Posts Categorized: Posts

Time to hop on the bandwagon

Does the thought of a middle-aged North German woman’s violin bow thrusting out into your face fill your little heart with glee?  Well then you’re in luck, because the Berlin Phil is now in 3D!  And you can even watch it in 3D on your computer, if you click on the links at the bottom of that page and then you are able to figure out how to activate the software (maybe it’s a PC thing?) and of course, if you have the proper eyeware.

Dare I admit that this development hardly came as a surprise to me?  Well, it didn’t.  Avatar may have announced the arrival of this revitalized technology, but there was another summer blockbuster that confirmed it was here to stay: Step Up 3D.

I recently took in a screening of this third installment of the Step Up triptych with these three other dudes.  Not having seen the previous two films, I was worried that I would be hopelessly adrift when it came to the plot.  Not so.   The writers were extremely generous in the pains they took rendering the story’s exposition crystal clear.  And the third dimension made up for everything else.

In all seriousness, I do predict that the Met will be the next to jump on the 3D bandwagon.  What exactly these organizations think they have to gain from going 3D is a little bit beyond me though – in fact, I already find the HD Met broadcasts a tad frightening in their intimacy… 3D threatens to go well over the line.

The other trendy new orchestra thing seems to be these season trailers.  Witness:

[bt-dubbs, is it like, embarrassing that they both chose Sibelius symphonies as their theme music for the present season? At least it wasn’t the same symphony… would be a little like showing up to a party wearing the same dress, à la Lucy and Ethel or Dorothy and Blanche?]

In fact, the Baltimore Symphony is even doing this weird thing wherein they present a concert of individual movements of the season’s highlights.  Interesting, isn’t it, that this modern idea ends up closer akin to what an orchestra concert used to look like 150 years ago…

I’ve got a much better idea for these orchestras, so I think it’s time for a pitch: instead of cheezy video montages and patchwork regional concerts, why not hire me to write a Medley of the big tunes that will feature in your season’s repertoire?  You choose the tunes and leave the rest to me — I’ll jazz ’em up with swell new show-biz arrangements and string them together with an array of irresistable musical theater transitional clichés.

[You know the type:

It will make for a killer promotional tool.  Especially when you film it — wait for it — in 3D.

My aunt Betty

OK, can someone please explain this sudden burst of cultural currency afforded to Betty White?  Don’t get me wrong – I’ve got no beef with said popularity resurgence, quite to the contrary.  B-dubbs and I go back – way back – to the days of Sue Ann Nivens on MTM (not to be confused with MTT) and her work on the Golden Girls informed my childhood, youth, and young adulthood (to which I still desperately cling).  I mean, come on, “Miami, you’re cuter than… an inter-uteran…” ??  That’s pure gold.

So, this is not meant as any kind of a criticism, just a statement of curiosity.  For someone who has been intimately (well, not intimately) familiar with Betty’s work for so long, it comes as a sort of gratifying but confusing turn of events that she would gain so much in popularity after having gained so very much in age (she’s 88).

Am I wrong, or did it all start with the whole Facebook groundswell to get her to host Saturday Night Live?  And what was that all about?  Now she’s on the Emmy’s, has a whole bevy of guest appearances on other TV shows, and is even starring in her own sitcom on TVland?

Again, don’t get me wrong, I love the woman dearly, but it all just comes as a bit of a surprise?  Anyone?  Maybe Betty and the rest of the Girls made some kind of pact that the last one alive would harness the combined powers of the other three and ride the wave to a new brand of stardom… or was it that they would all have their heads frozen?

Necessary juxtaposition

I’m sorry, but I just think these two videos need to share the same space:

Final thought: A few weeks ago, I was hanging out with my friend Eric in the avant-hipster Greenpoint neighborhood of Brooklyn.  It is entirely possible that both of these videos were spliced together using candid footage from this region.

The Sound that Says “Love”

I attended last night’s penultimate concert of the Grant Park Symphony Orchestra and Chorus Season – Mahler’s Symphony No. 2.  The rendition was simply splendid: the playing brilliant, the singing lustrous, the chorus precise, warm and immensely clear in their diction.  Basically, it was a great concert – even greater because the outdoor, somewhat casual setting gives me an opportunity to pontificate on one of my favorite subjects: applause.

See, you’re probably thinking – especially those of you who know me – that I am setting up to chastise the hoi polloi for their inter-movement ovations.  Nothing could be further from the truth!  Those of you who really know me (you lucky little cherubs) know that applauding between movements of a symphony or concerto (especially one written prior to the 20th century) is something that I whole-heartedly endorse!

For me, the best “inappropriate applause” last night came at the moment in the score when the development goes slamming into the recap of the colossal first movement.  You know the spot:

What better place to applaud?  The thing that I enjoyed most about applauding right there (which I did) was that it felt like that gut reaction of clapping when a really great rock guitar solo in a concert matches exactly (artlessly?) what you heard on the album -  not the knowing applause of the cognoscenti that follows a solo jazz improvisation.  At least, that’s what it was in my mind anyway.*  I just thought that such great, vehement playing of 2’s against 3’s really deserved some applause!

Alex Ross wrote a famous article on this subject in The Guardian, but unfortunately he stopped short of endorsing a new era of applauditory freedom.  See, the thing is, I wouldn’t be so very much in favor of applauding between movements were it not for the fact that composers specifically designed their pieces to elicit applause at the ends of movements.  So many letters have been handed down to us from antiquity in which the great composers take considerable delight in having a first or an inner movement applauded so much that they even had to repeat it.

Of course, the big problem is that certain places demand applause while others achieve a far greater effect by forgoing it, even in moments of exalted excitement.  In Mr. Ross’s article, he mentions the case of the third movement of Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique Symphony – which happened to be on the radio as I was driving home from the concert last night, incidentally – and which goes a little something like this:

Seems like the perfect place for applause, right?  Well, it would be, were it not for the fact that this exuberant finale happens to be followed by the most heart-wrenching suicide note of a movement ever penned:

To me, the big effect here is the startling, knock-the-air-out-of-you change of mood (or, let’s say “affect“).  The colossal weight of the fourth movement loses all of its impact if it doesn’t shock you out of the march’s vigorous mood – the effect should be akin to dousing a red hot iron with the Arctic Ocean.  I prefer to time it something like this:

or maybe even spaced a little closer together, just to be audacious.  Whatever it takes to give the audience even an inkling of Piotr Ilyitch Tchaikovsky’s inner turmoil.

But how to do it?  How can one possibly stop the inevitable outpouring of cheers and clapping at the end of a thrilling march like the third movement?  I think that an explanation before the beginning of the entire symphony would be a great place to start.  Explain and demonstrate to the assembled spectators just what it is that Tchaikovsky was trying to achieve with this stark juxtaposition and why they are in for a deeper, more thrilling emotional experience if they take the plunge into the fourth movement without any pause.

So, I suppose that my solution to the applause conundrum is to have audiences be completely educated and enlightened to the point where they can anticipate every nuance of a piece and respond to it according to my exact taste.  And when I’m Music Director of the World, that’s exactly what I intend to have happen.

Speaking of Alex Ross, is everyone aware of this?


*[Ed: “Are you saying “boo” or “boo-urns”?]

Where to begin?

The time comes a time in every blogger’s life when he must apologize for an extended absence, and now’s my time, so, Sorry.  Since last we spoke, I’ve been in a sort of Dustin-Hoffman-in-The-Graduate-esque daze, wandering from town to town like a half-drunk mosquito on a hot summer’s night.  I’m looking for some kind of conducting job since I’ve got, like, a degree in it now, but perhaps it’s time for a different approach.  The good news is that it looks like I’ll be able to scrape by on commissions for the next few months.

Speaking of composing, I finally premièred and recorded a piece that I wrote a year and a half ago, my Madrigal a 5 voci for Brass Quintet.  Which, if you happen to listen to, you might want to know contains my personal favorite ending of any piece of mine – a perfect fifth with a very flat major third, formed by the horn playing an open harmonic Bb (7th partial).  It’s in between a major third and a minor third – you might call it a “neutral third”, though it’s anything but.  Oh, I can’t help myself, here’s what it sounds like:

If something that wretchedly discordant doesn’t make you want to listen to the entire piece, I don’t know what will.

OK, another musical recommendation: the new album by Argentine “jazz” pianist Guillermo Klein, Domador de Huellas: Music of Cuchi Leguizamón.  I render the word jazz as a quotation because Sr. Klein rejects labels of all sorts, and considers himself merely a composer who works in a variety of idioms.  My acquaintance with the music of Sr. Klein came about because my good friend Eric “El Bensón” Benson spent a great deal of time in Buenos Aires a few years ago getting to know the man himself and the circle of musicians surrounding him.  Eric has been posting several interviews with the musicians on this album that he himself conducted at his blog Inverted Garden.  He has also been hard at work producing a radio mini-documentary on the album.  All highly recommended, despite the fact that this is certainly “fringe” repertoire if ever there were any – an obtusely named album (trans: Tamer of Footprints, I think?) devoted to the works of an Argentinian folk composer that most Argentinians have never heard of.  Great stuff.

Back to me now, since wrapping up the season of Monteux School in Maine a few weeks ago, I’ve been wandering down the East Coast, staying at the homes of various composers, writers, musicians, etc. – you know, the sort of East Coast Bohemian Élite that is my social group.  Return visits to the Midwest and Californ-I-A are on the docket.  One stop on this tour was a visit to a rehearsal of the BSO at Tanglewood with my good friend, the cellist Daniel Lelchuk.

This particular rehearsal offered much to talk about, almost all of it concerning the conductor (a major international podium presence) and just how indecipherable his motions were on the podium.  I had recently seen this particular conductor at work with the Chicago Symphony and let me just say that this rehearsal confirmed my worst impressions.

In the following days, I had the chance to discuss this rehearsal with some fellow musicians, but the more interesting conversations were with interested music lovers.  These people invariably begin their comments by admitting their lack of expertise.  They then go on to say why they like certain conductors but have trouble with others.  In every case, the layman’s opinion matches the musical worth (from my point of view, at least) of the conductors in question.

All this is to say that conducting is really not anything tricky to judge, much of the time.  I am a firm believer that any audience member who truly enjoys classical music on a gut level should be able to watch a conductor and judge his basic worth.  Do his physical movements seem to match the tempo, dynamic and “coloration” of the music?  Does his manner change when a major event in the music happens?  Or does he seem to be doing one thing and the musicians another?  Take for example:

For the most part, the conducting here seems removed from the music itself, frequently in terms of the basic pulse (which, YES, ought to be the minimum requirement for good conducting, although the fashion seems to be to ignore this entirely.  I’m not saying that a conductor has to beat all the time – or even most of the time in certain pieces – but if he beats, his beat damn well ought to be clear and connected to the musical fabric.)

Now take this (same piece):

I’m sick and tired of hearing about how Bernstein’s so-called “podium antics” were over the top, etc.  They weren’t.  Now, that’s not at all to say that his interpretations didn’t push the limits of good taste -  quite often, they did.  The distinction that I’m trying to make is that his bodily movements always communicated the music exactly as he understood it.  You may (as I do) disagree with what he was trying to do, but you can’t disagree with how he did it.

So take heart, you denizens (well, citizens at least) of the “uninitiated” orchestral audience – you are perfectly entitled to your opinion, and if what you see doesn’t match what you hear, there’s probably something wrong.

Time to update that resume

The New York Times reports that the orchestral world is ripe with job openings: 12 vacancies in the New York Phil, 10 in Boston, 9 in Chicago, 7 in L.A., etc.  To all my friends who are struggling young musicians hoping for their first big chance, I wish you the very best.

Interestingly, it seems that there are a spate of conducting openings of late too: Kahane Withdraws from Bach Festival, Kent Nagano Reportedly Stepping Down from Bavarian State Opera, Philharmonic’s Conductor Bows Out, Conductor Leaving El Paso Symphony, Orchestra Conductor Departs.

And I kind of think there might be an opening at the Russian National Orchestra, since Mikhael Pletnev has his hands tied up with other things right now.

On Glee

About 2 months ago, I received a request from some old friends/current readers for a comment on Glee, the FOX musical dramedy.  As of then, I hadn’t seen a single episode.  Thanks to the combined magic of iTunes and hulu, I’ve now seen a handful of them, including the final 6 or 7 of the season, and a smattering of episodes from the pre-mid-season break era (said to be the high point of the series).

So, basically it’s like this: Glee, for me, is sort of just good enough.  There tends to be a bare minimum in terms of musical/writing/acting quality in a given episode to keep me coming back.  But not much more.  I don’t think the show ever really figured out the tone of the show.  The writing is the main problem; it comes across as very glib much of the time, and what was an especially serious subject matter one week is really just glossed over the next week.  The sort of “logic” behind the characters’ various motivations and interactions is dubious at best.

Some of the acting is quite good – Jane Lynch as Sue Sylvester is really about as good as it gets.  To me, she’s about the only thing that keeps the show grounded.  The two male leads, Matthew Morrison as Glee Club leader Will Schuester and Cory Monteith as Finn Hudson, are just so much milquetoast.  It’s just so network television that the leader of the glee club would also have to be the quarterback of the football team, and white, tall, vaguely handsome and like 10 years older than any high school student.

[Speaking of which, isn’t casting people in their mid-20’s as high school students so like 90210?  Couldn’t they get someone even passably younger?  Hunter Parrish how about?]

I think that the “Puck” character is pretty great too, and the rest of the assorted p.c. cast are up and down.  Kurt, the gay boy character is definitely a talented kid, and special props go his performance of “Single Ladies”, even though he didn’t really do all the moves exactly like in the video, but then again, who can, aside from Beyoncé and those men?  [And yes, those are men in the Beyoncé video, it says so on no less reliable a source than WikiAnswers, and not JUST the darker-skinned one either!]

The big problem for me is that the musical numbers are always too popified (even for me!), too auto-tuned, too over-produced.  For me, the best of the musical numbers have been: Kurt’s “Single Ladies” dance, followed by the whole football team doing it (which, despite its incredibly obvious set-up was still hilariously funny), Kristen Chenoweth’s performance of “Home” from the “first all-white production of The Wiz” (p.s. mad props for using the original orchestration), and… that’s really about it.  The Lady Gaga performances were pretty lousy, but then again, I’m not really a fan anyway.

Speaking of Chenoweth, I think her character is another high point in the series – are there any Strangers with Candy fans out there?  Doesn’t the Chenoweth character just reek of Amy Sedaris’ Jerri Blank?

One thing that I will give the show points for: there are always actual human beings (high school students/that weird piano guy) playing backup instruments whenever singing is happening.  Yes, the orchestrations often become quite enriched beyond the visible musicians, but they tend to be pretty self-aware of the absurdity when that happens.  So, that’s good.

Things that were particularly cringe-worthy were: “The Lady is a Tramp” and Idina Menzel.

I’ll probably give Glee another shot when it returns next season, but I’ll likely not devote myself to the series and just wait to find out from other people which episodes featured particular highlights.

On the Road

I’ve arrived in Maine for L’École Monteux 2010, and I’m pleased to say that I’ve been greeted by warm people and warm weather!  Along the way, I stopped at the Eastman School of Music, which is BEA-UTIFUL, esp. their gorgeous concert call and the great cafe/sandwich shop that’s right on the same street.

I also stopped in Lawrence, MA, birthplace and first home of one Leonard Bernstein.  My goal was to find the house in which Jennie Resnick Bernstein (Lennyz Mom) lived and reared young Leonard.  First stop, the Lawrence Historical Society:

also known as the “Immigrant City Archives”.  And “Immigrant City” is definitely an appropriate name.  I felt like I was in Havana or someplace in this town, or at least in the Sharks’ turf.  When Lenny was a bambino there, however, it was mainly composed of Russian, Polish, Lithuanian, Ukranian, etc. immigrants.

As a newly minted member of the Lawrence Historical Society, I was afforded to access to the town’s complete archives, and the wonderfully helpful archivist (who I think really did not know what to make of me… [above]) brought me just about everything that the town had collected re: Lenny.  The Bernsteins lived in Lawrence only briefly, relocating to other Boston suburbs soon after Lennyz birth.  So, most of the LB file focuses on Lennyz 1983 return to the town of his birth to celebrate his 65th birthday.  Here’s the headline announcing his visit in the local paper:

After a little sleuthing, I was able to find the address of Lennyz house: 24 Juniper Street.  Here is Lennyz hood (and I do mean hood):

and here is Lennyz House:

which, all things considered, is looking pretty, pretty good.  Pretty good.  Many of the other houses on the block have wooden boards up over the windows.  It’s entirely unclear if the current residents have any idea of the historical significance of their house, or if they would even know who Leonard Bernstein was if I mentioned his name.  Although, the town does boast proudly of her son along the road into town (signage and all).

Aside from this great chance to add another stop to my collection of Bernstein locations (which includes the music school buildings at IU, I’ll have you know!), the other thing that I really enjoyed on this long drive was the chance to listen to Janelle Monáe’s The ArchAndroid over and over and over again.  This is SUCH a great album.  It’s got a little something for everybody, and a lot of everything for me.  The styles include a mix of Motown, funk, electro-folk (think Simon and Garfunkel but good), hip-hop, 70’s-, 80’s- and 90’s-style pop, straight ahead rock, jazz and a healthy dose of classical.  It’s got two overtures for God’s sake!!

Jane can do just about anything with her voice, sometimes inflecting a 1940’s-ish pop tinge, other times sounding like the child Michael Jackson at his Jackson 5 prime, and even channeling artists as diverse as Sade and Santi White.  Several of the tracks resemble “The Wiz”, and the whole album has a heavy theatrico-cinematic flare to it, the concept of the album being linked to Fritz Lang’s Metropolis.  Monáe’s band of collaborators are known as the Wondaland Arts Society and include the producers Nate Wonder, Chuck Lightning, and the composer/arranger Roman GianArthur.  It’s a dizzying blend of talents and well, well worth the listen.  The biggest hit so far is the infectious, brilliantly arranged dance track, “Tightrope”: