Sunday, October 30, 2011

Anthology Proposal: If A Tree Falls...

Sorry this has taken so long to get posted. it's been a crazy weekend, but my fall concert at the Salvation Army went well. You'll all be glad to know that "Hip-Hip Cross Buns" was a big hit!


If a Tree Falls...


A collection of writings on concert performance, attendance, and relevance.




"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"


This may be an old, cliché philosophical question raised by people in an attempt to sound smart or be thought provoking, but it also has some relevance in the world of contemporary music performance. Its companion question might be: "If a telephone pole falls surrounded by an adoring crowed, is it really music?" You see, as orchestras declare bankruptcy and beloved (by some) "classical" music appears to be toppling, the role of music in the lives of 21st century Americans is growing. One can't walk across a college campus without encountering countless students accompanying their lives with a soundtrack provided by their Beats (by Dr. Dre) headphones. To the classical musician, music is a glorious tree growing from a central trunk of tonality and blossoming into countless branches of artistic and enlightening expression. Their tree is complex and intelligent, profound and exhilarating, but does it matter if no one's there to hear? These same champions of Art Music are angered and dismayed when they see the huddled masses gathered around and celebrating what to them is only the destroyed remains of their beloved tradition, only the trunk of what was once a beautiful tree.


Not all people agree about the state of Art Music. Some reject the idea that it is in trouble at all. Others suggest that its decline is not a bad thing. While still others believe that this is a problem that needs to be fixed. Even within these different viewpoints there is no consensus. The truth is that throughout history people have drawn similar lines in the sand at moments of cultural transformation. Those people who reject that something is changing are unlikely to read this anthology. Therefore, this anthology will look at this issue from two of these different perspectives:


1. Tree Huggers: an attempt to save.


2. Lumberjacks: encouraging the fall.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

The Onion Strikes Again

Pitchfork is a pop music review website that is notorious for their harsh critiques. This is perhaps the funniest spoof I've ever read. "Pitchfork Gives Music 6.8"

http://www.theonion.com/articles/pitchfork-gives-music-68,2278/

Monday, October 24, 2011

Royal Sound for ALL the people: The King's Singers

I had the great good fortune of seeing (and hearing) the King's Singers here in Mexico City on Friday night (10/21), and I have wanted to write about it since then. Sorry for having changed the format of the blog so that I, at least, could not figure how to post on it. But I figured how to change it back to a friendlier and more familiar format.

I want to respond to Todd's post "Critical Mass" from last week, and I will in the comments section, but he raised a number of important issues involving the function of music (as either entertainment or as high art). Actually we could organize an entire semester's seminar around the topics he's raised in response to Greg Sandow's chapter on "Classical vs. Popular."

I could not help but reflect on these issues while at the King'g Singers' concert. The group, which was founded in 1968, has six male singers, including two contra tenors. The members have changed over the years, but the quality of their performance over the years has remained very high, astonishingly so. Their singing on Friday night was warm and precise, thoroughly engaging and wildly appreciated by the audience about about 500 who showed up to be enchanted.

The program was devoted to a diverse group of English composers, with five groups of pieces organized by themes. The first was that of "master and student," including five pieces in the first group by Thomas Tallis and his student William Byrd (two by Tallis and three by Byrd). The second half of the program featured a group of five pieces by Edward Bairstow (2) and his student Gerald Finzi (3). The second group on the first half consisted of three pieces commissioned by the the King's Singers for the 50th Anniversary of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1952. The first half of the program closed with five arrangements of arias and ensembles from Gilbert and Sullivan's operettas. The final group of pieces were folk and popular songs in close harmony (including two songs by the Beatles).

Were this an "actual" review, I would talk more about specific pieces, but for our purposes I wanted to say that the singing was so sublime across the wide stylistic spectrum, that every piece seemed to me to be "sacred," in terms of its beauty and the skill and attention that the singers lavished on the music. One of the pieces dedicated to the Queen, believe it or not, was a humorous piece called "Mobile" that was about cell phones. It was reminiscent of Renaissance pieces like Josquin's "El Grillo," with its cricket sounds, or Jannequin's "Le chant des oiseaux," with the bird songs, but the special effects in "Mobile" are ring tones and key strokes! Silly as the subject matter is, the virtuosity of the performance commanded complete attention, if not awe.

Throughout the evening they sang with immaculate intonation and an exquisite balance between the voices. I had the sense that in every piece that ended with a sustained sonority, that I wanted it to continue forever, and that I could have just listened to them singing individual chords or vertical sonorities all evening.

The program was enormously gratifying and engaging, and was enthusiastically received, as the standing ovations at the end of the program, particularly in the second of the two encores, which was an arrangement of a beloved Mexican song, Alberto Plaza's "Aprendi di Ti," ("I learned from you"), sung in Spanish. Was this concert "popular entertainment" or serious ART? I couldn't tell. All I know is that I had many transcendent moments during the concert, times when I lost a separate sense of self in the sound. I was astonished that human beings can work together like this to produce experiences of such beauty and wonder. That's an art, and I felt blessed to be there.
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In a remarkable example of "ain't it a small world," I was talking with David Hurley (a member of the KS since 1990) after the program and mentioned that I was from UK (i.e., the "other" UK). He told me that Christopher Gabbitas's wife was from Kentucky. I mentioned to Christopher that I was from UK and he told me he met is wife, Stephanie, during when the group sang at the Singletary Center, on November 4, 2004! He had joined the group that year as well. They had a daughter, Bella, in 2009. We had a nice chat about Lexington and synchronicity. We should get him to come visit the School of Music when he is in Lexington with his wife and daughter! Anyway, it is nice to make such connections in unexpected places!

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Contamination and the third dimension

For centuries our culture and the dominant aesthetics have professed - and in a way dictated - a very definite and specific separation between different realms of the expression, styles, nomenclatures, according to criteria of convenience and appropriateness, and very much in line with correspondent social, political, philosophical divisions.

In the age of homologation, globalization, social - theoretically universal - equality, in the age of contamination, crossover, flexibility of genres and demolition of rigid aesthetical categories, nothing seems anymore inappropriate or incompatible, even the things that instinctively would appear the furthest away and the most unrelated - like a Norwegian saxophonist and Renaissance Spain, like the Book of Job and the Officium Defunctorum, with their sense of profound Christian mysticism on one hand, and the solipsistic, urban melancholic pathos of the tenor sax on the other. Today, under many respects, we are passed that time of contamination: the idea does not sound new anymore, even if the exploration keeps going in so many different directions. In a way, we are in the age when nothing can be surprising, astounding, and provocative enough. Today, a collaboration between a jazz musician like Jan Garbarek and the British “Hilliard Ensemble”, a male vocal quartet specialized in Gregorian chant, may not sound like anything new to our ears - and it is in fact a dated project (their first release, on the CD Officium, dates from 1994); but, listening to the “Parce mihi Domine” from their album, I find the artistic result of this collaboration still an appealing, fascinating, emotionally engaging musical experience.

In a way no two things can be found more tightly related and close to each other than the transcendental aspiration deriving from the sense of prosternation of a Christian in the presence of death and the Supreme Being, and the same longing that comes from solitude, from the annihilated impotence and despair of human being in a modern world less and less responsive to the most profound spiritual needs. From whichever side we approach these sensations, and we may access a deep and secluded place of our soul, moved maybe to some sort of mystical sense of universal belonging, or maybe to very private, individual feelings, I find that the saxophone of Garbarek floating on the calm, transparent, yet embracing texture of the four voices very much vibrate at the same time and resonate with our breath and with our soul. The repetitive, steady-paced framework of De Morales’s verses, with the balanced voicing in an almost constant homophonic writing, and the suspended, pensive quality of modality, create a perfect aural dimension for the improvisations of the saxophone, never intrusive, summoned from silence to ripple at times the polished surface of the vocal ensemble with its troubled, unanswered interrogations - the unanswered questions of which the text of “Parce mihi Domine” is entirely composed… The two elements together create a spacious, three-dimensional environment, and the result is one of profound calmness and openness, in which the listener’s perceptions slowly, gradually expand, in space and time; and gradually the internal dialogue between the two elements becomes one thing, that is close and distant at the same time, and gently pulls you in all directions and suspends your feeling of time - like a caressing but vibrant invitation to “let go”, to abandon yourself to this emotional and spiritual ‘drifting away’.

Critical Mass

If criticism is evaluation, what is the standard? Is there anything more to it than entertainment?

Today I really got into Greg Sandow's book Rebirth: The Future of Classical Music. His chapter on "Classical vs. Popular," which of course is being rewritten, really gets down to business. It chronicles the transition of Western musical entertainment into High Art and Low Art.

Citing especially William Weber, Sandow shows how Rossini paid homage--literally--to Beethoven, who dismissed the former's pretensions to Fine Art. Liszt is converted from rock star to Beethoven worshiper. In other words, as the newly named "middle class" replaced both the aristocracy and the clergy, its members simultaneously loathed and coveted both the aristocracy's lavish entertainment and the clergy's worshipful art. Hoffman claimed that Beethoven reincarnated the latter (Beethoven, we should remind ourselves, did not disagree); popular music from Rossini to Lady Gaga has continually reinvented the former.

In both cases, however, the tradition's original source of power had been removed, replaced with a substitute available to the bourgeoisie. For successful, money-making entertainment, the bar to reach was now lower than it had been in centuries. The bourgeoisie was educated, but it simply could not replicate the aristocratic culture it had sometimes nearly destroyed.

For worship, Beethoven's and Hoffman's creeds were similar to Friedrich Schleiermacher's. Schleiermacher's On Religion: Speeches to Its Cultured Despisers (1799) provided both an aestheticizing of religion and a sacralization of aesthetics that Hoffman and High Art's other 19th-century priests cannot have totally ignored. In connecting religion to aesthetics, however, Schleiermacher continued the tradition (of both the Enlightenment and its Romantic disciples) of disconnecting it from science. Instead of denying religion's power, Schleiermacher allowed that power to rest solely on subjective experience. Thus On Religion is often called the beginning of Protestant liberalism. Mendelssohn may actually have believed in the St. Matthew Passion, but he must have know his audiences didn't.

Thus organs and Bach cantatas are now more commonly constructed in new concert halls than in new church buildings. Hildegard is more likely to show up on MTV than on Sunday's service. Masses from the Western tradition composed by everyone from Josquin to Messiaen are received critically, aesthetically, ahistorically. The subjectivized aesthetic religion articulated by Schleiermacher soon became the objective creed of the Disciplined Arts.

Which brings me again to my question. If all music needs to do is entertain, who needs critics? Let every man decide what is right in his own ears. Why would you pay someone to go to school to tell you what entertains him? Pay him, certainly, to tell you whether it might entertain you; but don't make him be a professional.

On the other hand, if music must substitute for religion--and if the nature of that substitution is itself entirely subjective--who can dare to critique? If all this is true, who art thou to judge another man's servant? How many degrees and awards are required before someone earns the right to denounce others' subjectively derived aesthetics?

Sandow (not unlike Taruskin, though little love is lost between the two) wants to erase the high aesthetic claims for Art Music and restore classical Entertainment. I wonder, however, whether Sandow realizes what he wants. Entertainment is not worth professional training. Music's evangelists are the ones responsible for our music schools, our professional musical organizations, and (to a large extent) the very disciplines of musicology and musical criticism. Why even study the past professionally unless it can provide something deeper than entertainment? Music students and teachers must face up to the elimination of specialized music curricula. Loving performers must again become willing to be un- or little paid ones.

After all, the Mass is not primarily for professional musicians but for the professional clergy. Entertainers, remember, were servants. Best wishes feeding a family on that.

Inspiring Creativity

Recent Western culture, through its various manifestations, methodically stymies creativity. The result is that the majority of adults in western cultures lack effective means to relate and communicate. For instance, in the majority of early childhood education classes, just about any student is willing to sing, paint, draw, and be creative. In fact, great early childhood education teachers nurture this creativity as a means of expressing oneself. Fast-forward to a high level executive committee meeting of a large corporation. It is likely that few of those businesspersons still regularly engages in creative activities. It is no small wonder that arts institutions, when trying to attract these white-collar individuals, shy away from presenting some of the most creative and innovative artistic statements of the past century. However, young children have no qualms engaging with new artistic statements. After all, it is a way of life for them.

This past Saturday, Duo Gelland led the young children of UK's string project through the jagged abstractions of modern music. The Swedish-German violin duo has performed in virtually every major venue including performances with the Berliner Philharmoniker. Yet, the heart of their work is working with children especially in Sweden and Germany. At UK's string project, they began with a captivating performance of a Vivaldi duo sonata, and then launched into a movement of a duo sonata by the eminent Swedish composer, Allan Pettersson. They introduced the Pettersson as a "very old piece of music, written when your parents were children." From the initial barrage of pizzicato to notes in the extreme registers and violent chords, the elementary school children were utterly captivated. After each piece, Cecilia Gelland would place herself on the ground with the children and ask them to tell her what they heard. She would ask what feelings the sounds elicited. Other times she would ask them to relate colors or ordinary situations to what they had just heard. It was magical to observe fifteen young American children listen to modern music and engage with the music. Then, Cecilia and Martin split the class into two groups and began teaching them sounds they could make on their instruments - harmonic glissandi, bowing the tailpiece, bowing behind the bridge, an array of pizzicato techniques, etc. Then they guided the kids to make music with the new sounds they learned. Finally, and most brilliantly, they engaged the children in dialogue. They encouraged the children to talk to them using their new sounds. The response of the children was overwhelming. You would have thought that the children had just spent time Justin Bieber (or whoever is the latest sensation).

Martin and Cecilia cite the influences of George Lakoff's research into the structures of metaphor and Salome Voegelin's book Listening to Noise and Silence: Towards a Philosophy of Sound Art. Their experiences with presenting this music to children have reinforced their belief that this music is important and relevant. If you look at their repertoire list, you will discover that not only have they commissioned and performed over 150 new works, but their repertoire extends as far back as the late 1500's. They understand that old music is important for understanding our roots but posit that music written today is important to understand the contemporary human experience and live in the contemporary world. Cecilia writes, "In the consuming of newly produced art music I see a constructive and humane alternative to consumerism/materialism - one of our world's greatest threats. I wish to leave an ever so slight mark behind of greater urge to expand and deepen thought, to create and to take part in dialogue." Martin writes that contemporary music "helps dissolving hardened structures, built like fences around our flowing thoughts."
The Gelland's work with children is simply an outgrowth of their ideas of performance. Their official website sums their work up in the following manner:
We are engrossed in the dialogue about the dialogue, its endless, intricate forms and dramatic adventures of gestures and structures. We are inside the discourse about the outer world in the inner world and the inner world in the outer world and how those two pole form their complex relationship to creative processes. We go a long way to organize the music to its utmost. Yet at the last moment we turn around and refuse to subdue to the final consequence of our own long work, in order to relish the moment and the warmth of the audience.
In those fleeting magical moments with the young students of UK's string project, I saw the importance of contemporary music illustrated masterfully. Perhaps, creativity does not need to be limited to the early childhood classroom but belongs in the corporate board room. Furthermore, artistic institutions must take note. None of the students that morning knew they wanted to listen to Allan Pattersson's music but they left wanting more! Our programming ought to reflect that phenomenon.


Traumwerk Part1

Johan | Myspace Music Videos
Watch this video to see Duo Gelland in action.

Why Huun Huur Tu and Wagner don't mix

In an interview between pop artist Bjork and modern composer Arvo Part, Bjork comments, "I like your music very much because you give space to the listener. He can go inside and live there. But a lot of music from the last few centuries you just have to sit and listen." Earlier in the semester, many of us studied John Adams piece, "On the Transmigration of Souls" which he described in a similar way, as a "memory space", a place where you can go and be alone with your thoughts.

These quotes come to mind because of the feeling I get when listening to Huun Huur Tu. There is little melodic development and virtually no harmonic development. The rhythms and the melodies mostly repeat. Yet, I find a strange attraction to the music. They create a sound world that we can simply inhabit. The music doesn't exhaust us, it gives us room to move.

Today, I found myself listening to Tannhauser and Huun Huur Tu side by side. One scarcely knows where to begin when describing such opposite musical worlds, but Bjork's quote has a ring to it. With Wagner, as with most European classical music, I feel like someone is giving a speech. It may be a beautiful speech or an interesting speech, but nonetheless I feel more like a spectator rather than a participant in the music (Interestingly, I don't have this experience as a performer, only a listener). Huun Huur Tu, however, gives me the sense of inhabiting a sound rather than observing it from the outside. I found it refreshing to find music that creates a relaxed atmosphere to think, music that isn't in a hurry to get anywhere or prove a point. Music that just lives.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

John Mackey Bothered

I bothered to review some band music.

Few composers of mass-consumption symphonic wind literature find that sweet spot between accessibility and originality. On one side, you get composers like Robert W. Smith. He is one of those individuals who, all notions of pedagogical writing aside, has managed to conjure an entire career from writing the same piece over and over again. His shtick has aged like milk: a legato introduction precedes a Schenkerian outline accompanied by ostinati in the woodwinds and "extended techniques" by the percussionists before a timpani solo, brass fanfare, and final perfect authentic cadence in an invariably major key. The only work of Smith's that has any vestige of originality was his Divine Comedy symphony, and in a Vivaldian feat of rehashing he managed to create the Odyssey (subtitled "Dante Returns to Ithaca").

On the other hand, you have composers like Frank Ticheli, who after long careers of delightful and ravishing original compositions decide it's time to push the envelope and write twelve tone music based on 19th century English transcendentalists: 2010 left us with The Tyger, a work whose publicity loudly trumpeted the fact that it was both atonal and a grade six (!). We expect both of these things from Ticheli (Blue Shades, anyone?), and while The Tyger is a quality piece of music, it's not quite 1930's Vienna. Ticheli also has the benefit of Manhattan Beach singing paeans to him with every new release--perhaps the problem here is Manhattan Beach's staff publicists, not Ticheli himself. Nevertheless, you can see a new Ticheli work coming from the cloud of advertising surrounding it.

John Mackey, however, is something different entirely. A student of Donald Erb and John Corigliano, his music reflects the eclectic New York school of American composition embodied in the music of Corigliano himself as well as the master's other protégés Eric Whitacre, Steven Bryant, and Jonathan Newman. He and his classmates have all managed to find the aforementioned sweet spot in their respective niches--Whitacre the golden-tressed Prometheus of choral music and Bryant the apostle of electronics-and-wind-band have each made important contributions (yes, more important than Virtual Choir 2.0) but are largely entrenched in their chosen ensembles. Newman and Mackey, however, are more eclectic, with significant works for orchestra and various chamber groups among their oeuvre. Mackey's repertoire alone lacks any form of vocal music, but his specialization in instrumental "Napoleonic Testosterone Music" has allowed him to develop a refreshingly unique sound among today's glut of band music.

Most interesting among Mackey's recent works are his two concerti: an inventive-yet-barren-titled concerto for soprano saxophone and winds (2007) and a trombone concerto entitled Harvest (2009) which takes Dionysian practices as its point of departure. Both pieces demonstrate Mackey's mastery of the tonal palette which symphonic winds and percussion afford, his gift for slim and sticky melodies, and most importantly his profound sense of architectonics. This last aspect, more than anything, is what makes Mackey's music "Mackian:" even in the midst of his swirling clouds of ostinati and thunderous bass lines that give audiences what they think they want, Mackey's two concerti demonstrate a sensibility towards formal organization that prevents either from becoming formulaic.

Harvest accomplishes this more strongly than the soprano saxophone concerto because of its unified musical narrative that happened to lend itself to a concerto format--the trombonist is Dionysus, the band ripieno is the congregation of frothing Bacchae who tear him to shreds at the eponymous harvest. Meanwhile, the soprano saxophone concerto allows the instrument to function more idiomatically and is more of a "concerto" in the traditional sense, moving the solo and ensemble through various moods that embody different aspects of the solo instrument itself (the inner movements are titled "Felt," "Metal," and "Wood"): the saxophone is the narrative, in this case. Both works are important additions to the literature for their respective instruments.

Much more remains to be said about these two pieces as well as Mackey's larger oeuvre, which continues its prodigious and promising expansion. Mackey has hit his stride at this point, but it remains to be seen whether he will continue to whet his compositional edge or begin a downward spiral into recycling formulas. Mackey bothers in spite of band: let us hope he continues.

Both pieces (scores, recordings, and Mackey's own commentary) can be found here: http://ostimusic.com/WindWorks.html

Authentic Artificiality - A Review

Neils Marthinsen, Symphony No. 2 "Snapshot Symphony"
Aarhus Symphony Orchestra, Christian Lindberg
Dacapo, NML code: 8.226545

I love musical pastiche, much more than the proverbial "next guy" does. I am also eternally lurking on that online database of little-known musical treasures prosaically named the Naxos Music Library, looking for new works or new recordings of old and neglected works. My interest was therefore doubly piqued by the new release, on the Danish DaCapo record label, of a "Snapshot Symphony" by fellow Danish native Niels Marthinsen. His second essay in this genre - his first was the "Monster Symphony" - the movement titles alone let the listener know what he or she is in for. Specially, there are musical "snapshots" of: a "Fiesta Mexicana," some "Arabian Nights," and a veritable explosion of "Great Fireworks in China." If you are already rolling your eyes, you need read no further. Nothing I could ever say will convince you to spend your hard-earned money on anything that isn't completely authentic and one hundred percent original. Let me know if you ever find any examples...


On the other hand, I would argue there is a kind of authentic artificiality, especially if a composer is blunt enough to broadcast his style in advance, as Marthinsen does here. No listener need be surprised by the Latin rhythms, drone bass, or pentatonic tunes. Marthinsen is not unsuccessfully trying to be completely original but is indulging in purposeful pastiche for that most frivolous of reasons, to entertain. As for fakery, Ravel himself, under attack for the same charge, was heard to respond, "Doesn't it ever occur to these people that I can be artificial by nature?"


The only aspect of Marthinsen's artificial nature that I regret is his tendency towards length. The first movement features the aforementioned Latin rhythms as well as bold trumpet melodies echoed by the low brass. Meant to sound improvised, they carry the music until waves of unexpected dissonance and violence culminate in a quieter contrasting section. The simple ternary form concludes with some wonderfully "exotic" brass fanfares. The returning melody only slightly outstays its welcome, helped by the fanfares and the ultimately quiet ending.


The second movement, however, is about three times too long for its material. This was a major disappointment, my favorite type of pastiche being the faux-Oriental (or what the politically correct call "Orientalist.") Over a drone bass regularly spiced with tambourine the strings presented their Eastern langours again and again. Despite some promising clarinet solos, no heavily-ornamented English horn solo ever appeared. In compensation, there were series of gloriously shameless low brass augmented seconds. Once again piercing dissonance, this time in the bassoon's drone bass, was introduced, but it was not enough to redeem Marthinsen's missed opportunity.


Having admittedly not yet heard Stravinsky's example, the concluding "Great Fireworks in China" seemed quite sonically accurate, not to mention providing an interesting cross-cultural connection. Pentatonic tunes are du rigeur - but "blue" notes are not. Yet they kept intruding, turning my mind to a Gershwin-esque An American in Peking or something similar. There are even aborted, never-quite-completed statements of that most stereotypical pentatonic tune (you know the one I'm talking about) before a contrasting B section with "Eastern" portamenti on the solo violin.


In short, not the best pastiche on offer, but Marthinsen is clearly comfortable writing for large orchestra, creating a great variety of colors and moods through his kaleidoscopic scoring. I'm intrigued enough to listen to his earlier "Monster Symphony." Care to join me?

Sound & Touch

Thinking about sound. Feels strange.

A sensation of touch like no other:

Chilled

Icy, bitter

Resolute, yet brittle.

Shaky

Cool, airy

Piercing, penetrating –

Biting

Shivery, smooth

Sharp, dusty edged

Hushed, looming

Prickly

Sound.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Why do YOU make music?

Here is something I found links to from Greg Sandow's website [Fascinating story about Lara Downes's "13 Ways of Looking at the Goldberg." [Trivia--not so trivial actually: The title of her CD is a pun based on... What and Whom?]

Here is Lara Downes's answer to the question:

Why do I make music?

Because music is my voice in the world. I don’t know a better way to open ears, hearts and minds, to break down borders and barriers, and to preserve a space for beauty in our noisy, chaotic world.

Because it's a new day. It's a thrilling time to be making music for new audiences, in new ways, in new spaces, using new perspectives, references and technologies to expand the possibilities of the concert experience - to make that experience, itself, into a new kind of art.

Because I want my audiences to find new ways to hear music, think about music, and talk about music.

Because music tells stories. I discover and share those stories with my audiences so that the music can resonate with your experiences of the world around you and the world of your own imagination.

Because I love performing, in a glamorous concert hall, a club, or a 3rd-grade classroom. I love the electricity, the give and take of energy in the room. I love the exhilarating, exhausting feeling of playing my heart out, and the rush when an audience jumps to its feet at the end. I love the element of danger, and the high of a great performance. I love walking out of the stage door late at night, tired and hungry, knowing I’m going to do it all again tomorrow.

Because where I want to be is out here on the front lines making the world safe for classical music, one note at a time. Whether I’m at home in my studio or out on the road, packing or unpacking, doing my scales or doing my laundry, day in and day out, my life is a life in music.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

But is it art, Mr. Rorem?

"I used never to weep at Great Art, at Couperin or Kirkegaard, maintaining it was too multidimensional for the specific of tears. I wept at the rapid associative revelations of a Piaf, or at Lana Turner’s soapy dilemmas. Crying was caused hence by entertainment, not master-works.
Today tears dictate my first judgment of any works, their levels be damned. What counts is to be kinetically moved. And who says Edith and Lana aren’t art—or, if they are, that Kierkegaard is more so?" Ned Rorem, Settling the Score (NY: Harcourt Brace, 1988), p. 258.
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This passage is one of the two epigraphs in the first chapter of Simon Frith's book Performing Rites: On the Value of Popular Music [Cambridge: Harvard U Press, 1996]--the other epigraph in the chapter is a little too vulgar for this blog (Take a look, p. 3).

Your work is cut out for you for next week (with the progress report or proposal for your anthology), but the week after (i.e., class on October 26), I would like to turn to criticism of popular music. Frith's book is an interesting place to start. Some of his chapters are: "Where Do Sounds Come From?," "Rhythm: Race, Sex, and the Body;" "Rhythm: Time, Sex, and the Mind;" "Songs as Texts;" "The Voice;" and "The Meaning of Music."
Enticing enough?! Also check out Greg Sandow's popular reviews in his Juilliard syllabus.
Enjoy

The Lexington Philharmonic Family Series Concert at the Lexington Opera House

These days, with unprecedented interest in and access to the richness of musical expression all over the globe, a symphony orchestra concert titled, "Rhythms of the World," and which features a razor-sharp guest ensemble such as the University of Kentucky's own award-winning percussion ensemble, is a programming slam-dunk, and indeed, the Lexington Opera House was filled to capacity last Sunday afternoon in this first of three Family Concerts to be presented this season.

Almost as if to contrast with what the audience was about to experience from the UK Percussion Ensemble, the concert opened with Scott Terrell leading the Lexington Philharmonic through some vintage, and perhaps fading, orchestra pops repertoire by Tchaikovsky, Dvorak, Leroy Anderson, and Copland.

Then came the Brazilian drumming! With percussion ensemble director Jim Campbell leading from the front of the stage on his own drum and whistle-blasts, the UK Percussion Ensemble members filled the two main floor aisles and some of the balcony, beating out call-and-response samba rhythms worthy of a thunderous carnival season in Rio. Next, the ensemble took to the front of the stage to demonstrate the instruments and strong rhythmic counterpoint of West Africa.

But wait, there's more! Ensemble members then took to the steel drums - chromatically-tuned steel cans ranging from soprano to bass that are the pride of Trinidad, to finish their part of the program with an arrangement of "Oye Como Va," capably accompanied by the Lexington Phil. The exuberant applause, shouts of joy, and yes, cheers from the audience that followed led one to wonder if there could possibly have been anyone there who didn't think that being able to play music is a pretty wonderful thing.

The orchestra then launched into "Aqua" by Minnesota-based composer, Steve Heitzeg, known for his works that celebrate the natural world. A harmless enough little tone poem dedicated to the life of sea explorer, Jacques Cousteau, and complete with the delicate sounds of tapping stones, driftwood, coral, and wind chimes made of sea shells, it seemed out of place on this particular program.

Perhaps if the orchestra had sought to make connections in its part of the concert with the percussion ensemble, it might have been an even more interesting and rewarding program. The orchestra repertoire has dozens of good pieces with strong roots in the music of Brazil, West Africa and the Caribbean, and as a very real practical matter, many of these pieces - as with the pieces on this program - could have been performance-ready in one rehearsal.

As it was, the orchestra's closing with the older Johann Strauss', "Radetzky March," left me with that cringe-worthy realization that you've been clapping on one and three when everybody else around you, and indeed, throughout the world, is clapping on two and four.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Processes in Sound - A Review of Crossings

As I stared at the ceiling of the Houston airport, Murphy's law was all I could think about. We had worked so hard to put together this Lucier tribute concert, now my flight was delayed two hours and I was going to miss the rehearsal. Who could have guessed that delay was a blessing in disguise? I did eventually get to the rehearsal, an hour late, just in time to go over I Am Sitting in a Room with Jay Crutcher. However, we did not get the chance to rehearse Canon, which I played electric guitar in, and did not hear Crossings.

Upon the start of last night's concert, I did not know what to expect from Crossings. I had listened to it through headphones, but listening to a recording of Lucier's music is like eating Taco Bell and saying you know what Mexican food tastes like. Without the acoustic experience of a live performance, it is impossible to understand much of Lucier's work. Waves bounce, sounds are distorted and destroyed, properties of a room are exposed. The same can be said for many works which may, or may not, be considered to fit the "sound mass" label. I've experienced many of these compositions through recordings, but never in concert. What a joy it was! Finally the beauty of harsh dissonance, the trembling of walls, and every emotion from torture to bliss on the faces of audience members were present. It was everything I'd hoped for.

Crossings, a work for small orchestra (16 performers) and slow sweep pure sine oscillator, exploits the musical space between semitones throughout the 7-octave range of the orchestra. Instruments would play semitones apart while the oscillator swept from the lower pitch to the higher. Once the higher pitch had been reached, the lower would drop out and moments of in-tune release was felt. The previous higher pitch would then become the lower pitch as new instruments then joined in a semitone above.

What sounds like a simple process produced a multitude of effects. The beatings of waves slowed and quickened upon the oscillator's ascent to the upper semitone. During the lower range in the beginning of the work, I saw and heard the glass cabinets rattle. As the pitch grew higher, the rattling stopped, but dissonances were harsher than before. When the upper register was reached, the space between semitones was more defined and, oddly enough, less painful to the ear. The piece concluded with piccolos reaching as high as they could for their final pitches and violins bowing nearly inaudibly high harmonics. With the pain of dissonances between instruments and the sweep of the oscillator came restored calm once a unison had been met. More so than any composer could ever do with a dominant-tonic "pull", Lucier's Crossings achieves the dichotomous effect of tension/release in the most primitive and beautiful ways.

Reimagining Les Noces: Colors of the New Russia

The first chord of Stravinsky’s Les Noces, with its unabashed unprepared dissonance that propels the work into a 25-minute long thrill ride, is a sound unlike anything else in the 20th century repertoire. No E has ever been as clear as the first note of this bridal lament ringing above a sweet cacophony of pianos and cymbals—colors fly from the orchestra pit and the corps-de-ballet stands stock still in a hieratic pose strikingly reminiscent of one of Rublev’s icons. With this single note, Stravinsky begins his crystallization of an entire period of Russian history: the Tsar has been murdered, the Metropolitan driven underground, and a whole nation thrown into unrest as a result of the February revolution. Les Noces is the black-and-white photograph of his entire heritage that Stravinsky carries in his lapel pocket throughout the rest of his career. It is a lament for Mother Russia herself.

Stravinsky’s difficulties in settling on the work’s orchestration are common knowledge now—originally desiring to write the piece for a super-orchestra of 150 musicians, he went through several different instrumentations trying to settle on the right sound world for this musical icon. Eventually he discovered the arrangement that made the work famous: four grand pianos, and two percussion ensembles (pitched and unpitched) that together capture the then-fading sounds of the great Russian church bells that were quickly becoming a distant memory.

The Soviet regime has since fallen, the wall has been torn down, and a new generation of Slavs (and Slavophiles) has ushered Russia into a season of rebirth and rediscovery. In light of this it’s only fitting that musicians would revisit Les Noces. In 2010 Steven Stucky re-orchestrated the entire ballet, taking cues from the remaining scraps of the version for mega-orchestra to create a colorful, evocative rendering of what was originally a stark, industrial machine. The re-orchestrated version received its European premiere with a riveting performance by the Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra under the baton of John Adams in late 2010 (the video is linked below).

Listeners familiar with the idiosyncratic sonorities of the original Les Noces will find an at once unsettling yet ensorceling reimagining of the peasant wedding festivities. The piercing, biting sonorities once rendered on pianos become soft, almost ethereal with the sustained tones and subtle inflections of orchestral forces, as if the peasant wedding has been moved from an impoverished village to the fantastic forest of the Firebird. The work doesn’t lose an ounce of its Russianness in translation, partly due to Stucky’s masterful handling of the same orchestral forces as Stravinsky would have had and the delicate, note-perfect performance by the orchestra. One could almost see the spectral figures of Stravinsky’s earlier world of myth and magic coalescing before their eyes.

The performance is not without its hiccups, however; the chorus is far too distant from the conductor and the audience to stay in perfect synchronization with the orchestra, which leads to a mess of mushy Russian. Perhaps this is a defect of the performance space itself; in the original ballet version, the ensemble, chorus, and soloists are all shoe-horned into the orchestra pit. The performance also suffered from a couple of missed entrances by the soloists, who, although capable singers seemed to be hampered by the present uncomfortable stage arrangement (and an unfortunate wardrobe choice by tenor Marcel Beekman). As much as it may appear to be a sweeping epic, Les Noces requires chamber-level sensitivity to rhythm and balance. Adams’ drum major precision kept the orchestra on the rails, resulting in a vivacious, kaleidoscopic performance in much the same sound world as City Noir (which was the program’s finale).

Stucky has said of his edition that he wasn’t seeking to create what Stravinsky would create with the same resources, only that he was attempting to create his own spin on the music. Whether his motives are legitimate or not are yet to be determined, but an important transition has occurred for Les Noces and its legacy: where it was once an elegy to the loss of a homeland and a cultural identity, it now stands as a colorized, gold-leafed icon of the reality of the Russian experience. Without question, Stucky’s orchestration is as culturally important for the emerging Russia as Stravinsky’s original realization.

(In this video, the performance of Les Noces starts around 33:00.)

reciting poetry

Sorry I am a week late on this topic - but I meant to post this since I had my private meeting with Dr Brunner last week. At some point the question about reading/reciting poems came up - especially modern and contemporary poetry, where there is less of a metric/structural frame to direct the declamation of the verses... we agreed that it is not easy at all, and talked about a very flat and simple intonation vs. a more inflected and emphatic one...
Well, I believe this is a wonderful balance between the two - and even if it is in Italian and won't make much sense to all of you, I thought you could still enjoy the purely musical and expressive component.
Giuseppe Ungaretti was probably the major poet of the Italian hermetic school of the first half of the 1900. I hope you can feel how the word is an absolute entity for him, each one of them charged with such an intense expressiveness, almost tangible, like a living creature of sound laboriously carved out of the silence.



Here is the text of the poem, entitled "Rivers" (he "reviews the ages of his life" through "his" four rivers, Isonzo, Serchio, Nilo, Senna) :


    I FIUMI

    Mi tengo a quest’albero mutilato
    Abbandonato in questa dolina
    Che ha il languore
    Di un circo
    Prima o dopo lo spettacolo
    E guardo
    Il passaggio quieto
    Delle nuvole sulla luna

    Stamani mi sono disteso
    In un’urna d’acqua
    E come una reliquia
    Ho riposato

    L’Isonzo scorrendo
    Mi levigava
    Come un suo sasso
    Ho tirato su
    Le mie quattro ossa
    E me ne sono andato
    Come un acrobata
    Sull’acqua

    Mi sono accoccolato
    Vicino ai miei panni
    Sudici di guerra
    E come un beduino
    Mi sono chinato a ricevere
    Il sole

    Questo è l’Isonzo
    E qui meglio
    Mi sono riconosciuto
    Una docile fibra
    Dell’universo

    Il mio supplizio
    È quando
    Non mi credo
    In armonia

    Ma quelle occulte
    Mani
    Che m’intridono
    Mi regalano
    La rara
    Felicità

    Ho ripassato
    Le epoche
    Della mia vita

    Questi sono
    I miei fiumi

    Questo è il Serchio
    Al quale hanno attinto
    Duemil’anni forse
    Di gente mia campagnola
    E mio padre e mia madre.

    Questo è il Nilo
    Che mi ha visto
    Nascere e crescere
    E ardere d’inconsapevolezza
    Nelle distese pianure

    Questa è la Senna
    E in quel suo torbido
    Mi sono rimescolato
    E mi sono conosciuto

    Questi sono i miei fiumi
    Contati nell’Isonzo

    Questa è la mia nostalgia
    Che in ognuno
    Mi traspare
    Ora ch’è notte
    Che la mia vita mi pare
    Una corolla
    Di tenebre

Modern Classics- Concert Review

On the evening of Wednesday, October 5th, I attended the fifth annual Kentucky New Music Festival concert, where a program of modern classics and percussion ensemble music was performed. Here, I will review the first half of the concert, "Modern Classics."
The evening began with a performance of Debussy's Prelude a l'apres-midi d'un faune arranged by Arthur Lavandier. The orchestration of Lavandier's arrangement differed slightly from Debussy's original score: instead of multiple players on each part (as Debussy's original version intended), Lavandier's arrangement is scored for single flute, oboe, horn, cello, and bass; additionally, no English horns, bassoon, crotales, or harps were on stage at this performance. However, percussion and piano lines were added. As a result, Lavandier's arrangement provided a fresh approach to Debussy's frequently performed work, while still maintaining the fullness of texture and timbral variety so characteristic of Impressionist composers.
Despite the fact that the title of this concert series seems to suggest the performance of more contemporary works than those of Debussy, it is questionable whether audience members who were not musically trained would have recognized the timbral shifts present in Lavandier's arrangement of Debussy-- after all, the work still opens with the famous flute solo, here excellently performed by UK flautist Aaron Sexton. In fact, all of the instruments deserve mention for this excellent performance. The real star, however, was the conductor: Cesar Leal, internationally travelled conductor and musician, emphasized Lavandier's contrasting arrangement by injecting new life and expression into Debussy's work, resulting in beautifully expressive phrasing and dynamic disparity throughout the performance. Leal's conducting emphasized the contrasting sections of the piece, causing my dissonance-addicted self to thoroughly enjoy an Impressionist composition for the first time in years. The only downside of the Leal's performance lay in the balance: in the classic "modern" concert setting, the strings were amplified and were at times far too loud, occasionally causing the winds to be lost. Furthermore, this amplification created a timbre that seemed ill-suited to a chamber-music performance.
Next, lone percussionist Kyle Forsthoff performed John Cage's "One"-- accurately representing the contrasting styles available in the "modern" music genre and the progression of music in the 20th century. The sudden awareness of our sonic surroundings-- rustling, coughs, and other sounds made by the audience-- created a tense, almost uncomfortable environment, highly contrasted with the beauty of the recently performed Debussy. The silence created by the monophonic percussion line of the work allowed for the introduction of many sonic interruptions, or, as Cage would call them, additional musical parts : mixed with the percussion line, I heard occassional "melodies" from audience members or from the distant pop-music songs being performed in a nearby concert hall. However, despite the unaccompanied nature of the piece, Cage's instrumentation and use of creative extended techniques created a timbrally rich and visually interesting musical work.
Like the Debussy, a review of this piece requires a recognition of superior performers. Forsthoff did an excellent job of portraying the visual aspect of Cage's work-- matching the music by moving a shaker around frenetically, with a frustrated expression on his face, or by striking a wood-block with a musically-appropriate and definite sense of finality. Despite the unusual aesthetic of Cage's music, concert-goers saw the skill of the performer, and, in my opinion, of the composer, because of the carefully timed and measured, expertly prepared performance on the part of Forsthoff.
The next piece, Gordon Jacob's Miniature Suite for Clarinet and Viola, was expertly performed by professors Scott Wright and Deborah Lander, both professors on their respective instruments. This work consisted of four movements, with textures ranging from monophony, homophony, polyphony, and heterophony. In this manner, Jacob manages to keep his audience interested despite the lack of timbral variety as the suite progresses. The tone of the opening movement was set with Dr. Wright's expert articulation and phrasing, creating a bright, bouncing, and lively work. Despite the expertly performed part of Dr. Lander, the clarinet line overpowered her at times. When imitation occurred between the viola and clarinet, Dr. Wright's aggressive playing was not matched by the more timid style of Dr. Lander. The second movement of Jacob's suite had similar balance issues: although he performs beautifully on more energetic pieces, the aggressive tone and slight "glimmer," or subtle vibrato which Dr. Wright applied to his sustained notes seems inappropriate in this slow movement. Moreover, despite the distinctive and lyrical melodic lines of Jacob's music, the music lacked direction, with the result that the frequent repetition and sequencing of his melodic ideas rambled on monotonously. The second movement in particular lack climax, ending suddenly after another seemingly insignificant melodic repetition. The third and fourth movements revealed similar compositional issues, my review of which may admittedly reveal a personal aural and/or stylistic bias. However, Jacob's Miniature Suite did contain some beautiful and interesting moments: A particularly striking moment occurred at the end of the fourth movement, where Dr. Wright, who played sustained notes on a playful trills, was accompanied by forte double-stops in the viola line. Here, Jacob's music takes full advantage of the skill of the instrumentalists used in this specific performance.
The last work of the "modern classics" section of this concert included another piece by John Cage, entitled Composed Improvisation, again performed by Kyle Forsthoff. This work included a lesser variety of percussion instruments than Cage's One: various membranophones (drums) are paired with combined idio- and membrano-phones (tambourines). Like the earlier Cage work, Forsthoff did an excellent job of captivating the audience both aurally and visually. He often exaggerated his movements as if to emphasize the unusual playing techniques being called for in the piece; his techniques were solid and deliberate. Composed Improvisation is even more concerned with Cage's definition of music as "organized sound" than One-- a fact which Forsthoff seemed acutely aware. At one point, Cage's work calls for the performer to hold a drum in the air, but not strike it. This performance accentuated the composer's ideals by using a drum with a clear head for these moments, and by the purposeful expression of the performer's face during these "silent" sections. Again, the audience seemed to hold their breath here. The creation of "music" during these silences, however, was inescapable: at one point the door opened, allowing the jumbled speech and laughter of the halls of Singletary to creep into the Recital Hall; a percussion line was added by an audience member accidentally dropping their keys. I myself unwittingly took part in this performance, creating music with the scratch of my pencil taking down notes.
Despite the occasional amplification or balance issues, this concert was both enjoyable and informative, giving audience members a chance to hear expert performers and conductors, new arrangements and unfamiliar musical compositions, and exposure to foreign musical aesthetics all in a concert of "modern" classics. Although the inclusion of Debussy's popular work initially seemed inappropriate to me-- it seems neither particularly "modern," nor necessary for yet another performance of this work-- by the end of the concert I realized that the inclusion of Debussy acted as a familiar face in an unfamiliar crowd of more "modern" works, adding to the comfort of the audience and the success of the concert.

On Criticism and Huun Huur Tu

How can music be new?
Can singing styles and instruments
Expand imagination's worlds?
If so, is it new?

How can music be real?
Can it draw pictures of spirits
Who cannot be seen without sound?
If so, is it real?

How much is music worth?
Wherein lies its power, value,
Its final reason for being?
Can anyone say?

Bruckner | Sibelius | Nielsen (Gustavo Dudamel, Göteborgs Symfoniker)

Occasionally, exceptional talent, artistic depth, and extraordinary energy collide to create an unparalleled career. Sometimes, publicity agents can energize the career of a talented artist, but these same agents are unable to manufacture artistic depth. After all, "If music is sound with thought, then talent is a very poor weapon to have at one's disposal." (Daniel Barenboim, Reith Lectures)

Dudamel certainly has caught the imagination of the public. Palpable excitement follows his every move. The Göteborgs Symfoniker was able snag him before the mania began and this present release by Deutsche Grammophon is the product of the relationship between the orchestra and its superstar conductor.

At first glance, the repertoire seems unrelated (Bruckner 9, Sibelius 2, Nielsen 4 & 5). However, as the record jacket points out, all the pieces were written within a thirty year period. Dudamel chose the repertoire based on successful concerts from the previous few years. The result is rather stunning. The Göteborgs Symfoniker sounds very good in Bruckner's sonic architecture. Furthermore, they perform Nielsen and Sibelius's Nordic sound worlds with aplomb.

Bruckner's 9th is quite remarkable. Usually, Bruckner (especially the 9th) is reserved for old men. However, Dudamel, like Mehta before, fairs quite well. The Göteborgs Symfoniker has a very unique sound which serves Bruckner's intentions quite admirably. Dudamel has the ability to let the music unfold organically and his innate sense of architecture serves him well. This does not mean that it has replaced my cherished Günter Wand or Sergiu Celibidache recordings but it does belong on the same shelf.

Sibelius' 2nd Symphony receives a luxurious performance. Occasionally, Dudamel is a little fussy, but over all this account is as beautiful as one might ever encounter. From the opening throbbing of the strings to the finale, Dudamel creates magical moments. Aside from a few intonation blemishes, this performance is exceptional.

The Nielsen Symphonies (4 & 5) which comprise the third disc receive phenomenal performances. Nielsen is a unique composer and one which many conductors have failed to understand. Dudamel seems to have developed an understanding for Nielsen and is able to deliver convincing results. These are as fine as any of the truly great Nielsen recordings.

This album is priced reasonably and is perfect for both novices and avid collectors. Dudamel shows us that occasionally great artistic depth lies beneath the facade of carefully generated publicity.

Benchmark Recordings
Bruckner 9: Münchner Philharmoniker, Sergiu Celibidache
Sibelius 2: Sinfonia Lahti, Osmo Vänskä
Nielsen 4 & 5: Kungliga Filharmoniska Orkestern, Gennady Rozhdestvensky

Alvin Lucier -- A Review


I attended a concert of music by composer Alvin Lucier last night. Due to employment engagements, I was only able to listen to the first piece. The concert was well attended; there were not enough seats for all. In the few minutes before the first selection, an air of nervous anticipation was palpable in the room.

The piece that I heard was Crossings (1982), written for small orchestra and slow sweep pure wave oscillator. Dave O’Fallon generously warned the audience that the sounds may be exceedingly discordant and perhaps a bit jarring, so he encouraged them to feel free to cover their ears or leave the concert as necessary.

Crossings, which is now 30 years old, is experimental in nature. Listening to this piece took the audience to the intersection of psychoacoustic perception and imagination. The music ascends through the seven-octave range of the orchestra. The work begins with a gradually ascending tone from the oscillator. The lowest instruments join the oscillator first. Each instrument enters on their notated pitch before the oscillator has reached that same frequency. As the instrumentalists sustain their pitch, the oscillator frequency gradually rises. Periodically, the oscillator matches the pitch of the instrumentalists, creating a sensation of no beats. As the oscillator creeps up in pitch, the beats become faster. This process continues as new instruments join the commotion in layered entrances, moving up the orchestra.

What makes this piece interesting is the variable speed of beats, which sometimes disappear. Piercing dissonances transform into calm unisons, and then they return to dissonances. These changes promote an uncomfortable and harsh atmosphere. The periodic disappearance of beats and the changes in the speed of beats make this steady ascent more of a psychological roller coaster.

The performance was intense – one that I will remember for quite some time. This kind of music is incredibly interesting and worthwhile. I hope that performances like these become more abundant at UK. I thank Dave and Jason for their efforts in planning, promoting, and producing this terrific performance. I only wish I could stay for the remainder of the concert!

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Huun Huur Tu - In Review

Unforgettable music experiences do not often appear in this author’s life. Usually they fall under the category of “enjoyable,” occasionally reaching “moving.” “Unforgettable” reserves itself for transcendent moments when the music engages in a way that places me beyond the reach of any and all distraction. Saturday night, October 8, in the humble confines of the Singletary Center Recital Hall, certainly stands securely as an unforgettable musical experience for all in attendance. Huun Huur Tu took the stage, a group of four musicians hailing from the Russian province of Tuva, which boarders Mongolia. Their music presents one of the world’s most unique folk traditions: throat singing. This style involves the manipulation of the natural resonating chambers within the throat and mouth in order to sound multiple pitches simultaneously. Huun Huur Tu couples this with traditional Tuvan instruments

Huun Huur Tu appears unassuming on stage, dressed in traditional Tuvan attire, calmly sitting in their seats and tuning their various traditional instruments without a degree of showmanship, but certainly professionalism. Sayan Bapa, the English-speaking spokesman for the ensemble, opened the concert with a galloping ostinato on his lute before allowing a brief silence that gave way to the first transcendent moment: each of the ensemble members bellowing their traditional throat-singing, creating a deep and dark tapestry of tones and overtones. That moment did not require a light show or a screaming crowd to acquire all of the audience’s attention, but captured it using only texture of sound. This lead to a solo song performed by Radik Tyulyush—who performed both bowed strings and flute for the evening—with such vocal clarity and grace that his genuine musicality was apparent in the lilting overtones of the ballad. Following this was perhaps the most emotional work of the night, based on a folk story on the futile attempts of a lover to pursue a princess. This work’s haunting melody mixed chest voice with moments of throat singing, and was carried through the work by different members of the ensemble, each bringing out unique nuances, creating a collective presentation that felt both personal and mythical.

The second half of the concert was equally engaging to the first, but one single work stood out above the rest. Calling on performer Kaigal-ool Khovalyg to not only sing, but also recreate bird song, which he did with astonishing clarity, the work coupled remarkable percussive effects from Alexei Saryglar, who utilized various techniques on his single drum to add depth and impact to the work. These effects combined with the flute melodies of Tyulyush and Bapa’s still-galloping ostinato made this the most memorable work of a night full of them.

At the concert’s conclusion the small audience, gripped with passion for Huun Huur Tu’s music, refused to let them leave Lexington without performing one more piece. Applauding continued for some time before the musicians finally returned to the stage and performed an encore. Unfortunately that single piece was the finale, because I would have stayed all night.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Just imagine Billy Mays reading this...

"My knowledge of the classical repertoire is so fluent I can't write an objective review. How does one write a review of Beethoven's Violin Concerto? We've all heard it 234,565,325 times. I guess I could just critique the performance and not the piece. That'll work. Oh, how I wish someone would put on a concert of art music I don't already have memorized, or perhaps have never even heard before (GASP)! What I would give to critique unfamiliar music!"

Do these types of thoughts keep you up at night? Well you're in luck! October 11, 7:30 in the Niles Gallery - Processes in Sound: An Alvin Lucier Tribute Concert. Selections include:

Crossings, for small orchestra and slow sweep pure sign oscillator (1984)
Nothing is Real (Strawberry Fields), for piano, amplified teapot, tape recorder, and miniature sound system (1990)
Silver Streetcar for the Orchestra, for amplified triangle (1988)
Canon, for piano, clarinet, vibraphone, cello, electric guitar, and double bass (1996)
I Am Sitting in a Room, for voice and electromagnetic tape (1970)

www.facebook.com/#!/event.php?eid=157198681032457

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Sondheim Skewers the New Porgy

You might be interested in this older post:

http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/08/10/stephen-sondheim-takes-issue-with-plan-for-revamped-porgy-and-bess/

Haiku 2

These were directly inspired by Nate's poems. I'll have a more thought-out entry later but haikus are too much fun to refrain from posting these.

Aren't clarinets just
violins sans strings?
Don't bother, it's band.

Fifteen trumpet parts?
Who in their right mind writes - oh,
don't bother, it's band.

The Beginning of PMS

Lexington, KY
Thursday, October 6

To Whom It May Concern:

It has come to the attention of the undersigned that performances of historical as well as new compositions have prevented the spread of so-called "recent" music. As common as it is for new works to be premiered, it remains just as rare for them to receive subsequent hearings. Thus there is an ever-growing body of works whose premieres, without the aid of some external force, will remain only that. Having been birthed in sound, premiered pieces are condemned to die a slow and silent death.

The Premiered Music Society intends to rectify this. Through a program of rediscovering previously premiered works, advocating their study, encouraging their analysis, and demanding their performance, PMS will provide an avenue for them to re-enter the active repertoire. Outlets for these activities will include the publication of analysis and criticism and the construction of a social network connecting decision-makers to "recent" music. This is not to assume that all "recent" music deserves a place in the standard repertoire. PMS will provide a vital resource for ensuring that worthy pieces do.

The inaugural session of PMS, to include the creation of a constitution and by-laws, the election of officers, and the new president's valedictory address, will begin promptly at 3:30 pm on Wednesday, October 12,in the Lucille Caudill Little Fine Arts Library on the campus of the University of Kentucky (Lexington, KY), in conjunction with the activities of the University of Kentucky Seminar in Musicology. A call for papers will be issued by October 10.

Inquiries should be addressed as follows.

The Premiered Music Society
ATTN: Nate Craddock
ATTN: Todd Jones
ATTN: Chris Little
ATTN: Nathan Miller
105-C Fine Arts Building
Lexington, KY 40506-0022


Pro humanitatis,

Nate Craddock
Todd R. Jones
Christopher C. Little
nathan t. miller