with the twins and I bringing Hannah and my mom with me, but the thought of trying to stay well rested while sharing a hotel room with my daughter and mother for two weeks, plus not seeing my husband and babies, didn't seem so great.

Finally we agreed that the best decision would be to take up my in-laws on their very generous offer to stay at our house and care for our babies (with the nanny and various babysitters to help); we would both go on tour and bring Hannah and my mother along (they will stay in an adjoining room). This way we won't be stuck with three jet-lagged kids (including two crawling babies) trapped in a hotel room for two weeks! Now we'll just worry about the grandparents at home, the babies, my mother, and ourselves as we deal with one soon-to-be-very-cranky over-tired two-year-old. Hopefully the sight of Big Ben and the Eiffel Tower will diffuse all that, and we will ultimately come home to two happy, healthy babies and some very tired grandparents!