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?

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:
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.

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?

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...

"...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.)