Remember: Support Your Thesis with Evidence

At least that’s what my sixth-grade English teacher told me.

Piano music written by Frederick Chopin and Claude Debussy is more alike than some people may think, and Stephen Manes’ program Tuesday night did a lot to prove that.

And since I am taking several minutes out of my busy, music-hating life to write about this, you already know—being smart Detritusites—that our author will merely prove that there was a concert and it featured Chopin and Debussy, and that, by the end, we will be miles from where we started.

But it began so well. I had such high hopes.

The works heard seemed tailor-made to highlight the similarities between the two composers.

The obvious question (and logical continuation), then, is how?

Manes constructed seamless little suites from the first four of Chopin’s opus 28 Preludes, two excerpts from Debussy’s First Book of Preludes (“La Cathedral engloutie” and “Ce qu’a vu le vent d’Ouest”) and, in the second half of the concert, Debussy’s three “Estampes.”

Oh, right. The similarities highlighted the tailor-made suite-like constructions that the composers...

Wait. What?

The blending of both composers’ preludes was especially interesting in how they meshed together, perfectly logical in hindsight if not foresight.

This is an example of what counterpoint students refer to as oblique motion.

It would appear, however, that Manes has more of a kinship with the constantly shifting soundscape provided by Debussy.

In other news: the lead in was merely an object to be inverted, played backwards, then fragmented, never to return in its original form.

But still, it would be nice to have some specifics to back up what you say, even if it has nothing to do with the original thread.

While his Chopin interpretations in the first half were more than acceptable, they seemed to be harder-edged, an approach that lessened the vulnerabilities of the Preludes although the playing in Chopin’s “Berceuse” and “Barcarolle” later in the set were fine enough.

Well, folks, that explains it—a harder-edged approach proves that the pianist has more of a kinship with Debussy’s shifting soundscapes.

And without any sarcasm, that’s as specific as it gets. It even degenerates to this:

Manes’ take on “Clair de Lune” was magical [...]

Any evidence to support your claim?

Yeah. No.

But then again, magic is magical. So...

I'm lost.

As the final notes of “L’isle joyeuse” rolled out into the hall, the audience erupted into a well deserved standing ovation.

Oh no! Now a poor little hyphen seems to have been lost. Has anyone seen it?

-

And finally, a joke:

Manes then took two encores...

I'll bite. Where did he take them?

...playing a pair of Chopin scores, an F minor mazurka and the “Revolutionary Etude” (op. 10, no. 12).

That was a lousy punchline.

But at least there was an opus number. Hooray! The author took a fact.
-

Definition by Exclusion, and A Belated Invitation

A curious piece, and a curious perspective about Roberto Sierra...

Roberto Sierra's music crosses cultures, traditions

The ancient origin of the tunes may be tied to a specific tradition: Judaism in medieval Spain.

They may?

But as composer Roberto Sierra re-imagined the seven tune fragments and set them to poetry about the expulsion of the Jews from Spain,

Oh, they are. The tunes (or tune-fragments? Same thing?) are from that tradition, and then set to poetry about that historical epoch. That seems fair enough. Thus the "may...but" construction is leading to something...

...he wanted his creation, Songs From the Diaspora, to resonate in a modern, mobile world.

Also logical, since he composed it in a modern, mobile world. So: although the material is from an old tradition, it is combined with poetry related to the same period (the source of which is not cited) which gives new meaning and perspective to both. Multiculturalism!

“This is perhaps the sign of the times,” Sierra said in a telephone interview last week. “There are no more boundaries culturally. Nowadays we have available the music from the whole world at our fingertips, from all times.”

First: Yes, we do, but especially if we're Western and have technology and money. However, this does not diminish the effort or concept of the work.

Second: This idea has been around for a while, now. Perhaps Houston has just now received its invitation to the 1889 Paris World's Fair?

Music that crosses tradition, time and culture has been one of the themes of Sierra’s compositions.

Not to diminish Sierra's work, or this sentiment, but composers, artists, and the public (again, mostly Western) have had access to and drawn influence from other cultures ever since they started invading them and taking their stuff. Earlier even; but the ages of Exploration and Colonialism(tm) certainly brought many influences into the work of curious artists and fascinated audiences for generations.

Famously, at the aforementioned Exposition Universelle of 1889, a young Debussy (looking at you from the left, here) heard the Javanese gamelan ensemble and was taken with and inspired by its repetitive rhythms and shimmering sounds. (For an interesting study, see this work detailing the wealth of musics in Paris at the Fair.)

"Exotic" influences became a staple of many facets of modernism, and later postmodern thinking. This kind of cultural collage is, indeed, as Mr. Sierra says, particularly representative of the information age.

For whatever reason, here is a picture of a Javanese gamelan that is fun to look at.

Javenese Gamelan Ensemble

So yeah! What else?

Born in Puerto Rico, trained in Europe,

Sounds like a good dash of multiculturalism right there, for starters...

Sierra, who is not Jewish,

What?

now makes his home and composes music in Ithaca, N.Y.

Um. Wow.

Obviously the tunes (or tune fragments, see above) have their origin in Spanish Judiaism. But Mr Sierra seems to have all of the hallmarks of a multicultural pedigree anyway. What is the point of pointing out his not-religious affiliation?

Is he unworthy, or unqualified to use this material? Is he co-opting Judiasm for his own ends? Notice that his acutal religion (if any) is not revealed. Is his lack of Jewishness so inportant vis-a-vis his using ancient Sephardic source material that it merits mention in the same sentence as his heritage?

Clearly there is not a total lack of context; mentioning that a composer (or anyone, for that matter) is not this or that in an informational vacuum would be another matter. But it still struck some kind of nerve, obviously.

This writer, left with no further information, can only assume that Mr Sierra is Zoroastrian.

"I'm standing on a lizard!"

Oh crap! My dealine is in ten minutes. Uh... "Less is more!" Sounds good.

Unlike the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette’s Andrew Druckenbrod, I have nothing to do but sit in my basement all day, cheerlessly blogging about bad musical writing, which is why I can generously waste my time, for you, to dissect this whopping 600 word-long pile of steamy... musical clichés, written in just under ten minutes (I’ll bet my Star Wars cards on it, but not Chewbacca).

Great music is often defined by what isn't written as much as what is.

Cliché. Less is more.

An orchestra's near endless sonic possibilities can be a temptation to which composers often succumb.

Already, he’s riffing like Yngwie J. Malmsteen.

This allure often leads to "overwriting" their material, filling in the precious spaces in which the music breathes.

It just goes on and on...

Less is usually more.

...and the clichés keep piling up.

Yesterday's Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra concert at Heinz Hall brought the issue to the fore. Not only did it include Chopin's Piano Concerto No. 2, a work whose heavy-handed orchestral writing is leagues away from the ultra-sophistication of his solo piano music, ...

Has anyone ever proven that Chopin sucks at orchestration? Or has it been around for so long that it’s become an old wives' tale? Either way, it’s as familiar as the old adage, “Brahms is dense and Carter is difficult,” from The Art of War.

As enjoyable as it was to hear both pieces under Swiss conductor Charles Dutoit and by Emanuel Ax, I could not help but think just how satisfying it is when composers have the guts to ask for a certain instrument but only use it when they want.

Yngwie J. Malmsteen.

There's no unnecessary extra writing for the trumpets, bass trumpets and tenor tubas (Wagner tubas in these concerts) in "Sinfonietta" just to please their players.

Janacek = not Ygnwie J. Malmsteen

It's about the music.

Ugh.

And what a fun piece "Sinfonietta" is.

Andrew Drukenbrod = not Yoda

The main reason composers selectively use instruments is for color.

Yoda is a fictional character. I breath air. The world is flat. Yngwie J. Malmsteen riffs. Orchestration is the selective use of instruments for color.

And none were better at that than Ravel and Debussy.

By the way, did you hear the one about Chopin? Turns out he couldn’t orchestrate well. That reminds me, did you hear the one about Debussy?

Debussy's "Jeux (Games)" was awash in color, often coming in waves, in a fleeting depiction of a tennis match leading to amorous activity (and to think Maria Sharapova and Anna Kournikova weren't even born then!).

1. Are the quotation marks correct?

2. Did you hear the one about Maria Sharopova and Anna Kornikova? They make appearances in a classical music review about a piece that references tennis and sex.



Dutoit's sensitive conducting alternated between continuous arm movements and abrupt stops, depending on if the work called for surface fluidity or rhythmic underpinning.

But that's the definition of conducting, only more convoluted! Drukenbrod = Stuffit Expander.

That Dutoit continues to be a master of the French repertoire was abundantly clear.

Drukenbrod = Yoda?

Ax's light attack not only fit Chopin's phrasing for the pianist, but lent the concerto an improvisatory spirit (I could swear he gave a few extemporaneous flourishes, too). The only downside was it further exposed Chopin's stilted writing for orchestra.

No. Drukenbrod = Yngwie J. Malmsteen

Clearly the best parts of this work occur when the pianist plays.

Clearly the best part of this review is when the reviewer reviews.

Ax substituted for Alfred Brendel three weeks ago. It would be a shame not to hear him again for a while.

Less is more.

Merdle and Haggard

Scene I

(Merdle at the breakfast table; enter Haggard)

Merdle: Good morning sleepy face! How’d sleep last night?

Haggard: (yawn, wipes crusties from eyes) Fantastic. I love sleeping in on Saturdays.

M: What can I getcha for breakfast? Some coffee?

H: Sounds good. Can I have some eggs, too?

M: How’d you like ‘em?

H: Sunny-side up, please. Thanks sweetheart. Oh! And I see you already got the paper.

M: Yeah. I was thinking we could do something this afternoon.

H: Yeah, what? (yawn)

M: We haven’t been to the movies in a while.

H: Oh! You know what else we haven’t done in a while? Go see the symphony.

M: Perfect. That sounds cool. We haven’t seen them in almost a year. See if there are any good concerts today; I haven’t gotten that far in the entertainment section. Would you like sausage with your eggs?

H: Do we have bacon?

M: I think so. Yes. We do.

H: I’d like the bacon, please. Ooh. Here’s a concert: “Both the Dallas and Fort Worth symphony orchestras are in show and play mode this weekend. The DSO is performing Debussy’s La Mer with projected J.W.M. Turner paintings and watercolors.” That sounds neat.

M: Totally. That’s one of my favorites. I tried to play a Debussy disc the other day at work, but it annoyed the guy in the cubicle next to me, so I put on some Kenny Chesney for him, instead. What a dork. He’s sort of religious about Chesney—he’s been to like all his concerts and stuff. Here’s your coffee.

H: Thanks.

W: What else?

H: Umm... “The FWSO is projecting Peruvian images with two works connected to music director Miguel Harth-Bedoya’s homeland.”

W: Oh, weird. So the review is about two concerts?

H: I guess so. Let’s see. “Inspired by cellist Yo-Yo Ma’s Silk Road Project, presenting contemporary music from the old Asian trading route...” Well that’s a weird thing to say. Contemporary music from an old trading route.

W: That doesn’t make any sense. Is the salt over by you?

H: No. “Mr. Harth-Bedoya has his own Caminos del Inca (Inca trail) project. This week’s offerings include Mr. Harth-Bedoya’s arrangements of three 18th-century Peruvian dances and a recent work by the FWSO’s composer-in-residence Gabriela Lena Frank (American-born, but of mixed Peruvian, Chinese and Lithuanian heritage).”

W: Who wrote this article? I bet it’s Cantrell. He, for some odd reason, always highlights someone’s race, like it’s a big deal for him.

H: Yup. That’s weird.

W: Thought so.

H: Do you have any clue what Peruvian dances sound like?

W: That’s a strange question, too. Do you mind if I make my breakfast first? Just thought I’d give you a warm plate, while mine cools off.

H: That’s thoughtful, honey. Thanks. Where was I? Oh. “Sparingly scored for chamber orchestra, with toe-tapping drummings and rattlings, the dances were drawn from a collection by an 18th-century Peruvian bishop, Baltazar Martínez y Compañón.”

W: Does that answer your question? Toe-tapping drummings and rattlings.

H: No. It says here that “Accompanying images were the bishop’s own illustrations of attires, from European to fantastic native, and activities of his day.”

W: European attire is surely not Peruvian attire. What was the name of the conductor’s project?

H: Inca Trail.

W: That’s odd. Either way, it sounds like an eyesore, unless the bishop was like Rembrandt or something.

H: Ha! No kidding. Oh man! “Both music and illustrations were delightful.” Thanks Cantrell! If the music was as delightful as the pictures he described, I think the orchestra is doomed.

W: Yeah. He sure doesn’t paint a clear picture. Does He? Here. I forgot the milk for your coffee.

H: That’s okay, honey. It’s fine without it. Thanks, though. Oh here’s a bit about the composer-in-residence’s piece. “Dr. Frank’s Illapa is a 12-minute tone poem inspired by the eponymous, flute playing weather god of Andean mythology.”

W: What’s “eponymous” mean?

H: I don’t know.

W: That’s kind of pedantic, don’t you think?

H: Well, maybe we’re the idiots. It's certainly better than "orchidaceous," anyway.

W: No. I mean the “Dr.” part. Calling yourself a doctor can be misleading if you’re not a medical doctor. Besides, it’s like showing off, or something. I especially hate it when artists do that. What do you think?

H: I think I’m getting hungry.

W: Okay. Okay. I just finished making my eggs. I’m getting to yours now.

H: Just kidding, sweety. Take your time. “Soloist Jessica Warren played two more or less modern orchestral flutes...” How can flutes be more or less modern? This kind of writing is starting to bug me.

W: Well if you ever got your head out of the comics, you’d be used to it by now.

H: Touché. Where... oh. She “played two more or less modern orchestral flutes in the piece and two traditional Peruvian examples, one with a seductively hollow and husky sound.” Sounds like Cantrell has a thing for the larger ladies.

W: Ha!

H: “An introductory soliloquy flows, jerks and oozes, with occasional overblowings.”

W: Sheesh.

H: “Clacks of claves are echoed by string pluckings. Slithering violin tremolos...”

W: I think he means “violin repeaties.”

H: See? This what I thought you meant by “pedantic.” He uses words like “eponymous,” then, for us lowly travel agents and software engineers, he switches to... what was it? ...drummings and rattlings, and pluckings and overblowings.

W: I see your point. Though, "overblowings" isn't too bad. Would you like Tabasco for your eggs?

H: Cholula if we got it. Well how about "clacks," then? That's no better. (reads on) Blah, blah, blah. “Arresting and engaging, the piece got a wholly persuasive performance. For an encore, Ms. Warren and the orchestra played the third movement of Alberto Ginastera’s Impressiones de la Pluna.”

W: Enh.

H: "Making Rimsky-Korsakov’s Schehezade sound fresh is no small challenge. But Mr. Harth-Bedoya and his charges did just that, in a performance of considerable flair. Wind solos might have had a little more personality, but concertmaster Michael Shih spun out the violin ruminations in threads of aural gold.”

W: Christ! That’s a metaphor and a half. Here’s your eggs and bacon.

H: Thanks, babe. Here’s the paper. (eats)

W: “The orchestra’s violins played with silken unanimity, and, from loud to soft, the brasses made glorious sounds.” That’s the end.

H: Oh really? I thought it continued to go on about the Dallas Symphony on the next page. That’s it? I guess the review was only about the Fort Worth Symphony. Well that sucks. That’s like an hour-long drive from Dallas.

W: More like an hour and a half.

H: Oh well, we'd never make it in time, anyways. Wait a minute. Why was this article in the Dallas Morning Star when the concert is in Fort Worth? I mean, you really have to want to go, in order to make it to a 2PM concert one and a half hours away after sleeping in till 10:30. Either that or you have to have a teleporter.

W: Funny man. See what you miss when you only read the sports and comics? Scott Cantrell. You know he was the President of the Music Critics Association of North America for a number of years?

H: Wow. (eats more) Well, Cantrell didn’t make it sound too interesting anyway.

W: I know. I would still like to see the Debussy, though.

H: That’s in Dallas, right?

W: Yeah.

H: Okay then. (eats) Mmm. There’s no comparison between Tabasco and Cholula.
-

Composer of the Day!

Today's Composer of the Day is Achille-Claude Debussy.

(1862-1918)

He was an early modernist, often called an impressionist, although he hated that label. He was a very good composer. He had a daughter named Chou-Chou. He died of rectal cancer.

He was also French. Go figure.

You should listen to his music.