RLPF.ar

That's to be expected. What I didn't expect is how quickly my buffer period to ease into teaching would erode. At first, I was told the students in my audio class would have varying degrees of experience with audio manipulation, so I started slow. Well, it didn't take long for the class to explain to me that they "all" had done what I was teaching this past Tuesday. I'm not sure how much I should believe that; it's human nature, and Chinese culture even more so, to avoid admitting one's weaknesses. It seems entirely plausible to me that some handful of students would have been lost but unwilling to speak up.

Nonetheless, clearly I pitched that session too low, so now the gloves come off. (And I'm wondering if I should rewrite that sentence, or save it for the New Yorker's "mixed metaphor" department.) I'll take the risk of going over their heads; I can always backpedal if it's too tough.

Another bump! I'm now almost completely convinced that the stability problems I had seen in Linux, and more recently in Windows, are the result of hardware glitches, probably in the network interface. Both operating systems behave well when the network is disconnected, and become unstable with network use by several applications. What about the virus theory for Windows? I'm leaning toward Occam's razor: choose the simpler of competing explanations. I could explain similar symptoms in two environments by two separate causes, or by one straightforward one.

The manufacturer has a support center in Guangzhou. I'm sure some arguing will be involved about the warranty status -- no choice but to see what happens, or live with the problems (and I don't like that idea).

Better news: Tuesday night, a Chinese-instrument orchestra from Taiwan visited the conservatory for a concert -- the Little Giant Chinese Chamber Orchestra. Little or giant? It seemed a bit large for a Western chamber orchestra. This is no casual ensemble. Their playing is disciplined, precise, fully committed to each piece's expression, and thoroughly enjoyable to hear.

The works ranged from abysmally bombastic crowdpleasers, to self-consciously "modern" new works, to a couple of strong, memorable concerti. (I won't name names, not least because the program is printed all in Chinese characters.) A pipa concerto tipped its hat to Ravel more than once -- in the best sense of borrowing Ravel's richly graded color palette and suave ear for harmony.

The standout by far, though, was a guzheng concerto by Tao Yi Mo, chair of the Modern Music department in which I teach. If I had any doubts, it convinces me even further that I'm in the right place, working with the right people. (Am I kissing my boss's ass? Not my style, especially not when it comes to music. If I didn't care for it, I would dismiss it with a "pleasant enough" or not mention it at all.) The piece is noteworthy for what it doesn't do. It doesn't indulge in empty exhibitionism; it's technically challenging and musically sophisticated, but none of it is for the sake of showing off technique. It doesn't strike a modernist posture for the sake of being modern. It doesn't shy away from open sentiment, but neither does it lapse into cliché.

Tao's harmonic sensibility leads us into some murky waters, but with confidence and a sure touch so that the casual listener will find it attractive. Trained ears have plenty to mull over long after concert's end! The fast sections deftly translate Copland's agility and clarity in the ballets of the 1940s, into a Chinese idiom. Last -- it's been some time, probably years, since the ending of a piece surprised me in the right way. A slow phrase repeats on the guzheng, with harmony rocking back and forth, until the last repeat substitutes a low-string pizzicato for the last note of the phrase. The description doesn't convey the full effect, original and perfect at the same time.

Prof. Tao was busy after the concert, and I had time to say to him only, "Nothing extra." I meant it as high praise. I hope he understood.