Keyboard Stroke?

Edward Ortiz is at it again, this time reviewing a new disc by pianist Simone Dinnerstein. And, as usual, a couple of things caught my eye as, well, awkward, to say the least.

First, there’s the unsubstantiated adverb and adjective.

On Beethoven's piano sonata Op. 110, Dinnerstein powerfully connects with some of Beethoven's forward-looking ideas.

What exactly are those “forward-looking ideas?” How does one powerfully connect with said ideas? Who knows? Not me. “When typing, I powerfully connect with Henry Mill’s forward-looking ideas.” I bet you don’t know who Henry Mill is. Anyway, moving on.

Second, there’s the vagueness.

To do so, she honors the telling pauses in the first and second movements, and fronts the hyperkinetic moments throughout.

WTF, my friends? WTF? You all know me by now, so I don’t have to go into it. Let’s just agree that it’s humorously terrible, shall we? Good.

Okay, we have some vacuous language. What of it? Is it post-worthy? Meh. Not sure. I debated it’s merits for a spell, while listening to, guess what, Beethoven’s Opus 110. And wouldn’t you believe it, something sounded awkward, too! It’s just that I couldn’t pinpoint the problem.

Later on in my eventful day, I hopped on over to the Wall Street Journal, where there was, fortuitously enough, another review of the same disc, this time by Barbara Jepson.

The final movement of Beethoven's transcendent Sonata No. 32 in C Minor (Opus 111) is a series of variations on a 16-bar theme presented in its stately opening.

Are you fucking kidding me? Our Eddie-boy got the piece mixed up; it’s opus 111, not opus 110!

What gets me is that, unless he was using the number pad on his keyboard--it's possible, but very key stroke inefficient--1 and 0 are nowhere near each other, meaning three things. Either he thought the piece was, indeed, opus 110—which doesn’t have any pauses in order to be telling—or he didn’t bother to check which piece he actually heard—which could be considered terribly unprofessional (I’m not suggesting this is what actually happened)—or he doesn’t know his Beethoven (How is that even possible?). Which one is the real answer?

All I know is that even the editor didn’t catch the fuck up. So, I guess the editor fucked up, too.
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Between the Lines, Some Useless Information

In Monday’s Living Here (?) section of the Sacramento Bee, I was asked a question of the highest philosophical order, a question of such depth that the great Lando Calrissian (respectable administrator of Cloud City) couldn’t answer it, let alone comprehend.

Can you name any of Mozart's worthy peers?

What's that? Can I name any of Mozart’s worthy peers, you say? Well, yes. Yes, I can. There’s...

Johann Gottlieb Graun (1702–1771)
Johann Ernst Eberlin (1702–1762)
Gioseffo Hectore Fiocco (1703–1741)
Georg Andreas Sorge (1703–1778)
Karl Heinrich Graun (1704–1759)
Jose Antonio Carlos de Seixas (1704–1742)
Frantisek Antonin Ignac Tuma (1704–1774)
Nicholas Chédeville (1705–1782)
Giovanni Gualberto Brunetti (1706–1787)
Giovanni Battista Martini (1706–1784)
Baldassare Galuppi (1706–1785)
Pietro Domenico Paradisi|Paradies (1707–1791)
Michel Corrette (1707–1795)
Georg Czarth (1708–1774)
Pasquale Cafaro (1708–1787)
Egidio Romualdo Duni (1708–1775)
Johann Adolf Scheibe (1708–1776)
Johann Gottlieb Janitsch (1708–1763)
Christoph Schaffrath (1709–1763)
Paolo Salulini (1709–1780)
Charles Avison (1709–1770)
Franz (Frantisek) Benda (1709–1786)
Franz Xaver Richter (1709–1789)
Jean-Noel Hamal (1709–1778)
Domenico Alberti (1710–1746)
Giovanni Battista Pergolesi (1710–1736)
Thomas Augustine Arne (1710–1778)
Joseph Marie Clément Abaco|dall’Abaco (1710–1805)
Wilhelm Friedemann Bach (1710–1784)
Domènec Terradellas (1711–1751)
William Boyce (1711–1779)
Ignaz Holzbauer (1711–1783)
Jean-Joseph Cassanea de Mondonville (1711–1772)
John Hebden (1712–1765)
Sayat Nova (1712–1795)
John Stanley (1712–1786)
Friedrich II der Grosse (the Great) (1712–1786)
Jan Benda (1713–1752)
Johann Ludwig Krebs (1713–1780)
Pedro António Avondano (1714–1782)
Gottfried August Homilius (1714–1785)
Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach (1714–1788)
Christoph Willibald von Gluck (1714–1787)
Nicoló Jommelli (1714–1774)
Jacques Duphly (1715–1789)
Georg Christoph Wagenseil (1715–1777)
James Nares (1715–1783)
Girolamo Abos (1715–1760)
Mathias Georg Monn|Man (1717–1750)
Jan Václav (Johann) Stamitz|Stamic (1717–1757)
Jean-Baptiste Quentin (1718–1750)
Leopold August Abel (1718–1794)
Ferdinand Zellbell (der Jüngere) (1719–1780)
Leopold Mozart (1719–1787)
Domenico Porretti (1720–1783)
Johan Nicolaas Lentz (1720–1782)
Johann Schobert (1720–1767)
Posh Spice (1720-1767)
Wolf Blitzer (1720-1788)
Just Checking to See If (1720-1769)
If You’re Still Reading (1720-1800)
Johann Friedrich Agricola (1720–1774)
Maria Teresa Agnesi Pinottini (1720–1795)
Carlo Antonio Campioni (1720–1788)
Pieter Hellendaal (1721–1799)
Johann Philipp Kirnberger (1721–1783)
Johann Ernst Bach (1722–1777)
Pietro Nardini (1722–1793)
Nardini Is My Favorite Name (1722-1788)
Schobert is My Second Favorite (1722-1777)
Jiři Antonin Benda (1722–1795)
Christian Ernst Graaf|Graf (1723–1804)
Anna Amalia von Preußen (1723–1787)
Karl Friedrich Abel (1723–1787)
Maria Antonia Walpurga|Walpurgis (1724–1780)
Ignaz (Ignace) Vitzthumb (1724–1816)
Giovanni Battista Cirri (1724–1808)
Gioseffo Ferdinando Bertoni (1725–1813)
François-André Philidor (1725–1795)
Johann George Tromlitz (1725–1805)
Charles Burney (1726–1814)
Henri Hardouin (1727–1808)
Johann Wilhelm Hertel (1727–1789)
Claude-Benigne Balbastre (1727–1799)
Armand-Louis Couperin (1727–1789)
Johann Gottlieb Goldberg (1727–1756)
Tommaso Traetta (1727–1779)
Pasquale Anfossi (1727–1797)
Nicoló Piccinni (1728–1800)
Johann Gottfried Müthel (1728–1788)
Franz Xaver Pokorny (1728–1794)
Johann Adam Hiller (1728–1804)
And Now a Wonderfully Musical Name (1728-1791)
Pellegrino Tomeoni (1729–1816)
Florian Leopold Gaßmann (1729–1774)
Anton Cajetan Adlgasser (1729–1777)
Pieter van Maldere (1729–1768)
Pierre-Alexandre Monsigny (1729–1817)
Giuseppe Sarti (1729–1802)
Padre Antonio Soler (1729–1783)
And Now a Not So Musical Name (1729-1789)
Leontzi Honauer (1730–1790)
Antonio Maria Gaspare Sacchini (1730–1786)
Capel Bond (1730–1790)
For All Your Bail Bond Needs (1731-1797)
Gaetano Pugnani (1731–1798)
Frantisek Xaver Dušek (1731–1799)
(Johann) Christian Cannabich (1731–1798)
Johann Christian Kittel (1732–1809)
František (Franz) Xaver Brixi (1732–1771)
Franz Joseph Haydn (1732–1809)
Johann Christoph Friedrich Bach (1732–1795)
Thomas Linley (the elder) (1733–1795)
Anton Filtz|Fils|Filts (1733–1760)
Benjamin Cooke (1734–1793)
Luka Sorkočević (1734–1789)
François-Joseph Gossec (1734–1829)
Franz Ignaz Beck (1734–1809)
Johann Ernst Altenburg (1734–1801)
Giovanni Mane Giornovichi|Ivan Jarnovick (1735–1804)
Johann Gottfried Eckard (1735–1809)
Johann Christian Bach (1735–1782)
Johann Georg Albrechtsberger (1736–1809)
Carl Friedrich Christian Fasch (1736–1800)
Jean-François Tapray (1737–1819)
Josef Myslivecek (1737–1781)
Michael Haydn (1737–1806)
Constantin Reindl (1738–1799)
Leopold Hofmann (1738–1793)
Jan Evangelista Antonin Kozeluh (1738–1814)
Johann Baptist Vanhal (1739–1813)
Friedrich Wilhelm Rust (1739–1796)
Karl Ditters von Dittersdorf (1739–1799)
Giovanni Paisiello (1740–1816)
Henri-Joseph Riegel|Rigel (1741–1799)
André-Ernest-Modeste Grétry (1741–1813)
Johann André (1741–1799)
Johann Gottlieb Naumann (1741–1801)
Vaclav (Wenzel) Pichl (1741–1805)
Jerónimo Francisco Lima (1741–1822)
Anton Zimmermann (1741–1781)
(father) Roman(us) Hoffstetter|Hofstetter (1742–1815)
Luigi Boccherini (1743–1805)
Francesco Petrini (1744–1819)
There’s a Lot of Names (1744-1823)
I Know (1744-1801)
But I Don’t Want You To Miss Any (1744-1818)
Because They All Wrote Good Music (1744-1798)
João Pedro de Almeida Mota (1744–1817)
But Really I Bet Mr. Ortiz’s Question (1744-1210)
Is Only Hypophora (1744-1789)
A Stupid Rhetorical Device (1744-1806)
That Gets Things Moving (1744-1801)
By Asking a Question (1744-1779)
Either Way It’s (1744-1790)
Pretty Lame If You Ask Me (1744-1822)
Marianne Anna Martinez (1744–1812)
Besides What Possible Relevance Could (1745-1830)
This Have In Any Discussion (1745-1811)
Concerning a New Disc Of A (1745-1823)
Lesser Known Composer (1745-1808)
That’s What the Review’s About (1745-1789)
By the Way (1745-1803)
Georg (Jiři) Druschetzky|Druzecky (1745–1819)
Jan Václav Knéžek (1745–1806)
João de Sousa Carvalho (1745–1798)
Johann Baptist Krumpholz (1745–1790)
Carl Stamitz (1745–1801)
Giuseppe Giordani (1745–1798)
Joseph Boulogne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges (1745–1799)
Ivan Evstaf’evich Khandoshkin (1746–1804)
James Hook (1746–1827)
Argh! Shiver Me Timbers and Such (1746-1821)
William Billings (1746–1800)
(Louis) Joseph (Marie) Quesnel (1746–1809)
Johann Wilhelm Hässler (1747–1822)
Johann Abraham Peter Schulz (1747–1800)
Leopold Kozeluh (1747–1818)
Theodor Freiherr von Schacht (1748–1823)
Christian Gottlob Neefe (1748–1798)
Francesco Azopardi (1748–1809)
Jean-Frédéric (Johan-Fredreric) Edelmann (1749–1794)
Domenico Cimarosa (1749–1801)
Antonio Rosetti|Rossetti|Rősler|Rössler|Rosety (1750–1792)
Names Used Under the Witness Protection Program (1750-1820)
Jean-Balthasar Tricklir (1750–1813)
Daniel Gottlob Türk (1750–1813)
Antonio Salieri (1750–1825)
Why Does It Seem Like (1750-1831)
Every Time Salieri Is Mentioned (1750-1811)
It’s Always In Reference To (1750-1795)
That Movie About Mozart? (1750-1808)
Hasn’t Anyone Ever Heard His Music (1750-1749)
It’s Quite Good (1750-1820)
Johann Franz Xaver Sterkel (1750–1817)
Dmitri Stepanovich Bortniansky (1752–1825)
José Maurício (1752–1815)
Muzio Clementi (1752–1832)
Nicola Antonio Zingarelli (1752–1837)
Ludwig August Lebrun (1752–1790)
Justin Heinrich Knecht|Knechtl (1752–1817)
Johann Friedrich Reichardt (1752–1814)
Pedro Étienne Solère (1753–1817)
Nicolas-Marie Dalayrac (1753–1809)
Jean-Baptiste Bréval (1753–1823)
Johann Baptist Schenk (1753–1836)
Michel Yost (1754–1786)
Vicente Martín y Soler (1754–1806)
Franz Anton Hoffmeister (1754–1812)
Mateo Pérez de Albéniz (1755–1831)
Giovanni Battista Viotti (1755–1824)
Federigo Fiorillo (1755–1823)
Antonio Capuzzi (1755–1818)
I Know Him (1755-1812)
He Owns a Pizzeria (1755-1810)
In Queens and Has Been Known (1755-1829)
To Associate With a Certain (1755-1804)
Fast Eddie (1755-1817)
Christian Kalkbrenner (1755–1806)
Johann Christoph Vogel (1756–1788)
Thomas Linley (the younger) (1756–1778)
Joseph Martin Kraus (1756–1792)
Pavel (Paul) Vranický|Wranitzky (1756–1808)
Alessandro Rolla (1757–1841)
Ignaz Josef Pleyel (1757–1831)
António Leal Moreira (1758–1819)
Karl Friedrich Zelter (1758–1832)
François Devienne (1759–1803)
Jacques(-Christian-Michel) Widerkehr (1759–1823)
Franz Vinzenz Krommer|Křamer (1759–1831)
Franz Christoph Neubauer (1760–1795)
Nicolas Rozé (1760–1823)
For A Good Time Call Joshua Kosman (510-555-5555)
Johann Rudolf Zumsteeg (1760–1802)
Jan Ladislav Dušek|Dussek|Dusík (1760–1812)
Jean-François Le Sueur|Lesueur (1760–1837)
Luigi Cherubini (1760–1842)
Evstigney Ipatovich Fomin (1761–1800)
Johann Christian Ludwig Abeille (1761–1838)
Antonín (Anton) Vranický|Wranitzky (1761–1820)
Feliks Janiewicz (1762–1848)
Marcos Antonio Portugal (1762–1830)
Franz Wilhelm Tausch (1762–1817)
Adalbert (Vojtech) Gyrowetz|Jirovec (1763–1850)
Franz Danzi (1763–1826)
Étienne-Nicolas Méhul (1763–1817)
Anton Eberl (1765–1807)
Jan Jakub Ryba (1765–1815)
John Addison (1766–1844)
Samuel Wesley (1766–1837)
Rodolphe Kreutzer (1766–1831)
Seriously Though ((1766-1812)
This Opening Question Begs Another (1766-1820)
How Many Composers Can Edward Name? (1767-1819)
If He Can't Come Up With (1767-1831)
Joseph Haydn You Know (1767-1840)
Off the Top of His Head (1767-1822)
In Like Two Seconds...? (1767-1841)
José Maurício Nunes Garcia (1767–1830)
I Mean I Could Have Named (1767-1855)
A Couple Dozen of These Guys (1767-1841)
But Then Again, I'm Supposed to (1767-1810)
Know More Than the Average Person Right? (1767-1847)
Andreas Jakob Romberg (1767–1821)
Christian Friedrich Gottlieb Schwencke (1767–1822)
Bernhard Heinrich Romberg (1767–1841)
Johann Georg Heinrich Back(h)ofen (1768–1839)
Carolus Antonius (Antoine) Fodor (1768–1846)
Louis-Emmanuel Jadin (1768–1853)
(Jean Baptiste) Edouard Du Puy (1770–1822)
João José Baldi (1770–1816)
Ferdinando Carulli (1770–1841)
Johann Christian Heinrich Rinck (1770–1846)
Anton Reicha (1770–1836)
Max Keller (1770–1855)
Friedrich Witt (1770–1836)
Peter Hansel (1770–1831)
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827)

...to name a few.

So, those were some of Mozart’s near-contemporaries and worthy peers. Pray tell, then, why would you like to know, Mr. Ortiz, sir?

For most, the only name that comes to mind is composer Antonio Salieri.

Aw shit. I knew it.

And this is only because of Salieri's appearance as a major character in the Oscar-winning film "Amadeus."

I wish that movie was never made.

Um, Haydn, perhaps? No. He’s not a composer that comes to mind as a worthy peer of Mozart’s? To you, Ed, maybe.

But talent was not scarce in Mozart's time.

You think? Good work.
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Most Brilliant Analogy of the Day!

There are so many reasons why this is deserving of the "Most Brilliant Analogy of the Day" award. So numerous, in fact, that if I were to list each one, the internet would become inundated with Detrital bytes. Inevitably, they'd clog-up the tubes and all the computers in the world would explode. Since I don't want that--I know some of you need your Alex Ross fix--I'll just lay it out and you can find your own favorite reasons:

Experiencing a concert at a festival of contemporary music is much like visiting a contemporary art museum.

Wow. Brilliant. Speechless.
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Elliott Carter Rounds Third, Heads for Home

Edward Ortiz of the Sacramento Bee recently reviewed a Naxos recording of Elliott Carter’s First and Fifth String Quartets as favorably as one can. Aside from the usual Carter clichés, such as aloof, cerebral and difficult, Ortiz manages to celebrate the music. In fact, it is one of the best reviews I’ve seen in a while, short as it may be.

Only, Ortiz forgot to do any research or read any newspapers, because it took me only .17 seconds on Google to contradict his opening sentence.

Composer Elliott Carter recently turned 100,

Well no. He’s 99 years and 83 days old (84 days at the time of this post), courtesy of my friend Wikipedia. Strike one, Ed.

and his centenary was only politely noticed in the U.S. classical music world.

Ahem. And in only .3 seconds I found roughly 200 upcoming performances of his music, found both here and here, which are conveniently located here; not to mention the hoards of performances in the past two months, including what seems to be a new premiere in Boston or New York, weekly. And how about the gaggle of articles, many of which we’ve ripped here at the Detritus? And don’t forget Julliard’s Focus!Festival devoted to Carter’s music. You didn’t forget that, did you Ed?

“Politely noticed!?” I would say that Carter is being thrust upon us—those of us who read the entertainment section of newspapers and/or go to concerts—like Cabbage Patch Dolls, or Pokémon, or Beanie Babies, or Tickle Me Elmo, or Wii, or Hannah Montana, or Ayn Rand, all because he’s almost 100. I’ve never heard of this kind of fanfare celebration for a living composer.

Strike two, Ed. That was very lazy. And out of touch, like someone programming Arnold Schoenberg (1884-1951) on a NEW music concert.

And just because, I change my mind. Strike three! for calling him aloof, cerebral and difficult. Those are lazy clichés—dilettante hand-me-downs that have been circulating across the country for decades without the benefit of critical reappraisal despite Carter’s growing familiarity and acceptance into the newer canon.

You’re out!

--Heidi Klum
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I'd like to tell you a story about a storyteller

His name is Edward Ortiz of the Sacramento Bee. He likes to tell us colorfully misleading stories about storytellers telling storytellers’ stories.

Every good story is born in the telling.

And every bad story is born in the grammaring. What a marvelous beginning! Pray tell. How was this story told?

And if that story is a musical one, like Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3 “Eroica,” then the telling is all the more crucial.

C’mon! I’m on the edge of my seat. Tell me! What was the story? How was Beethoven’s story told?

In this work, sonic wallflowers and shy storytellers need not apply.

Yes. Yes. If the performers don’t adhere to the dynamics and other performance cues, then I’d say they are not good storytellers.

Let’s go. I’m giddy with good-‘Eroica’-storytelling anticipation. Squeee!

Broad strokes and fervor are required.

Oh man, how I want broad strokes and fervor! Did they deliver the broad strokes? And the fervor? C’mon! Did they? Did they?

This notion was in motion during the Sacramento Philharmonic’s bold and crisp performance of “Eroica” in Saturday evening at the Community Center Theatre.

How’d it go? Did they achieve the broad strokes and fervor? They attempted it, right? But how’d they do? Did the bold and the crisp contribute to the fervor? I need to know.

It was an inspired performance in what proved an uneven all-Beethoven concert delivered to a sold-out audience.

Still, short of broad strokes and fervor.

Under the baton of musical director Michael Morgan, this group of musicians never wavered from spinning out the in-your-face dramatic thread that Beethoven created with his “Eroica.”

Geez. I’m so not excited anymore. Beethoven’s story sounds fervent. But the orchestra just kept plugging along, spinning it out. BOR-ing.

Morgan coaxed a tight and bright allegro from the musicians to start things off.

So they just didn’t have any fervor? Could they have been coaxed into having it?

Clarity and speed brought Beethoven’s musical ideas to the fore. The use of both gave a certain elegance to the music.

In lieu of broad strokes and fervor, maybe they should have played the “Eroica” super-fast. Then the piece would have been extra-super-elegant.

The second movement, “Marcia Funebre,” offers a poignant and dense collection of musical details.

Oh, brother. Just what I wanted—another movement from a poorly told Beethoven story. Maybe then they should have played super-special-clearly. Especially when details are keenly felt and dense. Elegance for elegance’s sake. You know?

Each section of the orchestra played with clarity,

Good. Elegant.

making for gripping and dramatic music.

[Emphasis mine]

What? What! Halleluiah! Being clear is now gripping and dramatic? ...sqeee! We’re kinda getting close to fervor! Clear = gripping and dramatic = slight fervor. Oh, boy! Tell me a story about how there was more fervor, Ortiz! I can’t take this lack of fervor any longer. Please! Please! Please! Tell me!

There were no lulls in the sonic drama.

Yes! A broad stroke of fervor! Finally, good storytelling. (raises fists, looks toward God in accomplishment) I just knew they could do it.

This was one of those moments where you were tempted to think that conductor and musician were destined to play together.

I agree, totally. When a conductor can coax the orchestra to play with a broad stroke of fervor, it’s truly preordained. Preordained to tell musical stories well. This story, in particular. Which is about...?

It was one of the orchestra’s strongest performances in recent memory.

Yes. But what was the story about?

In four movements, Morgan and orchestra seemed to have entered an extremely fruitful and dynamic state of musical storytelling.

WHAT WAS THE STORY ABOUT?

Hello...?

Hello...?!
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