Today's composer of the day is Alban Berg.
February 9, 1885 - December 24, 1935
(Photo: Alban Berg as played by Christopher Walken.)
Today would have been the 125th birthday for Mr. Berg, if he'd only had superhuman immortality. Berg represents Part II of our three part Composer of the Day! series on Second Viennese School composers. (see Part I here)
Berg was born into wealth, and died in poverty, the latter due to blacklisting by the Nazis. After knocking up one of his family's servants at age 17, Berg did the practical thing and got a job as a bookkeeper. By the age of 19, though, Berg did the unpractical thing and started to study composition with Arnold Schoenberg.
Berg is perhaps best known as the composer most-often cited by twelve-tone apologists and by haters of modernist music in need of some credibility. This is primarily due to Berg's reputation as a composer who successfully combined the musical sensibilities of Romanticism with Expressionist ideals and post-tonal musical languages.
Berg also ascribed to a system of composition that ventured to compose entire works of music from a single motive or musical gesture. This conservation of ideas manifests itself in many of his works, including the musicologist's wet-dream Lyric Suite, of which the first movement, for example, is derived entirely from a series of intervals in the very first bar. His most famous works are probably his Violin Concerto and his two operas, Wozzeck and Lulu. Both operas are touching stories of hope and the unwavering human spirit; the former about a soldier driven insane by doctors who then stabs his mistress, and the latter about a woman who kills her husband, kills her doctor, becomes a prostitute who is in turn killed by Jack the Ripper.
Here is a small bit from one of my favorite moments of Lulu:
Like his serialist comrade, Anton Webern, Berg suffered a rather tragic and gruesome death when he was (likely) bitten by an insect and died of blood poisoning, worsened by a little home surgery performed by his wife. He died on Christmas Eve, which, of course, totally sucks.
In the unlikely case that you haven't heard his music, please remedy that immediately. His music is a marvel of carefully executed musical architecture, and of lyrical and emotional depth.
Besides the already named works, his Chamber Concerto (1925) and Altenberg leider (1911-12) are amazing pieces more than worth the listen.
Chamber Concerto (1925), mvt. 1:
Five Orchestral Songs on Postcard Texts of Peter Altenberg, Op. 4 (1911-12):
-----------------------------
"I think the origin of all this clamour for tonality is not so much the need to sense a relationship to the tonic, as a need for familiar chords: let us be frank and say "for the triad"; and I believe I have good reason to say that just so long as a certain kind of music contains enough such triads, it causes no offence, even if in other ways it most violently clashes with the sacred laws of tonality."
-- Alban Berg, quoted in Reich, Willi (1971). Schoenberg: A Critical Biography, p.34.
2/9/10
Composer of the Day!
2/5/10
Friday Quickie -- Asshat Edition
I ran across this blog entry from Steven Humphrey on The Portland Mercury's website a week or so ago. The Mercury is an alternative (read hipster) newspaper in Portland, Oregon primarily dedicated to covering the popular music scene in and around Portland. So, to be fair, they don't really cover classical music. And for this reason I hesitated to reprint this on our site. But upon further consideration, it's an intelligent and lively exchange of ideas that I think the Detritus readers would be remiss not to have read.
Today's Symphony Review. SNORE!!!!
HA! That's so funny. Because you know, now that I think about it, classical music is boring. Awesome.
figure symphony concert: BOR-ING!As you probably realize, we jaded, tight-pant wearing hipsters here at the Smirkury HATE THE SYMPHONY!!
WHY?!
Why?
Yes, why?
Because it is OLD... TIMEY, yo!
Well, fuck, I've never seen it put so succinctly before. It is OLD! And for the most part I hate everything old too. But that can't be the only reason...why else do you HATE THE SYMPHONY?
The symphony is for Metamucil...
hehe...old people have more health problems than young people. Awesome reference!
figure boring: Old people like the symphony....Metamucil sippin' bucket kickers who are too freaking SQUARE to listen to the greatest band of all time (Vampire Weekend, 'natch).
figure old people: Old people don't know the greatest band of all time and, therefore, deserve our ridiculeHa ha! Old people need non-profit lobbying groups.
...or how email works,...
LOL! And they're terrible with technology. What a fucking waste of space old people are.
figure moe: "Call this an unfair generalization if you must, but old people are no good at everything."Did you have help writing this, because I'm not sure it's humanly possible for one person to be as awesome as you.
...here is the latest in the weekly scolding emails we receive from symphony lover (HA!) Brian Horay. (Seriously, he writes us, like, every week. Can't he Twitter this?)
Fucking old guy doesn't use Twitter. Because everyone knows that the only way to be hip or cool is to use Twitter. Just ask any 13-year-old.
So, what email did this fucking loser send? ...
...wait?...he sent an email? Dude, Steven, I thought you said old people couldn't figure out email.
Fuck. Now I don't know what to think...
Dear Mercury: I've completely given up on you. Not only did soloist Chee-Yun tear up the Schnitzer with a 302-year-old violin at the Oregon Symphony this weekend, she was also featured in a Curb Your Enthusiasm episode last fall. All this without even a mention in your so-called music previews. If Horse Feathers was playing a show with a 302-year-old fiddle, it would have been on your fucking cover. Once again, you've managed to drop the ol' proverbial ball.You're totally right, Steven Humphrey, old people are just TOO SQUARE to be taken seriously.
Brian Horay
SE PDX
It's hard to see how you've managed to tolerate totally bogus emails like this for so long. Thanks for putting this old guy in his place. It's really a public service you're providing and frankly, it's probably the Lord's work you're doing (I can only assume that God hates old people too).
So from one music lover to another, Thanks. And, oh, by the way...
figure fuck you steve: "Fuck you, Steve."Here's hoping some old woman hits you with her out-of-control Camry.
2/2/10
If You Don't Eat Your Meat, How Can You Have Any Pudding?
The concert program as a hermeneutic object has been, until pretty recently, not all that interesting to me. Usually, it seems, the organizing idea behind a concert program is about as interesting as "all the pieces are sort of about planets!" or "all the composers probably liked flowers".
Figure 1: An astonishingly original idea for your next Obligatory Jocular Costume party.However, I'm coming around a bit. So, when thinking about a concert as a text to be interpreted, consideration is given not only to the pieces programmed, but the order in which they're presented. This can lead to more interesting issues, such as those raised recently in this review:
Visitors from Vienna Bring Both the Pastoral and the Not-So-Pastoral
(James R. Oestreich, New York Times, 1/27/2010)
However, as with all things hermeneutic, the license to interpret is easily carried too far. I'm not sure that's the case here, but it's something of which to be wary.
Programming symphonic concerts is too often done to formula, the lamest, nowadays, being overture, concerto, intermission, symphony.
Agreed, and point taken.
I'll also take this opportunity to note that Messiaen's "Intermission with Bird Songs, Traffic Noise, and Cigarettes" is my favorite work in that underrated genre.
If anything more challenging can be slipped by the marketing department, it is tucked somewhere inside to avoid encouraging patrons to arrive late or leave early.
Why would the marketing department care when you come or go if they sell you a ticket?
Hmm.
Oh, wait: I forgot to put on my hermeneutic hat!
Figure 2a: Apparently, literally every fucking thing in the world is available on a hat at CafePress.*
Figure 2b: Seriously?! What the hell?Besides privileging the Romantic-transcendent cultural paradigm by placing the hierarchical, canonic works at the marked positions of the beginning and end of the concert, this programming strategy further others the "challenging" work by "tucking" it away (or "slipping" it in) between the metaphorical legs of the event-body, resulting in a gendered construction that patriarchally confines the transgressive or dangerous pieces out-of-sight.
Wait. What?
Oh, hell. That was my New Musicology hat.
Figure 3: Apologies to Dr. Susan McClary, Distinguished Professor of Musicology at UCLA.**
Where is that blasted hat?
[rifles through the hat closet at Detritus Towers]
Maybe this is it?
If anything more challenging can be slipped by the marketing department, it is tucked somewhere inside to avoid encouraging patrons to arrive late or leave early.
It sounds like the marketing department is trying to prevent the protrusion into reality of the real by sublimating the object-cause of its desire.
Gah. That's not it, either.
Figure 4: Objet petit a
Ah, screw it. No hat, then. I'll have to proceed with only my meager, Cthulhu-given interpretive skills.
The Vienna Philharmonic, in its three programs conducted by Daniel Barenboim and Pierre Boulez at Carnegie Hall over the weekend, managed to present a lot of challenging material: substantial works by Arnold Schoenberg in each concert, a piece by Anton Webern, another by Mr. Boulez.
I am, I think, firmly on the record as being in favor of this programming.
And at least at the first concert, on Friday evening, the order of the program represented a small triumph of musical values over marketing wimpiness.
Ah, now we're talking. Let's do some goddamn interpretation! Who's with me?
Mr. Barenboim offered a quick historical jaunt, from the bedrock harmonies of Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony through the unmoored and disintegrating tonalities of the Prelude and “Liebestod” from Wagner’s “Tristan und Isolde” to the 12-tone machinations of Schoenberg’s Variations for Orchestra (Op. 31), and it made for a rich and illuminating experience.
I would totally go to that concert. So, Mr. Oestreich, why the preamble about the programming?
But as much sense as that ordering made, it was by no means inevitable.
So the chronological order of the program made sense, as the structure of the concert mirrored the linear, unidirectional flow of time. But, crucially, it was not inevitable.
It's the cutting edge: considering performing pieces not in the order in which they were composed.
The program book, in fact, listed an earlier version,
Ah. Now that's interesting!
...with the mildly intractable Schoenberg work coming before the lush payoff of the Wagner.
Bucking the positivist, rational, linear logic of chronology in favor of the aforementioned "marketer's choice" arrangement.
So, to be clear: The program listed the Schoenberg as the middle work, but it was actually the last on the concert.
An insert sheet gave the revised order, evidently arrived at late,
A fair interpretation.
...and you could almost see the always provocative hand of the headstrong Mr. Barenboim at work in it.
Only a Maestro could have conceived of (provocatively) re-ordering the program at the last minute? To chronologically?
He virtually confirmed as much at the end of the evening when he conspiratorially announced the encore,
Wait wait wait.
There was an encore? This absolutely and drastically affects any close reading of the program. What was it, for Azathoth's sake?
Figure 5: Azathoth, the Insane Outer God at the Center of the Universe. We are all naught but his dreams of dancing. (Duh.)
...Johann Strauss’s “Thunder and Lightning” Polka, “for you and for those who left before the Schoenberg.”
Ha. That's great.
If and only if you stayed for the Schoenberg, which was strategically moved to the end of the program, you got a lollipop.
I take it all back. That's out-fucking-standing.***
**The music school at UCLA is called the Herb Alpert School of Music, which is almost unbearably awesome. It's a fact; you can look it up.
Figure Anhang: A supplement implies a structural lack.
***This profanity is emphatic, and more elaborative than structural.
1/30/10
The Critic[s] and The[ir] Audience[s]
I was thinking upon a point addressed by Gustav here (also by me here and here, and, well, in much of this blog) about the role of the critic.
Gustav's piece highlighted an article in the Salt Lake Tribune, in which a reader wrote the editors to complain about a review.
Her complaint:
"It's reviews such as this that discourage rather than encourage attendance at the symphony, especially when the Utah Symphony is struggling more than ever. The job of a critic is to comment on how well the orchestra plays, not to impose her narrow views on us.
Obviously, the reader's complaint is that the critic's opinion about the music per se was not within the parameters of her job as critic. The contention is that her job, explicitly, extends only to reporting how well the orchestra plays, not musing about the quality of the programming or the music performed.
The disconnect between the critic and audience is apparent, here, and the problem gets more thorny. Discussions about the role of the critic must take into account the audience who reads the criticism. More poignantly, there are different types of audiences to whom various criticisms are addressed, whose sets of expectations and experiences may differ widely. Furthermore, the assumptions and expectations of the critic about the audience(s) they are addressing may be more or less accurate.
That is to say: not all criticism is addressed to the same audience. The venue (type of publication), event (type of concert), and specialization of the critic all play into the dialectic between critic and audience.
How, then, is one to proceed? Who is the mythical, imaginary, abstract audience of the "classical" music critic?
Figure 1: The annual meeting of the Conference for Investigating Notational Problems in 17th Century Thoroughbass Music drew a record crowd this year.
Figure 2: Terry Riley's all-night concert is eagerly awaited by experimental music enthusiasts, no doubt leading to a counter-cultural "happening" during which these so-called "hippies" dabble in psychedelic drugs and other ungentlemanly pursuits.
Figure 2a: Terry Riley being awesome.
Milton Moore, The Day (New London Connecticut), 1/25/2010
Shimada knows the score with ECSO
(Snarky admonishment of title-writer for lame music pun.)
[excerpts]
At the start of Saturday's Eastern Connecticut Symphony Orchestra concert, the fourth under new Music Director Toshi Shimada, the conductor asked the audience at the Garde Arts Center for a mid-term grade.
In the audience's programs, Shimada said, there's a questionnaire, one that focused on audience response to his programming of music new to this audience. "I'm wondering what you're thinking," Shimada said.
The writing is casual, almost, and introduces basic information; the conductor's name, for instance, and how many years he's held the post, is not taken for granted as common knowledge. (The first sentence in that last paragraph needs some tweaking, tense-wise, but it works.)The location and prestige of the paper and symphony (eastern Connecticut) surely call for a different tone, than, say, the New York Times reviewing the New York Philharmonic.
However, while the critic absolutely addresses and assesses the performance of the orchestra on this particular occasion, he does not shy away from discussing the music itself.
The concluding Stravinsky suite, for all of its sizzle, is woven of thin cloth, with a handful of motifs that reappear again and again. It succeeds on its rhythmic energy and on the musicians' virtuosity as the score's spotlight moves from section to section - and Saturday, it was a success indeed.
Also, the audience is assumed to know, or at least be comfortable with, some technical music jargon-y terms.
Shimada kept the polyrhythms brewing, creating a sense of ostinato as its unifying character. He drew on all of its sonic power, especially the nearly sub-sonic rumblings from the large bass section, the contrabassoon and that most Russian basso profundo of instruments, the bass clarinet.
This implies an audience who doesn't feel intimidated or insulted (as ignorant) by the mention of basso profundo, which is not always the case. The feeling is that the audience has some familiarity with classical music and its attendant trappings; there's no need to explain what a "chord" is.
Figure 3: A wizard.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Scott Cantrell, Dallas Morning News, 1/23/2010
Chamber Music International concert's lineup is first-class, with a few rough spots
[excerpts]
In Friday's concert, the first of two, it was clear that skilled and savvy musicians were at work. But none of the performances, at Southern Methodist University's Caruth Auditorium, entirely escaped reservations. The most satisfying, bringing all the players together, was of "the" Dvorák Piano Quintet, the Op. 81 A major. There was certainly plenty of spirit, and Lee and Lim Lewis lent particularly big-hearted and warm-toned solos. But tempos in the scherzo and finale were pushed just over the line between exhilarating and frantic. Both movements should dance, not scramble.
In this excerpt, as throughout the review, Mr. Cantrell is keenly aware of subtle and specific musical details. It's clear that he both knows the literature and is sensitive to performance distinctions, as well as difficulties. In a major metropolitan area (Dallas) with a sizeable arts scene, this type of criticism is common as well as logical. Is it, therefore, suitable?
The tone and style are crisper and less casual than the New London review, which one might expect. Of course, this type of review is very suitable for Mr. Cantrell's ear and musical concerns, since it does deal with familiar repertoire (Mozart, Dvorák, and Prokofiev). In turn, it assumes an audience that is looking for pretty fine distinctions, well beyond "they done played purty".
Figure 4: Dallas, with its brand-new opera house, is widely regarded as a rising cultural force.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sherli Leonard, San Bernardino Press-Enterprise, 1/26/2010
San Bernardino Symphony opens with Michael Jackson songs
Awww, yeah.
Just kidding, I don't even want to talk about that.
[excerpts]
The San Bernardino Symphony Orchestra continues to prove itself to be more than a fine professional orchestra. Under the leadership of conductor Carlo Ponti, the staff and volunteers, it has become a gem for the community.
Praise--superlative, almost hyperbolic praise--is the unifying feature of this review.
With almost no tonality, the piece told a story as compelling as any told by a tune, mystical, alluring, with many textures, and never boring, and obviously a real and nicely handled counting challenge for the musicians.
Wow! As compelling as any told by a tune?
Ralph Vaughan-Williams' "Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis" featured strings only. Ten years ago, this piece would have severely challenged the string section, but not now. This orchestra's performance illuminated Vaughan-Williams' wonderful magical modulations, which seem to open up like the sun bursting through dark clouds.
The writing is interesting and descriptive, even impressionistic. And never really critical.
After the third lumpy-but-necessary change of chairs and instruments, the orchestra came back to the stage and pianist Eldred Marshall, a graduate of Rialto's Eisenhower High School, delivered a capable performance of Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 9.
I guess it should be noted, in light of my meta-critique, that the staging changes were...lumpy. Oh, snap!
But: High school soloist, eh? How was that? Was it...awesome?
Matching the orchestra's perky, tidy approach, Marshall played with expression, sharp contrasts and attention to detail, all with a technique that developed more lightness as the piece progressed and reflected Mozart's playfulness.
That sounds pretty awesome, actually.
The achingly beautiful slow Andantino allowed for an exquisite interaction between piano and first violins, but the piano just would not sing for Marshall.
Ah, not totally awesome, then, but it wasn't his fault. The piano had a sore throat.
Marshall exploded into the Rondo/Presto movement, setting a pace even he couldn't keep up with. However, in spite of serious train wrecks on the descending runs in particular, he delivered a dazzling show of virtuosity.
I understand that it's a kid playing a piano concerto, and there's no reason to be super-critical (as it were) of him. But it was totally dazzling and awesome and stunning...with a few train wrecks.
The point isn't that it is or isn't a bad review, of course. The audience's expectations of the critic appear rather like those demanded by the complaining letter-writer from Salt Lake. There was a concert, it was good, here is some stuff that happened, and some praise. You should totally go see it!
Which is fine. But an audience expecting a nuanced performance critique (like the Cantrell) or a more thorough consideration of the program (Moore) would probably be disappointed.
Gotta represent the 909.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Allan Kozinn, New York Times, 12/30/2009
Gilbert Braces Listeners for Webern
Okay, look: I'm not holding up the Times as the epitome of criticism, of music or otherwise. In fact, their integrity and reliability in general are probably more fragile, or at least precariously situated, than at any time in my memory.
[See: Cheerleading for the Run-Up to Unjustified War, The]
In fact, and in the interest of full disclosure, I've addressed my issues this review here.However...well, let's go to the review.
The stage of Avery Fisher Hall was decked out with flowing blue curtains and floral arrangements on Tuesday evening in preparation for the New York Philharmonic’s New Year’s Eve concert. But Alan Gilbert’s more pressing business was the orchestra’s final subscription program for 2009, an inventive juxtaposition of works by Webern, Mozart and Schumann.
Mr. Gilbert built this program with what appeared to have been the modest but telling goal of getting the Philharmonic audience to warm to Webern’s concise, focused 12-tone music, by way of the Symphony (Op. 21), which he conducted (and spoke about) in the second half. And he surrounded the symphony with very different works, all meant to undercut what some listeners still regard as its abstruse harshness.
In fairness, Mr. Kozinn has the luxury of reviewing the NY Phil, so although not all performances are stellar, it's a world-class orchestra. Also, and pretty clearly, the sort of influence and gravitas that comes with writing for the Times lends an automatic authority to the criticism.
Second, the audience (Times readers), although vast and global, is accustomed to levels of detail and thoughtfulness in its arts reporting not expected of smaller outlets. Contrariwise, the critic must live up to these expectations.
Though this is not always the case, Mr. Kozinn immediately sets a narrative in motion, following higher-order concepts and concerns (the inventive programming, the reaction of the audience, contextualizing modernism) than the three previous articles. And, by most measures, the writing is really good.
That said, this type of review is probably not appropriate for every newspaper. Especially in smaller markets where the level of musical background--and, importantly, tolerance for assuming any--is not as sophisticated as (and this is crucial) it seems to be in the New York Times's readership.
(Yes, damn it, I hate the Yankees. Bite me.)
I've scratched the surface, here, of sort of backwards-engineering audiences based upon the reviews I chose more-or-less ad hoc from recent newspapers across the country. I don't think it takes a double-blind study to elucidate my examples.
Instead, I wanted to address how the often- and recently-discussed Role of the Critic is contingent to a large extent on for whom any particular critic is writing. That Role is not just one role, however much I'd like all of the reviews I read to be addressed to me.
Your comments are appreciated.
(I promise more snark and swearing next post.)
1/28/10
Review comes with ups, downs...but mostly downs
Barbara Zuck, writing for the Columbus Dispatch, reviewed two works she knew and one she didn't...guess which one she didn't like.
Pianist, guest maestro come with ups, downs
But they're both tops in our hearts.
The Columbus Symphony performed at its best for much of last night's "Classical 5" concert,...
..."for much" of the concert? Oh boy, I can't wait to hear where they fucked up.
And "Classical 5"? What does the 5 stand for? ... 5 pieces? At 5 o'clock? 5 drink minimum? Little help, eh.
...presented at a crowded Ohio Theatre under the leadership of guest conductor Andreas Delfs.
A program with an unfamiliar contemporary piece...
"Unfamiliar" and "contemporary" -- the double whammy of impending "I tried to like it" rationalizations.
...combined with two very famous works brimmed with potential pitfalls of diverse sorts.
Pitfalls?
Diverse sorts of pitfalls? Such as...?
I hope they're something like this pitfall:
figure atari: Harry, watch out for those crazy rolling logs!So, which pitfalls should we be on the look for? If there's one thing I've learned from Pitfall it was that crocodiles always chomp their jaws in unison, and they can't eat you if you stand on their eyes. Hope that helps.
Delfs, a native of Germany with a long list of professional experiences, strategically avoided most of these to make a strong and successful first impression.
Oh, I forgot this was a review, we don't have time for explanations -- kind of like an episode of 24.
Needless to say, I think we're all relieved that Delfs was here to save us from the unnamed pitfalls.
Roberto Sierra's Fandangos, a CSO premiere, had listeners scratching their heads: Is this piece for real -- or just a lot of "bull?"
Bullshit?! [Don't worry, it's all right, you can swear on the internets.] You wanted to know if his piece was bullshit?
Seriously, Barbara, with all due respect, but when was the last time you were punked at the symphony concert?
figure douchebag: "Yo! That Sierra piece was totally whack, and you so fell for it! You should have seen your face, thinking 'I kind of like this piece'. But no, it totally sucks donkey scrotum. What a fucking awesome joke, don't you think?"[Thinks to himself: Do the kiddies still say "whack"? or "yo"? Whatever.]
Replete with Carmen references, Fandangos also contained terrific flute and percussion flourishes.
Okay, cool. Some great flute playing and and some gratuitous percussion vomit impressed. Who doesn't love those things? And of course, the piece referenced...Carmen? Wait, are you sure, or are you just bullshitting me?
Let me just check the program notes. Hey, these are the same notes you read.
[Skimming]...
"Hispanic"..."Ligeti"..."lively dance from Spain"..."Mozart"..."Boccherini and the Scarlatti"..."Like Ravel in his Boléro".... Nope, no Carmen reference.
Now, I've seen more than a few episodes of Matlock, so I think, utilizing my amazing powers of deduction, I can figure out this little pitfall of logic myself.
You see, it's my contention that you listened to this piece, having read that it's named after and based on a historical Spanish dance, and thought to yourself, "this piece sounds Spanish-y". And since Carmen, a famous opera set in Spain, features many Spanish dances you figured that all Spanish-sounding dances are from Carmen. Therefore, all Spanish-y music is a reference to Carmen. Right?
And then you used the paperweight on Mr. McKenzie's desk to bludgeon him to death. And then you framed his wife, Kathy, because you never liked her. Ever since she forgot your name at the company picnic and said the jello dessert you brought was "runny" you've held a grudge. Haven't you?
figure not Perry Mason: Matlock likes hot dogs.But you hinted that you didn't like the piece...please, tell us why.
Yet last night's performance came across as both too slow and too loud -- an odd and not especially welcome combination.
Well, why didn't you just say so? Slow?! and Loud?!!! Fuck me. No wonder you thought the piece was bullshitting you.
Guest artist Andre Watts,...
Oh, right, there was a soloist mentioned in the title as well. Let's see what "ups, downs" his portion of the show provided.
...long a star of stage and concert hall, gave a highly musical performance as soloist in Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 5 ("Emperor").
Great, this must be the "ups" part of the concert.
Yet Watts' reading was strangely uneven...
Can a "strangely uneven" reading be "highly musical"? Hmmm...
Guess so.
...and one couldn't help but wonder whether a bothersome noise -- reportedly from a patron's hearing aid -- interrupted his train of thought.
Reportedly? Way to crack the case, Columbo.
What, did you get that from the police blotter? Is the patron with the hearing aid a suspect in the case, or merely a person of interest?
figure greatest lawyer ever: "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to prove to you not only that Hearing Aid Man is guilty, but that he is also innocent of not being guilty." In any case, the best music-making from the sometimes theatrical soloist came in the third movement.
Isn't that always the case, the best music-making is always in the last place you listen.
And enough already with the Beethoven concerto. Three whole sentences?! What are you, fucking Wikipedia? I've got things to do, what else was "ups" on the concert?
Brahms' Second Symphony figures prominently in Columbus Symphony history; it was one of the works performed at the orchestra's Carnegie Hall appearance in 2001.
That was a thoroughly amazing performance. It'd take quite the enjoyable, valid interpretation to displace the memory of that historic rendition.
Last night's very different reading might not have displaced the memory of that historic rendition. But it was certainly an equally enjoyable, and equally valid, interpretation.
Enjoyably valid, but not enough to displace...hmmm...that is a quandary.
Help me break it down some. What were some of its attributes?
Among its attributes: a big, full orchestral sound; gorgeous horn and woodwind playing, most notably in the third movement; and the true sense of joy and euphoria in the finale.
Yep, I think I know enough to displace the 2001 performance from my memory and replace it with this one.Done and done.
1/27/10
What if Bruckner was the pinnacle of classical music and nobody laughed?
Mark Swed of the LA Times is a good writer, and is certainly quite knowledgeable on the subject of classical music. I enjoy reading him from time to time because he is never afraid to share his opinion. An admirable trait in my eyes.
However, why must every piece performed in the LA area have epic historical context?
Music Review: Maazel's brilliant Bruckner Eighth
I must say that I'm getting a little sick and tired of the brilliance of Bruckner symphonies.
A little rain is not going to stop a Brucknerian.
Yes, but this might...
figure obvious joke: Referencing LA's traffic problems is funny because it's true.And when it comes to the master’s Eighth Symphony, flood means nothing to a pilgrim.
figure doctored photo: Ah, making fun at the expense of the poor and unfortunate. It's nice to see, though, that they managed to save the necessities. A six pack is the only way I'd make it through Bruckner's Eighth too.But for those not in the thrall of Bruckner’s massive frozen architecture, any excuse to stay home is welcome.
Frozen architecture? His music is an igloo?
figure frozen architecture: Brucknerian symphony.On Thursday, when Lorin Maazel tackled Bruckner’s 84-minute symphony of symphonies, there were, as might be predicted, more empty seats than normal for a Los Angeles Philharmonic concert at Walt Disney Concert Hall.
Predicted? But this is Bruckner. He's fucking awesome. Plus his music is an igloo.
Nothing else was on the program. The mighty Eighth stands alone.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure a cloudy sky would have been enough to keep me away.
But the crowd was still sizable and mildly cultish. The Eighth is not exactly rare, but it doesn’t come our way all that often.
Kind of like a Phish concert tour, or the McRib sandwich.
figure McRib: Meat-like substance processed and molded into the shape of ribs. Yum.For the symphonic purist, the Eighth, composed in the late 1880s and Bruckner’s last complete symphony, is not only the most magnificent of all symphonies, it is the end of the classical line.
[Okay, now the serious part.] Say what now?
The "end of the classical line"? That's quite the statement.
With his symphonic successor, Mahler, the symphony got grander still, but it no longer remained pure.
I think there are some serious problems with the idea of this Austro-German lineage of great composers. But yes, Mahler symphonies were larger and more grand on average than Bruckner.
But what of this idea of "pure"? The word pure implies there was some sort of de facto model of the symphony. As I'm sure you know, that isn't true. But the 19th century was an era of great symphonic composers, and after the likes of Bruckner and Mahler, the symphony became less important as a symphonic form. Is that your point?
The genre took on narrative meanings.
Guess not. May I direct you to Beethoven's Sixth Symphony (or his Third, or Ninth), Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique, and some Tchaikovsky's symphonies to name the most obvious pre-Mahlerian examples. Or, if we are to include other symphonic forms, the tone poems of Strauss, Dukas, and many of the orchestral works by hyphenated composers Nikolai Rimksy-Korsakov and Camille Saint-Saens.
But I suppose we're talking about the tried and true four-movement symphony symphony. Yes, Mahler's symphonies (and much of the music by composers of the era, including those who didn't write symphonies) did take on narrative meanings in some cases.
It found new ways to present messy emotions and reflect the ego and the excesses of its creators and of its times.
Unlike Beethoven whose music is the model of the humble, well-tempered composer.
As the symphony found new life in the 20th century, some thought it an unseemly, even decadent, turn of events.
Funny how some also found a way to hate all the other music of the 20th century as well, not just the symphonies.
And oh that "decadent"20th century music. Bruckner must have been rolling around in his grave when he heard the effete self-indulgence of Stravinsky's Symphony in C.
For Bruckner there had been only one Creator.
figure Creator: Bruckner was right. It just makes burning dvds so much easier.And he just stands in such stark contrast to the polydeism of composers like Mendelssohn, Bach, and Handel.
Who could forget the blasphemous Messiahs by Handel, or the famous aria in Haydn's The Creation where Jesus makes fun of Ganesh's extra appendages and hilarious elephant head, but praised his long patronage of the arts and sciences?
The symphony, and the Eighth more than any other, was his ideal monument to the Divine.
This sounds a bit like narrative to me. Maybe not a program, per se, but I've seen narrative before, and this is definitely hinting at narrative...
The typical shorthand description of Bruckner is to point out that he captured the majesty and radiance of Wagner’s sound while staying true to Beethovenian structural ideals.
"...staying true to Beethovenian structural ideals"? That's quite the loaded statement. Do you have an example?
This statement seems to imply that any piece that doesn't meet the structural standards of Beethoven is somehow inferior. Or that there was actually some sort of quantifiable ideal established by Beethoven in the first place.
Forgetting for a moment that Beethoven actually was the first composer to prominently break away from classical forms in the symphony, and famously bring in his own ego and idea of narrative power to the symphony, Beethoven is just a single composer and does not (by himself) establish structural ideals. His symphonies, while great, do not represent some absolute model of perfection to which all symphonies should be compared.
He wrote Beethoven’s Ninth symphony over and over again.
That's sort of the standard Bruckner joke, yeah.
But yes, Bruckner (like Brahms and every other Romantic composer) felt a direct line of their symphonies to those of Beethoven as divined by God, but that doesn't necessarily make it so.
--------------------
Let me clarify my comments a bit here. There is nothing wrong with writing that Bruckner's symphonic compositions are in a lineage with other great German composers who preceded and followed him. However, there is something wrong when you start to ascribe value to that lineage. This idea of purity of the symphonic form is simplistic version of history at best.
We see this same sort of over inflated importance of extra-musical circumstances in your reviews a here:
Music review: Tchaikovsky's 'Pathetique' Symphony 'unwound' by Pacific Symphony
Tchaikovsky has been saved by his sad story. At times when absolute music has been in fashion, the morbid Russian Romantic with a flair for melody and melancholy has been out of it. These days, narrative in music – possibly thanks to the ascendancy of pop culture – is prized. And, yes, we love a mystery. Did a tormented Tchaikovsky commit suicide? Was his last symphony testament of forbidden love?
Yes, maybe. But you're framing this question incorrectly. The extra-musical story associated with Tchaikovsky's symphony has been a subject of much debate for many years. Is it interesting? I suppose. But that's not why this music ever went in or out of fashion. As far as I can tell, no piece of music has ever suffered fewer performances solely on the fact that it may have a narrative associated with it.
Could it be, just possibly, that Tchaikovsky's music went out of favor because of its lush orchestration, or highly affected tonal language? Perhaps it went out of favor not because of something it did, but because orchestras wanted to play different, less often performed works...maybe even new music?
While there are relevant arguments of programmatic versus absolute music, or where Bruckner's symphonies fit historically, these are not the things that make a piece of music good or bad, enjoyable or unlistenable.
------------------------
I should also note, that despite my protestations, both of these reviews are quite nicely written with wonderful descriptions, and good information. Plus, in an unrelated note, Mark Swed did uncover this alarming piece of information...
Maazel, no mystic he, has no truck...
When will the powers that be snap into action and address the real crisis of America's truckless conductors? Ganesh be with us if Michael Tilson Thomas were to ever have his truck repossessed.
figure truck: MTT's baby. The only way he's able to navigate that decadent 20th century music.1/22/10
In Defense of Music Critics
In between our snarky witticisms and acerbic critiques, we here at the Detritus are faced daily with some fundamental questions. And I believe that these issues deserve some special consideration from time to time, both by the Detritus Review and by our readers. It's reviews such as this that discourage rather than encourage attendance at the symphony, especially when the Utah Symphony is struggling more than ever. The job of a critic is to comment on how well the orchestra plays, not to impose her narrow views on us. Kaye D. Murdock, Salt Lake City Needless to say that Ms. Murdock and I would likely not be friends, but let us first explore, without yet considering Ms. Newton's actually review, her suggestion as to the role of a critic.
The Issue: What is role of the music critic?
Despite using this blog as a platform to lampoon some critics, we hold the profession of music critic in high esteem. And while we wish to compel, through criticism, everyone in the profession to the highest standards, we still believe in the importance of the role that the music critic plays in the arts.
The role of the critic isn't easily determined since the critic serves so many masters, each wanting something different and personal. Some wish to be informed and some wish to have their opinions affirmed (or challenged). It's easy to force your expectations of what a good review should be onto a critique that doesn't necessarily agree or aims to please a different demographic. But one thing that I think cannot be mistaken is the relationship between critic and reader, and an understanding of the service being provided, as public recounting of our shared heritage and culture.
What prompted me to write about this issue was a review in the Salt Lake Tribune this past weekend. I read many (MANY) reviews, and this one was neither great nor terrible. It didn't really distinguish itself as typical fodder for the Detritus. However, the paper also published this letter to the editor response online.
I found the letter interesting in the way it attacks the critic for not understanding her role as critic. Good question,"what is the role of a critic?"
Okay, yes, I'd have to agree that this is part of the job of the critic. The orchestra sits as the cultural epicenter of most metropolitan areas' classical music offerings. They require enormous budgets that are often funded primarily by donation and municipal grants. An account of the performance by that orchestra does seem like an important part of accountability to the community.
...not to impose her narrow views on us.
And again, I would agree. Proper editorial journalism starts with the facts at hand before coming to a conclusion, not beginning with preconceived notions.
However, and I don't mean to pick on this one woman and her opinion too much, but it seems that it is she, and perhaps the majority of orchestra patrons and those who still read arts criticism in newspapers, that have the narrow views.
---------------------------
Let me go back a little bit here and start, in part, with what my feelings are on the subject.
I have always bought into the vision of the critic as a public expert, advocate, and to some extent, a teacher. In one famous text on the subject, Philip Weissman wrote that “the step from connoisseur to critic implies the progression from knowledge to judgment,” in his essay The Psychology of the Critic and Psychological Criticism
(1962). It is that progression from knowledge to judgment that yields the critic an authority worthy of attention. Without that knowledge base the criticisms will ring hollow.
The problem is that most people view the critic as a person who "criticizes." And they view that sense of expertise as being arrogant and superior. And with subjective arts, such as music, people are not easily convinced by knowledge-based arguments, and so-called "theories". They, perhaps rightly, view music as instinctual and creative, and therefore, all opinions are essentially equal. Criticisms contrary to our own are then met with disdain. But good critics are not the snobs they are often accused of being, but those who hold their opinions to a higher standard. You see, it's not enough just to have an opinion, even when discussing purely subjective issues. You need to know why you like (or dislike) a piece of music. This is not a question of finding a correct answer. As many would rightly argue, there is no right and wrong. However, there is the ill-conceived and the uninformed. The ability to explain why you think what you think is a fundamental part of having an opinion. And the critic is, theoretically, someone who is best able to articulate his/her opinion in a manner both open and honest.
This issue of "right" and "wrong", "good" and "bad", seem to be the biggest stumbling blocks for most readers, and critics themselves. Many critics (especially the ones featured on this blog) are too afraid of offending those sensibilities and revert to half-statements and banal trivialities that don't reflect the sort knowledge I'm referencing here. I believe that good criticism is given with an awareness that these terms of definitive value do not apply. The critic doesn't have the answers, nor speaks for everyone. But guided by a strong grounding in the history, the theory, and a lifetime of listening, their criticism will serve as the starting point for our community discussion - serve as an example and model. The critic should be able to frame the debate clearly, noticing things that others may not notice, and provide a context that may otherwise be hidden. The critic can also offer up comparisons, both historical and contemporary, and provide a summary of the extra-musical circumstances.
It has clearly become an unpopular concept, but the music critic is, in essence, a public intellectual. (I'm not sure why the idea of scholars and experts, and the idea of learning rather than dismissing, have become so unpopular, but they have.)
---------------------
Okay, returning to our letter to the editor, the primary contention was that Ms. Newton's word choice of "gooey" was just too much of an insult to the Rachmaninoff Symphony. Well, perhaps. But let us check the source first, shall we.
Utah Symphony Rachs on
We are not amused.
Minczuk's [the conductor] refreshingly light touch, coupled with decisive tempos, brought out the work's folk flavor much more than the heart-on-sleeve romanticism for which Rachmaninoff is beloved -- and reviled -- the world over.
An interesting, if somewhat banal, introduction to the Rachmaninoff. But it does touch upon the stylistic connotations with this work, and other works of the era. This seems like a perfectly acceptable line of criticism with which to proceed. Many people may not know this, but the over-the-top lushness of late romantic works such as this one, do induce hatred amongst some. This is highly affected music and is, therefore, somewhat polarizing. Point well taken, Ms. Newton.
And, in addition, Ms. Newton has already begun to offer up her opinion of this given performance by praising the conductor's "light touch" and "decisive tempos". And these are comments both germane to a discussion of the embracing of the "romanticism" inherent in the work, and to her specific enjoyment of the performance.
He even brought the orchestra through the third movement, which boasts one of the gooiest principal themes in the symphonic repertoire, with its dignity intact.
Oh. There's that word "gooey".
[For those of you unfamiliar with the work, you can listen to it here.]
Now, to me, this is primarily a positive review. Ms. Newton obviously enjoyed the performance, which should have satisfied Ms. Murdock and her "The job of a critic is to comment on how well the orchestra plays." But yes, it does acknowledge a certain personal bias that the critic may have about lushly orchestrated music (she does not make her opinion explicit in the article other than to praise this "light" performance).
However, our critic of critics also basically accused Ms. Newton of not appreciating the "loveliness and sublime beauty" in the work. Well, I suppose that Ms. Newton doesn't categorically attribute her positive review to the inherent loveliness of the Rachmaninoff. But, obviously, there's more to like about the performance. Yes?
The brass section played with just the right degree of bluster, the woodwind solos were all spot on, the strings displayed a nice transparency and the percussionists delivered plenty of punch. Nearly as impressive, though, was the sleight of hand by which Minczuk produced his baton from within his jacket for the finale after conducting the third movement without it.
While I think that these sections from the original review make it clear that our letter to the editor probably didn't read the review very closely, that's sort of the point. She didn't really read the review, and doesn't really know how to digest music criticism. Ms. Murdock perceived a slight offense at what she held as the opinion on Rachmaninoff Symphony No.2 and anything that deviated from that opinion was viewed more as an attack than as, what it really is, analysis and interpretation. In other words, she doesn't like criticism.
So, why am I bothering to take on this meaningless letter to the editor? Clearly, I don't intend to simply criticize, because I think this is easily dismissed and ignored. But, she just doesn't get it. She doesn't understand what a music critic does, and as has been my experience, her opinion echoes that of many who, in their ignorance, have contributed to the diminishing and devaluing of the public intellectual/critic in our communities.
Her letter, while insignificant, requires a response, because I believe in the role of classical music in our society. And part of that is a public discourse led by experts, advocates and teachers.
As a quick aside, let me finish my argument with a quote from infamous food critic, Anton Ego,who you may remember from the film "Ratatouille":
"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations, the new needs friends... Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere."
----------------------------
1/15/10
Friday Quickie -- A Little Thing Called Contemporary Music
I think Mark Kanny, of the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, thinks I'm stupid.
International Contemporary Ensemble sees endless possibilities in contemporary music
There's a word for my response...an expression of disdain for something stupid or obvious, especially a self-evident remark. Hmmm...?
Contemporary music offers the opportunity for incredible variety in assembling a concert program.
I think Mark Kanny just discovered the 20th century, or that there is music written for ensembles other than orchestras and string quartets.
There's no dominant style of composition today, and the ingenuity of fresh instrumental combinations is breathtaking.
If only I knew how to express my annoyance at this banal, obvious statement.
The situation has spawned a new world of mixed chamber groups that go far beyond dominance of string-quartet instruments, often with piano, characterizing older chamber music.
The situation? This sounds serious.
Now, the possibilities for varied sonorities are virtually endless.
Boy, those contemporary music guys sure are clever people.
The International Contemporary Ensemble will present a program of mixed chamber music Saturday evening at the Andy Warhol Museum in the North Side.
Sounds like a cool event. Bringing in musicians from around the world to present the music of international composers to a new and interesting alternative space....awesome.
The concert continues the collaboration between the University of Pittsburgh's Music on the Edge concert series and the Warhol.
Nice. Kind of wished I lived in a city that offered such events.
So, we're in Pittsburgh, in a museum dedicated to a quintessentially American artist...how about you tell us about the international component of tonight's concert? The International Contemporary Ensemble...from which far off land of mystery do they hail?
The group is based in Chicago and New York City, and numbers 30 musicians.
Ah, the great Republic of Chicago, and the Federated States of New York. How very international.
It recently was described in The New York Times as "one of the most adventurous and accomplished groups in new music." Four musicians from the roster of the International Contemporary Ensemble will play the Saturday concert...
Excellent. I bet they all have exotic, international names...
...flutist Claire Chase, clarinetist Joshua Rubin, percussionist David Schotzko and guitarist Daniel Lippel.
Claire, Josh, David and Daniel? How ever do you pronounce these crazy foreign names? Me and my blasted American education.
Note that there is no string quartet instrument -- violin, viola or cello -- and no piano.
1/13/10
Slowly, Finally, Coming to Grips with Modernism?
Who's up for some well-intentioned propagation of the Myth of the Awful Modernist Music? I know I am!
As programming approaches go, the one that James Levine ventured in a concert by the Met Chamber Ensemble at Zankel Hall on Sunday evening was a doozy.
It''s artful the way the structure of the sentence seems to reflect the purported programming approach.
So what was so, uh, zany about this program? Or, rather, the Maestro's approach to the program?
Oh, sorry. The title of the article was:
Part 1: A Dose of Knotty Modernism. Part 2: Quaint Nostalgia.
(Steve Smith, New York Times, 1/11/2010)
Ah! Knotty, then quaint. Say, that is a doozy!
The first half of the program offered vocal works by Milton Babbitt and Elliott Carter, formidable modernists for whom Mr. Levine has shown a durable affinity;
Ha ha! His affinity is "durable" because, I mean, who really likes that knotty, formidable modernist crap anyway?
the second, Richard Strauss’s “Bürger als Edelmann” Suite, quaint, nostalgic music written for a staging of Molière’s play “Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme.”
Now that's more like it. Nostalgia is outstanding. Things were better back when things were awesome.
Finding offers for midconcert ticket handoffs on Craigslist would have been no surprise.
I know, right? Sheesh, people were probably giving their tickets away for free. I mean, what's wrong with Mozart? Could we please get some Beethoven up in this bitch?
It was surely a sign of faith in Mr. Levine’s judgment, and in the talents of his collaborators onstage, that a sizable audience assembled for Sunday’s quirky concert and seemed to appreciate it throughout.
Because there's no fucking way that 599 people in all of New York City would possibly want to hear Elliott Carter and Milton Babbitt's music. Even, presumably, if you bribe them with nostalgia after the intermission, .00723% of New Yorkers would not go downtown for that shit.
They must, therefore, "surely" really, really trust James Levine.
Figure 1: The Face of Trustworthiness, even vis-a-vis Modernsim.
If there was a unifying element to be found, perhaps it was in how far each composer had bent to accommodate the particular demands of a text.
The doozy of the (perceived) programming approach was that its unifying element (if there indeed was one) was the degree to which each composer accommodated the text?
Okay. That kind of is a, uh...doozy.
In “The Head of the Bed,” Mr. Babbitt’s 1981 setting of a 1974 poem by John Hollander, the answer was, evidently, not much.
Ah. Oh, Milton. You're no fun, and you never let the text have any fun, either.
Figure 2: Fun!
Mr. Hollander’s text, parceled out in 15 stanzas of 15 lines apiece, offers a haunting barrage of vivid impressions dealing with sleep and dreaming.
15 X 15 sounds like extra serial goodness. So in what way did Uncle Milton not accommodate the text?
Mr. Babbitt varied the instrumental combinations to indicate the poem’s formal boundaries;
Man, delineating the formal structure of the text with instrumentation is totally unfair to the text. That's the text's form, man! Get your own damn form!
...vocal lines wrinkled and leapt over a constant rustle that could be interpreted as unconscious fitfulness.
That sounds pretty good. What's the catch? What was his big non-text-accommodating faux pas?
Still,
Oh, here we go...
...it would be hard to imagine this poem set more convincingly by any conventional method.
Still...what? That sounds...good. What the hell? Where was the...
And the soprano Judith Bettina, a seasoned, persuasive interpreter of Mr. Babbitt’s music, was dazzling in her lucidity and commitment.
That sounds great!
I'm confused.
Not for nothing, but without all of the appeals to the "nobody likes/wants to hear this music" meme in the opening paragraphs, this comes off as really positive.
Instead, though, after being warned that the music is knotty and formidable, taken quasi-medicinally in "doses", and remarking that it's surprising that anyone at all came to hear it instead of giving their goddamn tickets away on Craigslist, the ultimately positive review is rather tepid.
Look: I'm not saying the music's not sometimes hard, but rather that those descriptors have a loaded, negative connotation which ultimately dissuade the prospective listener from giving it a serious hearing.
[deep breaths]
So, where were we? Carter?
But where Mr. Babbitt’s work resounded for its formal accomplishment, Mr. Carter’s “Syringa,” a 1978 setting of ancient Greek texts and a modern poem by John Ashbery, rang out as an instantly perceptible masterwork.
Figure 3: Elliott Carter (l) with Frederic Rzewski in Berlin, 1964. (He was 55!)
Interesting. A Carter masterwork, eh? High praise for thorny modernism!
Through long acquaintance, Mr. Carter’s complex webbings of simultaneous sensations have become not only approachable but also familiar.
Who knew that if one became familiar with a style or musical language it'd be easier to understand?
More and more, he has come to seem like a prescient sage of a multitasking era:
Ooh, careful. That almost sounds postmodern.
...so much the better for a listener to respond as Evan Hughes, a bass-baritone, barked lines of myth in Greek, while Kristin Hoff, a mezzo soprano, patiently intoned Mr. Ashbery’s parenthetical observations in English. Mr. Carter’s music sounded responsive to the words, even voluptuous at times. The guitarist Oren Fader, the work’s third featured performer, played brilliantly.
Outstanding. This isn't the same performance, but here's a clip:
Embeddence 1: Carter, "Syringa" (part 1 of 2)
Had Mr. Levine not been sidelined by spinal surgery for several months, he might now be conducting Strauss’s luscious “Rosenkavalier” at the Metropolitan Opera.
He...might be?
The same mix of flamboyant technique and wistful nostalgia found in that opera saturates the zingy Neo-Classical “Bürger als Edelmann” music to slighter effect, and Mr. Levine and his players — especially David Chan, the principal violinist — had an easygoing loll in it.
That sounds dreadful, but maybe I'm just not in the mood for "flamboyant technique and wistful nostalgia".
Figure 4: Oh, no thanks. I had too much casual Orientalism over the holidays, I'm trying to cut down.
Yeah, no. I'll take a dose of Thorny Modernism for a thousand, Alex.
Figure 5: Trebek, cannily presaging Levine's hair-thing (see Figure 1).
1/11/10
Masur Reunites Germany, Gives Not Spectacular Performance of Bruckner
Bernard Jacobson, of the Seattle Times, muses upon his Brucknerian experiences and Masur saves the world.
Who knew that one performance of a Bruckner Symphony could have altered history in such a profound way?
figure Masur: German dictator following the collapse of the German Democratic Republic.Masur is a master of the Austro-German classics
Wow. Kurt Masur, a German conductor, is a master of German music? Will wonders ever cease?
One of the most memorable moments in my lifetime's experience of Bruckner...
Does one really distinguish lifetime experiences of Bruckner from those of other Austro-German romantic composers?
...was of a soft brass chord in the Third Symphony. It shone like sunlight glinting on the surface of a calm sea.
Ah...the glorious Third Symphony. Sounds sublime.
The conductor was Kurt Masur.
You know what...I think the guest conductor for this concert is Kurt Masur. What a coincidence!
So it was exciting to learn that the great German maestro had chosen music by Bruckner,...
I'm pretty sure "exciting" is not the word I would choose, but to each his own...
...along with Mozart's 40th Symphony, for his long-awaited debut Thursday with the Seattle Symphony.
Excellent. On with the review.
Bruckner's Fourth has none of the wondrous rapt mysticism of his Seventh,...
Well, I have two problems here. First, what the fuck? What a completely random comment. Did you not just get through with a personal anecdote about the Third Symphony? What. The. Fuck.
Second, where do you get off not using the word "symphony" in this sentence? Fourth what?
I'm sure we all know what you mean, but less is hardly more when referencing specific pieces of music.
...the other most popular of his symphonies. It is all nature poetry, and this was a supremely natural performance,...
Well, this would seem to be an obvious sentiment, except, despite having the same root word, "nature" and "natural" aren't really referring to the same thing. Are they Mr. Jacobson?
I assume that by "nature" you mean "the natural world as it exists without humans", and by "natural" you mean "free from affectation" and not so much "formed by nature". Yes?
...and this was a supremely natural performance, to such a point that Masur had no truck...
Masur didn't have a truck*?! How else could one traverse "nature" without the 6.1L, 425 horsepower, high octane, 4.06 inch Bore, 90.9 mm Stroke Hemi Engine inside the indestructible Dodge Ram?!
figure hemi: The only way to tackle "nature". Masur strangely doesn't own one.So...no truck. Not even a truck-like car?
figure el camino: Cars that most definitely don't help you get laid. Also, Kurt Masur doesn't have this....with the rather mannered little hesitations that Bruckner wrote into the bucolic horn calls of the scherzo, propelling them instead with exhilarating directness.
So, are they playing the Fourth or the Seventh? I suppose there's an off chance they're performing the Third? I guess it doesn't really matter.
The rest of the article is perfectly cromulent. The performance was recounted with descriptors such as "crisp" and "sonorous". There were "stretches of gorgeously saturated string tone" -- tones? -- and "high artistry". Clearly he must have been speaking about the Bruckner Fourth, for the Seventh just doesn't feature any of these things.
However, reading further I did stumble across one of my favorite features of music criticism, the random and mostly pointless quotation. After lengthy gushing over the performance of the Bruckner, Jacobson went on to add the following:
As a member of the Chicago Symphony commented years ago after we had both heard a Mahler symphony played by Masur with the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, "It just went to prove that you don't always have to play everything as loudly as possible."
Okay. I disagree, because loud equals awesome! But, regardless, I have an issue here.
There are six major subjects of importance in this sentence:
Member of Chicago Symphony
Mahler Symphony
Kurt Masur
Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra
Point of Contention That Needs Proving to the Contrary
Don't Have to Play Loudly
Now based on the article that has preceded so far we have established subjects like:
Bruckner Third Symphony, Good Times
Bruckner Fourth not the Seventh
Kurt Masur
Kurt Masur is German
Something About Nature
Horn Calls
Masur Doesn't Have a Truck
figure bigfoot: Kurt Masur apparently doesn't own this truck either, and it's all Bruckner's fault. Using my awesome powers of compare and contrast, it would seem that there are only...(counts on fingers)... is only 1 subject in common. Fuck. That would make your random quotation, well...random. Don't do that.
Okay. Still not a bad article. Let's see how it ends. Tie it all together for us, Jacobson.
Perhaps the most spectacular thing about this Fourth was that there was nothing spectacular about it.
I love sentences that say nothing. Well done, sir. Plus, way to continue not being specific about the composition titles. Love it.
Paced without a trace of affectation, it was simply human and warmly spiritual.
Ah, there you go again using the definition of the word "natural"...that's nice the way you brought it back for us, for a bit of symmetry.
These are qualities that almost define Bruckner,...
You might say the Bruckner was Brucknerian? Yes?
...and it was no surprise to find them in the work of a conductor...
Composer. Bruckner was a composer.
...whose moral authority...
Moral authority?
...helped materially to prevent the collapse of the East German regime in 1989 from turning violent.
Masur did what now?
figure anti-riot: Masur's elite force of anti-riot police, directly preceding the bloodless coup and beginning of his fascist regime.He was widely regarded at the time as a potential first president for the reunited Germany,...
Being the history buff that I am, I would elaborate that this was because of the immense popularity of Masur's proletarian policies that he was able to facilitate a peaceful dismantling of the East German government. Little did everyone know that Masur secretly planned not to return the executive power to the people, but instead to seize control and use his position to build a Utopian society where Austro-German composers are valued above all else. It all seemed so promising and harmless at the time.
...but decided he wanted a more challenging job, and became music director of the New York Philharmonic instead.
Oh, right. That never happened.
------------------------------------------
So, to recap:
Bernard Jacobson likes Bruckner 3, but Bruckner 4 is not Bruckner 7. Bruckner 4 is based on "nature" which inspires "natural" performances of which Masur is a master (because he's German), despite not having a truck. The orchestra played Bruckner with "saturated string tone" which goes to show you that you don't have to play loudly. Also, the Bruckner wasn't spectacular (in a good way), but it was "natural" (because Masur made it natural, because, Bruckner wrote it "naturally", because, as I can only assume, that they're both German) and that's why East Germany collapsed non-violently.
* Yes, I realize that truck also means "dealings" in informal conversation. It's a joke people.
1/4/10
In Defense of Modernism (vis-a-vis Romanticism), or: The Conductor's Gambit
I thought this NYT review was interesting. Writing of the NY Phil's last 2009 subscription concert, Allan Kozinn's reading is that conductor Alan Gilbert
"built this program with what appeared to have been the modest but telling goal of getting the Philharmonic audience to warm to Webern’s concise, focused 12-tone music"
and his argument is pretty convincing based on the evidence. Also, it is a thoughtful and well-written article. (Sorry.)
Moreover: what's the deal with that, anyway? Yeah, it's Webern. It's modernist. It's also eighty fucking years ago.
Besides, it's austere, refined, and brief. It's not violent, really, or confrontational or sexual, if you consider that Dada and Surrealism are going on about the same time.
Figure 1: Confrontational, depersonalizing, topical. Interesting, but not very Webernian.
Neither is it a cacophonous mess.
Figure 2: Rauchenberg, whose beautiful cacaphonous messes can be outstanding.
Figure 3: Albers. Nice.
Romanticism. Right? At least that's the purported take of Gilbert for this concert.
So, audience...and not any audience, New York Philharmonic Subscription Concert Audience, for crap's sake: Why do you hate Webern so much?
The stage of Avery Fisher Hall was decked out with flowing blue curtains and floral arrangements on Tuesday evening in preparation for the New York Philharmonic’s New Year’s Eve concert. But Alan Gilbert’s more pressing business was the orchestra’s final subscription program for 2009, an inventive juxtaposition of works by Webern, Mozart and Schumann.
I like this. Is it superfluous to burn some column inches describing the hall? In this case, no. Here's why:
The stage of Avery Fisher Hall was decked out with flowing blue curtains and floral arrangements on Tuesday evening in preparation for the New York Philharmonic’s New Year’s Eve concert.
Yay, festive! Curtains! Flowers! Let's listen to some holiday cheer. Or, better: some goddamn Webern.
Figure 4: ...and a Happy New Year!
Mr. Gilbert built this program with what appeared to have been the modest but telling goal of getting the Philharmonic audience to warm to Webern’s concise, focused 12-tone music, by way of the Symphony (Op. 21), which he conducted (and spoke about) in the second half.
Fascinating, and hilarious. And, potentially, a good time. What, I wonder, was his strategy?
And he surrounded the symphony with very different works, all meant to undercut what some listeners still regard as its abstruse harshness.
How is, say, Mahler not unbelievably abstruse? Canons seem pretty simple to comprehend compared to the fourteenth freaking modulaton to yet another far-off key in the middle of a two-hour symphony. But sadly, no.
Figure 5: "Oh, I get it! Because I know that chord!"
(One could argue that it is exactly this sort of abstruseness that Webern was trying to avoid.)
His first move in this endeavor was to offer a reminder of Webern’s unabashedly Romantic roots by conducting “Im Sommerwind,” a student work from 1904, the year Webern became a disciple of Schoenberg (who was also writing in a tonal, essentially Romantic style at the time).
Ah, the old appeal-to-the-composer's-early-work gambit. Why is it a gambit? What's being sacrificed, and for what potential gain?
Figure 6: Queen's Gambit. Classic.
The upside is that the audience might get (like and/or understand?) it. But in drawing so many lines to Webern's Romanticism, are we sacrificing some of its Modernism?In this case, I don't think so. Webern's Modernist (indeed, his abstract-abstruse-thorny-difficult-intellectualized-elitist Modernist) credentials are well-established.
You can hear the composer’s influences clearly: its lush string shimmer, its dynamic ebb and flow and its sense of the dramatic and picturesque have roots in the Strauss tone poems, and hints of Mahler (in bright-hued woodwind episodes) and Wagner (in grandly modulating chord progressions) waft through the piece.
Embeddence 2: Im Somerwind (part 2).
Conductors often perform “Im Sommerwind” as a way of saying, “See, Webern isn’t so bad,” and most of the time they leave it at that; listeners interested in hearing more are on their own.
But no!
Mr. Gilbert used the Philharmonic’s sweeping, colorful account to show that the Webern who wrote this spare, pointillistic Symphony from 1928 was schooled in the Romantic mainstream, and built on it.
Good, good.
He tried to say so directly in his spoken comments but was momentarily derailed: when he suggested that Webern’s themes are sometimes almost melodic, the audience tittered, leaving Mr. Gilbert to say he was serious.
Ha ha ha! It's great that the audience doesn't like it because they like that they don't understand it. America, fuck yeah!
Figure 7: Wary of other cultures and the unfamiliar in general, latte-sipping New York Elitist Liberal Concert-Goers relax with traditional lawn-games secure in the knowledge that some over-educated conductor asswipe's not going to tell them what a melody is.
He brought reinforcements to make his case in this 7-minute introduction to the 10-minute score.
First, ten minutes is a really slow Op. 21. Second, he brought up more people to tell the audience, "No, really! It's good!"?
Figure 8: Try Webern, or new Cinnamon Webern! Mikey likes it!
John Mangum, the orchestra’s artistic administrator, spoke briefly about his fascination with Webern’s way of distributing thematic fragments through the orchestra, and Eric Bartlett[,] a habitué of new music ensembles before he joined the Philharmonic’s cello section, advised simply listening to the flow of sound and not worrying about the rules of 12-tone composition or other technical or philosophical underpinnings.
The Webern Symphony had celebrity endorsements? Does it come with a free ShamWow?
Figure 9: A bill of goods, for sale.
The performance was almost anticlimactic, given the work’s brevity and textural transparency.
Yeah. It's not, in the end, Romantic music. Brevity and transparency are among its Modernist virtues.
Mr. Gilbert led a gracefully paced performance that made much of the feathery textures in the opening movement and the sprightly variations that make up the finale. And the Philharmonic’s playing, polished and warm,...
...was really good Modernism, right?
...offered occasional glimpses — in the rich vibrato on a violin line, the vigorous rendering of a woodwind figure — of the Romantic who wrote “Im Sommerwind.”
Oh. Well, shit. Maybe it was a gambit after all. Still, if it gets 'em listening, so much the better.
As a way of showing that the episodic qualities of the Webern Symphony have historical roots,...
Ah, interesting!
...Mr. Gilbert followed it (and closed the concert) with Schumann’s Symphony No. 2 (Op. 61), in a taut, beautifully burnished performance that capitalized on the orchestra’s virtuosity without overstating it.
What an odd choice, although it effectively speaks to (in its own way, as explicated by Kozinn) the Modernism-Romanticism link.
And between the two Webern scores the pianist Leif-Ove Andsnes joined the orchestra for an elegant, dynamically fluid reading of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23 in A (K. 488).
It's quite odd that a pianist of this stature playing possibly the quintessential Piano Concerto gets only a single sentence at the end of the review. It shows, I think, the impression that the overall structure of the concert program had on the reviewer, which is fascinating in its own right.
And so is the concert itself. Clearly there are as many similarities as differences between Modernism and Romanticism, and if highlighting these issues for the audience results in the appreciation (and, really, even performances) of some unjustly-derided music, I'm all for it.
Sometimes grim insistence that difficult art should be accepted immediately on its own terms is a tough pill to swallow.
Figure 10 (Kandinsky, Composition No. 7): Like this, goddamit! LIKE IT RIGHT GODDAMN NOW!
12/22/09
What's the Real Question Here?
Over at MinnPost.com, David Hawley serves up a little holiday food...for thought!
Classical music can cleanse the soul -- unless, of course, we're distracted
1) You can just tell that this article is from an electronic publication. A print title would be shorter, contain at least one really stupid joke, and have, at best, only the most superficial hint as to the content of the article.
2) On the other hand, Hawley sort of promises a lot of substantive content: Music! Soul cleansing! Distracted! Double hyphens masquerading as m-dashes!
What's it all about? Let's read along!
Why do people go to classical music concerts?
I was under the impression that people, generally speaking, don't go to classical music concerts. This is widely seen as a problem in the classical music community.
Figure 1: Because they told us to in college?
(Source: Classical Music Consumer Segmentation Study, Princeton University, 2002)
So why do people go to classical music concerts? Is it for the periodic phrasing?
This is a question I tend to ponder at this time of the year,
Because 'tis the season for reflection and introspection?
...usually after reviewing performances of music I know pretty well.
Uh, okay. So, why do people go to classical music concerts of music they already know?
To support the lively arts with their patronage? For a break from the daily not-going-to-concerts routine? How about: because the music sounds better live?
Recently, for instance, I attended what is shaping up as the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra’s semi-annual concert of the Brandenburg Concertos.
Well, sure. I mean, at least it's still Bach, and not some, oh, say, Holiday Sing-Along.
Figure 2: Not Bach. (Awesome beard, though, not to mention the sidelong, impish glance.)
I mean, look: We joke about holiday concerts and all, but it's pretty hard to get new pieces into The Canon, let alone The Holiday Music Canon (unless it's in a movie, as people seem to love that crap).
Figure 3: The New Classics, coming soon to your neice's junior high band concert. Music is alive and well.
I lucked out and didn’t get offered a gig to review “Messiah” for the zillionth time.
Yeah, that is lucky. Perhaps some poor unemployed person got that, uh...gig...instead. I mean: probably, right?
Figure 4: Unemployed, sure. But not at The Nutcracker!
No? It was some other ungrateful person who writes words about music for a living? I wonder if they complained about it, too.
(I jest, of course. Repetition and boredom are no less repetitious and tedious just because one doesn't work in a factory, or not at all.)
They were sell-outs, of course.
Who? What?
Oh...right: the Brandenburgs concert. How was that, by the way? Pretty good? I bet it was pretty good.
And I have to admit that the SPCO cheated — delightfully, I thought — by adding a Mozart string trio that I hadn’t heard performed live since my student days at Indiana University.
So...it was pretty good, then? I mean, for a bunch of cheaters?
Musically speaking, this is the season for comfort food, though any programmer will tell you that the familiar sells through most of the year.
Except for the erstwhile programmer in Figure 4, who'd probably take the fifty bucks and happily sit through the concert, then go get some food.
But, yes, most concert programmers agree that playing Beethoven all the damn time isn't driving anyone away. Curiously, the Holiday Concert analog to incessant Beethoven is incessant Holiday Music.
We accept this as established fact, yet when you think about it, it ought to be a little mystifying.
People like the familiar? Say! That is mystifying!
If you’re a classical-music enthusiast, you probably have a recording — or several recordings — of the Brandenburgs and at least one of “Messiah” — or at least excerpts on a cheapo record titled “Handel’s Greatest Hits.”
If I'm a "classical-music enthusiast" why the fuck would I own a record [a record? really?] titled "Handel's Greatest Hits"?
Figure 5: For graphic design and musical content, nothing beats a good Classical Greatest Hits album.
Why shell out sometimes premium money to attend a live performance?
I save my premium money for blow. I only use my crappy money for classical concert tickets, silk underwear, and caviar.
Figure 6: Some weak-assed cracker doesn't even have a Benjamin for his nose candy. Quel domage!
So, er, why do people go to classical music concerts? (And how was the Brandenburgs concert?)
We can run down the reasons usually cited for attending arts events,
Let's do.
...starting with the Aristotelian definition of the purpose of art: To enlighten and entertain.
People go to "arts events" to enlighten and entertain?
Okay, they go to arts events to be enlightened and entertained, then? I don't remember the Poetics all that well, and in Aristotle we often tend to mix up poeisis and techne [both variously translate as "art" depending on context], and mostly it was about imitation, or something. Barring a citation, let's take "enlighten and entertain" as a sort of classical given, Aristotle or not.
Figure 7: Aristotle. Or some Jedi. I forget.
And the psychological one about the human impulse to be part of a collective event — which is the only reason I can think of to explain why people shell out hundreds of dollars for lousy, nosebleed seats at the far end of a football stadium.
Nor does it explain why someone would use "shell out" in consecutive paragraphs, but I digress.
Becuase I thought we were talking about why people go to classical concerts, not the Warrant Reunion Tour.
Figure 8: Warrant. Still with periodic phrasing!
However, clearly the larger point about ceremony and participation is valid, but the author still finds it lacking. What's missing, Mr. Hawley? What's your deal, here?
Aristotelian definitions notwithstanding, I think many music fans go to live classical concerts to avoid being distracted.
Seems like going to a concert is pretty distracting to me.
Figure 9: Distractions are inherently neither good nor bad.
Hawley's not talking about escapism, though. He has a more musical problem.
How many of us can sit in our living rooms for an hour and listen intently to a recording, resolutely avoiding the urge to read something, say something to a companion or look out the window at the squirrel gnawing on the expensive birdfeeder we just bought?
Ah, nice. The thing about concerts is that you're not distracted from listening.
I think that's outstanding, and furthermore, in appreciation, will withhold any jokes about music critics being paid enough to buy expensive birdhouses.
Figure 10: I lied. Because: Really?
(Click to embiggen. No, seriously: do it.)
So we spend a week’s grocery budget on tickets, put on serious clothes, drive to the concert hall, pay 10 bucks for parking and sit quietly and intently as we are reminded that humans can create something that is simultaneously both eternal and ephemeral.
Or we check to see what the local college or university group is playing for free or a few bucks, put on pants, park for free, and do the same thing. Just sayin'.
Yeah, it cleanses the soul.
I don't know about all that, but I agree with the general sentiment.
Unless our minds wander. This leads me back to pondering why people want to attend concerts of music they know pretty well.
I see! It's all becoming clear now.
Shouldn’t we devote these undistracted moments to music we don’t know?
Perhaps not exclusively, but yes, yes we should. Unequivocally.
I have a hard time, in fact, making sense out unfamiliar music when I’m hearing it on a record.
Too many birdhouses, man. You know: metaphorically. Too many birdhouses.
New music should be heard first in the concert hall. Familiar music is best reserved for the home stereo.
I don't know about that either; the symphony live is pretty incredible, even if it is Carmen again.
So that is my hope for the New Year: More new music in the concert hall. Or more old music that is unfamiliar; there’s plenty of that around, too.
Me too. That's what I want. More new music in the concert hall.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put on a recording of the Brandenburgs and read a magazine. Happy holidays, or whatever salutation you prefer.
To you too, sir, and to our gentle readers.
12/18/09
Migh Gud Tidel
Coming up with titles is like waiting in a long line for the restroom: you have to go—immediately!—but there’s no relief in sight. So, embarrassingly, you’re forced to...
From Mozart to Mahler, it was a bounteous year for classical recordings
...you’re forced to favor alliteration over accuracy.
Now, it’s not a horrible title, as these things go. We’ve seen much worse, especially atop year-end, top-ten type articles like this. But give it a gander once more and think about what it means to go from Mozart to Mahler.
Is the title suggesting that the music chronologically ranges from Mozart (b.1756) to Mahler (b.1860)? No. That would be silly; it’s only 104 years. Even if we expand the range by using Mahler’s death year (1911), that leaves only a 155 year window. I hardly expect experienced critic John von Rhein to be so narrow. If that’s not it, then what is?
Perhaps the title suggests that all the composers fall within the alphabetical space, between Mahler and Mozart? Hmm. There are some big M-boppers:
Marin Marais
Frank Martin
Bohuslav Martinu
Jules Massenet
Felix Mendelssohn
Gian Carlo Menotti
Olivier Messiaen
Giacomo Meyerbeer
Darius Milhaud
Claudio Monteverdi
That’s still pretty silly, a top ten list with music by composers whose last names begin Ma-Mo. That can’t be it. Is it a stylistic thing? Seems unlikely.
I know! Let’s go to the text for answers.
1 Mahler: "Symphony No. 9." Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra, Alan Gilbert, conductor (BIS). : With Gilbert at the helm, the New York Philharmonic could be in for an exciting new era. His final concerts as chief conductor of the Stockholm orchestra inspired a studio recording of Mahler's sublime valedictory that strikes a wonderful balance between desolation and acceptance, with luminous sonics to match.
2 Mozart...
Or perhaps the editor didn’t bother to read about the other eight recordings?
-
12/15/09
Who's My Big, December Birthday Boy? That's Right! You Are!
Need a break from all the Christmas festivities? No problem. The Seattle Symphony has got your secular-seeking back.
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra celebrates Ludwig van Beethoven's 239th birthday this month...
You’re fucking shitting me. 200. And 39th. Birthday.
“Babe. Darling. Honey bear. It’s our twelve-thousand-four-hundred-and-twenty-eighth-week anniversary. I just wanted to... Because you’re so... Here. I know it’s a little soon... And I totally don’t expect anything in return... But here’s just a little token of my...”
200. And 39th. Couldn’t let Jesus take the spotlight just this once, could you, Beethoven?
Jerk.
Sure, he was born in December, too, so I guess he doesn’t get the birthday attention he inherently deserves. (Thanks Seattle Symphony) That, and today’s author, Tom Keogh, is most likely the one behind the ridiculous prime number. So, let's just forget that and get this thing under way!
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra celebrates Ludwig van Beethoven's 239th birthday this month with performances highlighting the German composer's early and late periods.
Surprise! Happy (prime-numbered) birthday, Beethoven! This is your life!* (Except the middle bits.)
Also, I don’t know about you, but I’m beginning to welcome Handel’s Messiah as a breath of fresh air, at least next to the average, everyday (literally just about every day) Beethoven celebration. It's like truck month: Essentially, every month is truck month. And all that saturation of trucking sort of undermines the festive spirit.
Whatever. Sorry for getting sidetracked. We have some puffery to attend to.
On Dec. 30 and 31, music director Gerard Schwarz will conduct Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 in D minor — arguably the most popular symphony in the world...
And, arguably, our author thinks his readers are really dumb. Just saying. If someone has the wherewithal to read a puff piece about the Seattle Symphony, it stands to reason that... well... write as low as you think you have to.
Anyway, how about some real information?
Premiering in Vienna in 1824, the Ninth was the final new work of the 54-year-old, largely deaf Beethoven's pieces to marshal large, musical forces. (He died at age 56.)
Uh-huh. I guess it was time for some confusing information, information that could have been clearer with the appropriate use of a comma. So, just to make sure we are all on the same page: Beethoven never marshaled large, culinary forces, just musical ones.
Also, what's up with the eye-crossing chronological work. Personally, if I were to rewrite it, it would read like this: The Ninth premiered in Vienna in 1824. For the 54-year-old, deaf composer, it was the last piece to marshal large orchestral forces. He died shortly thereafter in 1827.
I think my version is pretty clear. But does Tom have a strategy? Is he using an ancient rhetorical device known to only the wiliest of wordsmiths? I sure hope so. (Also, happy 185th birthday, Ninth?)
Anyway, if we keep moving, maybe we'll find out. Are there any other culinary musical forces at work?
Beethoven wasn't through, however: He turned his attention to a final series of string quartets...
That’s a smooth segue, especially if they’re going to play some of those late behemoths. Don’t you agree? I mean, things become clearer and the chronology becomes more apparent: later pieces follow earlier pieces.
Great. I think I'm beginning to get it.
"The string quartets are a true window on Beethoven, spread out over his life," says Seattle Symphony violinist Stephen Bryant.
They sure... do... having... true... windows... on... Beethoven... over his life.
And not for nothing, I think it's nice that Tom's bringing a performer to the conversation in order to build up good, old-fashioned, first-hand, puff-piecey anticipation for the string quartets--shrewd, topical, effusive, effective...
"They're intimate, spiritual, even more than the symphonies. The bare bones of what the composer is about is on display."
...vague, inarticulate, hyperbolic, over-generalized, playing down the Ninth...
Oversell much? Whew!
(thinks super hard for at least seven seconds)
Meh. Probably not. It’d be kinda pointless to try. I mean, this Beethoven chap apparently has the ability to hijack a popular deity's birthday party with ease. Don’t fuck with this guy or he'll open your presents and then pee in the pool. (So don't swim in his toilet.)
But before Beethoven focused on quartets, says Bryant, he explored other chamber-music possibilities [...]
Huh?
On Tuesday Bryant will perform with a handful of other SSO musicians in "Beethoven's Birthday Celebration," a program of works for quintet, trio and septet.
WHAT!? No quartets? But... but... you promised.
...
"They're all pre-First Symphony," says Bryant. "This is untroubled Beethoven, happy works, full of charm with a minor key, at times, but not so serious as later in life when he was dealing with all the problems that afflicted him."
What happened to my quartets!!? And you, get off my lawn!
I'm really confused. I don't know how we got here. At all.
How to remedy this? Hmm. I just want my quartets back. (sob)
I know! I should retrace my steps and maybe I'll see something I didn't see before. Fantastic! Let's give it a try:
There's a couple of symphony concerts celebrating Beethoven's 239th birthday; they'll play the Ninth Symphony; Beethoven's quartets are really, really, really, good--better than the symphonies; those won't be performed; instead, they'll play some early chamber works on a different concert, which were written before most of the quartets; they were also written before the First Symphony (celebrating its 209th birthday this year), which means they are generally happy (few minor keys), but not as good as the quartets, because life hadn't inflicted him with problems yet.
Hmm.
...
Nope. Didn't learn anything.
So here we are, in the bitter present, quartetless. (sigh)
"Beethoven's Birthday Celebration" includes his Quintet in C major for Two Violins, Two Violas and Cello; the Serenade in D major for Violin, Viola and Cello; and the Septet in E-flat major for Clarinet, Horn, Bassoon, Violin, Viola, Cello and Double Bass.
Good to know; but personally I like opus numbers. They’re helpful. Beethoven thought so, too; that’s why he added them. No biggie, though. Please, continue.
Bryant says the septet "was the single most popular chamber work in Beethoven's lifetime."
Maybe so, but Beethoven might have been a bit perturbed about that. In fact, when he contemplated arranging it to include flute, he thought that flute enthusiasts would “swarm around it and feed on it like insects” (Anderson, Letters of Beethoven, The, 1961, pp. 51). He did finally make an arrangement, though, which we know as the Piano Trio, Op. 38 (celebrating its 206th birthday). There is also evidence that he attempted to arrange it for military band; but this was never published. Interestingly, there were many successful arrangements made by others--so there was definitely money out there to be made by riding the coattails of this work. Yet, in spite of the possible financial gains to be had, Beethoven’s reluctance to add even more velocity to the Septet’s popularity might have suggested that he didn’t think this ranked among his more important works.
So, to make a long story short: popularity does not always mean good. And in some cases, it can be a negative. Besides, haven’t we already learned this lesson? Beethoven did.
Of the [string] quintet, [Bryant] says "no book says he was trying to get to Mozart's level, but it clearly pays homage to Mozart. Beethoven admired him tremendously."
Read: I don’t know what I'm talking about, but am willing to make nonsensical assertions, nonetheless.
Now, I don’t want to pretend to know what was trying to be expressed, but my impression is that Beethoven thought he wasn’t as good as Mozart, so he tried to imitate (or borrow, quote, whatever), instead. I don’t know; but it sounds like more downplaying, to me. You know, something like, "It's not exactly Mozart, but Beethoven really, really tried, because he liked him sooooo much."
And it's at this point that I begin to wonder if Mr. Bryant has overstayed his welcome and is beginning to do more damage than good to this year's Beethovenmas puffery. But, it needs to be mentioned that it's not just Mr. Bryant's wacky words--here, it takes three to tango. Someone has to type it into the article...
(I'm looking at you, Tom.)
Meanwhile, the trio "is charming and beautiful with some sad moments in the scherzo."
Really? "Sad"? Is that as descriptive as we're gonna get? I mean, are you speaking to me or third graders?
"Nobody complains when you play him.”
Well, that's the spirit! What a festive endorsement! I simply can't top that, so let's call it a day. Job done.
[all sing] Happy 239th birthday to you! Happy 239th birthday to you! Happy 239th birthday dear Ludwig! Happy 239th birthday to you. But not you, Jane Austen--nobody cares about you.
12/14/09
Patriotic Concert Features Vaporous Singer...AND SO MUCH MORE!
We here at The Detritus Review are aware that titles are a difficult thing, and that for music reviews the critic may not even supply the title, leaving that job for an editor with an impeccable sense of the riveting attention-grabber.
They are often innocuous and focus on some sort elementary word play, or painfully point out the obvious (a sort of 5-word abstract).
But, this gem, from the Omaha World-Herald deserves some special recognition.
Review: Symphony puts ‘pow’ in patriotic program
Where to start. First, the phraseology of "puts the ___ in ___" implies a certain kind of pun.
For example -- "...puts the fun back in fundamentalism."
or
figure delicious pun: Wait, there's not hyphen in the word "adolt".Get it?
Clever, I know.
So, why the use of the word "pow"? Whose letters neither appear in "patriotic" nor "program". Yes, you have the alliterative quality of the 'p', but is that really enough? I say no!
Surely then, there music be something in the review itself about an explosion or something, right?
Let's check, shall we.
Were those bombs bursting in the air Friday night over the Holland Performing Arts Center?
Good question...I was just asking the same thing. Hmmm...the title must have foreshadowed this event, being the clever title that it is, so I will answer quite confidently, "Yes, those were bombs bursting over the arts center."
Nah, it was just the Omaha Symphony’s large percussion section, whacking away at nearly two hours worth of patriotic songs.
Nah? But the title promised "pow"...although I suppose I am relieved that the Holland Performing Arts Center wasn't under attack on Friday.
For its first pops concert of the 2009-10 season, the symphony under guest conductor Michael Krajewski presented a program called “Patriotic Celebration.”
I guess that explains the last part of the title.
The performance, which will be repeated tonight and Sunday afternoon, is a real flag-waving sonic extravaganza that includes just about everything except an F-16 flyover.
Oh boy! Just how I like my patriotic celebrations -- as real flag-waving sonic extravaganzas!!!
figure flag-waving: The Omaha Symphony on Friday.Crap. No fighter jet. What kind of fucking patriotic celebration is this anyway?
A socialist one, I'd wager. Fuck.
figure socialist: First he ruins our economy, and then takes away our guns (or so I've been told), and now this socialist has taken away all the F-16s from our symphony concerts.But even without sonic booms and afterburners, this is a performance designed to make a lot of noise.
Ohh..."lots of noise". It's loud. Loud = "pow". Okay. I forgive you. I guess we can all just go home.
...
Wait, there's still more review?
Sure, why not. It's still early...let's see what else you've got.
The program itself is the musical equivalent of a giant, omnibus Defense Department spending bill.
No joke, this might possibly be the greatest analogy ever. I'm glad I kept reading...but I've been thinking....
What music is being performed in this "patriotic celebration"?
It not only includes selections intended to satisfy every constituency but also strange juxtapositions of songs and medleys.
Strange juxtapositions? I am intrigued.
For instance, the orchestra played the themes of the five military branches with enough spit and polish to make a Marine Corps drill sergeant snap to attention.
The orchestra played with "spit and polish"?
figure awesome: Spit N' Polish, I love those guys.It then followed with a selection of peace songs that included, among other things, the John Lennon anthem “Give Peace a Chance.”
Peace?! That's not patriotic. Is this some sort of commie orchestra?
Similarly, sparkling virtuoso orchestra arrangements of Morton Gould’s “American Salute” and Leonard Bernstein’s “America” were followed with saccharine, flag-on-the-sleeve renditions of Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.” and Barry Manilow’s “Let Freedom Ring.”
It was a real mishmash.
Yes, four songs about saluting America, asking God to bless America, extolling one of its virtues through metaphor, and the piece called "America" do make up quite the odd grouping.
Yet there was also much to admire in this program.
Excellent. Wait...[rereads sentence]. This part of the program wasn't to be admired then. So not only is the orchestra socialist, but the reviewer obviously hates America.I'm not sure I can take much more of this. I can take a lot in the line of this job, but I will not stand idly by as this man besmirches Barry Manilow singing about the supreme awesomeness of America. Fucking commies everywhere!
...[Calms down.]...remembers Detritus oath. "Despite what you think, there aren't fucking commies everywhere."
[Breaths in.]
[Breaths out.]
Friday’s concert opened with a glistening and heroic reading of John Williams’ “Liberty”...
That's "Liberty Fanfare" for those of you keeping score at home...
...and continued with a sincere and emotional performance of the national anthem,...
Sincere? As opposed to all those insincere performances...like this one?
figure R. Kelly: "Clap your hands, y'all". Really?
...or this one?
figure Roseanne: Well, this one is kind of awesome.
...for which we all stood in time-honored tradition.
A selection of George Gershwin’s patriotic Tin Pan Alley tunes — “Strike Up the Band,” “Love Is Sweeping the Country” and “Of Thee I Sing” — sounded overly weighty with the huge orchestra and chorus. These are songs that needed to snap and crackle.
figure rice krispies: Although he hides it well, Pop can't help but feel a little left out.Oh god, how I wish I could have been at this concert.
The revelation of the evening was Willett, whose flexible voice easily covered two octaves. He made a lasting impression in “Momma, Look Sharp,” from the musical “1776,” delivering his heart-rending lines with a vaporous falsetto.
Vaporous falsetto? Nothing like finishing off the review with bizarre word choice. Just a couple of definitions of "vaporous" from our good friends at dictionary.com:
| 3. | producing or giving off vapor |
| 4. | dimmed or obscured with vapor |
| 5. | unsubstantial; diaphanous; airy |
| 6. | vaguely formed, fanciful, or unreliable |
...delivering his heart-rending lines with vaguely formed, obscured falsetto, while giving off steam.
This review has everything! Finish it off for us, Mr. Pitcher.
The choruses, for their parts, distinguished themselves with their powerful, passionate performances.
Exactly. For these reasons, this review has won our coveted Crappy Review Title of the Week!
figure your review: Eggceptional, indeed.12/11/09
I Don't Think That Word Means What You Think It Means
Clearly the writer, editor [sic], and title-providing person collaborated closely on this substantial and imaginative effort. I guess they assume nobody reads the Christmas concert reviews.
Quality of Songs makes Holiday Pops show pop
You cannot make this shit up. Really? The Pops show popped? Really.
The Columbus Symphony Orchestra's annual Holiday Pops concerts are always fun for the whole family, and this season's edition was no exception.
I'd like to submit that this could be true, providing one is properly prepared.
Figure 1: A contemporary American preparing to attend a holiday concert. This method is also recommended for Christmas shopping.
Figure 1a (Anhang): A friendly suggestion for the more conservative reader.
However, let's take a look at that opening salvo again.
The Columbus Symphony Orchestra's annual Holiday Pops concerts are always fun for the whole family, and this season's edition was no exception.
Wow. That is a magnificent introductory sentence. The Christmas concert is always great--and it was this year too!
Good thing that's getting archived forever.
Fine. So...the concert...
Tonight's well-attended show in the Ohio Theatre featured lots of singers, dancers, actors, decorations and videos on a big screen...
I guess that in better economic conditions all of that would have been live.
Wait, what?
Tonight's well-attended show in the Ohio Theatre featured lots of singers, dancers, actors, decorations and videos on a big screen, with the orchestra scrunched in the middle.
The orchestra was in the middle of a screen? That doesn't make sense.
Oh, wait. The singers, dancers, actors, and decorations weren't on the screen? That makes far more sense.
It, however, begs the question: Why did you write a sentence that said that they were?
All of which was nice, but what makes this show special is the quality of the songs and music chosen by conductor Ronald Jenkins.
Two things to note: First, there is actually an assertion about "what makes [sic?] this show special" made; Second, the abrupt and pointless changes of tense are sort of nauseating.
Nevertheless. Apparently it is the quality of the "songs and music" (oh...songs and music) that makes [made?] this show special.
Got it.
No, sorry; back up. "Songs and music?" It's hard to tell if that's dumb or just really lazy.
Figure 2 (Imaginary Salad Review): "The lettuce and food were tasty!"
The first half of the concert leaned more toward the classical side of Christmas music, while the second half contained more contemporary carols.
The use of "more" in each half of this sentence is superfluous; either phrase could pretty much do without. However, it's the use of "more" in each half of the sentence that makes the writing flat and...annoying.
Also, contemporary carols are apparently not "classical" music/songs? I guess "classical" is being used narrowly to describe a stylistic period, which would explain the above distinction. Right?
After a jaunty Holiday Pops Overture, the Columbus Symphony Chorus shone with Sing unto God and Hallelujah, Amen from Handel's oratorio Judas Maccabaeus.
But those are Baroque p...ah, never mind. Kind of mildly special, I suppose, since obviously they could have played the other...
Jenkins joked that the latter piece is known in choral circles as "the other Hallelujah Chorus."
Hilarious. Choral humor is outstanding.
Coincidentally, the yearly vernal festivities musicians celebrate after the last Holiday concerts finally end are known as "the other Rite of Spring."
Next came the latter two movements of Vivaldi's Winter from The Four Seasons...
Not that special. I guess not playing the entire concerto as intended is kind of special, if by "special" one means "stupid." Next?
Next, Jenkins and the chorus introduced 21st century choral works set to centuries-old texts.
That's unusual enough to be special, potentially. (Because it's the quality of the music chosen that makes the concert so special! Right?) So: Who were they by? What were they like?
They weren't bad, but they weren't new holiday favorites, either.
And?
The second half of the concert...
And nothing? Nice fuckin' review. Guess they weren't special enough to merit mention, or even description.
The second half of the concert began with the chorus, children and audience singing O Come All Ye Faithful, The First Noel and Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.
Oh, the column inches that would have been wasted describing new music were reserved to name Christmas carols. That makes sense.
The biggest applause was reserved for one of the best moments:
That seems odd!
...when a youngster leads the symphony in Leroy Anderson's Sleigh Ride.
Wait, what?
The biggest applause was reserved for one of the best moments: when a youngster leads the symphony in Leroy Anderson's Sleigh Ride.
Dude, now you're chasing tenses and aspects. Been Christmas shopping?
Dublin Coffman High School freshman Nick Swanson (who plays flute in the school band) did such a good job - right down to the whip cues - that Jenkins let him keep the baton.
Schmaltzy and cute, but not really musically special. Right? Because it was the quality of the "songs and music" that were supposed to make the concert so...special. Did that assertion ever bear out? At all?
Remarkably, being squeezed in didn't affect the symphony's sound.
What?
Right in the middle of describing [sic] the special [sic] program, a quick acoustical evaluation? Okay...
The standout music was the cinematic soundtrack to The Night Before Christmas, composed by Randol Bass. Linda Dorff narrated the Clement Moore poem, with the help of children from BalletMet.
More boring than special, and arguably of dubious quality. Standard Holilday Concert Fare, anyway. I'm thinking the review's initial superlative assessment was only tangentially related (at best) to the actual concert.
The show ended with a duet by a famous couple from the North Pole, who sang pretty well.
People in costume? Sang pretty well?! Well! That is special.
If you're five.
Figure 3: Here comes a special boy!
12/9/09
More Holiday Jocularity
Continuing with the Christmas festivities, here’s a strange little puff piece, of whose 23 paragraphs only eight have more than one sentence.
Seriously. It reads like an outline.
A very bad outline.
Take a look at what I mean.
The harpist will be Tabitha Reist Steiner, whom [chorale director Charles] Bruffy will put to full use on the program.
End paragraph.
“There is just something about the harp at Christmastime,” he said.
End paragraph.
Begin new paragraph and an entertaining concept concerning the flow of time.
Along with Britten’s 11-movement [Ceremony of Carols], the program courses over centuries.
End yet another paragraph.
But more importantly, when he says that, “the program courses over the centuries,” I, you know, kinda expect to hear about—how do you say?—music composed in bygone centuries.
Begin new paragraph.
Steven Paulus’ “Three Nativity Carols,” based on medieval sources, is one of several additional pieces accompanied by the harp on the holiday concert.
End paragraph.
“Medieval sources” is almost like coursing through the centuries. I suppose it’s also possible that Stephen Paulus was born in the twelfth century—his website doesn’t say.
Begin new paragraph.
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12/8/09
Review: Christmas Concert Awesomeness
I love Christmas!
figure Christmas spirit: "Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse."And, oh boy, do I love the symphony Christmas concert! It just fills me with the Christmas spirit.
I only wish that I could have been at all of these concerts!
So in the name of the Christmas spirit of generosity, there was so much to enjoy that I couldn't share just one review.
Review: Holly Jolly Christmas Spectacular Symphony Jubilation Mash-up
An uncommonly well-danced production of "The Nutcracker" delighted a Saturday afternoon audience at the Midland Center for the Arts Auditorium.
Subtle.
"The symphony is pleased to once again be able to present 'The Nutcracker' with live orchestra," Great Falls Symphony Executive Director Carolyn Valacich said. "Tchaikovsky's great score deserves no less!"
No less indeed. Frankly, I think more symphony concerts should feature the live orchestra.
But the singalong is coming soon, right?
The program’s popularity can be explained in just two words: Beethoven’s Ninth.
It is Christmas, who wants shit we've never heard before anyways?
Plus, that piece is long. A little too long if you know what I mean -- I'm pretty sure only socialist like music that long. Plus, I want to sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," possibly the greatest song on the subject figgy pudding ever written.
The program started with Mozart’s Symphony No. 40 in G minor, a four-part work featuring themes that would be familiar to many listeners.
Whoa! Slow down, Poindexter. I realize that I'll be forced to sit through all these "old" pieces...but I don't need to read about them too. Let's just get onto the singalong already!
Other than the “Hallelujah,” about 100 musicians performed at any given time, a chamber-sized ensemble entirely appropriate for the Baroque piece and the size of the church sanctuary.
100 = chamber sized? But...
"Hallelujah"?! That's that one about Jebus, right? I think know the words to that one...
HAL - LE - LU - JAH!
Richardson framed the symphony as Mozart’s look...
HAL - LE - LU - JAH!
...ahead to what the future of classical music could be, and the orchestra...
HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!
...brought that vision to life...
HAL LE eh eh LU JAH!
...brought that vision to life by milking every nuance of the piece in its performance.
Whoa, I wasn't paying attention. Richardson did what now? Milked the symphony?
Understanding what they were singing about was simple. All you had to do was read the English translation of the German text...
Can you dumb it down a shade?
Next came the jazzy “Hot Chocolate” from the movie “The Polar Express.” On film and in person, it’s one of those holiday songs that uses schmaltz in a way that could be considered cheesy if it wasn’t so fun and endearing.
"Hot Chocolate"? Wasn't that the sex mini-game in Grand Theft Auto? That's not cheesy, that's just awesome.
Maybe this concert is going to feature something even better than the singalong.
Musicians and singers changed musical genres at the drop of a hat.
?
After that, the lights came up, the Yampa Valley Singers came on stage, more youth musicians set up their stands and the audience joined for a Christmas singalong.
Yeah! Finally, the singalong!
HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!
figure Christmas singing: "It's Christmas Eve. It's-it's the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer, we-we-we smile a little easier, we-w-w-we-we-we cheer a little more. For a couple of hours out of the whole year we are the people that we always hoped we would be."While I did pay my compliments as an appreciative stranger, it seemed inappropriate to ask the name of the woman sitting in the pew behind me at Saturday's annual Holiday Pops concert by the Lubbock Symphony Orchestra....
Another gentleman in attendance at the church was right on the money, though, when he told her that, in this case, she should be singing with the choir, not with the audience.
HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!
Handel would have been proud of the community feel of the performance.
That was so much fun. Yeah!
And, oh...
figure more Christmas spirit: "The bitch hit me with a toaster."HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!
-----------------------------
Sources:
Red -- from the Midland Daily News
Gray -- Great Falls Tribune
Green -- from the San Diego News Network:
Purplely-pink like color -- Steamboat Today
Blue -- San Antonio Express News
Brown -- Lubbock Online
12/7/09
EXTRA! EXTRA!
Read all about it! CHROMATIC HARMONY AS GOOD AS SEX!
Gesualdo’s extended harmonic language highlights chromatic tensions that resolve to their unexpected conclusions almost as erotic release.
NEW FINDING RAISES ANTI-MODERNISTS' HEADS, BAFFLES BIOLOGISTS!
-
12/3/09
Orchestra confuses Madison audience...
If you're like me and you've attended more than a handful of concerts in the past several years, you'll have noticed a trend toward the standing ovation for each and every piece performed. To me this is mostly a ridiculous fad that smacks of the audience congratulating themselves on attending a classical music concert. However, despite my cynicism, it's hard to begrudge an audience wanting to fully impart their joy and appreciation to the musicians on stage.
Although, never before have I heard the music accused of denying an audience their god-given right to the standing ovation.
figure ovation: The proper way to appreciate an orchestra performance. And what's wrong with those people in bottom left? Fucking commies, not standing.Madison Symphony Features Cellist
Wow, snappy title.
Madison audiences are known for the generosity of their standing ovations...
...I know this is probably just me, but this is so condescending -- towards who I'm not exactly sure...
-- but, sometimes, it's hard to know when to stand.
I know. It really bites doesn't it? I mean, audiences already have so much to keep track of with respect to their applause.
How many movements? Are those movements performed without breaks? Is there a soloist? It's really enough to drive one to a fit of coughing or loudly crumpling their program in nervous anticipation.
Friday, for example,...
Excellent, an example.
...the Madison Symphony Orchestra featured cellist Ralph Kirshbaum, who played a haunting 22-minute piece, "Schelomo Hebraic Rhapsody for Cello and Orchestra" by Ernest Bloch, which ends in a long lamentation, one so somber that even the composer said "this work alone ends with complete negation, but the subject demands it."
Oooo...that is a tough call. The standing O for the somber lamentation? Man, how dare that orchestra put that kind of pressure on an audience while their community-wide sonic, choreographed love sits bursting at the seams.
A work of music that ends with "complete negation" is not the kind of thing that brings an audience to its feet, not matter how brilliantly the artist plays.
Couldn't have said it better myself.
So, when Kirshbaum finished, about half the audience at Overture Hall rose for the customary ovation and the other half seemed to wonder what to do.
So maybe music that ends with "complete negation" is the kind of thing that brings 50% of people to their feet. Learn something new everyday.
I mean, they only get one chance to show their appreciation. It's not like he's playing another piece.
His next work was Antonin Dvorak's "Silent Woods for Cello and Orchestra," which got off to a little bit of an awkward start as Kirshbaum and MSO Music Director John DeMain walked back onto the stage,...
Oh, wait. He's coming back for more? The audience must be so confused.
...walked back onto the stage, only to have DeMain peel off and go back to the wings before admitting he didn't have the music. It was one of those great non-musical moments you share only if you attend the live performances.
Great. Story.
But, what of the whole standing ovation fiasco? How was the situation resolved? Without violence I hope.
None of this is to detract from Kirshbaum, who played brilliantly. It's just that the music sometimes gets in the way of tradition.
Fucking music. Seriously, where does it get off?
When he finished the first half of the program, the audience had no problem at all rising as one to applaud him through several bows.
Whew. It's nice when things work themselves out, and everyone is able to just forget the unpleasantness that followed the Bloch.
--------
By the way, the second half the concert "featured" Tchaikovsky's Fifth Symphony with many "familiar tunes" and an excellent time was had by all. A standing ovation followed the performance.
