Friday Quickie: Failed Emphatic Modifier Edition

Violinist plays Tchaikovsky's lone concerto

(Tucson Explorer, 2/10/2010)

[excerpt]

Violinist Vadim Gluzman, NPR's #1 New Classical Music Face of 2008…

Number One Face, eh? I wonder who won "Best New Musician".

I kid, I kid.

Figure 1: Vadim Gluzman's Face with Hand and Violin

…for his recording of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto, performs the concerto with the Tucson Symphony Orchestra this Thursday, Friday and Sunday, Feb. 11-12 and 14.

Okay, that’s relevant, I guess, since it’s the same piece. Do go on.

Gluzman and the TSO, led by music director and conductor George Hanson, present the only violin concerto by one of the most beloved Romantic era composers ever.

One of the most-beloved [sic] Romantic composers…ever?

Whereas, I suppose, Dowland was one of the most-beloved Romantic composers...of the Renaissance.

Besides, the force of the emphatic modifier "ever" is already undermined by the initial qualifier "one of".

Figure 2: "One. of. the. Worst. Episodes. Ever."

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.]

So, why don't you tell us a little bit about this bullshit pitfall.

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.

Critics Are on the What Now?, Part II

A follow-up column (to this) merits a follow-up response (to this).

Part 2: Wherein Facts Are Asserted, with Mixed Results

Critics and "Users"

A postscript on the evergreen topic of the role of the critic: in last week’s discussion (Do Critics Matter?), the question of whether or not a critic’s role is to be a consumer advocate became a central focus.

(You can read the comments thread that contains that discussion by following the link above.)

The gist is, more or less, that criticism has a broader scope than generating a recommended what-to-do list for potential concertgoers. Which is fair, and seems right--but the contrariwise statement does not follow.

That is to say: it is not the case that criticism, regardless of its intent, sometimes can and does act as an in-depth account of, say, a concert of which a positive review could be construed as some kind of endorsement This seems plain; even if consumer is not the intent or focus of a reviewer, it happens, in sort of an advanced version of the way that wearing a t-shirt with the name/logo of a product tacitly endorses it.*

But I, apparently, have my fact wrong. What's the fact, Ms. Midgette?

The fact is...

I can't wait!

The fact is that, whether or not we like it, critics are not, in fact, consumer advocates.

Oof. In fact, the fact is that I am disputing that fact, in fact.

But I'm reasonable. What is your argument supporting this alleged fact?

In a private e-mail, one respondent brought up a study I’m well aware of, but that certainly merits mentioning here: a 2007 survey by Goldstar.com (this link downloads a file with the survey results) showed that consumers overwhelmingly turn to websites with user reviews in preference to published reviews in a newspaper.

[reads survey report]

Granted, the people who answered this survey were already using a website to access entertainment, so they were predisposed toward Internet use.

Sure, which means that, according to the Fact Survey there, even people who are very internet-y sometimes still turn to newspapers.

(An aside: Capitalization conventions of the word "internet" (versus "Internet") are inconsistent and confusing, and therefore (in this critic's opinion) bad at being conventions as such.)

Still, it reflects a significant societal trend.

This trend: people do stuff on the internets!

Though I myself am (of course) a regular newspaper reader,...

Of course! I mean, come on. Why wouldn't I be? I mean I have a blog and stuff, sure, but, you know, I read the paper and stuff! Seriously! You guys!

...I often browse reader reviews on Amazon.com, or skim through the ratings on a film website, before making a purchase.

Yes. Sure.

(My standard response to people who are afraid that blogs are going to dilute the ostensible purity of critical discourse...

Uh, what? The "[ostensible] purity of critical discourse" is about as varied as Amazon user reviews. (Perhaps someone should set up a web log or "blog" that examines this "discourse.")

...is to point to the Amazon reviews: people are generally able to tell the serious ones from the stupid ones, and by the same token will generally be able to distinguish the good blogs, like the good newspaper reviews, from the bad ones.)

While I understand what Ms. Midgette's saying, distinguishing "good" and "bad" blogs or reviews is probably not the dichotomy (if any) I'd ascribe here. (Except perhaps Yahoo! movie user reviews. I think you have to have a lobotomy to read those. Or am I confusing cause and effect?)

That said, a longer, thoughtful review is pretty easily distinguishable from "Transformers II wuz best movie EVARS1!! If u dont liek it ur jelluz" in form and content.

This means that a single voice has less and less power to influence consumer habits.

But not no power. Remeber: your thesis (or "fact") is that critics are NOT consumer advocates--not "rarely" or "sometimes."

(When I was at the New York Times, I often heard publicists say ruefully that even a great Times review or advance piece of a Lincoln Center performance no longer actually led to a spike in ticket sales, as it once had done.)

Pity the poor publicists.

(Also, it occurs to me that you could do some pretty amazing things if you can begin a sentence (even a parenthetical one) with "When I was at the New York Times...". "When I was at the New York Times," I'd say, "a gentleman once called me an elitist! I called him a slanderous cur, and threw my monocle at his feet!")

"Look at me! I work for the New York Times!"

Sorry. Anyway:

Certainly, critics are writing for consumers, and we are saying what we think about a production or performance.

Certainly. But...?

But to expect everyone to follow your opinions is unrealistic in this day and age.

Again, we seem to have missed the mark. "Everyone" is a lot of ones. The argument that criticism is NOT in fact consumer advocacy (ever) is not helped by arguments that it isn't much, or less than it used to be, or sort of, or sometimes.

And in fact, such advocacy has never been the role of great critics.

Guh. Never? And, to boot: in fact?

Virgil Thomson, Pauline Kael, Andrew Porter: they’re still read, and still valuable, because they were writing about a lot more than whether or not their readers should bother to buy tickets.

Yes, yes, yes: and no! They wrote about "more" ("a lot more") but not to the exclusion of endorsing or recommending some things, some times. Which again is not absolute. Or, as the Dutch say, a "fact."**

Critics?

Anyone?

*Unless it's ironic, which is a different matter entirely (can one endorse irony?). Perhaps, though, irony is a sort of criticism, which should be left for another day.

**May not be true, as I don't speak Dutch.

Critics Are on the What Now?

Or:

The Concept of Criticism, with Continual Reference to The Simpsons (and Oblique Reference to Obscure Kierkegaard Tracts)

Hm. A bit slow lately, but Anne Midgette over at "The" Post, or, at least, the online equivalent thereof wherein classical music coverage has been hidden, muses for us:

Do Critics Matter?

Which, obviously, is a topic near and dear to us here at The Review.

(There is also a follow-up column, which I will address as well. Soon. -Ish.)

Clearly we think critics matter, not least because they help frame [the?] debate about music. But let's not jump the gun. What's up, Ms. Midgette?

The fact that the classical music, dance, and art critics are not represented in today's critics' survey in the Washington Post may give those of us in those disciplines extra reason to worry that what we write doesn't actually matter.

That is indeed worrisome. However, I'd argue that the worry is more about not being employed by the papers to write criticism than the relevance of criticism per se.

Arts critics, and the arts in general (as noted here frequently) are recipients of some of the earliest ax-blows of newspapers' attempts to have less content in order to stay relevant. While this may seem counterintuitive, shortsighted and stupid, don't be fooled--it's counterintuitive, shortsighted, and stupid.*

Meanwhile, though, celebrity gossip, fashion, and even horoscopes continue to be subjects which the newspapers think are, presumably, both profitable and a public good.

Seriously, people. Horoscopes? Any paper that prints that shit should be used solely for bird cage liner. That's right--I'm talking to you, Nancy Reagan. Fuck you.

But the whole idea that there should be some kind of correlation between reviews in the paper and ticket sales, or popularity, is fundamentally flawed to start with.

I'm not sure where this objection originated, but: yes. That's called marketing, and it's different than criticism. It's sort of like how having sex for money is different than having sex not for money.

It reveals a misunderstanding of what it is a critic does.

What does a critic do?

Figure 1: Homer Simpson, Food Critic

Our role is not to be mere consumer advocates, telling you how to spend your hard-earned dollars.

The assumption here is that my dollars are hard-earned, which I resent. Also, money can be exchanged for goods and services!

If that were the only point, newspapers might as well issue simple public-relations-style puff pieces and have done with it.

See above. No...further above. That one.

The role of a critic is to cover a field.

I like it! That's not what I might have said, but it's a good start...

Figure 2: Jacoby Ellsbury, Center Field Critic, Boston Red Sox

This doesn't mean simply pandering to popular taste.

One would hope not. That's Entertainment Weekly's job.

It means doing one's best to convey a sense of what is going on in a given discipline by writing about every possible side of it.

Uh, hmm. Sort of, except the side that has any grounding in technical terms that might alienate the casual reader (sometimes known by scary words like "theory" that rob art of its ability to foster feelings of ownership). That "possible side" is usually neglected. Now, there are reasons for this, but clearly "every possible side" is not really the scope of most arts criticism.

It means trying to convey a perspective that a reader who doesn't spend every night going to concerts/plays/films may not be able to gather himself; or offering a thoughtful take that might stimulate a reader who does go to everything to see something in a different light.

These are all valid points. I am very glad that it does not include "telling the reader how the art in question made you feel."

For part of our role is to foster dialogue and debate.

That is most excellent. And important. And sometimes neglected. And potentially powerful, and therefore potentially dangerous.

That doesn't mean setting forth judgments of taste in order that readers might fall obediently into line behind us.

Unless you're Bernard Holland. Sorry, but there ya go.

Quite the contrary: it may mean putting out views that one knows may represent the minority.

It...may.

It means being interested in the thoughts of those who disagree.

I think it means potentially being interested in those thoughts, but point taken.

This is good stuff.

It means being delighted when someone is powerfully moved by something one didn't like oneself.

Maybe. I am not delighted when people are "moved" by the Jonas Brothers, or a two week-long orgy of dead Zombie entertainer coverage. This is due to the effect it has on my own environment and quality of life. I don't begrudge them their, uh, crap. I just don't want to hear about it.**

I can't even go to the damn grocery store anymore. I'm not saying that all the magazines should have Mendelssohn's birthday issues--far from it. It seems to me that the potential good of having a plethora of Special Interest Magazines is that THEY DON'T ALL HAVE THE SAME FUCKING THING ON THE COVER.

Sorry. I don't usually e-yell like that. But all I wanted was some ice cream, and I got Zombie Rememberance Super Memorial Comemmorative Editions everywhere I looked.

It also means writing well enough that someone might want to read you -- a goal that's hard to reach if all you're doing is trying to push readers to buy tickets.

This is very true, and not a trivial point.

The disciplines collectively referred to as "the arts," commercial or not-for-profit, highbrow or low, offer a lot more than simply the possibility of passive consumption and a thumbs-up, thumbs-down reaction at the end of the exercise.

Oh, snap! Take that, Roger Ebert!***

Their very existence is a tacit reminder that there is a lot more out there than this passive consumption, and critics should be reminding people of this fact. To get diverted into yet another hand-wringing round of us-against-them, critics-are-dying-out, audiences-are-stupid plaints is pointless.

Aw, just one more round. Please?

Audiences aren't stupid, and if critics are feeling irrelevant, it's up to us to figure out how to become a more vital part of the debate. But if we measure "relevance" by how many tickets we sell or how many people agree with us, we've already abnegated our responsibility.

Bravo.

Two things.

One, go back and read the whole thing again, and imagine something like "composer" and "music" substituting for "critic" and "criticism."

Two, I am a bit light on Simpsons references considering my alternate title, so here is a corrective:

Figure 3: Ralph Wiggum, Cat-Food Breath Critic, Branches Out

I'll follow up Ms. Midgette's follow-up soon.

* I can't find the Groucho Marx quote to which I am referring. Rest assured, there is a clever reference being made here.

** I have my own crap, and don't want to be begrudged either.

*** Roger Ebert is actually a very fine writer, but this was an easy jab. So sue me.

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

It seems to me that there are too many things.

We've become so inundated with things that they are only describable in relation to other, familiar things. Well, at least it feels that way.

The SciFi Channel has a new show, "Eureka," which it describes as a series

...about a secret government facility in South Dakota where all mysterious relics and supernatural souvenirs are housed, is emblematic of the channel’s programming direction. “It is a dramedy and it is set in the here and now. It’s a kind of an Indiana Jones meets ‘Moonlighting’ meets ‘The X-Files,’” Mr. Howe said. “This is a very accessible, relatable, fun show.” [Edit: Sorry SA, the colors were too modern]

Wow. Now that sounds compelling! And vaguely familiar!

The Simpsons (as usual) have already lampooned this concept with their (deliberately) short-lived character, Poochie the Dog.

Figure 1: Poochie Is Mad Irreverent!

Poochie even has a little "song" wherein he describes his corporate brain trust-generated character concept:

"Poochie Rap"

The name's Poochie D
And I rock the telly,
I'm half Joe Camel
And a third Fonzarelli.
I'm the kung fu hippie
From gangsta city,
I'm a rappin' surfer,
You the fool I pity.

Ah. That's the stuff. Spell it on out for us, Poochie!

Fortunately for us, this concept seems to be running, or bleeding, into other areas. Here's Sally Vallongo's review of the Toledo Opera's performance of Strauss' Salome.

Opera gives us many twisted heroines, but surely no other femme is quite so fatale as Salome.

Surely. Can you give a contemporary example of such a figure?

In today’s celebrity-fixated world, Salome would be part Britney and part Paris, a juicy, amoral beauty who answers to little past her own twisted ambitions.

Sweet. Now I want to go to Toledo!* Anything else to which I can easily relate? Something facile, perhaps? A dash of Lindsay Lohan?

Beneath a mane of hair a la Carrie Bradshaw of Sex and the City, [soprano Amy] Johnson floats and gyrates across the stage...

Oh. Well, crap.

Perhaps...perhaps we're interrogating the high art/low art dichotomy with this kind of comparison?

Figure 2: Salome (Lovis Corinth, 1900)

Figure 3: Reminds One of Figure 2, Yes? (Photo: Washington Post)

(If they're femmes fatales, does that mean they're dead?)

What's that funny taste in my mouth? Tastes like...dumbed down. Mmmm, dumbed down...

*May not be true.

[Edit: 3/20/2009: The SciFi show is not in fact Eureka, it's Warehouse 13.]

Best Anachronistic Phrase of the Day!

Today's Winner is Olin Chism of the Dallas Morning News. Mr. Chism reaches back to the mid-19th century for a gem. Congratulations, sir. You're on the trolley!

We'll get to the winning phrase soon. First, some gentle fun with Mr. Chism.

Chamber Music Society covers vast territory with ‘Voices of Vienna’

Monday night's program for the Dallas Chamber Music Society was titled "Voices of Vienna."

I am glad you typed that. Because I totally had not inferred it from your title.

It was a fine lesson in how varied the compositional voices of that remarkable musical city were.

But not anymore?

The performers, in Caruth Auditorium, were cellist David Finckel and pianist Wu Han…his wife…

The biggest shocker of the evening was a pair of pieces by Anton Webern,

Mmm, I love me some Webern. I’m guessing you hated his “shocking” atonal non-music?

who was something of a shockmeister

Shockmeister? That is a made-up bullshit Myspace-person word. ("They call me the Shockmeister, baby!") I’m sorry, but really. Shockmeister.

when he formed a 12-tone team

He formed a 12-tone team? I…

with Arnold Schoenberg and Alban Berg in early- 20th-century Vienna.

If anyone formed this “team” it was Schoenberg. But that’s not the point. I guess “was in a circle of like-minded artists” or something would have confused readers? Schlocky vernacularisms are schlocky. Perhaps I’ll call you the Schlockmeister.

But the shock this time was not generated by atonality.

Hey-O! Color me surprised!

Quite the contrary. These pieces were sweepingly lyrical, and solidly tonal. The shock was in the unexpected.

Oh, I see. They were some early Webern works. Well, then, I sort of forgive you for the “shockmeister” thing, maybe. You were setting up a long-term construction in your schlocky vernacular paragraph. I’m a little sorry, Schlockmeister.

The works are from Webern's teen years. Both are marked "Langsam," or "Slow," and at two or three minutes each are quite brief. But Webern was already showing a knack for packing a lot of significance into a short span of time, and this music is melodic and, at times, impassioned. If not forewarned, you'd never know they were by Webern. They'd make a tough entry in a "Who wrote this?" quiz.

I’d like to play that quiz! In fact, I have to play that quiz (to finish my degree). Huh, suddenly it doesn’t sound like as much fun as I thought.

Three more pieces by Webern were back on comfortably familiar ground.

Familiar atonal ground? You, sir, have just earned some respect. Awesome. I thought critics were isolated from atonal music! However, you have failed to name the pieces, which is confusing. They are called Drei kleine stücke, Op. 11. You’re welcome.

They were composed in 1914, 15 years after the opening pair, and they are extremely brief, measured in seconds rather than minutes,

I measure my gas mileage in rods to the hogshead!

and use wide-leaping intervals to set an austere mood typical of Webern in his Schoenberg-ian years.

The remainder of Monday night's program was more traditional, with compositions by Schubert, Beethoven and Brahms…

Let’s cut to the chase.

Ms. Han, a forceful pianist, took the spotlight with Beethoven's Sonata No. 2 in G minor, an outgoing work in which Beethoven was obviously feeling his oats as a composer for piano…

He was…feeling his oats? Congratulations! You’ve won the Detritus Review’s first ever Best Anachronistic Phrase of the Day award. Feeling his oats. So, so very old-timey. I found a reference here.

Did you read it? Awesome. Did Mr. Chism use the phrase correctly? Hmm. Lastly:

Brahms' Sonata No. 2 in F Major was a more balanced piece for both performers, and it was going very well when an approaching deadline forced me to leave, reluctantly.

You…left? The concert you are reviewing, presumably for money? During a piece?

Not a classy move, Schlockmeister.

Jazz Is Precise!

This pianist sounds really great. So was most of this article. The beginning, however, gave me pause.

Meticulous Jazzman of the World

The title does not bode well. What does this mean? Also, what does the qualifier “of the world” disambiguate or contribute? Now, if he was from another world, that would be something.

THE Cuban-born pianist Gonzalo Rubalcaba, who over the last 15 years or so has become one of the greatest musicians in jazz,

Huge sweeping broad generalization, but okay, I’m still with you.

is meticulous about music.

What does that mean? His music is precise? Not sloppy? Because, you know, most of those jazz musicians are sloppy, dirty men who only play in dive bars. (As we learned here.)

You can tell this by the first unaccompanied notes of “Avatar”,

I have to wait until the first unaccompanied notes to tell…this (that his music is meticulous, I think)? Or…are the first notes on the album unaccompanied? This is a bit vague, and, I propose, not meticulous.

his complexly beautiful new album.

His new album sounds complexly beautiful! Too bad I don’t know what that means.

He has an almost eerie control over his sound, as if he were playing the strings directly instead of using the keys as intermediaries.

This makes him…meticulous. Okay… Also, qualifying "eerie" with "almost" does not make it sound more meticulous. It, instead, makes it sounds less meticulous. See?

He is also meticulous about ideas.

He is also…what? Perhaps we should finish the paragraph.

He tends to classify music rather exactly,

The qualifier “rather” makes his exactness seem less meticulous. Again. Just saying.

and he talks about jazz in terms of codes and information.

I understand this. It sounds like semiotics of a sort. Semiotics, while (often) deeply cool, is about as inexact and subjective a discipline as any I’ve encountered. Meticulous?

He prepares his records — “productions,” he calls them — with conceptual rigor.

He calls his records “productions” is on the what now?

Mr. Rubalcaba has spent about a decade living in southern Florida in a quiet gated community about half-hour from Fort Lauderdale.

Is his lawn meticulous? The “quiet gated community” thing makes me imagine his meticulously trimmed lawn.

His life looks more like that of a classical-music virtuoso than a jazz musician.

Translation: he does not take lots of drugs and hang out in dives. Great. That’s just great.

He goes to the airport, tours, comes home and dives back into practice.

Jazz musicians hate to practice. And classical musicians? They totally love going to the airport. Don't even get me started on classical musicians and their love of airport-going.

The rest of the article is not bad. I was just confused by the lack of meticulousness of the opening. Mr. Rubalcaba sounds like he is fabulous.

The end.