Guitar Orchestra of Europe: My Debut

Over the past two summers, I’ve spent a week in Long Island working on — okay, rebuilding entirely — my guitar technique under the tutelage of one of my musical heroes: Robert Fripp. It’s been an equally fulfilling and ego-bruising path to develop better playing habits, and it’s done wonders for exorcising the tension that’s plagued my hands for years, as well as cultivating greater fluidity in my playing.

The Guitar Orchestra of Europe is an ensemble of ridiculously talented musicians under the direction of long-time Fripp student, Hernan Nuñes. When the invitation came to perform with them in Berlin (one of my all-time favorite cities), I rearranged my very busy spring performance schedule (declining — with great sadness — more than several South by Southwest festival show offers) in order to make myself available.

As is typical for me, I felt a bit stressed and nervous as I prepped for the trip (what if my new musical collaborators don’t like me? What if the airline doesn’t let me bring my fragile guitar into the cabin of the plane?). When I caught an early morning Uber to the airport, my driver saw my guitar, reached into the glove box, and fished something out: a set of guitar strings some tired SXSW participant may have dropped in his car. This tiny gesture of kindness created a sudden spark of goodwill in me, and I took this as a sign that all would be well: my trepidation melted away, and even when I got stuck in between two huge dudes who could have been pro linebackers, I held a positive mindset for the entire flight.

Once settled in Berlin, music began and never stopped. From 7am to roughly 11:30pm, we were engaging in morning mediation, meals (which we all pitched in to make for one another), and playing, playing, playing for ten days straight. This style of acute focus was hugely demanding (especially with the requisite jet lag), as we were encouraged — nay, demanded — to be present and in-the-moment at all times. Through a methodical yet thoroughly organic exploration process, we created a set of music ranging from Steve Reich, Paul McCartney, Fripp-composed pieces, and a new work of mine entitled “… and in the morning comes the devil.” To be surrounded by an international collection of amazing musicians was heavenly, whether they be the new friends I gained as well as reconnecting musically with some of my fellow Fripp students from the Long Island summer program.

In my long life of performing, I’d put our Berlin performance on my top ten favorite performance list. The level of music-making was high, the focus intense, and yet — because of our non-stop prep — everything came together organically and beautifully. That said, I’d say the process far outweighed the product, with a lifetime of lessons garnered in our collective preparation for the program.

In the wake of some tough times in my music career (gigs decimated by the COVID shutdown, being unceremoniously dropped from a non-profit arts gig after 15 years of dedicated award-winning, grant-earning, and transformative artistic direction, and the death of a few near and dear colleagues) this level of unique music-making was just what my soul needed, and has really helped so much with the healing of the heart-hurt that I’ve been struggling with for much of the past year. I am the best kind of exhausted right now, and I don’t think I could feel any more gratitude than I do at this moment.

More of this, please.