Stories Archives - Page 3 of 3 - Anna Hagen Harpist

January

Normally my monthly harp programs, eight or more of them, are themed around whatever happens that month. In July, it is patriotic, in December, it is Christmas.

But nothing happens in January. Which is why it is the best month. All the music that I love and that doesn’t fit anywhere else is stuffed into January.

Mostly, those include the beautiful classical pieces like Passacalia by Handle and The Maid With the Flaxen Hair by Claude Debussy–a piece I like for obvious reasons.

Beautiful women have always been the subject of good music, such as Annie’s Song by John Denver. Last year a friend in a senior facility asked if I could play any John Denver and in my 18 year old ignorance I asked “Who?” Fortunately, my grandmother, who is also a guitar teacher and my musical inspiration, educated me over Christmas. This January, I added John Denver to my repertoire with Annie’s Song, Leaving on a Jet plain and Take Me Home Country Road.

On the harp I may not sound like John Denver’s guitar but I can imitate one kind of guitar, a flamenco guitar. This month I mixed my love of flair and classical music in the fabulous piece Baroque Flamenco by Deborah Henson-Conant. This dramatic song treats the harp like a strummed guitar, a drum set and a string bass. I was thrilled to finally graduate to these advanced techniques–hitting my instrument.

After catching my breath, I turned the music back to my love of the Baroque with J.S. Bach’s Jesu of Joy of Man’s Desiring. After all, that is the joy of January, getting to play all different styles from classical to flamenco while sharing the joy of Jesus.

Amplification

Stories

God bless sound men. They are the angels of amplification.

The sound man is always the most important person for a performer to be on good terms with.If he doesn’t like you, he can ensure that you a literally never heard from again! Fortunately, I have had a string of superb sound men. I can’t always say the same for sound equipment, especially in those settings where sound men are unavailable. Once, when I was using a head mic, I fixed it too close to my nose. The edge of my breath blowing down on it sounded like a Heffalump with a cold. On the road I sometimes set my own volume and, while the feedback I get from the audience is predominately positive, the feedback that comes through the speakers is–ooh–painful.

Recently, I performed in a beautiful pine roofed hall in a senior community where the microphone attacked me. The activities director borrowed the microphone and mic stand from in front of the podium. It was extended for his not inconsiderable height and he simply bent it down to harp level as I started playing. However, I like to stand between songs and speak to the audience, so when I finished, I tried to raise the mic to my medium height mouth without asking for any help. The overbalanced arm was not tight. As I sat to play the next piece, the extended arm of the stand began to descend. I could feel the microphone sinking slowly above my right shoulder, like a gigantic stork. Mentally I tried to measure the rate of fall with the length of the song as it’s skinny shadow loomed over me. I nearly got pecked by a microphone.

God chooses us to be his amplification, his microphones and speakers. He also makes us sound men, with a volume knob. I understand to a new degree why a microphone needs to stand tall, to be available to speak through. While I hope to not overdrive my speakers or cause any crackle of contentious feedback, I pray that I am always the right volume, loud enough to be heard.

When all else fails

Stories, Uncategorized

Ah, the difficulty of plugging in.

A year ago, my birthday present from my family was an electric pick-up for my harp Jocelyn which makes miking my harp as simple as plugging it in (although even that sometimes eludes me). I use it a lot. The quality of the Dusty Strings pick-up makes life simple for the sound men when I play for large events such as the Spring Concert at the Learner Theater or at The Grand Piano Extraveganza hosted by the Blue Gate Theater. But it also comes in very handy when playing for deaf senior citizens and activity directors who, like me, know little more about the mic system than the on and off switch.

On the Sunday before Christmas, I played the morning service at a small country Church. The Pastor invited me to not only provide special music but to actually give the message as I have done at several churches. Similar to my harp programs, I was planning to explain the harp, the music and myself while tying it all into the love of Christ. But as a courtesy to the older members of the congregation, I was going to use my pick-up and amplify the harp,

I plugged my harp into the antiquated sound board that was crammed into a cupboard on the side of the stage. I flipped the system’s ON switch. The harp rang in the country church like a bell choir on full blast. But when I tested the speaking microphone, it was as silent as the snow. I may have a loud mouth but not loud enough to give a 40 minute sermon to a slightly deaf audience without amplification!

My father, who once worked in sound, came and pointed out to me that the line in–where I was supposed to plug the harp–was on the back of the sound board. This was wedged against the wall. From the imprints in the carpet, the cabinet and the speakers resting on it hadn’t been moved since they were purchased 20 years ago.

A little appropriate grunting got the “line in” spots accessible and I moved the cables and set the volume. Now no sound came out of the speakers. The hand held mic was dead and the harp was only acoustic. The pastor, my father and I were on our knees around the cabinets. It might have looked like prayer except we were all craning our necks to see the sound board.

We double checked the cable connections. We switched it on and off. Finally, I went to the wall socket and found that the power plug had been knocked out of the outlet in moving the cabinet.

Simple. Check the plug.

With the power restored and the ancient sound system working perfectly, the pastor opened the service and the congregation got a good laugh.
When all else fails, try plugging in.

Out of Tune With Grace

Stories

“There are a lot of strings on a harp.”
Not my normal lead-in but I like to start with understatement.

”My largest harp has 42 strings and each of those strings must be tuned every time I play,” I explained. I had just been called up to perform a harp solo at the last evening meeting of my Christmas Break Youth Retreat and was flipping for my music to play The Lord’s Prayer.

”Heat, humidity and movement all change the tuning and I promise you,” I continued, squinting into the stage lights, “the people who invented ovens powered by light bulbs used to manage stage lights because they seem to use the exact same equipment! The joke among harpists is that a harp takes 2 hours to tune and it goes out of tune in 10 minutes!”

My audience chuckled at my confession. Before my solo, a young man had shared a beautiful and sobering confession/testimony of falling and recovering. How do you follow total, humble honesty except with (lighthearted) honesty?

”The reason that I come to this camp,” I said, turning serious, “is to re-tune, to get in tune with the Holy Spirit, Christ and His Word. But a few minutes of life can throw me out of tune again.” I looked under the spotlights into rows of my teenage friends. “So my prayer is that this year we don’t just walk out but take from here a tuning key, an awareness of how to stay tuned in to the daily life of Christ. But I also pray that you keep ‘playing,’ because it is only when I am playing that I can tell if I am out of tune. After all, we all know from experience that, by the Grace of God, even out of tune instruments like us can make beautiful music.”

My audience amened as I pulled the harp back. After the crescendos and arpeggios of The Lord’s Prayer had faded from the speakers, I began to play Amazing Grace interspersing with verses of the hymn When I Survey The Wondrous Cross. Here is the last lyrics of When I Survey.

“To Christ, who won for sinners Grace
By bitter grief and anguish sore,
Be praise from all the ransomed race
Forever and forevermore.”

Isaac Watts

Little Drummer Boy

Stories

If I could play one instrument other than harp, I would play drums. You get to control the rhythm and to hit on things and collect all sorts of cool gadgets like cow bells and kettle drums. Whatever orchestra or music group I play with, the percussion section always seems to have the most fun.

So this Christmas I experimented with this secret desire to “percuss” even though I never touched a drum. One of the harp pieces I am practicing crosses a baroque and Flamenco flavor and instructs me to slap the sound board–the flat top of the harp’s hollow body–creating the sound of bongo. It is wild fun. As I worked out an arrangement of The Little Drummer Boy for this 2012 Christmas season, I tried inserting these slapping sounds. It must have been effective and authentic sounding because on the Sunday before Christmas, one of the audience members who had sat behind me asked me “How did you play the drums when there weren’t any on stage?” I confessed it was a thrilling moment. But I hadn’t yet brought my sounds before a real drummer.

Between Christmas and New Years my mother and I took my large harp to a Christian Youth Retreat in Arkansas where in addition to meeting friends, listening to speakers and teaching some ourselves, I played in the rock worship band. Although I vigorously threw myself into the music, the harp is a quiet instrument. I am usually featured on softer songs, heard playing raining glissandos and improvising during ministry time. Then came the last morning meeting.

The leaders began to pray for the band’s drummer. I started to run up and pray for him since I admire this drummer very much but then they called for his “brother musicians to come uphold him.” I’m not a brother. However, this left the keyboard and guitars unattended. In the musical stillness, I rushed around to the harp and began my newly arranged Little Drummer Boy. A burst of laughter from the back signaled my mother’s recognition and after a few measures, the rest of the audience clued in. Well, almost all of the audience.

Still deep in prayer, the leader lifted the microphone, and intoned, “Just listen to the beat of that music! How appropriate for a drummer.”

“It’s The Little Drummer Boy,” his wife whispered to him, and then everyone was laughing.

I may not play the drums but my motto is the same as the Little Drummer Boy’s

Come, they told me
Pa, rum, pa, pum, pum
Our newborn King to see
Pa, rum, pa, pum, pum

I have no gift to bring
Pa, rum, pa, pum, pum
That’s fit to give a King

Pa, rum, pa, pum, pum

Shall I play for You
Pa, rum, pa, pum, pum
On my drum, on my drum?

I played my drum for Him
Pa, rum, pa, pum, pum
I played my best for Him
Pa, rum, pa, pum, pum

Katherine Kennicott Davis

New Year’s Life

Stories

January, back to normal life and work, although playing harp for friends is too fun be burdened with the connotations of work. After two days of driving back from family and Christian Youth Retreat, I walked straight into my my weekly harp event where I spend an hour strolling a senior facility playing tunes on my small harp Maywyn.

It felt funny to be walking with my harp again. I take my largest harp to camp where I play with the worship band and augment my classical repertoire with contemporary Christian rock music. It is freeing and exhilarating to play with three guitarists and a keyboardist, although I wore earplugs the entire time to protect myself from the drumset!

From the music to speakers and workshops, this camp affirmed life, our life as family, our life purpose and how to set life goals. It was amazing to see my Christian family shake off the dust of a disbelieving world and stretch spiritual muscles into life again.

Returning to my regular harp event, I learned that while I was at camp, three of my senior friends from this facility passed away. On top of that, as I walked into the room of a lady I have played for every week for two years, her family warned me that she was also near passing. This beautiful friend has never spoken to me–a stroke left her paralyzed and noncommunicative. But she responds over and over again to hymns.

At the family’s request, I played the lady’s favorite hymn O Come, O Come Emmanuel. After all, as Charles Dickens points out, we should carry the spirit of Christmas with us all year long. As my fingers fought to remember the melody I covered myself by singing, realizing that the same principle that upheld life at my youth retreat is the hand hold for the dying: “Rejoice, God is with us.”

Knowing that this lady’s favorite hymns are in minor keys, I continued into the song O Sacred Head Now Wounded while the healthy sister stroked the stroke victim’s white hair. Here are the key lyrics:

“O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee. “

This is the focus of life. Whether playing for teenagers with a worship band or ninety year olds at an Alzheimer’s unit, the strength that keeps us from fainting is love for He who is the Life.

Happy New Year