Showing posts with label Puccini. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Puccini. Show all posts

4/9/10

Friday quickie: Portrait of an NPR/PBS Classical Music Lover

Kate Coleman covers the Maryland Symphony for the Herald-Mail.

Kate Coleman enjoys the beat of music.

Kate Coleman: Enjoying the beat of music

Kate Coleman wants to uncover why music gives her "goosebumps".

figure why goosebumps?: Because music is magic!

I'm not sure what inspired me a couple of months ago to hunt down a YouTube video of Luciano Pavarotti singing "Nessun Dorma," an aria from Puccini's "Turandot."

It was probably this performance ("Nessun dorma" as performed by heavy metal group Manowar):



[And, oh, it's also that song that every classically trained singer uses to sell records, was the theme song to the 1990 World Cup, the finale to the Opening Ceremony of the Torino Winter Olympics, used significantly in popular films like The Killing Fields, The Sum of All Fears, and Bend It Like Beckham, famously performed by Aretha Franklin at the 1998 Grammys, covered endlessly by pop artists like Russell Watson, Sarah Brightman, Neal E. Boyd, and so on...]

A phrase of the music from I don't know where was stuck in my mind.


Kate Coleman doesn't know where that phrase of the music comes from?

Kate Coleman doesn't like commas. Or comprehension.

I am not a huge opera fan.

Kate Colemen doesn't like opera.

I've attended exactly one opera performance in my life.

Kate Coleman doesn't like opera having seen just one opera.

Admittedly, because at the time I was a high school student...

She was in high school.

...and the venue was Convention Hall on the Asbury Park, N.J., boardwalk, my experience of Donizetti's "Lucia di Lammermoor" was far from ideal.


It was Donizetti performed on the boardwalk in New Jersey.

But Kate Coleman wants to know what's going on?

What's going on?

Good question, because how could someone with so many well-established reasons for not liking opera find herself liking a random aria that's become the epicenter of the pop-classical crossover genre?

For the record, I conducted my own little science experiment...

Ooh. I like science. I even listen to Science Friday with Ira Flatow every Monday.

Kate Coleman's experiment presumably used double-blind trials with controls for experimenter's bias and the placebo effect.

...and watched those performances again. My physical and emotional reactions were the same.

...as evidenced by her use of technical mumbo jumbo.

Kate Coleman came to two conclusions:

There are two possible explanations:

1. I'm even more emotionally on-the-edge or crazier than I thought.

Kate Coleman thinks she might be crazy.

2. There is a scientific basis for music's power over me.

Kate Coleman thinks her "scientific" experiment proves that there is a "scientific" basis for music's power.

Perhaps I'll find the answer in books I just got from the library.

Kate Coleman realizes that there are answers available in books, but knows that books are for losers.

Meanwhile, I'll stick with my own theory: Music is magic.

"Music is magic."

figure scientific evidence: I think we have confirmation of her findings!

Read more about Kate Coleman's experiment in next month's issue of Nature Magazine.

10/14/08

'Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers

How much do I dislike poor hypophora? I dislike poor hypophora with great zeal.

With a premise so heartbreaking and at least one protagonist so difficult to sympathize with, why has "Madame Butterfly" been one of the world's most beloved operas for 100 years?

Well shove me in a stagnant pond and poke me with a pink cattle prod. I mean, the author already has an answer. Such is the nature of hypophora, sure (also known as anthypophora). But often enough, they’re smug, assumptive, idiotic and, well, lazy answers (mostly of the smug and assumptive sort). It’s like the author is just lying in wait, stalking his/her prey, saying, “you don’t know the answer, do you? But I do.” Furthermore, if the answer is too confident, too assured, it can seem like a self-congratulatory wank or a “this is why I’m writing this article and not you” uppercut in the kidney that I plain don’t need. That is to say, its rhetorical function has been locked away in a closet and forced to smoke a carton of cigarettes.

Or not. Sometimes it’s just an innocuous, yet banal, device to waste space, which is equally annoying.

Once you read the answer below, just ask yourself, “Did the author really need to ask this?” “Was any greater purpose served?” “Was it effective?” “Did it lure you in?” And, in this case, “How did you come up with that not really insightful question one might expect from a third grader?”

As is the case with so many Puccini operas, it's the music.

For crying out loud. Go figure: the answer—the unimpeachable I-know-the-answer-which-is-why-I-asked-in-the-first-place-because-I’m-the-expert universal answer (the "desperately needed because the reader is stupid" answer)—why we can tolerate the “depressing” story is...

...because it was set to good music. Thanks. Thanks a lot.

And really, Madame Butterfly is a favorite just because it has good music? That's like saying, "Schindler's List is a great movie, except for the story."
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2/26/08

Exciting Economic Report

Before I get going, I need to apologize for two things. One, I try to make it a policy to only go after music critics who write reviews (or, as in the previous post, critics who make “liberal” use of the word review)—those who write for major daily newspapers. Unfortunately, I stumbled across this clunker, which is from an opinion blog associated with the L.A. Times. However, its author, Tim Cavanaugh, is widely respected for his political blog and opinions; so I don’t feel that bad. And this time, he says some strange things about music. Second, I don’t like going after the blogs of bloggers. But, I can’t resist. So I’m forgoing ethics, just this once, hopefully. Sorry.

I’m sure that it goes without saying that music, especially “classical” music, is not terribly profitable, which forces or, more likely, directs composers to seek financial stability in academia. Tim Cavanaugh has a problem with this, as I do. But not for the same reasons.

Sound of money: free-market economies and long-hair music

Longhair does not need to be hyphenated. But I don’t care about that, this time. What’s important is that we’re going to discuss the free-market. Is it good for “classical” music? Is it bad? Something along those lines, anyway.

KUSC ran a richest-classical-composer feature a few days ago, which drew its top-10 list from a 2005 survey by a U.K. radio station.

There’s a link to this in Tim’s blog. In it, the survey adjusts composers’ salaries and commissions for inflation. Its purpose, to simply compare financial success among composers across different eras. And to Tim’s surprise some names were absent.

It's unlikely the numbers — which were apparently calculated in adjusted currencies — have changed much since then, so here's the list:

1. George Gershwin
2. Johann Strauss II

3. Giuseppe Verdi

4. Gioachino Rossini

5. George Frideric Handel

6. Joseph Haydn

7. Sergei Rachmaninoff

8. Giacomo Puccini

9. Niccolò Paganini

10. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky


Why is this interesting (to me at any rate)? Because longhair music is pretty much universally recognized as an art form that can't compete in an open market and must be supported through royal or (these days) public patronage. Yet this list is remarkable for the lack of patronage its members enjoyed.


A thesis! Financially successful composers were antithetical to general economic knowledge.

All but two of the composers on the list date to the industrial revolution or afterward, and the two who came earlier than that — Haydn and Handel — did plenty of lucrative for-profit work in Britain, which boasted the most liberal economy in Europe. Verdi, Rossini and Puccini were all piece-work producers who were less interested in pleasing the royal ear than in filling up the house with paying customers. Paganini and "Waltz King" Strauss were expert self-promoters and brand builders, Rachmaninoff made much of his fortune on recordings and performances, and Gershwin made it to the top of the list strictly by producing music for a large popular audience. I'm not sure he ever got a dime of public support.

For the most part, I agree with the above analysis. Those composers were, and still are, financially successful. These guys filled seats; in some cases, to do so, they pandered.

By comparison, Richard Wagner, another 19th-century rock star with a long list of patrons and supporters including a king who built the composer his own mansion and theme-park/mini-city, didn't make the list. That's a special irony given how massively popular Wagner was and still is, not just in opera houses but throughout the popular culture.

He is still popular, to a degree. What are we supposed to learn from this?

You could counter that money earned is no indication of musical achievement,

Yes. I could counter with that. But, then again, we weren’t talking about musical achievement. We were talking about how financially successful composers did not require patronage, thus bucking common knowledge off its horse.

and that wastrels like Wolfgang Mozart and Franz Schubert, or humble workers like J.S. Bach, would top a list of actual composing value.

They would. (I think “wastrel” is a little archaic. Don’t you?) So give some counterpoint, buddy boy.

True enough, but hardship and poverty are the default positions of human existence.

Like Jeb and his comatose brother.

It's success that's the unusual thing,

“Financial” success, not success, which we already knew, and agreed upon.

and the numbers here indicate [financial] success becomes a little more likely in a profit-centered environment.

In other words, in order to make a lot of money, i.e. be “financially” successful, you should focus on making a profit. Those words of wisdom would moisten Benjamin Graham’s eyes.

Interestingly, Gershwin and Rachmaninoff, who both died before the middle of the 20th century, are the most recent names on the list. Audience indifference has since encouraged classical composers to avoid the uncertainty of the marketplace;

There have always been only a few composers who wee able to make a living solely by composing—the lucky ones, like John Adams. Hell, even Beethoven taught piano lessons.

but maybe all those composers with academic sits would have been better off trying to make a bigger buck.

Again, his point: if you want to make a bigger buck, try to make a bigger buck. Foolproof! How come no one ever thought of this before?

What I find funny, though, is that many of the composers on the list wouldn’t necessarily be financially successful today, much less “in the canon,” without the exploitation of their music in commercials, television shows or movies.

So, I’d like to try an experiment. Guess the piece that I have linked with the composer. Are you correct? Have you it heard before? If so, where?

1. George Gershwin
2. Johann Strauss II
3. Guiseppe Verdi
4. Gioachino Rossini
5. George Frideric Handel
6. Joseph Haydn
7. Sergei Rachmaninoff
8. Giacomo Puccini
9. Niccolò Paganini
10. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Were you right? Okay, I admit that the Haydn is tough, and I could have found a better Rachmaninoff (but Shine crossed your mind, didn’t it?). Either way, can you think of a second melody by these guys? In some cases, I’m very hard pressed to do so. Now how about Beethoven, the financially crippled piano teacher? Of course you can.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm saying, except that the free-market influences the canon. And one hit wonders like Rachmaninoff, Leoncavallo and Pachabell benefit.
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