Oh My Gods! Frak!

By now, I’m sure that we’re all aware of the Detroit Symphony’s latest shtick: Asimo, Honda’s robot human helper, conducted the Symphony on Tuesday. Well, actually, it conducted one paltry Broadway tune, not a full-length symphony. Anyway, the AP press picked up the story as did Mark Stryker of the Detroit Free-Press and a handful of others. It even made its way across the pond.

Asimo the robot: OK, but does he seduce the sopranos?

Richard Morrison of the Times Online (“News Site of the Year” -The 2008 Newspaper Awards) apparently has some reservations. Perhaps we ought to test the humanity (read competence) of our conductors by their ability to womanize. Sweet. I like where this is going.

Before hailing Asimo, Honda’s robot conductor, as the Toscanini of our age, I think we would need its technique and interpretative powers to be put through a sterner test than is provided by that cheesy Sixties ballad, The Impossible Dream.

Right. How many sopranos can he shag? That’s the litmus test.

What I find fascinating is how the role of the conductor is reinterpreted by each age.

(with sarcasm) Wow! Why don’t you give us an absurd reduction of the roles of conductors through each age. That would be fascinating.

In the Victorian era the conductor was the epitome of the Romantic artist as demigod — treated with awe and reverence. After the Russian Revolution, the Soviet Union attempted to abolish conductors altogether, instructing orchestras to rely on collective decision-making and socialist comradeship to get them through performances (an experiment that lasted for about three weeks of cacophonic anarchy).

In the age of the great dictators, conductors such as Otto Klemperer and George Szell were given licence to terrorise orchestras with vicious sarcasm and impossible demands. Whereas in the chilled-out Sixties, the leading conductors — as epitomised by Leonard Bernstein and Andre Previn — were laid-back, groovy dudes, as comfortable on a chat show as on the podium.

(more sarcasm) Wow! That was fascinating. You managed to isolate a few conductors who somehow represented all the rest, whittle their eccentricities down to generalizations about the age and, simultaneously, move forward in time to bring us to the precipice of the actual topic: can Asimo get laid?

Fine work, so far. Now, how about today? You know, the conductors. What about them?

And our generation? Well, we have reinvented the conductor as a robot.

We did? I seem to remember an article, not too long ago, that mentioned that one robot conducted one piece that only lasted only about three minutes.

To say that the entire generation is defined by Asimo, the one time conductor, is the lamest thing I’ve heard of since that thing about God being mad at us, which is why he unleashed Katrina on New Orleans.

How apt for an age that is increasingly replacing human-to-human communication with impersonal technological interfaces.

Again, Asimo conducted a symphony orchestra once. That’s it. Once. It was a novelty, an amusement. In fact, it was a fucking advertisement! Honda donated one million dollars to Detroit Symphony Orchestra education program(me)s (talk about economic irony) in exchange for a performance lead by Asimo (see Mark Stryker above). It would seem that the human-to-human element is, well, greedily opportunistic. Asimo: just a conductor (a programmed conductor at that); not an apt expression of musical, nor social, progress.

But is Asimo the finished article?

No. But then again, he was never intended to conduct a symphony; he’s supposed to be able to help the elderly with mundane tasks. This Detroit Symphony business was a one time deal, worth one million dollars. An advertiss-ment.

Does he have an ego the size of Belgium?

No. It’s a robot.

Does his agent demand that he gets a fee equivalent to the rest of the orchestra put together?

No. It’s a robot and, in this case, a prop, a plug, an advertisement.

And how many young sopranos has he seduced?

Ugh. None, because it’s a robot. So?

Until we know the answer to these vital artistic questions, we can’t really call him a true maestro.

Here’s the thing: I’m not sure what this article is about. Or, I have ideas, but none that jump out as correct, because I have a number of questions.

I mean, why does Richard initially represent Asimo as a thing (it), then later assign it a gender (he)? I thought he was poking fun at Asimo’s lack of humanity, lack of human-to-human communication. Does that mean Richard is really poking fun at human conductors’ fallibilities? Why is this necessary? Is it a problem? I thought we’ve been living and dealing with egos for...since the beginning of time.

If I may attempt some conjecture...

1. If the point of the article is to deride conductors or their stereotypes, through Asimo, then whoops. Richard said that it’s human to be fallible, which is a logical step backward. It doesn’t work.

2. If we can’t cheer Asimo in the same way as a real-life conductor, because Asimo is not human, then this is perhaps a strangely (unintentionally) veiled advocation of misogyny.

3. Shucks. Just insert Battlestar Galactica “toaster” reference here.

Anyway, if the purpose of this weirdness was to get a rouse out of its audience, or bring up the ol’ man vs. machine debate, or waste some space, then it worked. But I have trouble believing that this is an idle, opinion-less piece. How about you?
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[Edit Empiricus] I have rightly been corrected: The $1 million dollar gift to the DSO was not directly linked to Asimo's appearance. Instead, it was truly philanthropic, thus rendering that thread...uh, excessive and perhaps unfair. Cheers! And a new color for edits!
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A Little Night Probing with a Knotty Schoenberg

In Sator Arepo’s recent post, Bernard Holland suggests that George Pearle’s music is like something from outer space. I’m not so sure that Bernard isn’t on to something.

We all know that Schoenberg’s Violin Concerto

usually comes off as an icy monolith of modernism.



Right?

Who then could possibly untangle Schoenberg’s spaceman-like naughty knots?

Who could bring out his latent, other-worldly romanticism?

Who could beam 30 fiendishly difficult, atonal minutes down into 12-tone ribbons of lyrical melody?

I think it’s clear. Thank you Mr. Holland.

The answer?

...

Shhhh. They might be listening, waiting to take over the world, or subliminally supplying us with bad writing about Schoenberg.

I know who can do this. But you have to keep it to yourself, in case you get probed. Just be quiet.

....

It’s.

...

Aliens, who look like us. (artist's rendering)

...

Here’s one of them.

...

And another. They can look like music critics from the Detroit Free-Press, too.

Now that you know, here's Schoenberg.
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Mad Libitum!

Given that the article is only 360 words, can you guess what percentage of those words are adjectives? Go on, give it a try. What’s your guess? Well, the actual answer is... drum roll... 13% or 47 adjectives. I even omitted a few, like dark chocolate. That’s quite a proportion considering that articles, conjunctions, pronouns, nouns, verbs and adverbs, and the like, require a good deal of space. Oh, and don’t forget multiple word proper nouns and numbers and stuff. This proportion, of adjectives to other part of speech, is a difficult thing to do without losing coherence. Congratulations Mark Stryker of the Detroit [Editor-] Free Press for defying the odds, sort of.

In the spirit of defying odds, let’s try something a little new, shall we? Here’s the whole article, partitioned paragraph by paragraph. The same direction applies: arrange the extracted adjectives into their appropriate places. Good luck!

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Forgotten

Conductor dusts off ______ gems

Black
Dark
Gloomy
Mystical
Obscure
Uncommercial

When Gennady Rozhdestvensky last conducted the Detroit Symphony Orchestra in 2001, he led one of the most brazenly _______ and _______ symphony programs I've heard. The music included _______ Rachmaninoff, _______ Britten, _______ Kancheli and the conductor's arrangement of Schnittke's _______ satire "Suite from Dead Souls."

Beloved
Conventional
Lighter
Unusual
Venerable

This weekend the _______ 76-year-old Russian is exploring more _______ corners of the repertory with the DSO, though the mood is _______ and he also is leading the _______ Schubert's Symphony No. 9. Still, the music was anything but _______ Friday.

High
In-the-moment
Minimal
Quirky
Svengali
Tall
Unique

Rozhdestvensky has a _______ presence. He is _______, preferring to stand on the floor rather than a podium. He favors _______, _______ gestures, though an arm or hand will sometimes shoot out with sudden alacrity. There's a _______ aura about him; he and the orchestra seem to commune on a _______ plane of mystery. Schubert's Ninth had the gravitas of being been delivered from the mountaintop but also _______ spontaneity.

Deliberate
Dynamic
Expressive
Fluid
Glorious
Long
Long
Low
On-the-beat
Slavic
Springy
Verile
Warm
Weighty

Rozhdestvensky drew a _______, _______ tone from the orchestra, the _______ strings and brass as rich as dark chocolate, and the players spoke Schubert's _______ melodies in _______ paragraphs. Paced by _______ and _______ horns, the opening movement unfolded in _______, even _______ tempos, but Rozhdestvensky always had the _______ view in mind. By the finale, the music had grown _______ and _______, the _______ accents evoking the accumulated wisdom of a _______ journey.

Brooding
Giddyap
Rapid
Rousing
Witty

Before intermission, the conductor led two works the DSO hadn't performed in decades. Shostakovich's Piano Concerto No. 1 (1933), also called a Concerto for Piano, Trumpet and Strings, is a _______ burlesque full of _______ mood swings, parody, a _______, _______ conclusion and just enough seriousness to keep it from slipping into slapstick -- a _______ slow-movement waltz is to die for.

Muted
Virtuoso

Pianist Viktoria Postnikova, the conductor's wife, played her _______ part with power and flair, and principal trumpeter Ramon Parcells played with soul, especially in his _______ passages.

Late-romantic
Modernist
Suspense-filled
Twilight-of-tonality

Schoenberg's Chamber Symphony No. 1 (1907), heard in its full orchestra version, looks backward and forward at the same time, caught between _______ opulence and _______ angularity. Rozhdestvensky's _______ phrasing and control of color italicized the _______ ambiguity.

Exalted
Ragged
Unsettled

Still, the performance was _______, _______, as if the telepathy between conductor and orchestra had yet to reach its most _______ state.

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Hope you didn’t fry your synapses. Here’s the answer. How’d you fare?

For your troubles, here’s maestro Rozhdestvensky, in his early days, conducting something just for you. I thought this might something good to listen to after an accomplishment.
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Eureka! Someone Else Has Found It!

Unquestionably, one major problem that composers face every day is how to wax poetic. No one, to the best of my knowledge, has written such a formula down. In my time, I’ve read numerous harmony and counterpoint books, many historical, theoretical and musicological essays and texts, searching for the answer to this perplexing riddle. And not one, ever, has been able to offer up an answer. Until now.

Savage lockstep rhythms alternate with evocative suspensions of time that allow individual voices to wax poetic.

How simple! How elegant!

Please, Mark Stryker, write a manual for us lowly and non-poetic composers. Enrich our music with answers to the ultimate musical mysteries.