The "Pachelbel Rant" is making the rounds on YouTube.
It's a pretty easy position within the classical music world to dump on the canon in D. (The matching gigue somehow gets off scot-free.) It's perhaps the poster-piece for everything that's wrong with classical music programming on radio -- always headlining collections of "relaxing" classical music, as if one of the great art forms was actually meant as a lobotomy rather than intellectual stimulation. But is that Pachelbel's fault?
So, then, what about the music? It's both a basso-ostinato and a three-part canon. While this may be considered a strength, I actually think it hurts the piece a little. My recollection is that it is neither all that strong as a canon or as an ostinato. When I think of great baroque ostinato pieces, what comes to mind are Bach's c-minor passacaglia and d-minor chaconne. Each creates the illusion of ternary form and finds ways to integrate each phrase into the next. Pachelbel doesn't; he has an endless series of indepedent four-bar phrases. (I once heard a "rearrangement" by Prof. Robert Greenberg, which changed the order of the phrases, and it was just as seemless as the original.) If you're interested in form rather than straight episodic writing, this is a huge strike against it.
How is it as a canon? It's fairly straight-forward. It does the job fairly elegantly, but doesn't really pose a big challenge. After you've heard Bach's "A Musical Offering," I think it's hard to get excited about the Pachelbel.
So, my conclusion is that this canon has two problems, neither of which is strictly Pachelbel's fault: it is over-exposed, and it wasn't written by Bach. It's possible to imagine a world where the same piece of music might be considered an early-music gem, but it's not the lot it drew.
12.29.2006
7.27.2006
Strangest choice of the Summer
Milton Babbit and Elliot Carter, two of the great figures of serialism, get together in Tanglewood to perform... Stravinsky? What am I missing here?
7.22.2006
Opera, Take 1 - Ironic conducting
Lately, through my chronological survey of the 19th century, I've been listening to Tannhauser and La Traviata. When I studied conducting in college, La Traviata was one of my great frustrations. One of our early assignments was the prelude to Tristan, a piece that I own 6 recordings of; that I'd owned in score and reduction for several years; that I'd learned on the piano; and that I'd studied every measure of in theory class. I've even studied the never heard and largely unknown concert ending. And yet, I struggled mightily with it when I took up the baton. I know it's a maddeningly difficult score, but after weeks of practicing, I felt like I was getting nowhere.
So when I was assigned Violetta's first act arias from La Traviata, which I'd never encountered before, and which I don't really care for, I was a bit disappointed to discover that, in the words of my teacher, I had an aptitude for it. Funny how that works -- of all the different pieces I'd studied over my semesters of conducting, I was best at the piece I cared about least. I put effort into trying to like early and middle Verdi, but I never get anywhere. If anything, I resent Verdi after my experience in conducting class.
I also just watched Boris Goudonov on DVD. Somehow, I never noticed how much Gershwin owes Mossourgsky before.
So when I was assigned Violetta's first act arias from La Traviata, which I'd never encountered before, and which I don't really care for, I was a bit disappointed to discover that, in the words of my teacher, I had an aptitude for it. Funny how that works -- of all the different pieces I'd studied over my semesters of conducting, I was best at the piece I cared about least. I put effort into trying to like early and middle Verdi, but I never get anywhere. If anything, I resent Verdi after my experience in conducting class.
I also just watched Boris Goudonov on DVD. Somehow, I never noticed how much Gershwin owes Mossourgsky before.
7.04.2006
Independent Music
I'll never understand why the centerpiece of the Pops [Esplanade] 4th of July Celebration is a piece of Russian propaganda music.
6.27.2006
Good news for the third best classical radio station in Boston
If all goes as planned, local classical music fans will be able to keep listening to their favorite radio programming on WCRB-FM.That's the opening sentence of the story in this morning's Globe about a plan to switch WCRB's classical programming to 99.5 when 102.5 switches to a country format.
Here's how I would have written that sentence:
If all goes as planned, local classical music fans will be able to keep listening to the radio programming they settle for while WGBH and WHRB have different programming, assuming they don't have a fancy enough radio to get WGBH HD2.
6.25.2006
Schubert hurts his own cause
Schubert wrote too much music for his own good.
As I work, I'm cycling through all my music from the 19th century in chronological order. I hit the year 1822 this week, and with it Schubert's b minor symphony D 759. I've just been listening to Beethoven's late piano sonatas and Die Freischütz. The Diabelli Variations and Dichterliebe are in deck.
As I listened, I couldn't help myself. I started laughing. Measures 36-44 are the culprit. The first theme ends with a forceful cadence -- a syncopated, tutti dominant 7th chord returning to the b-minor sforzando chord. But the third hangs on -- the d is sustained by the horns and bassoons. The d quickly turns into a cadence in G(?), and like that, we're on into the melodic theme (nevermind that it's in the wrong key). That's a grand total of four measures of transition between themes, three of which are a unison pedal d.
That's a pretty typical Schubert move in his instrumental music. (With a few direct substitutions, we could be talking about the "Great" C-major symphony, for example.) It's astounding when you compare it to what Beethoven was writing at the same time in the same place.
If Schubert had only written his 700 lieder, his reputation would be secure. Individual songs like Erlkönig and Gretchen am Spinnrade are in the discussion of the greatest songs ever written, Winterreise and Schwannengesang are masterpieces, and there are so many great songs in between. There's no doubt of his mastery as a composer of short forms; however, he treated long forms the same. Just take one idea, through two or four measures of modulation in there, do another idea, and call it a symphony or a quartet.
Perhaps Schubert's spot in history is this -- no other one composer ever wrote so much great music and so much terrible music.
As I work, I'm cycling through all my music from the 19th century in chronological order. I hit the year 1822 this week, and with it Schubert's b minor symphony D 759. I've just been listening to Beethoven's late piano sonatas and Die Freischütz. The Diabelli Variations and Dichterliebe are in deck.
As I listened, I couldn't help myself. I started laughing. Measures 36-44 are the culprit. The first theme ends with a forceful cadence -- a syncopated, tutti dominant 7th chord returning to the b-minor sforzando chord. But the third hangs on -- the d is sustained by the horns and bassoons. The d quickly turns into a cadence in G(?), and like that, we're on into the melodic theme (nevermind that it's in the wrong key). That's a grand total of four measures of transition between themes, three of which are a unison pedal d.
That's a pretty typical Schubert move in his instrumental music. (With a few direct substitutions, we could be talking about the "Great" C-major symphony, for example.) It's astounding when you compare it to what Beethoven was writing at the same time in the same place.
If Schubert had only written his 700 lieder, his reputation would be secure. Individual songs like Erlkönig and Gretchen am Spinnrade are in the discussion of the greatest songs ever written, Winterreise and Schwannengesang are masterpieces, and there are so many great songs in between. There's no doubt of his mastery as a composer of short forms; however, he treated long forms the same. Just take one idea, through two or four measures of modulation in there, do another idea, and call it a symphony or a quartet.
Perhaps Schubert's spot in history is this -- no other one composer ever wrote so much great music and so much terrible music.
6.21.2006
BMOP's Angels
I'm not sure how much there is to say about Peter Eötvös's Angels in America. The music was excellent, even if in a slightly out-of-date style. There performances were strong. Dramatically, it was a huge stretch to cut 6 hours of play into two and a half hours of opera; if you try to think of it as a play, it will be very disappointing.
The tickets have sold well; the first three performances sold out, and Saturday's tickets are running out. Before the show last night, I remarked that I was impressed so many people in Boston had heard of Peter Eötvös, let alone were willing to go see an opera he wrote. My initial inclination was right, though. There were a number of disappointed people complaining during intermission. (They were at an opera by Peter Eötvös. What did they expect? It's not like Eötvös's music used to be easy listening, and then he had a sudden stylistic shift.) Still, I hope that the dramatic story opened some ears to a kind of music perhaps they hadn't heard previously.
The tickets have sold well; the first three performances sold out, and Saturday's tickets are running out. Before the show last night, I remarked that I was impressed so many people in Boston had heard of Peter Eötvös, let alone were willing to go see an opera he wrote. My initial inclination was right, though. There were a number of disappointed people complaining during intermission. (They were at an opera by Peter Eötvös. What did they expect? It's not like Eötvös's music used to be easy listening, and then he had a sudden stylistic shift.) Still, I hope that the dramatic story opened some ears to a kind of music perhaps they hadn't heard previously.
6.12.2006
Jewish music on the march
Jewish composers have come a long way since Solomone Rossi.
When I read that Ligeti passed away, my initial reaction was so passes the greatest Jewish composer since the war. As I thought about it more, though, I realized just how much Jewish comopsers owned the 20th century, from Mahler to Golijov, the way German composers owned the previous two.
It's hard to find an important movement of 20th century composition that didn't have Jews at the forefront. The father of them all, of course, is Schoenberg. Later twelve-tone adherents include Babbit and Rochberg. The more mainstream composers include Gershwin, Bernstein, and Copland. For the minimalists and post-, Steve Reich and Philip Glass lead the way. Even the experimentalists have Zorn. Looking at the list of American Jewish composers, and thinking about the non-American ones as well, it almost seems easier to make a list of non-Jewish composers of note.
It makes sense that Jewish composers would come into their own after the 19th century, as the reform movement and secularization took hold in Germany. While there were a handfull of of Jewish composers, including those that weren't actually Jewish (Mendelssohn), it took until the end of the century for the wide-spread influence to take hold.
I can't help but wonder what Wagner would think about Jewish music now that their music is so irrevocably tied to the history of 20th century music. While I don't excuse his anti-Semitism, the most famous Jewish comopsers of his day were inferior (Meyerbeer and Offenbach). I'd like to think that were he still alive, he'd have to concede that Jews wrote music every bit as good as his own.
When I read that Ligeti passed away, my initial reaction was so passes the greatest Jewish composer since the war. As I thought about it more, though, I realized just how much Jewish comopsers owned the 20th century, from Mahler to Golijov, the way German composers owned the previous two.
It's hard to find an important movement of 20th century composition that didn't have Jews at the forefront. The father of them all, of course, is Schoenberg. Later twelve-tone adherents include Babbit and Rochberg. The more mainstream composers include Gershwin, Bernstein, and Copland. For the minimalists and post-, Steve Reich and Philip Glass lead the way. Even the experimentalists have Zorn. Looking at the list of American Jewish composers, and thinking about the non-American ones as well, it almost seems easier to make a list of non-Jewish composers of note.
It makes sense that Jewish composers would come into their own after the 19th century, as the reform movement and secularization took hold in Germany. While there were a handfull of of Jewish composers, including those that weren't actually Jewish (Mendelssohn), it took until the end of the century for the wide-spread influence to take hold.
I can't help but wonder what Wagner would think about Jewish music now that their music is so irrevocably tied to the history of 20th century music. While I don't excuse his anti-Semitism, the most famous Jewish comopsers of his day were inferior (Meyerbeer and Offenbach). I'd like to think that were he still alive, he'd have to concede that Jews wrote music every bit as good as his own.
5.17.2006
For Webern, Brief means Long
Bernard Holland had a very odd line in his column last Sunday on juvenalia:
What's so striking about the orchestral idyll is the aspect that Holland manages to get completely wrong: it is anything but brief. At sixteen minutes, it's actually the longest thing Webern ever wrote. Webern's trademark concision isn't there yet. Instead this piece models itself on Mahlerian and Wagnerian expansiveness.
Probably the best description of it is that there's nothing wrong with it. Its sixteen minutes go by with great proficiency on Webern's part, but it doesn't sound like him at all. It's clearly the work of a raw talent in need of guidance. Fortunately for us Webern met Schoenberg soon after completing the idyll, and before too long wrote the perfect passacaglia.
I wouldn't say there's an inherint problem with programming Im Sommerwind. It's only problematic if it gets chosen as the token Webern piece at the expensive of the masterpieces like his Op. 21 Symphony.
Then there is poor Anton Webern, whose reputation rests for a great many concertgoers on youthful Mahlerian effusions like "Im Sommerwind," a brief, playable piece that serves as a convenient escape for orchestra administrators wanting to appear hip without actually having to risk alienating listeners.I discovered Im Sommerwind from the newer Webern Box set. I found it to be quite a shock -- somehow, I wanted Webern to be be born fully formed, ready to write his Op. 1 Passacaglia. But that wasn't true, and so we're left with a handful of student pieces.
What's so striking about the orchestral idyll is the aspect that Holland manages to get completely wrong: it is anything but brief. At sixteen minutes, it's actually the longest thing Webern ever wrote. Webern's trademark concision isn't there yet. Instead this piece models itself on Mahlerian and Wagnerian expansiveness.
Probably the best description of it is that there's nothing wrong with it. Its sixteen minutes go by with great proficiency on Webern's part, but it doesn't sound like him at all. It's clearly the work of a raw talent in need of guidance. Fortunately for us Webern met Schoenberg soon after completing the idyll, and before too long wrote the perfect passacaglia.
I wouldn't say there's an inherint problem with programming Im Sommerwind. It's only problematic if it gets chosen as the token Webern piece at the expensive of the masterpieces like his Op. 21 Symphony.
5.06.2006
Brundibar, Standing on its Own?
Why let historical fact get in the way of a nice story?
Any discussion of Han Krása's Brundibár immediately becomes a discussion of its 55 performances in the Terezin concentration camp, the role it had in the lives of the children who lived there. It becomes an uplifting story, about how these children used this satiric anti-Hitler opera to defy their terrible surroundings, and how special the final victory song is. Brundibár becomes the Holocaust Opera. It's a nice little story, but it doesn't check out.
For starters, Kans Krása and Adolf Hoffmeister collaborated on the opera before the Nazi invasion of Czechoslovakia. It wasn't written in response to the experience in the concentration camp. It's just a sad quirk of history that it happened to end up with so many performances in the camp. It's no more a Holocaust work of art the way Beethoven's 9th is Nazi music. After all, Hitler attended performances in Berlin of that great symphony. Perhaps more to the point, Brundibár relates to the Holocaust the same was Mendelssohn's Elijah does. Both were written before the war and performed by inmates at Terezin.
If we consider Brundibár on its own, it fits into the tradition of the Children's opera that had currency in Europe at that time. Kurt Weill was writing his didactic operas like Der Jasager, and Orff was working on fairy-tale operas like Der Mond. This is the context in which musical historians need to view Brundibár. (When Krása and Hoffmeister got together in 1938 to discuss the work, I somehow doubt they discussed writing a Holocaust opera and were influenced by other earlier Holocaust operas.)
So, then, how does Brundibár stand up if you remove the weight of history from its shoulders? It has some very nice moments, including the lullabye that proves to be its musical heart. Ultimately, however, it's hard to distinguish it from the rest. In a bizarre sense, it seems that its unfortunate place in history has actually given it a second life, as it continues to be performed to this day.
But more than that, I'm not sure how it holds up as the Holocaust Opera. There's a notion that somehow, by singing the final victory chorus, the children who performed it were defeating the Nazis. It's a very nice sentiment, to be sure. I certainly want to believe that music has that power. But somehow, I doubt it helped the 90% of the children in Terezin who were moved on to Auschwitz to be singing a victory song as they walked into the gas chambers.
Any discussion of Han Krása's Brundibár immediately becomes a discussion of its 55 performances in the Terezin concentration camp, the role it had in the lives of the children who lived there. It becomes an uplifting story, about how these children used this satiric anti-Hitler opera to defy their terrible surroundings, and how special the final victory song is. Brundibár becomes the Holocaust Opera. It's a nice little story, but it doesn't check out.
For starters, Kans Krása and Adolf Hoffmeister collaborated on the opera before the Nazi invasion of Czechoslovakia. It wasn't written in response to the experience in the concentration camp. It's just a sad quirk of history that it happened to end up with so many performances in the camp. It's no more a Holocaust work of art the way Beethoven's 9th is Nazi music. After all, Hitler attended performances in Berlin of that great symphony. Perhaps more to the point, Brundibár relates to the Holocaust the same was Mendelssohn's Elijah does. Both were written before the war and performed by inmates at Terezin.
If we consider Brundibár on its own, it fits into the tradition of the Children's opera that had currency in Europe at that time. Kurt Weill was writing his didactic operas like Der Jasager, and Orff was working on fairy-tale operas like Der Mond. This is the context in which musical historians need to view Brundibár. (When Krása and Hoffmeister got together in 1938 to discuss the work, I somehow doubt they discussed writing a Holocaust opera and were influenced by other earlier Holocaust operas.)
So, then, how does Brundibár stand up if you remove the weight of history from its shoulders? It has some very nice moments, including the lullabye that proves to be its musical heart. Ultimately, however, it's hard to distinguish it from the rest. In a bizarre sense, it seems that its unfortunate place in history has actually given it a second life, as it continues to be performed to this day.
But more than that, I'm not sure how it holds up as the Holocaust Opera. There's a notion that somehow, by singing the final victory chorus, the children who performed it were defeating the Nazis. It's a very nice sentiment, to be sure. I certainly want to believe that music has that power. But somehow, I doubt it helped the 90% of the children in Terezin who were moved on to Auschwitz to be singing a victory song as they walked into the gas chambers.
4.23.2006
The Passions According the Sons, Good and Wicked
When I think about the passion story, it's hard for me not to think about it the way Bach taught me to. The correct version is from the Gospel of Matthew; more than that, it's in Martin Luther's German. In some ways, it seems strange for me to hear certain phrases in any language other than German, such as Peter's denial "Ich kenne des Mensche nicht" or Jesus's cry "Mein Gott, mein Gott! warum hast du mich verlassen?" A large part of this is because I'm not Christian, so I didn't grow up with religious connection to the story. To the extent that I have any involvement in the story, it's as the villain (at least in the versions according to Matthew and John). Yet, I find it had not to be moved by the story as Bach tells it. For added measure, it's interesting to compare so compelling a version of the story to a particularly poor telling (in this case the snuff film directed by Mel Gibson).
If you've ever been to a Passover seder, you've heard about the four sons. The story goes, four times the Torah instructs us to tell our children the Passover story. The rabbis devised the four different sons who ask about the story in different ways. The good son asks what is all this that we do. The wicked son asks what is all this that you do. The wicked son is wicked, the story goes, because he excludes himself from the story. The good son, on the other hand, chooses to participate.
I was thinking about this on Sunday, as I was listening to the Handel and Haydn society perform Bach's Matthew's Passion. There's a lot of theology in the music. One famous moment comes when Jesus says to the disciples, "I say to you that one of you will betray me." They respond, "Lord, is it I?" Eleven times, once for each of the disciples, excluding Judas. In a couple of verses, Judas will ask the same question, and Jesus will respond, "Du sagest" -- "You say so."
However, that isn't how Bach plays it. Bach and Picander insert a chorale. These chorales (think of a hymn) are the voice of the congregation. What do they sing at this moment?
Not that Bach lets the Jews off the hook. The choruses that represent the Jews -- "Barabbas!," "Let him be crucified!" and and "Let his blood be on us and our children" -- are plenty zealous and blood-thirsty.
Fundamentally, however, the stance of Bach's passion is that ultimately, Jesus died for all people and all people have individual involvement. The penultimate chorus sums it up well:
So Bach and Picander encourage you to be the good child, and ask, "What happened when I betrayed Jesus by sinning, making his death and resurrection necessary?" Mel Gibson's snuff film pushes you to be the wickied child and ask, "What happened when the Jews and the Romans tortured and killed Jesus?" It puts all the blame on others, and in doing so, manages to remove the spirituality from one of the central moments of Christian history. It has no point or purpose; it's just violence.
Of course, he isn't my Jesus. After all, I'm Jewish. So what does it matter what I think?
But shouldn't my thoughts matter most of all? After all, as a neutral observer, I don't bring anything into the experience. If I can be moved, it's absolutely clear who is responsible. Gibson doesn't even try to go after the neutral crowd. He gives barely any hint of who Jesus was and why his death matters to anyone, let alone me. If you want to be moved, you need to do all the work yourself. That's great if you're already Christian, and can get excited about two hours of excruciating violence (and if you don't like Jews, all the better!), but it doesn't actually try to move anyone.
If you've ever been to a Passover seder, you've heard about the four sons. The story goes, four times the Torah instructs us to tell our children the Passover story. The rabbis devised the four different sons who ask about the story in different ways. The good son asks what is all this that we do. The wicked son asks what is all this that you do. The wicked son is wicked, the story goes, because he excludes himself from the story. The good son, on the other hand, chooses to participate.
I was thinking about this on Sunday, as I was listening to the Handel and Haydn society perform Bach's Matthew's Passion. There's a lot of theology in the music. One famous moment comes when Jesus says to the disciples, "I say to you that one of you will betray me." They respond, "Lord, is it I?" Eleven times, once for each of the disciples, excluding Judas. In a couple of verses, Judas will ask the same question, and Jesus will respond, "Du sagest" -- "You say so."
However, that isn't how Bach plays it. Bach and Picander insert a chorale. These chorales (think of a hymn) are the voice of the congregation. What do they sing at this moment?
It is I that must atone,Another type of commentary that is interspersed with the gospel text are meditative arias. The most beautiful of these is "Erbarme dich, mein Gott!" -- Have mercy, my God! (It's not just me saying that. The Grout-Palisca History of Western Music mentions it among the five beautiful passages that may be singled out for special mention.) This aria that is so powerful is immediately after the story of Peter's three-fold denial. It's one thing for Judas to betray Jesus; however, Peter, the rock on which the church is founded, turns his back on his lord as well. Bach chooses to emphasize this moment, just as highlighted the individual's role in that chorale.
Hand and foot
Bound in hell.
The scourges and bonds,
And your suffering
Has redemmed my soul.
Not that Bach lets the Jews off the hook. The choruses that represent the Jews -- "Barabbas!," "Let him be crucified!" and and "Let his blood be on us and our children" -- are plenty zealous and blood-thirsty.
Fundamentally, however, the stance of Bach's passion is that ultimately, Jesus died for all people and all people have individual involvement. The penultimate chorus sums it up well:
Now is the Lord brought to rest
My Jesus, good night.
His toil is over,
Caused by our sins.
My Jesus, good night.
O blessed limbs,
See, how I mourn with penitence
and sorrow,
That my fall should bring you
To such need!
My Jesus, good night.
While life lasts,
For your sufferings a thousand thanks,
Since you have brought me to salvation.
My Jesus, good night.
So Bach and Picander encourage you to be the good child, and ask, "What happened when I betrayed Jesus by sinning, making his death and resurrection necessary?" Mel Gibson's snuff film pushes you to be the wickied child and ask, "What happened when the Jews and the Romans tortured and killed Jesus?" It puts all the blame on others, and in doing so, manages to remove the spirituality from one of the central moments of Christian history. It has no point or purpose; it's just violence.
Of course, he isn't my Jesus. After all, I'm Jewish. So what does it matter what I think?
But shouldn't my thoughts matter most of all? After all, as a neutral observer, I don't bring anything into the experience. If I can be moved, it's absolutely clear who is responsible. Gibson doesn't even try to go after the neutral crowd. He gives barely any hint of who Jesus was and why his death matters to anyone, let alone me. If you want to be moved, you need to do all the work yourself. That's great if you're already Christian, and can get excited about two hours of excruciating violence (and if you don't like Jews, all the better!), but it doesn't actually try to move anyone.
4.08.2006
The Full Text of Berio's Sinfonia
Luciano Berio
Sinfonia
[B2] il y avait sang [B1] Il y avait il y avait il y avait unoe fois un indien marié et père de plusieurs fils adultes, à l'exception du dernier né qui s'appelait Assaré. Un jour, un jour que cet indien était à la chasse, les frères, les frères
Quand l'océan s'était formé, les frères d'Asaré avaient tout de suite voulu s'y baigner. Et encore aujourd'hui, vers le fin de la saison des pluies, des pluies on les voit apparaître dans le ciel, dans le ciel, tout propres et removes sons l'apparence des sept étoiles des Pleiades ce mythe nous retiendra longtemps. [B2] aujourd'hui vers le fin de la saison de la saison des pluies des pluies des pluies dans le ciel dans le ciel cans le ciel
[tutti] Pluie douce appel bruyant [repeated several times, broken down into component syllables]
[7 voices] sang [solo] sang eau eau [7]eau [solo] eau sang [7] eau [solo] sang [tutti] sang [7] eau [solo] eau [7] sang [solo] eau céleste [7] eau [solo/7 antiphonally] eau céleste sang eau eau terrestre pluie, pluie, pluie, pluie douce, pluie douce de la saison sèche pluie, pluie orageuse, pluie orageuse de la saison des pluies bois eau, bois bois eau, bois pourri, bois, bois dur roc arbre arbre résorbé sous l'eau un fils privé de mere, un fils privé de nourriture héros honteaux, héros tuant, héros tué, héros furieux, musiques rituelle [7] eau sang céleste eau eau terrestre sang eau terrestre sang eau sang eau terrestre eau sang eau eau eau terrestre eau eau terrestre eau célestebois bois arbre résorbé bois dur bois dur résorbé arbre résorbé bois pourri les héros bois dur le héros héros furieux héros tué [tutti] musiques rituelle[tutti] tuant tué
II
O KING
O King O Martin Luther King
IN RUHIG FLIESSENDER BEWEGUNG
[tutti] oh peripeti [T1] nicht eilen, bitte [S1] oh [A1] no [B1] recht gemä... [S2] quatrième symphonie [A2] duxième symphonie [T2] recht gemä... [S1] deuxième partie [A1] première partie [T1] quatrième partie [B1] troisième partie [T2] gemäche... [B1] In ruhig fliessender Bewegung [T1] sehr gemächlich nicht eilen [B1] keep going [tutti] peripetie [B1] peripetie where? [A1] and now? [B1] nothing more nothing more restful than chamber music [A1] when now? [T1] I, say I
[T1] You are nothing but an academic exercise [B1] no time for chamber music {...} we need to do something [S2] For though the silence here is almost unbroken it is not completely so he emerges as from heavy hangings. Hardly a resurrection [A2] we want that [A1] It seems there are only repeated sounds [T2] what? [A2] who? [T1] I prefer a wake [T2] why? [B1] Something is going to happen. So after a period of immaculate silence there seems to be a violin concerto being played in the other room in three quarters [A2] two violin concertos [S2] in three eights [A1] I am not deaf, of that I am convinced, that is to say half-convinced [T2] Keep going [B2] where now? [T1] With not even a small mountain on the horizon, a man would wonder where his kingdom ended [A1] where? [T1] Keep going [T2] what? [T1] a poem [B2] Keep going [T1] a danced poem, all round, and endless chain, taking turns to talk[S2] Keep going [T1] This represents at least a thousand words I was not counting on. [A1] three thousand notes [T1] I may well be glad of them {...} But seeing Daphne and Chloé written in red, counting the seconds while nothing has happened but the obsession with the [B1] go on [A2] with the chromatic [S2] and the chromatic again [T2] Where now? [T1] I am in the air, the walls, everything yields, opens, ebbs, flows like the play of waves [S1] Keep going [B2] Yes, I feel the moment has come for us to look back, if we can and take our bearings if we are to go on. [T1] Yes, I feel the moment has come for me to look back. I must not forget this, I have not forgotten it. But I must have said it before, since I say it now. They think I am alive, not in a womb, either... Well, so there is an audience it's a fantastic public performance [B1] and the curtain comes down for the ninth time. [B1] You never noticed you were waiting. You were waiting alone, that is the show. Keep going.
[A1] it is [T2] keep going [A1] is it? [B1] keep going [T1] it is as if we were rooted, that's bonds if you like – the earth would have to quake. it isn't the earth, one doesn't know what it is [A1] But you all know that they will bring me to the surface one day or another and there will be a brief dialogue in the dunes [T1] maybe a kind of competition on the stage, with just eight female dancers and words falling. you don't know where, where now [A1] under the sun [T1] who now? But now I shall say my old lessons if I can remember it. I most not forget this. But I must have said it before, since I say it now.
I am listening. Well, I prefer, that, I must say I prefer that [A2] that what who you [T1] oh you know, oh you, oh I suppose the audience, well well, so there is an audience, it's a public show, you buy your seat and you wait, perhaps it's free, a free show, you take your seat and you wait for it to begin, or perhaps it's compulsory, a compulsory show...you wait for the compulsory show to begin, it takes time, you hear a voice, perhaps it is a recitation, that is the show, someone reciting, selected passages, old favourites, or someone improvising, you can barely hear him, that's the show, you can't leave, you are afraid to leave, you make the best of it, you try to be reasonable, you came too early, here we'd need latin, it's only the beginning, it hasn't begun, he'll appear any moment, he'll begin any moment [A1] He is only preluding, clearing his throat, alone in his dressing room, or it's the stage-manager giving his instructions, his last recommendations before the curtain rises [tutti] that is the show [T1] that's the show waiting for the show, to the sound of a murmur, you try to be reasonable, perhaps it is not a voice at all, perhaps it's the air, ascending, descending, flowing, eddying, seeking exit, finding none, and the spectators, where are they, you didn't notice, in the anguish of waiting, never noticed you were waiting alone, that is the show, for the fools, in the palace, waiting [B1] the brightest star [T1] waiting alone that is the show [tutti] that is the show [T1] waiting alone in the restless air, for it to begin, while every now and then a familiar passacaglia [T2] (etwas zurükhaltend) [B1] not really [T1] filters through the other noises waiting, for something to begin, for there to be something else but you, for the power to rise, the courage to leave, picking your way through the crossed colors, seeking the cause, losing it again, seeking no longer. We shall overcome the incessant noise, for as Henri says, if this noise would stop there'd be nothing more to say. You try and be reasonable, perhaps you are blind, probably deaf, the show is over, all is over, but where then is the hand, the helping hand, or merely charitable, or the hired hand, it's a long time coming, to take yours and draw you away, that is the show, free, gratis, and for nothing, waiting alone, blind, deaf, you don't know where, you don't know for what, for a hand to come and draw you away, somewhere else, where perhaps it's worse. [S1+2] It's a real pleasure upon my word it is to be unable to drown under such conditions in a lake full of colors far from my walls [T1] where now? [A1] who now? [B1] keep going now [T1] when now? [G1] blood [A1] Just a small murder [T1] keep going [B2] hardly worth it, yet what can you expect [T1] they don't know who they are either [B1] did you hear? [T1] keep going [S2] Did you hear? [T2] stop [B2] stop [A1] do you hear? [T1] keep going [B1] Hören Sie? [T2]
It's late now, he shall never hear again the lowing cattle, the rush of the stream. In a chamber, dimensions unknown, I do not move and never shall again on long road or short. But the fact is I trouble no one. But I did. And after each group disintegration, the name of Majakowsky hangs in the clean air.
And when they ask, why all this, it is not easy to find an answer. [S2] la mer, la mer toujours recommencée [T1] For when we find ourselves, face to face, now, here, and they remind us all this can't stop the wars, can't make the old younger or lower the price of bread [A1] say it again, louder! [T1] it can't stop the wars, can't make the old younger or lower the price of bread, can't erase solitude or dull the tread outside the door, we can only nod, yes, it's true, but no need to remind, to point, for it is all with us, always, except, perhaps at certain moments, here among these rows of balconies, in a crowd or out of it, perhaps waiting to enter, watching. And tomorrow we'll read that ................ [mentions composer and title of a work included in the same program] made tulips grow in my garden and altered the flow of the ocean currents. We must believe it's true. There must be something else. Otherwise it would be quite hopeless. But it is quite hopeless. Unquestioning. But it can't go on. It, say it, not knowing what. It's getting late. Where now? When now? I have a present for you. Keep going, page after page. Keep going, going on, call that going, call that on. But wait. He is barely moving, now, almost still. Should I make my introductions? {This voice introduces to the public the other seven singers.} But now it's done, it's over, we've had our chance. There was even, for a second, hope of resurrection, or almost, Mein junges Leben hat ein End. We must collect our thoughts, for the unexpected is always upon us, in our rooms, in the street, at the door, on a stage. Thank you, Mr. {full name of the conductor}IV
[tutti] Rose de sang appel bruyant appel doux bruyant Rose de sang
[S1] Rose de sang Rose de sang appel bruyant appel bruyant doux appel appel doux [A1/2] Voilà voilà Il y avait, il y avait une fois un jeune, un jeune garcon qui suivit sa mere [T1] rose de sang Rose de sang [T2] Listen, listen, are you going already? Listen, listen, let me see your face once more [B1] nous voilà voilà where now? who now? And now? who now? [B1] Voilà quoi Voilà qui Voilà. Il y avait une fois. [B1,2] Il y avait un fois un indien, un indien marié et père de plusieurs fils adultes
[tutti] bruyant doux appel doux[B1] Partiel ou proviso ire, ce dernier commentaire n'est pas convaicant, car il laisse de côté d'importants aspects de nos thèmes. [other seven voices repeat the following words and phrases] sang, pluie, bruyant appel, doux bruyant, vie, sang, feu [B1] appel bruyant mais pourtant, mais pourtant les thèmes sont là. Partout, ailleurs mais pourtent voilà [S2] Partiel ou provisoire, ce dernier commentaire n'est pas convaicant. [A1] mais pourtant les thèmes sont là [T1] mais pourtant, mais pourtant, mais pourtant les thèmes sont là, quie affirment la priorité [T2] Listen, let me see your face once more. Listen [B2] where now? Keep going [B1] Partout, ailleurs, les thèmes inversent la valeur de leur termes selon qu'il s'agit de retarded la mort ou d'assurer la resurrection [B2] Avant de terminer d'une façon provisoirement definitive (à Vienne on dit "définitivement provisoire") il faudrait résoudre quelque contradiction
4.02.2006
The Early Music Aristocrats
Somebody referred to this new music joke at one of the Sequenza21 discussions, and I've been very fascinated it.
So, here it is, re-fashioned from new music to the HIP crowd:
So, here it is, re-fashioned from new music to the HIP crowd:
-I have to tell you about this Beethoven program I read about last week. It was really something.The key to this joke is that every telling is very different, so have at it!
-What happened?
-It was "Beethoven as he sounded to himself." They opened with the Emperor concerto, on period instruments, including a restored piano from Vienna that Beethoven himself once played on. It was really lovely, with a very interesting sound, at first, but then it started to get a little wierd. There were large speakers, though, which were playing this quiet, low buzzing sound that gradually got louder and louder. Meanwhile, as the piece progressed, ushers walked around from seat to seat with guns. They were only firing blanks, but right at people's ears, several times, until they lost pretty much all of their hearing. People wouldn't have realized that the concerto was over and that the 9th symphony had begun without the choir filing on-stage. By the time the glorious ode to joy wrapped up, everybody in the hall was totally deaf. Have you heard about it?
-Heard about it? I programmed it!
3.30.2006
The Best Chinese Food in New York (With No Chinese Necessary)
The hand-pulled noodles on the left are from Cafe Kashkarin Brooklyn.It's one of the few places outside of mainland China where it's possible to get genuine lagman (拉面 in Chinese).
I should clarify that the stir-fried noodles above are half-eaten, which is why it looks a little skimpy. To me, it tasted just like the 炒面 I got in the little noodle shops I ate in throughout China.
As much as I'd like the picture to be the story here, the only way to really get the story is to find your way out to 1141 Brighton Beach Boulevard. It takes forever to get there from Manhattan, but it's well worth the trek. (It's not quite as far as China, after all.)
3.27.2006
The Problem with "World Music"
There's an interesting point within this review of music from the Congo. It has become a big hit in Europe, outselling more "professional" recordings of traditional African music. Those other recordings, made by crossover musicians, are smooth to the point of inauthenticity. This particular recording is much more genuine, and that is what people are interested in.
I am certainly very familiar with this sentiment, having spent months travelling around China searching for an authentic recording of Buddhist music. I think it points to a bigger problem, though, with the whole idea of "world music." When this music was written in central Africa, they didn't think of themselves as "world musicians." The performers were doing exactly the same thing that Bach or Palestrina or those Buddhist monks or anyone was doing. Music was part of the ceremonies of their particular religion, and that's what they practiced.
If we segregate "world music" off to a special section, and run it through special cross-over arrangments to make it smoother and remove some of the rough edges, we're killing it. I shudder to think that someone might want to make Beethoven or Schoenberg smoother for a cross-over audience, or the medieval music I love so much. Why not give the same respect to the music written outside of Europe and North America?
I am certainly very familiar with this sentiment, having spent months travelling around China searching for an authentic recording of Buddhist music. I think it points to a bigger problem, though, with the whole idea of "world music." When this music was written in central Africa, they didn't think of themselves as "world musicians." The performers were doing exactly the same thing that Bach or Palestrina or those Buddhist monks or anyone was doing. Music was part of the ceremonies of their particular religion, and that's what they practiced.
If we segregate "world music" off to a special section, and run it through special cross-over arrangments to make it smoother and remove some of the rough edges, we're killing it. I shudder to think that someone might want to make Beethoven or Schoenberg smoother for a cross-over audience, or the medieval music I love so much. Why not give the same respect to the music written outside of Europe and North America?
3.14.2006
What REALLY Happened to Levine?
It's old news now that James Levine had season-ending rotator cuff surgery. The season in question, though, was only the Met season. As reported in the Glob:
Last month I wrote about how Boston and New York were sharing Levine. But maybe someone in Boston doesn't want to share. Maybe it was specifically calculated to down Levine from the end of his share of the BSO winter season through the start of Tanglewood. Maybe it wasn't an accident.
We'll never know.
Meanwhile, the managing director of the Boston Symphony, Mark Volpe, said Levine's doctor's expect the maestro to fully recovered in time for his next scheduled appearance with the BSO -- the July 7 opening of the Tanglewood season in Lenox.(Though, let's put things in perspective: while I'm sure the people of New York are disappointed to miss out on Levine's conducting, at least his was less severe than than the most famous conducting accident in history.)
Last month I wrote about how Boston and New York were sharing Levine. But maybe someone in Boston doesn't want to share. Maybe it was specifically calculated to down Levine from the end of his share of the BSO winter season through the start of Tanglewood. Maybe it wasn't an accident.
We'll never know.
3.12.2006
Music of the Other Place
Of the many things I'm taking away from my current Bach orgy is that I'm very happy I didn't live in the Baroque era. I obviously like Baroque music and that of Bach enough to even attempt the exercise. However, it makes me appreciate the time we live in, where we can listen to music written 2700 years ago or this year. More than that, we're not just restricted to what is happening locally; we can explore music from all over the world.
An excellent example of this smaller world was on display at Jordan Hall on Friday night, as the Boston Modern Orchestra Project performed "Concertos for Indigenous Instruments." The instruments in question covered different parts of Asia, including Korean barrel drums, a Japanese zither, a Persian flute, and Chinese percussion.
The program included two premiers. Jin Hi Kim's "Eternal Rock II," for Korean Barrel Drum Set and Orchestra was the better of the two. The stage had a novel set-up for a concerto, as Gerry Hemingway stood on a platform in the back of the stage. The instrument traditionally belongs in temples rather than the concert hall, giving the piece a ceremonial quality. Two percussionists standing in the front corners of the stage acted like priests, telling the orchestra when to begin and end.
For the most part, the concerto alternated between orchestral passages and solos on the barrel drums, with a little overlap. Kim used a variety of rhythmic technique, as each section had a different meter than the previous. (To great effect, an early cadenza in 5 was resolved to a tutti in 4, the way cadenzas would typically hover on the dominant.) Kim also utilizes polyrhythms and hemiolas to develop the unpitched instrument.
Korean music doesn't have the same sense of pitch that Western music's equal tempered scale uses. To fulfill a Buddhist ideal known as "living tones," Kim uses vibrato, slides, glassandi, and special articulation. Reza Vali had a similar challenge for his concerto, a wooden flute. In the Persian scale, notes can have slightly different pitches depending on their function. Vali used these almost unisons to great effect, including a long melody for what sound like out of tune woodwinds.
Vali's concerto for the ney, a Persian flute, was titled "Toward that Endless Plain." It was strongest during the movements that allowed the ney to show off its breathy tone. The long lines, modeled on improvisation, were expertly played by Khosro Soltani. The orchestra created an intricate sound carpet for the soloist. Most of the piece came across like an oversized chamber work. The notable exceptions were the prelude and interlude, known as "The Abyss." These two sections were the weakest part of the concerto. (I didn't like it when Stravinsky called it "The Rite of Spring.")
Two older works were also on the program. The concert concluded with Yi°, the first movement of a cycle of concerti based on the I Ching (易经). The most famous piece based on that work, of course, is John Cage's Music of Changes. Tan's work features similarly fragmented melodies. It wasn't much of a concerto, though. It's a shame they weren't able to present "The Map," with its rich use of Miao folk music, though it's very understandable.
The other piece on the program stood out. Even though it was written for the koto, a Japanese zither with movable bridges, it was written by American Henry Cowell. This was a far cry from his earlier avant garde music. It featured a short conjunct melody harmonized in very different ways, starting with very simple, consonant harmonizations. As the piece continued, dissonance appeared and disappeared (including some very crunchy parallel half-steps). Masayo Ishigure played the solos.
Overall, it was a very strong performance by the BMOP, with a great program. Their final Jordan Hall performance, "Big Band," features music of Gershwin, Babbitt, and Bernstein, along with a commission by William Thomas McKinley.
An excellent example of this smaller world was on display at Jordan Hall on Friday night, as the Boston Modern Orchestra Project performed "Concertos for Indigenous Instruments." The instruments in question covered different parts of Asia, including Korean barrel drums, a Japanese zither, a Persian flute, and Chinese percussion.
The program included two premiers. Jin Hi Kim's "Eternal Rock II," for Korean Barrel Drum Set and Orchestra was the better of the two. The stage had a novel set-up for a concerto, as Gerry Hemingway stood on a platform in the back of the stage. The instrument traditionally belongs in temples rather than the concert hall, giving the piece a ceremonial quality. Two percussionists standing in the front corners of the stage acted like priests, telling the orchestra when to begin and end.
For the most part, the concerto alternated between orchestral passages and solos on the barrel drums, with a little overlap. Kim used a variety of rhythmic technique, as each section had a different meter than the previous. (To great effect, an early cadenza in 5 was resolved to a tutti in 4, the way cadenzas would typically hover on the dominant.) Kim also utilizes polyrhythms and hemiolas to develop the unpitched instrument.
Korean music doesn't have the same sense of pitch that Western music's equal tempered scale uses. To fulfill a Buddhist ideal known as "living tones," Kim uses vibrato, slides, glassandi, and special articulation. Reza Vali had a similar challenge for his concerto, a wooden flute. In the Persian scale, notes can have slightly different pitches depending on their function. Vali used these almost unisons to great effect, including a long melody for what sound like out of tune woodwinds.
Vali's concerto for the ney, a Persian flute, was titled "Toward that Endless Plain." It was strongest during the movements that allowed the ney to show off its breathy tone. The long lines, modeled on improvisation, were expertly played by Khosro Soltani. The orchestra created an intricate sound carpet for the soloist. Most of the piece came across like an oversized chamber work. The notable exceptions were the prelude and interlude, known as "The Abyss." These two sections were the weakest part of the concerto. (I didn't like it when Stravinsky called it "The Rite of Spring.")
Two older works were also on the program. The concert concluded with Yi°, the first movement of a cycle of concerti based on the I Ching (易经). The most famous piece based on that work, of course, is John Cage's Music of Changes. Tan's work features similarly fragmented melodies. It wasn't much of a concerto, though. It's a shame they weren't able to present "The Map," with its rich use of Miao folk music, though it's very understandable.
The other piece on the program stood out. Even though it was written for the koto, a Japanese zither with movable bridges, it was written by American Henry Cowell. This was a far cry from his earlier avant garde music. It featured a short conjunct melody harmonized in very different ways, starting with very simple, consonant harmonizations. As the piece continued, dissonance appeared and disappeared (including some very crunchy parallel half-steps). Masayo Ishigure played the solos.
Overall, it was a very strong performance by the BMOP, with a great program. Their final Jordan Hall performance, "Big Band," features music of Gershwin, Babbitt, and Bernstein, along with a commission by William Thomas McKinley.
3.10.2006
And the curtain comes down for the ninth time
I finished the commission. Tomorrow, it gets overnighted to the performer. I promised I wouldn't be cruel; let's hope she doesn't think I was.
Anyway, that finished, here's what's on tap:
BMOP is performing "Concertos for Indigenous Instruments" tomorrow night, featuring Reza Vali, Jin Hi Kim, Henry Cowell, and Tan Dun. The indigenous instruments in question include a Korean barrel drum set, a Persian ney, a koto (a Japanese zither), and Tan Dun's regular assortment of percussion. I'm really looking forward to it.
I'll pick up the Berio again. Hopefully I'll finish it within the next week.
At work, I've been doing my own Bach marathon, so I'll have some thoughts on that. (Yeah, I know the BBC did it in December. Oh, and you can look forward to me writing about Mozart sometime in 2008.)
So here you have it: two posts in a row about the blog. Really worth your time, wasn't it?
Anyway, that finished, here's what's on tap:
BMOP is performing "Concertos for Indigenous Instruments" tomorrow night, featuring Reza Vali, Jin Hi Kim, Henry Cowell, and Tan Dun. The indigenous instruments in question include a Korean barrel drum set, a Persian ney, a koto (a Japanese zither), and Tan Dun's regular assortment of percussion. I'm really looking forward to it.
I'll pick up the Berio again. Hopefully I'll finish it within the next week.
At work, I've been doing my own Bach marathon, so I'll have some thoughts on that. (Yeah, I know the BBC did it in December. Oh, and you can look forward to me writing about Mozart sometime in 2008.)
So here you have it: two posts in a row about the blog. Really worth your time, wasn't it?
3.05.2006
Time off from fake work for real work
I have a commission.
This is good, because I have a terrible record with completing compositions.
This is bad, because I have a terrible record with completing compositions.
I'll see you when I'm finished...
This is good, because I have a terrible record with completing compositions.
This is bad, because I have a terrible record with completing compositions.
I'll see you when I'm finished...
"...or lower the price of bread"
Whenever children find out that I lived in China, the first thing they always ask is what strange foods I ate. Did I eat monkey brains? Dog meat? Bugs?
Adults also tend to be interested in food, but the question is always how the Chinese food compares to the restaurants here. (My stock response? "Over there, they just call it food.") I always go into the same speech: that the kind of food I enjoyed the most, and ate almost every day, isn't available in America. I enjoyed the Uyghur Muslim food. The food has a strong emphasis on lamb and fresh hand-pulled noodles. The farther West you travel in China, the better this food gets (although it is available pretty much anywhere in China proper). The real center of this food universe is Lanzhou, the capital of Gansu province, which lends its name to the noodle shops in the rest of the country. When I took my trip around the country, I strongly considered taking a food pilgrimage there.
Accordingly, I was very interested to read of the economic crisis developing in Lanzhou, where a number of factors have lead from noodle prices increasing 2.2 yuan to 2.5. (Funny how economies work; even in Jinan, a bowl of noodles cost 3 yuan.)
Adults also tend to be interested in food, but the question is always how the Chinese food compares to the restaurants here. (My stock response? "Over there, they just call it food.") I always go into the same speech: that the kind of food I enjoyed the most, and ate almost every day, isn't available in America. I enjoyed the Uyghur Muslim food. The food has a strong emphasis on lamb and fresh hand-pulled noodles. The farther West you travel in China, the better this food gets (although it is available pretty much anywhere in China proper). The real center of this food universe is Lanzhou, the capital of Gansu province, which lends its name to the noodle shops in the rest of the country. When I took my trip around the country, I strongly considered taking a food pilgrimage there.
Accordingly, I was very interested to read of the economic crisis developing in Lanzhou, where a number of factors have lead from noodle prices increasing 2.2 yuan to 2.5. (Funny how economies work; even in Jinan, a bowl of noodles cost 3 yuan.)
2.28.2006
Beethoven's Masterly Melodies
Alex Ross is hosting a faux-commercial featuring the Masters of 12-Tone Music on his blog. It was a collaberation between long-time Cleveland radio host Robert Conrad and the Clevland Orchestra conductor Matthias Bamert. It's worth a listen, although I didn't find it particularly funny. I realize that it's just a parody, and I shouldn't take it so personally, but sometimes that's easier said than done.
It made me think about a similar commercial one could make for Beethoven's greatest hits, featuring the monotone melody of the second movement of the seventh, the four-note melody of the violin concerto, the kitchiness of Wellington's Victory, the minute of emphatic C-major chords that closes the fifth, the "gloriously arching melody" of the finale of the ninth, and so on. It's all about context. If you take snippets of Second Viennese School music out of context, it sounds ridiculous, but so does Beethoven.
Which brings me to one of my biggest frustrations. There's a sentiment I hear all the time, expressed rather succinctly as a reader posting in Artsjournal's Critical Conversations series back in the summer of '04:
I hadn't been planning to go to Schoenberg's 1st Chamber symphony/Beethoven's 9th this week at the BSO, but now I'm all fired up and ready to get my tickets.
It made me think about a similar commercial one could make for Beethoven's greatest hits, featuring the monotone melody of the second movement of the seventh, the four-note melody of the violin concerto, the kitchiness of Wellington's Victory, the minute of emphatic C-major chords that closes the fifth, the "gloriously arching melody" of the finale of the ninth, and so on. It's all about context. If you take snippets of Second Viennese School music out of context, it sounds ridiculous, but so does Beethoven.
Which brings me to one of my biggest frustrations. There's a sentiment I hear all the time, expressed rather succinctly as a reader posting in Artsjournal's Critical Conversations series back in the summer of '04:
In answer to ArtsJournal.Com's apparently serious, and thus pretentious question "[W]hether or not it is still possible for a Big Idea to animate classical music" may I offer the following as a possibilty: Melody.........singable, danceable, hummable, organ-grindable, uplifting, happiness-making, inspiring, lasting and eternal Melody.I'll never understand why John McBaine and others are so hard on Beethoven. His melodies were across the board terrible. Most of his symphonies only have one decent melody the whole time. These aren't miniatures; in the entire thirty-five minutes of the fifth symphony, for example, or the fifty minutes of the third, there's just one good melody each. Quite the opposite of "lasting and eternal Melody." What about his greatest accomplishment, the ninth? The first movement has no discernible melody (going by the organ-grinder test); the second's melody is too hurried and disjointed to hum; the third movement eventually settles in to a nice melody, but it takes a couple of variations to finally get there; and the fourth features a melody that would embarrass someone writing songs for the beer hall. If one were to apply a red marker to clean up the bad melodies in Beethoven's ninth, the result would last about six minutes. I for one am very happy, knowing that Beethoven cared little enough about melody to write his entire opera the way he did.
I hadn't been planning to go to Schoenberg's 1st Chamber symphony/Beethoven's 9th this week at the BSO, but now I'm all fired up and ready to get my tickets.
2.27.2006
Burn your Books (and Videos) Before it's too Late!
I've been following the nonsense in Colorado about the teacher being punished for showing a few minutes of Faust in her class. I didn't put it together until just now, but I had a strangely similar experience with a different version of the legend.
Last year, I got rush tickets for a BSO performance of Der Fliegende Höllander at Symphony Hall. Of course, that means having almost three hours to kill between getting the tickets at 5:00 and the 8:00 performance. First things first, I went to get an inexpensive dinner. I sat down at the restaurant with the copy of Thomas Mann's Doktor Faustus I brought along.
A man came by my table and asked me what I was reading. I told him. He asked to look at the cover.
"Faustus? That's the devils book, right?" he asked me.
He opened the front flap and read the description. "The devils book! I'm not going to touch this. Read this book, and the devil will take you down to hell. That Faustus, he's a bad man!" He walked back over to his table and continued preaching to the people he was with, about how only Jesus can defeat the devil.
I quietly continued eating my meal as quickly as possible, trying to ignore this guy. But I can only take so much of his condemnation and poor literary analysis.
So, I told him that the Faustus legend is a cautionary tale against shortcuts, and if anything, it should be promoted. The whole point is that Faustus tries to get all his knolwedge through the deal with the devil, isn't happy, and is damned to boot. Anybody who reads it will realize that it was a bad thing he did, and not do it themselves.
Of course, Mann's novel isn't really about Faustus; it's an allegory about Nazism in Germany, and doesn't really have anything to do with the religious issues this guy is talking about.
And, finally, as a Jew, I do not accept Jesus as Christ my savior, so in his mind, I'm damned anyway.
Evidently, he thinks I didn't understand what he was saying, because he repeated his speech and pacing around until he went into the (women's) bathroom. I hurried through the rest of my meal, cleared my table, and mentioned to one of the employees that they shouldn't let that guy harrass their customers or else they'll lose business.
I have the same reaction with this current controversy: the angry parents are so culturally illiterate that they don't realize that they're protesting what is, at its core, a very Christian story. I just hope they never run into Medieval mystery plays depicting Satan's banishment from heaven.
Last year, I got rush tickets for a BSO performance of Der Fliegende Höllander at Symphony Hall. Of course, that means having almost three hours to kill between getting the tickets at 5:00 and the 8:00 performance. First things first, I went to get an inexpensive dinner. I sat down at the restaurant with the copy of Thomas Mann's Doktor Faustus I brought along.
A man came by my table and asked me what I was reading. I told him. He asked to look at the cover.
"Faustus? That's the devils book, right?" he asked me.
He opened the front flap and read the description. "The devils book! I'm not going to touch this. Read this book, and the devil will take you down to hell. That Faustus, he's a bad man!" He walked back over to his table and continued preaching to the people he was with, about how only Jesus can defeat the devil.
I quietly continued eating my meal as quickly as possible, trying to ignore this guy. But I can only take so much of his condemnation and poor literary analysis.
So, I told him that the Faustus legend is a cautionary tale against shortcuts, and if anything, it should be promoted. The whole point is that Faustus tries to get all his knolwedge through the deal with the devil, isn't happy, and is damned to boot. Anybody who reads it will realize that it was a bad thing he did, and not do it themselves.
Of course, Mann's novel isn't really about Faustus; it's an allegory about Nazism in Germany, and doesn't really have anything to do with the religious issues this guy is talking about.
And, finally, as a Jew, I do not accept Jesus as Christ my savior, so in his mind, I'm damned anyway.
Evidently, he thinks I didn't understand what he was saying, because he repeated his speech and pacing around until he went into the (women's) bathroom. I hurried through the rest of my meal, cleared my table, and mentioned to one of the employees that they shouldn't let that guy harrass their customers or else they'll lose business.
I have the same reaction with this current controversy: the angry parents are so culturally illiterate that they don't realize that they're protesting what is, at its core, a very Christian story. I just hope they never run into Medieval mystery plays depicting Satan's banishment from heaven.
2.25.2006
Folk sounds, both Eastern and Lower-Eastern
I had only a week left in China, that night I was sitting at the center of Xian, killing time before heading off to the train station for the overnight train to Chengdu. I was across the rotary from the illuminated bell tower. There was a busker was playing folk songs on an erhu. At that point, I wished I had some sort of sound recorder. I reflected on all the sounds I'd wanted to record during my time in China, like the bizarre music at the underground McDonalds in Jinan's Quancheng Square or the KFC across from the Bank of China in Wuxi, the cries of the pushcart vendors, and the opera teacher who lived in the flat below me in Jinan.
I had particular regrets about one evening in Nanjing.
My friend Cissy took me to Jiming Si when I visited for the weekend. We arrived shortly before they closed the gates for the evening. We did the normal things you do at a Chinese monestary. We climbed to the top of the pagoda (which has the beautiful view of the city walls and the Yangtze River pictured right). As we were about to leave, about thirty monks filed into the main temple in the complex. I suggested to Cissy that we wait around and see what they would do. They lined up in rows. One stepped aside and started hitting a bell. The rest started chanting. It reminded me a bit of Medieval organum, but it was a totally new sound that I had never heard before.
From that day on, I searched tirelessly for a recording of this sort of Buddhist chant, to no avail. The Buddhist recordings I was able to find were more influenced by Western new age music than anything from traditional Buddhist liturgy. (The theory goes that Buddhism has new-age appeal in America, so accordingly anything with new-age influence will sell to tourists, authenticity be damned.) When I was in Xian -- the same day that I found that busker -- I found what I was looking for. One of the gift shops inside of Dayan Ta was playing that music -- not the same chant, I'm sure, but the same kind of music. I asked them which CD it was, and the clerk apologized, explaining that it wasn't for sale. They only had one copy, but they recommended that I buy one of the many other CD's of Buddhist chant. I sampled them, and they were all wrong. That was the only time I ever pulled the "I'm an American, your feeble currency has no value to me!" trick the entire time I was gone. For the amount of money I paid them, I could have gotten one copy of every CD they had. It was fine; I finally got my chant.
Of course, that was just one sound -- as for the rest, they won't be recovered. Perhaps one day I'll return to China with the sound recorder and capture all those sounds. Maybe I'll even take a page from Tan Dun and The Map and try to seek out local folk musics.
The New York Tenament Museum has a wonderful project right now that focuses on the recorded sounds and folk music of the very diverse Lower East Side. You can make your own musique concrète with sounds from the city. They're working on features that will allow you to save your pieces and listen to others', and upload your own sounds if you have any. Hear the project first-hand at Folksongs for the Fivepoints.
I had particular regrets about one evening in Nanjing.
My friend Cissy took me to Jiming Si when I visited for the weekend. We arrived shortly before they closed the gates for the evening. We did the normal things you do at a Chinese monestary. We climbed to the top of the pagoda (which has the beautiful view of the city walls and the Yangtze River pictured right). As we were about to leave, about thirty monks filed into the main temple in the complex. I suggested to Cissy that we wait around and see what they would do. They lined up in rows. One stepped aside and started hitting a bell. The rest started chanting. It reminded me a bit of Medieval organum, but it was a totally new sound that I had never heard before.From that day on, I searched tirelessly for a recording of this sort of Buddhist chant, to no avail. The Buddhist recordings I was able to find were more influenced by Western new age music than anything from traditional Buddhist liturgy. (The theory goes that Buddhism has new-age appeal in America, so accordingly anything with new-age influence will sell to tourists, authenticity be damned.) When I was in Xian -- the same day that I found that busker -- I found what I was looking for. One of the gift shops inside of Dayan Ta was playing that music -- not the same chant, I'm sure, but the same kind of music. I asked them which CD it was, and the clerk apologized, explaining that it wasn't for sale. They only had one copy, but they recommended that I buy one of the many other CD's of Buddhist chant. I sampled them, and they were all wrong. That was the only time I ever pulled the "I'm an American, your feeble currency has no value to me!" trick the entire time I was gone. For the amount of money I paid them, I could have gotten one copy of every CD they had. It was fine; I finally got my chant.
Of course, that was just one sound -- as for the rest, they won't be recovered. Perhaps one day I'll return to China with the sound recorder and capture all those sounds. Maybe I'll even take a page from Tan Dun and The Map and try to seek out local folk musics.
The New York Tenament Museum has a wonderful project right now that focuses on the recorded sounds and folk music of the very diverse Lower East Side. You can make your own musique concrète with sounds from the city. They're working on features that will allow you to save your pieces and listen to others', and upload your own sounds if you have any. Hear the project first-hand at Folksongs for the Fivepoints.
2.22.2006
Is WGBH following Copland's mandate?
WGBH is currently airing self-congratulatory spots, playing clips of an address Aaron Copland gave on its inaugural broadcast. To paraphrase, Copland says that 'GBH should particularly focus on music of our own time and place, to the point that contemporary American music is as well known as that of the classical masters. It's great talk, and I absolutely agree with the sentiment, but it made me consider: does WGBH actually do that?
The live BSO broadcasts certainly help, as they have first crack at many BSO commissions and other contemporary pieces selected by Levine. On Thanksgiving and July 4, they focus on American music. There's also the year-end "eulogy" program dedicated to musicians and composers who passed away that always includes a lot of contemporary music.
However, over the course of the week, it doesn't seem that they play all that much in the way of truly contemporary music. (Don't get me wrong; their programing is certainly far superior to WCRB's small, confined box.) For a very obvious example, last Wednesday was the birthday of Worcester's own John Adams. Adams seems to perfectly fit the mold that Copland described, as a composer of this time and place. However, WGBH chose not to play any of his music. (It's certainly not for lack of available recordings.) WHRB, on the other hand, has two pieces by Adams programmed for this past month, in addition to many other contemporary composers, equally famous and obscure.
In fairness, I should point out their wonderful site devoted to American music, Art of the States. And, again, I do think WGBH has good programming on the balance. However, instead of highlighting WGBH's good qualities, Aaron Copland reminds us that surely WGBH could do more.
The live BSO broadcasts certainly help, as they have first crack at many BSO commissions and other contemporary pieces selected by Levine. On Thanksgiving and July 4, they focus on American music. There's also the year-end "eulogy" program dedicated to musicians and composers who passed away that always includes a lot of contemporary music.
However, over the course of the week, it doesn't seem that they play all that much in the way of truly contemporary music. (Don't get me wrong; their programing is certainly far superior to WCRB's small, confined box.) For a very obvious example, last Wednesday was the birthday of Worcester's own John Adams. Adams seems to perfectly fit the mold that Copland described, as a composer of this time and place. However, WGBH chose not to play any of his music. (It's certainly not for lack of available recordings.) WHRB, on the other hand, has two pieces by Adams programmed for this past month, in addition to many other contemporary composers, equally famous and obscure.
In fairness, I should point out their wonderful site devoted to American music, Art of the States. And, again, I do think WGBH has good programming on the balance. However, instead of highlighting WGBH's good qualities, Aaron Copland reminds us that surely WGBH could do more.
2.20.2006
The Verdi of Egypt
Sheikh Sayyed Darweesh (1892-1923) is credited with bringing Egyptian music into the 20th century and was the first to incorporate European instruments and techniques into Arabic music. He was extremely prolific, composing more than 100 songs, thirty musicals, and eleven adwar (a long-form, multi-sectioned song with complex melodies), all in the last seven years of his short life.
Darweesh fused many different influences in his music: qur'anic chant, Italian opera, Syrian Orthodox chant, and traditional Arabic singing. He was so successful a composer that many of his pieces are taken to be traditional anonymous works. He once called himself "Egypt's Verdi," a description that fits on many levels. Like Verdi, Darweesh lived through political upheaval and nationalism. His music struck a chord with the Egyptian people of all stations. In 1979, his song Biladi (my homeland) was chosen as the national anthem of Egypt.
Darweesh's music was the focus of a concert with the Chicago Classical Oriental Ensemble, in promotion of their new CD "Soul of a People." In addition to a violin, a cello, and two vocalists (including guest artist Youssef Kassab), the ensemble featured an 'ud (a type of lute), a qanun (a type or lyre), and a riqq (a type of tambourine).
The two highlights of the program for me were Ya Nas Ana Mut fi Hubbi and Doulab Rast. The first featured an extended 'ud solo by Kareem Roustom, who is also the ensemble's leader. Doulab Rast featured solos by Hicham Chami on the qanun and Albert Agha on vocals.
The tour, which also stopped in New York and Washington, continues in Ann Arbor (2/21), Chicago (2/26), Seattle (2/28), and LA (3/2). More information is available at World Music Central.
Darweesh fused many different influences in his music: qur'anic chant, Italian opera, Syrian Orthodox chant, and traditional Arabic singing. He was so successful a composer that many of his pieces are taken to be traditional anonymous works. He once called himself "Egypt's Verdi," a description that fits on many levels. Like Verdi, Darweesh lived through political upheaval and nationalism. His music struck a chord with the Egyptian people of all stations. In 1979, his song Biladi (my homeland) was chosen as the national anthem of Egypt.
Darweesh's music was the focus of a concert with the Chicago Classical Oriental Ensemble, in promotion of their new CD "Soul of a People." In addition to a violin, a cello, and two vocalists (including guest artist Youssef Kassab), the ensemble featured an 'ud (a type of lute), a qanun (a type or lyre), and a riqq (a type of tambourine).
The two highlights of the program for me were Ya Nas Ana Mut fi Hubbi and Doulab Rast. The first featured an extended 'ud solo by Kareem Roustom, who is also the ensemble's leader. Doulab Rast featured solos by Hicham Chami on the qanun and Albert Agha on vocals.
The tour, which also stopped in New York and Washington, continues in Ann Arbor (2/21), Chicago (2/26), Seattle (2/28), and LA (3/2). More information is available at World Music Central.
2.17.2006
Egyptian Classical Music at Sanders Theater
Anyone who happened to hear The World tonight got a chance to hear about the Chicago Clasical Oriental Ensemble, which is currently touring with the music of pivotal Egyptian composer Sheikh Sayyed Darweesh. As Hicham Chami, the ensmble's executive director, explained:
He's seen as being the father of Arabic music, he's really someone who bridged both worlds, the oriental world and the western one, by doing things like composing for a piano and adding a piano to Arabic music and using harmony, all kind of things that were never done before.The American tour comes to Cambridge's Sanders Theater Saturday Night at 8:00. More information on the tour is available at World Music Central.
2.15.2006
Ahab defeats Whale?
Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.Thus ends the body of Moby-Dick. The sea is indifferent to the carnage that just occurred, as the Pequod sank and everyone (save the narrator) drowned. Save the strange quirk of fate that led the Rachel by the vortex where Ishmael was floating. The ending is a dark one, especially because the whale's victory is total. When the White Whale finally snaps the line and frees itself from the ship, Ahab feels it directly, asking "What breaks in me?"
It wasn't always this way, however. According to Steve Olsen-Smith and Melville's Marginalia Online,
The recovered notation shows that at some early point in the composition of Moby-Dick Melville considered a narrative plot in which the crew of the Pequod (or some ship of an earlier name) would get their whale—an especially dangerous whale even at this early stage, since it manages to sink their ship before it is slain.The fascinating web site publishes the marginal notes that Melville wrote in an important source, Thomas Beale's The Natural History of the Sperm Whale. It's hard to imagine that so bleak an ending was once much more ambivalent.
The site is worth a look. It's a rare chance to read over Melville's shoulder and see what he thought about as he thought about what would be come the greatest novel of the 19th century. Unfortunately, it's the closest thing we have to his early drafts, making it all the more worthwhile.
2.14.2006
Even more NY-Boston Sharing
I admit it. I was a little disappointed to read that James Levine is sticking around the Met for at least two more years. I was thrilled when Levine was appointed the to replace Sieji Ozawa. Since then, I've been counting down the years until he left the Met behind and spend most of his time in Boston.
I realized from the beginning that for the sake of an artistic turn-around, we'd be compromising some loyalty. Levine wouldn't be wearing Red Sox jerseys to the Hatch Shell on July 4, but we could live with that. (Ozawa's first pitch was a pre-game highlight of a pretty entertaining baseball game last July.) But I was hoping he'd finish his duties in New York and focus more on the BSO.
It'll be some time, I guess, but watch out New York; Levine will be ours alone eventually.
(Yeah, I'm only kidding myself. I guess I'll just have to content myself by getting a ticket to next week's Gurrelieder.)
I realized from the beginning that for the sake of an artistic turn-around, we'd be compromising some loyalty. Levine wouldn't be wearing Red Sox jerseys to the Hatch Shell on July 4, but we could live with that. (Ozawa's first pitch was a pre-game highlight of a pretty entertaining baseball game last July.) But I was hoping he'd finish his duties in New York and focus more on the BSO.
It'll be some time, I guess, but watch out New York; Levine will be ours alone eventually.
(Yeah, I'm only kidding myself. I guess I'll just have to content myself by getting a ticket to next week's Gurrelieder.)
Off-topic
As one of four American curling fans (though we do outnumber the three remaining hockey fans), I was mildly disappointed to see the US Men's team squander a chance to beat Finland yesterday, but I didn't care too much. After all, the men's team is just going to be outmatched this Olympics, so I wasn't surprised.
But what is going on with the women's team? I've be telling everybody I know about Thursday's match against Sweden since before the Olympics started. After all, it will be a rematch of the '05 World Championship, when Anette Norberg's team scored 6 in the final two ends to hand the Johnson sisters their only loss of the tournament to capture the title.
It'll probably be academic, however, as the women have lost their first three matches (including today's defeat by Japan, on a missed shot in the eleventh end). It's possible that they could get their act together and win out, but at this point it'll be pretty difficult.
(Though don't get me wrong -- I'm going to record Thursday's match and then watch it. While I appreciate that CNBC is devoting 3 hours a night to the sport, the inanity of the coverage is probably doing a better job turning people off from curling than creating new fans. Fast-forwarding through all the BS, the event will probably only take 40 minutes.)
UPDATE:
I'm thrilled that the men managed to pull through the bronze in the end. Good for them. (They showed me!)
The women's Gold Medal draw between Sweden and Switzerland was a classic match for the ages. I hope you got a chance to see it.
But what is going on with the women's team? I've be telling everybody I know about Thursday's match against Sweden since before the Olympics started. After all, it will be a rematch of the '05 World Championship, when Anette Norberg's team scored 6 in the final two ends to hand the Johnson sisters their only loss of the tournament to capture the title.
It'll probably be academic, however, as the women have lost their first three matches (including today's defeat by Japan, on a missed shot in the eleventh end). It's possible that they could get their act together and win out, but at this point it'll be pretty difficult.
(Though don't get me wrong -- I'm going to record Thursday's match and then watch it. While I appreciate that CNBC is devoting 3 hours a night to the sport, the inanity of the coverage is probably doing a better job turning people off from curling than creating new fans. Fast-forwarding through all the BS, the event will probably only take 40 minutes.)
UPDATE:
I'm thrilled that the men managed to pull through the bronze in the end. Good for them. (They showed me!)
The women's Gold Medal draw between Sweden and Switzerland was a classic match for the ages. I hope you got a chance to see it.
2.12.2006
Normally a Just Malaise
The plan was a weekend in New York, then get home in time to start my new job Monday morning. I'd make it to hear Spem at MoMA, shop at academy, eat at that Chinese Muslim restaurant out in Brooklyn, and feel very content on my way home. Then the blizzard came.
I fled the city, trying to stay ahead of the record snow. With some trepidation, I put disc 2 of Unjust Malaise on the hi-fi. Perhaps it was the wrong choice. 84 is such a mind-numbing highway, seemingly endlessly bland. Especially when driving its 120 miles alone, it's hard not to stay out of a stupor. The music would surely make it worse, with its own seemingly endless repetitions.
The opposite was true, though. If anything, the music brought the blandness of the driving into focus. It provided motion to what otherwise appeared still. (It's some achievment of the highway that 65 mph seems like not moving at all.) The endless road reached the Mass Pike quickly.
Surprisingly, I've found the antidote to I-84 in Connecticut.
I fled the city, trying to stay ahead of the record snow. With some trepidation, I put disc 2 of Unjust Malaise on the hi-fi. Perhaps it was the wrong choice. 84 is such a mind-numbing highway, seemingly endlessly bland. Especially when driving its 120 miles alone, it's hard not to stay out of a stupor. The music would surely make it worse, with its own seemingly endless repetitions.
The opposite was true, though. If anything, the music brought the blandness of the driving into focus. It provided motion to what otherwise appeared still. (It's some achievment of the highway that 65 mph seems like not moving at all.) The endless road reached the Mass Pike quickly.
Surprisingly, I've found the antidote to I-84 in Connecticut.
1.23.2006
Keep Going: The Text of the Third Movement of Berio's Sinfonia
[Editorial note: Here is a more flowing transcription of the third movement; the transcription of the entire work, in a more academic manner can be found in this posting. The spirit of this transcription is to try to capture a little of what the piece sounds like. I've filled in the blanks, so to speak, in honor of a wonderful performance I heard from the BSO, lead by David Robertson. Those who are interested in every word in the score, complete with punctuation and every last "Keep going!" should consult the other transcription. That one is complete with everything you can't hear, no matter how many times you listen or how many different recordings you own.]
A couple of days ago, someone came to my Carnival of Music post searching for words from the third movement of Berio's Sinfonia. I sympathized with this person; I had searched very hard in vain for its text, unable to find it on the internet. I got it the only way I could: when I visited my college, I stopped by the music library with my laptop and copied the whole thing out of the score.
As a public service, here is my copy. It should be noted that there are many overlaps and repetitions, not all of which are reflected below. I don't claim this to be definitive; if you have any questions, check the score.
I'll also note that there is one error in the score that I'm silently correcting.
A couple of days ago, someone came to my Carnival of Music post searching for words from the third movement of Berio's Sinfonia. I sympathized with this person; I had searched very hard in vain for its text, unable to find it on the internet. I got it the only way I could: when I visited my college, I stopped by the music library with my laptop and copied the whole thing out of the score.
As a public service, here is my copy. It should be noted that there are many overlaps and repetitions, not all of which are reflected below. I don't claim this to be definitive; if you have any questions, check the score.
I'll also note that there is one error in the score that I'm silently correcting.
III
IN RUHIG FLIESSENDER BEWEGUNG
This represents at least a thousand words I was not counting on. I may well be glad of them But seeing Daphne and Chloé written in red, counting the seconds while nothing has happened but the obsession with the with the chromatic and the chromatic again
I am in the air, the walls, everything yields, opens, ebbs, flows like the play of waves--
Yes, I feel the moment has come for us to look back, if we can and take our bearings if we are to go on. Yes, I feel the moment has come for me to look back. I must not forget this, I have not forgotten it. But I must have said it before, since I say it now. They think I am alive, not in a womb, either... Well, so there is an audience it’s a fantastic public performance -- and the curtain comes down for the ninth time. You never noticed you were waiting. You were waiting alone, that is the show. Keep going.
I shall say my old lessons now, if I can remember it then I shall have lived they think I am alive, not in a womb, either, even that takes time.
it is as if we were rooted, that’s bonds if you like – the earth would have to quake. it isn’t the earth, one doesn’t know what it is-- But you all know that they will bring me to the surface one day or another and there will be a brief dialogue in the dunes-- maybe a kind of competition on the stage, with just eight female dancers and words falling. you don’t know where, where now -- under the sun -- who now? But now I shall say my old lessons if I can remember it. I most not forget this. But I must have said it before, since I say it now.
I am listening. Well, I prefer, that, I must say I prefer that, oh you know, oh you, oh I suppose the audience, well well, so there is an audience, it’s a public show, you buy your seat and you wait, perhaps it’s free, a free show, you take your seat and you wait for it to begin, or perhaps it’s compulsory, a compulsory show...
you wait for the compulsory show to begin, it takes time, you hear a voice, perhaps it is a recitation, that is the show, someone reciting, selected passages, old favourites, or someone improvising, you can barely hear him, that’s the show, you can’t leave, you are afraid to leave, you make the best of it, you try to be reasonable, you came too early, here we’d need latin, it’s only the beginning, it hasn’t begun, he’ll appear any moment, he’ll begin any moment
He is only preluding, clearing his throat, alone in his dressing room, or it’s the stage-manager giving his instructions, his last recommendations before the curtain rises-- that is the show -- that’s the show waiting for the show, to the sound of a murmur, you try to be reasonable, perhaps it is not a voice at all, perhaps it’s the air, ascending, descending, flowing, eddying, seeking exit, finding none, and the spectators, where are they, you didn’t notice, in the anguish of waiting, never noticed you were waiting alone, that is the show, for the fools, in the palace, waiting -- the brightest star -- waiting alone that is the show waiting alone in the restless air, for it to begin, while every now and then a familiar passacaglia ] filters through the other noises waiting, for something to begin, for there to be something else but you, for the power to rise, the courage to leave, picking your way through the crossed colors, seeking the cause, losing it again, seeking no longer. We shall overcome the incessant noised, for as Henri says, if this noise would stop there’d be nothing more to say. You try and be reasonable, perhaps you are blind, probably deaf, the show is over, all is over, but where then is the hand, the helping hand, or merely charitable, or the hired hand, it’s a long time coming, to take yours and draw you away, that is the show, free, gratis, and for nothing, waiting alone, blind, deaf, you don’t know where, you don’t know for what, for a hand to come and draw you away, somewhere else, where perhaps it’s worse. It’s a real pleasure upon my word it is to be unable to drown under such conditions in a lake full of colors far from my walls
I am here so little, I see it, I feel it round me it enfolds me, it covers me, if only this voice would stop, for a second, it would seem long to me, a second of silence I would listen, I’d know if it was going to start again or if it was stilled for ever what would I know it with, I’d know. And I’d keep on listening I’d know if it was going to start again it’s late now, and he is still talking incessantly, any old thing, repetition after repetition, talking unceasingly, in yourself, outside yourself
It’s late now, he shall never hear again the lowing cattle, the rush of the stream. In a chamber, dimensions unknown, I do not move and never shall again on long road or short. But the fact is I trouble no one. But I did. And after each group disintegration, the name of Majakowsky hangs in the clean air.
And when they ask, why all this, it is not easy to find an answer. For when we find ourselves, face to face, now, here, and they remind us all this can’t stop the wars, can’t make the old younger or lower the price of bread -- say it again, louder! -- it can’t stop the wars, can’t make the old younger or lower the price of bread, can’t erase solitude or dull the tread outside the door, we can only nod, yes, it’s true, but no need to remind, to point, for it is all with us, always, except, perhaps at certain moments, here among these rows of balconies, in a crowd or out of it, perhaps waiting to enter, watching. And tomorrow we’ll read that Stravinsky's Firebird made tulips grow in my garden and altered the flow of the ocean currents. We must believe it’s true. There must be something else. Otherwise it would be quite hopeless. But it is quite hopeless. Unquestioning. But it can’t go on. It, say it, not knowing what. It’s getting late. Where now? When now? I have a present for you. Keep going, page after page. Keep going, going on, call that going, call that on. But wait. He is barely moving, now, almost still. Should I make my introductions?
But now it’s done, it’s over, we’ve had our chance. There was even, for a second, hope of resurrection, or almost, Mein junges Leben hat ein End. We must collect our thoughts, for the unexpected is always upon us, in our rooms, in the street, at the door, on a stage. Thank you, Mr. David Robertson
1.22.2006
Assessing Tan Dun
After thoroughly enjoying Tan Dun's Water Concerto a few weeks ago, I was a bit surprised by Lloyd Schwartz's review in the Phoenix:
But is that enough? Isn't empty virtuosity still empty?
I think these pieces are original enough and interesting enough that they are worthwhile. Tan is in the difficult position of living between worlds, and does a good enough job balancing the Western orchestra with his Chinese heritage. While I understand where Schwartz is coming from, I think Tan is able to overcome the formal difficulties.
It’s a shallow piece, three percussionists slapping and plunging various objects into deep, clear-plastic, electronically amplified “hemispherical water basins” — plish, plosh, drizzle, drip — with movie-melodrama accompaniment, in a pretentiously darkened hall. The orchestra and NY Phil principal percussionist Christopher Lamb, for whom the piece was commissioned, were expert, but the piece is all wet.That isn't the first time that Schwartz has written an unenthusiastic review of Tan's works. He also criticized The Map for formal reasons:
The Map amounts to an inflated orchestral accompaniment to 10 excerpts (more like a suite than a concerto) from films of Chinese folk musicians Tan made with video and sound artist Davey Frankel — which are projected by Frankel as part of the performance.I'm willing to believe that the video elements of The Map works better viewed on DVD than projected in large concert hall. However, I've never found its suite-like structure problematic. Its strength is that it brings in such a variety of folk music and is able to bring them together. These two pieces share a focus on virtuosity. In the case of The Map, it is a showcase for the folk music (rather than the solo cello). The Water Concerto is as much a showpiece for percussionists (and for the composer) as anything Liszt or Paganini wrote for their respective instruments.
But is that enough? Isn't empty virtuosity still empty?
I think these pieces are original enough and interesting enough that they are worthwhile. Tan is in the difficult position of living between worlds, and does a good enough job balancing the Western orchestra with his Chinese heritage. While I understand where Schwartz is coming from, I think Tan is able to overcome the formal difficulties.
1.19.2006
The First Love
Some things are ubiquitous. I don't think anyone can remember the first time they heard Bach or Beethoven. There music has just always been there.
Other types of music may require introduction. I never listened to opera until I heard Die Walküre. I'd been devouring Strauss's tone poems for six months, at that point. I had read about Wagner's influence, so I decided to see for myself. There was no looking back. Die Walküre was my first love of opera. The first love is that piece that opens a new world for you; it ends up not just standing alone, but standing for a whole genre.
Before Berg's Violin Concerto, I never listened to 12-tone music. I found Mozart boring until I heard K491. I didn't listen to lieder before Dichterliebe.
And that huge gap between chant and Palestrina? My first love of medieval polyphony was the rondeau "Rose, liz, printemps, verdure," by Guillaume de Machaut, featured in the Norton Anthology of Music. Before long, the rest of the pieces of late Medieval and early Renaissance music fell into place.
This was on my mind as I listened to the finale of Reece Dano's piece C#DG#BEC#G#F#D#ECD# (Pierre Boulez is Dead) on cacaphonous. It is, in effect, a transcription of the Rondeau for string quartet. I don't mind transcriptions and arrangments. (One of these days, I'm going to take a look at four very different Bach orchestrations from the 20th century.) However, taking a transcription of a Medieval rondeau and calling it Pierre Boulez is dead just made me angry. I'd like to give the piece the benefit of the doubt, as I haven't heard the first three movements (described an the ensemble's web page), but it's hard to get excited about this finale.
Other types of music may require introduction. I never listened to opera until I heard Die Walküre. I'd been devouring Strauss's tone poems for six months, at that point. I had read about Wagner's influence, so I decided to see for myself. There was no looking back. Die Walküre was my first love of opera. The first love is that piece that opens a new world for you; it ends up not just standing alone, but standing for a whole genre.
Before Berg's Violin Concerto, I never listened to 12-tone music. I found Mozart boring until I heard K491. I didn't listen to lieder before Dichterliebe.
And that huge gap between chant and Palestrina? My first love of medieval polyphony was the rondeau "Rose, liz, printemps, verdure," by Guillaume de Machaut, featured in the Norton Anthology of Music. Before long, the rest of the pieces of late Medieval and early Renaissance music fell into place.
This was on my mind as I listened to the finale of Reece Dano's piece C#DG#BEC#G#F#D#ECD# (Pierre Boulez is Dead) on cacaphonous. It is, in effect, a transcription of the Rondeau for string quartet. I don't mind transcriptions and arrangments. (One of these days, I'm going to take a look at four very different Bach orchestrations from the 20th century.) However, taking a transcription of a Medieval rondeau and calling it Pierre Boulez is dead just made me angry. I'd like to give the piece the benefit of the doubt, as I haven't heard the first three movements (described an the ensemble's web page), but it's hard to get excited about this finale.
1.16.2006
Et Resurrexit!
But now it’s done, it’s over, we’ve had our chance. There was even, for a second, hope of resurrection, or almost, Mein junges Leben hat ein End. We must collect our thoughts, for the unexpected is always upon us, in our rooms, in the street, at the door, on a stage. Thank you, Mr. TexasBestGrok.Welcome one and all to the Carnival of Music, back from a bit of a year-end vacation.-Luciano Berio, Sinfonia
This is the first carnival since December 19th. Quite a bit has happened since then.
For starters, the year ended. And a new one began. Which means that everybody had to write lists. So, here's a quick list of lists: Alex Ross, Ionarts, Sequenza21 , Night After Night.
Sad news on Christmas: legendary soprano Birgit Nilsson passed away. Here's a nice obit on NPR, an audio-tribute at La Cieca, a tribute by Jane Eaglen, snippets of a 1966 New Yorker profile posted at Hella Frisch, an appreciation of her recordings at Ionarts, and a remembrance by Astrid Varnay at Wagner Operas.
Moving from Wagner to pseudo-Wagnerian news, a movie based on the Tristan legend opened this past week. I think Jerry Bowles said it best in his one-line review: "Oed' und leer das meer." The Wellsungens did an interesting riff on it, and I had a series of questions I hope will be answered.
2006 has been dubbed the Mozart Year (everywhere except Symphony Hall). What better way to celebrate than playing with his remains?
The Grammy Nominations came out, and did include some classical CD's, despite the Academy's best attempts to hide that fact. Naxos was nominated once or twice. The amazing last-ever studio opera recording wasn't. (Big surprise there.)
I hope you've found my classical-centric links interesting. One of the nice things about this Carnival is that each week, it is a reflection of its host. Accordingly, it's very different every week. I encourage you to consider hosting it, so that it's short vacation this past month was just that -- a vacation. Long live the Carnival!
UPDATE:
Er, requiescant in pacem
1.10.2006
Water Music Version 2
Tonight, I finally made it to Symphony Hall for the first time this season, to hearTan Dun's Water Concerto (lead by Kurt Masur, with Christopher Lamb as the soloist). The piece was written in response to TakemitsuToru's death, and takes up one of his favorite subjects: water. Tan takes it one step farther, however, and promotes water from subject matter to featured soloist. The percussionist is given the following battery play with:
The piece is a great example of Tan's theatricality. For example, the beginning intimates ritual. It opens in total darkness. One percussionist on either side of the orchestra begins playing a waterphone, as a third enters from the back of the hall. Slowly, pillars of light reveal clear ciruclar basins of water.
There's much more to it than lighting effects, though. The various improvised water instruments are quite entertaining to watch. I had the good fortune of being right on top of the action -- second balcony, first row, right over the stage. I think the most interesting instrument to watch were the water drums, consisting of wooden bowls overturned in the water. The result is a nice, mellow pitch that can be manipulated by lifting or lowering the bowl with one hand while striking it with the other. It provides a unique challenge: unlike other percussion instruments, the bowls move as they float around the basin. (Tympanists never need to worry about that problem.)
Lamb manipulated all the objects so well, and Tan wrote such an engaging score that I was disappointed the piece ended so quickly. It's a shame he didn't write a set of encores for various water percussion instruments.
The comic highlight of the night came from the oboist that saw it fit to accompany the emptying of the basins with the famous theme from Handel's Water Music.
Unfortunately, there aren't any commercial releases yet. However, it is part of volume 6 of the Kurt Masur box set released by the NY Philharmonic, with Lamb as the soloist.
The Water Concerto shared the program with Bruckner's 7th.
hemispherical water basins, a small bottle, a pair of water cup drums, water gong, four water drums (wooden bowls of different sizes floating upside down in basins of water), slinkyphone, long water tube with foam paddle, water shaker, four Agogo bells, sieve, vibraphone (prepared with coins taped to the bars), and waterphone, plus a double bass bowIn addition to some creative and specialty instruments (such as attaching a slinky to a sounding board, or using water escaping from a seive as percussion), Lamb was asked to take gongs and Agogo bells and dip them into water. This changes their pitch and resonance, making a deeper sound that oscillates. It also adds a visual element: you can't see vibrating air, but the water makes the disturbance visible.
The piece is a great example of Tan's theatricality. For example, the beginning intimates ritual. It opens in total darkness. One percussionist on either side of the orchestra begins playing a waterphone, as a third enters from the back of the hall. Slowly, pillars of light reveal clear ciruclar basins of water.
There's much more to it than lighting effects, though. The various improvised water instruments are quite entertaining to watch. I had the good fortune of being right on top of the action -- second balcony, first row, right over the stage. I think the most interesting instrument to watch were the water drums, consisting of wooden bowls overturned in the water. The result is a nice, mellow pitch that can be manipulated by lifting or lowering the bowl with one hand while striking it with the other. It provides a unique challenge: unlike other percussion instruments, the bowls move as they float around the basin. (Tympanists never need to worry about that problem.)
Lamb manipulated all the objects so well, and Tan wrote such an engaging score that I was disappointed the piece ended so quickly. It's a shame he didn't write a set of encores for various water percussion instruments.
The comic highlight of the night came from the oboist that saw it fit to accompany the emptying of the basins with the famous theme from Handel's Water Music.
Unfortunately, there aren't any commercial releases yet. However, it is part of volume 6 of the Kurt Masur box set released by the NY Philharmonic, with Lamb as the soloist.
The Water Concerto shared the program with Bruckner's 7th.
1.09.2006
Berkshire Record Outlet
Do you remember those really productive excursions to the record store when you were first starting to build a collection? I mean those trips where the number of CD's or cassettes or LP's increased by 10%, 20%, maybe even more?
I've been thinking about such a spree.
The first netted me a lot of music I have since outgrown: Carmina Burana, Stravinsky's three early ballets, the Planets. Of the pieces I acquired that day, the only one that I haven't lost any affection for is Also Sprach Zarathustra.
I came to think about this trip to the Berkshire Record Outlet when I recently ordered Leslie Howard playing Liszt's transcriptions of Beethoven's 9 symphonies on Hyperion. The BRO price of 29.95 puts Amazon.com's 87.98 and Tower's 70.99 to shame.
The outlet takes advantage of close outs and deletions to provide a very diverse catalogue at a very low price. In addition to the horses listed above, I've found some more interesting and unique selections there. I was able to find some Babbit, Pendercki, and Cage there, along with Dufay and Harmonia Mundi's recording of Biblical songs.
There are a couple of catches: because of the ephemeral nature of their catalogue, you never know what you'll find. That record you passed on last time you ordered may not be there this time. Also, the web site is pretty clunky, but sufficient.
The best way to experience the outlet, though, is in person. It is very close to Tanglewood, on Rte. 102 in Lee, Massachusetts. The bins are wonderfully disorganized, leading to wonderful surprises.
With the price of CD's rocketing so much, BRO is one of the places where you can still find a value. It's a great store, and well worth the patronage of any classical music fan.
I've been thinking about such a spree.
The first netted me a lot of music I have since outgrown: Carmina Burana, Stravinsky's three early ballets, the Planets. Of the pieces I acquired that day, the only one that I haven't lost any affection for is Also Sprach Zarathustra.
I came to think about this trip to the Berkshire Record Outlet when I recently ordered Leslie Howard playing Liszt's transcriptions of Beethoven's 9 symphonies on Hyperion. The BRO price of 29.95 puts Amazon.com's 87.98 and Tower's 70.99 to shame.
The outlet takes advantage of close outs and deletions to provide a very diverse catalogue at a very low price. In addition to the horses listed above, I've found some more interesting and unique selections there. I was able to find some Babbit, Pendercki, and Cage there, along with Dufay and Harmonia Mundi's recording of Biblical songs.
There are a couple of catches: because of the ephemeral nature of their catalogue, you never know what you'll find. That record you passed on last time you ordered may not be there this time. Also, the web site is pretty clunky, but sufficient.
The best way to experience the outlet, though, is in person. It is very close to Tanglewood, on Rte. 102 in Lee, Massachusetts. The bins are wonderfully disorganized, leading to wonderful surprises.
With the price of CD's rocketing so much, BRO is one of the places where you can still find a value. It's a great store, and well worth the patronage of any classical music fan.
1.08.2006
The Subtext gets a Promotion
I wrote a posting nominally about my long stretch of buying only "new" or "early" music.
The main point, though, was the subtext: a list of CD's or links I wanted to throw out there, just to show that I have the CD's or use the web sites or whatnot.
Why load a post with tons of subtext, though, when you can just write posts about the ideas in question?
I'll start off by plugging Classical Junk. Dave does a great job with his eclectic playlists. At any given moment, you'll either hear something new, or have a chance to hear something familiar in a new context. It's a great example of what classical programming should be. Sure, there's no shortage of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, and the other WCRB 1700-1900 set, but they intermingle with other music, old and new, solemn and light.
The main point, though, was the subtext: a list of CD's or links I wanted to throw out there, just to show that I have the CD's or use the web sites or whatnot.
Why load a post with tons of subtext, though, when you can just write posts about the ideas in question?
I'll start off by plugging Classical Junk. Dave does a great job with his eclectic playlists. At any given moment, you'll either hear something new, or have a chance to hear something familiar in a new context. It's a great example of what classical programming should be. Sure, there's no shortage of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, and the other WCRB 1700-1900 set, but they intermingle with other music, old and new, solemn and light.
1.07.2006
The Deep of Night and the Sunrise
Greg Sandow, in his post on Art and Entertainment, threw in this little cookie:
I was really taken aback by that. My immediate reaction was that this scene has one of my favorite moments in the entire ring cycle, how can he dismiss it so? (In fact, the binding of my score of Götterdämmerung is cracked at that scene.) After all, this scene is the one moment of sympathy that Hagen gets. If Alberich were your father, and he pestered you for your entire life about the ring, you'd be evil too. (Alberich really pounds it away, using the phrase "mein Sohn" seven times in a relatively short scene.) Not only that, but Alberich insists to his son "Sei treu!" repeatedly as he fades away. (That isn't entertaining?)
The real high-point, though, for me is at the end of the scene -- the Morgendämmerung music in the transition to scene two. It opens with a bass clarinet solo (against a cello pedal), followed by a horn choir. When I first learned about imitative counterpoint in high school, I nominated this canon for closer study. What makes it so interesting is that Wagner is able to use some tricks to make it seem much longer than it really is. He uses fake entrances to create the illusion of a 7-part canon, even though the strictly canonic part had already ended by the final entrance. Even though the true canon is very brief, what follows is still a great example of tight-knight counterpoint.
Overall, the piece is very short -- just 50 measures -- and comes across as chamber music because of the severly reduced texture (at least until the end, when the low strings get into the game). This moment of stillness really is one of the hidden gems of the ring.
As a side note, I never noticed the (incidental) pun on the Well-Sung pair's name until I saw "Wälsung" in print in the score. I feel quite a bit behind the curve on that one, as everybody else has been talking about their name since before I even read their blog. (Evidently, they mentioned it as far back as November 5.)
In Götterdämmerung, the scene for Hagen and Alberich is a comparative low ebb, given Wagner’s standard, for both art and entertainment, but Hagen’s call to the vassals rates high on both counts.
I was really taken aback by that. My immediate reaction was that this scene has one of my favorite moments in the entire ring cycle, how can he dismiss it so? (In fact, the binding of my score of Götterdämmerung is cracked at that scene.) After all, this scene is the one moment of sympathy that Hagen gets. If Alberich were your father, and he pestered you for your entire life about the ring, you'd be evil too. (Alberich really pounds it away, using the phrase "mein Sohn" seven times in a relatively short scene.) Not only that, but Alberich insists to his son "Sei treu!" repeatedly as he fades away. (That isn't entertaining?)
The real high-point, though, for me is at the end of the scene -- the Morgendämmerung music in the transition to scene two. It opens with a bass clarinet solo (against a cello pedal), followed by a horn choir. When I first learned about imitative counterpoint in high school, I nominated this canon for closer study. What makes it so interesting is that Wagner is able to use some tricks to make it seem much longer than it really is. He uses fake entrances to create the illusion of a 7-part canon, even though the strictly canonic part had already ended by the final entrance. Even though the true canon is very brief, what follows is still a great example of tight-knight counterpoint.
Overall, the piece is very short -- just 50 measures -- and comes across as chamber music because of the severly reduced texture (at least until the end, when the low strings get into the game). This moment of stillness really is one of the hidden gems of the ring.
As a side note, I never noticed the (incidental) pun on the Well-Sung pair's name until I saw "Wälsung" in print in the score. I feel quite a bit behind the curve on that one, as everybody else has been talking about their name since before I even read their blog. (Evidently, they mentioned it as far back as November 5.)
1.03.2006
鲍元恺，祝你生日快乐
I purchased my first contemporary classical Chinese cd by accident.
Near the beginning of my year in China, I found a CD of the Long Yu and the Chinese Philharmonic Orchestra playing Schoenberg and Wagner. They did a fine job with the decidedly European selections. I didn't think much more about it for a long time.
When I got home, I listened to the disc on my computer. Something very bizarre happened. Instead of automatically playing, it opened a folder. What was in this folder? Mp3's of another China Philharmonic Orchestra CD, this time playing the music of Bao Yuankai, Wang Ming, and other Chinese composers of the past 50 years.
Today (at least by Beijing time), Bao turns 61. I'm very happy to (accidentally) know who he is and have some of his music.
Near the beginning of my year in China, I found a CD of the Long Yu and the Chinese Philharmonic Orchestra playing Schoenberg and Wagner. They did a fine job with the decidedly European selections. I didn't think much more about it for a long time.
When I got home, I listened to the disc on my computer. Something very bizarre happened. Instead of automatically playing, it opened a folder. What was in this folder? Mp3's of another China Philharmonic Orchestra CD, this time playing the music of Bao Yuankai, Wang Ming, and other Chinese composers of the past 50 years.
Today (at least by Beijing time), Bao turns 61. I'm very happy to (accidentally) know who he is and have some of his music.
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