Mark O'Connor Fiddle Camp, Oct. '95

Quotes of the Week

On the first day of class, Buddy Spicher was talking about the music he played. He mentioned all the kinds of music he likes, and that he realized that he would never be good at all of them. He said he concentrates on what he does best. Sorry I don't have a direct quote on that but the message is very clear to me. It was also impressive to hear someone as great as Buddy being so sincerely modest.

Sept '96 updates:

Buddy Spicher on getting to be really good:

Frazier Moss on life:
Mark gave a nice talk the first night of camp ('95). He talked about the times he has felt like he was burnt out on what he was doing, and how he was always looking for something new to do. He said his criterion for instructors at camp was that they must be someone from whom he could learn something. It was a real eye-opener to hear him talk about taking chances and learning new stuff. Again I don't have direct quotes but it was amazing to hear him talk of his own continuing need to learn, and it made me realize I have a lot of work to do.

Mark has even put this need to grow ahead of other aspects of his playing. He has taken some enormous risks lately, with this whole Fiddle Concerto thing, and leaving the studio business (where he worked 12 hour days, earning hundreds per hour. Do the math.) He cancelled some dates last winter to go hang out with Grappelli, after Grappelli expressed an interest in showing Mark some stuff.

Ok, here's a quote ('95). After Claude Williams played brilliantly for a couple of hours one night, I spoke to him. The exchange went like this:
For my money the quote of the week ('95) goes to a young lady who was at my dinner table the night we had salmon. It was an incredible meal, and she described it thusly:

"The only times I've had salmon, you didn't get very much and you had to wait a long time for it. But this is, like, chow!"

If you're like me, every now and then you find yourself in a scene so bizarrely improbable you have to step back and ask yourself "who writes this stuff?" The surreal moment of the week, for me, happened on about the 4th day. I was sitting around watching this 8- or 9-year old kid play (didn't catch his name. He's Spicher's protege, sat in with Buddy's band and let's just say he's good and leave it at that. Update: Obviously the "kid" in question is Billy Cantreras.) He wanted to play some jazz and I was the only one there who would own up to being able to play guitar. So someone hands me this guitar that's like impossible to play jazz chords on, because the strings are so high. Not that a better guitar would have helped me much. The kid wants to play "Donna Lee" in Ab. Way out of my league, I say, so he says how about "Cherokee?" That I can do.

Off we go, and he gets to the bridge and kind of falls apart. So we start working on the bridge and someone mentions this cool Charlie Parker solo on the bridge. I'm trying to show him how to play it and Claude Williams shows up and sits down right next to me. Claude has recorded this very bit that we're trying to do. I offered to let him have the guitar but he declined.

At that moment I had to ask myself "Why am I playing the guitar on this, when Claude "1935 Downbeat Guitarist of the year" Williams is sitting next to me? And why am I showing Claude's fiddle licks to a kid who's young enough to be my, er, nephew, but he can fiddle my butt right into the ground anyway?

So I went and took a nap.

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Note: This page is written and maintained by me. I have no business or financial interests in the Mark O'Connor Fiddle Camp. All opinions are mine unless otherwise noted.