Friday Quickie: That's not something you see everyday

It's a slow news cycle here in the detritus world of music criticism. And as such...

Symphony in A minor a minor disappointment

Oh. Dear. God.

This week's Minnesota Orchestra concerts, heard Thursday at Orchestra Hall, mark the climax of its season-long Rachmaninoff symphony cycle.

I think the story here is that the Minnesota Orchestra has completely given up on programming good music.

Har har har...see what I did there?

Sorry, I'm sure some of you out there just love Rachmaninoff...but just admit it, you're totally wrong. Right?

Rachmaninoff's Symphony No. 3 in A minor is the composer's final symphony and one of the last of his orchestral works.

In fact that the only other orchestral work he composed (Symphonic Dances) was the only other piece he wrote at all until his death seven years after this symphony. Just saying.

As such, it is a nice pairing with the contrastingly youthful "Firebird."

Sure, what the hell.

The first movement opens in deep melancholy, perhaps expressing Rachmaninoff's sense of loss and of time passing.

Perhaps. But if you're basing this on the fact that you heard the Dies Irae, you should note that every piece Rachmaninoff ever wrote has the Dies Irae in it...or something like that.

So, how was this symphony "a minor" disappointment?

Wigglesworth missed the depth of emotion, stressing orchestral precision over passion, the result feeling somewhat cerebral and cold.

Well, that's not something you read everyday. Rachmaninoff -- "cerebral"? Surely you jest.

figure don't see that everyday: It is just as true today as it was in his day. Amen.

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Actually, Rachmaninoff's music isn't not cerebral. It's just so much more common for his music to be inundated with superlatives extolling the emotional genius of his music. I mean, it's not like he's Bruckner or something.

A few more entries in our continuing GREAT REVIEW TITLES series

You know, as the title says.

Titles are hard...we get that. But every so often a critic (or editor, as it may be) makes a truly special effort to succinctly capture the magic of the live concert-going experience.

First up, from the Times-Herald Record, the direct approach:

Review: Greater Newburgh Symphony Orchestra in Newburgh

Exactly. I feel like I was there.

...in Newburgh.

Also in Newburgh...

figure culture: Thank you American Idol.

Next, from the Houston Chronicle, we have the ridiculous pun:

Symphony Review: Rite a riot of orchestral color

Har har har. You see, because there was a riot at the original premiere a hundred years ago. Priceless.

Whew!

My sentiments exactly.

No riots broke out at Jones Hall on Friday night as maestro Hans Graf led the Houston Symphony in Stravinsky’s explosive The Rite of Spring — in contrast to the legendary ruckus unleashed at the work’s 1913 premiere in Paris.

Maybe it was more of a quiet riot?

figure cum on feel the noize: Mama weer all crazee now.

Later...

Later dramatic bursts proved quite formidable,...

To what? Napping?

...between the slashing strings, pounding percussion, blaring brass and woodwinds that wailed and keened.

Just once I would like my string blaring, woodwinds pounding, brass slashing and percussion that keened.

Even with no dance element, this rendition of the score made it clear something wild, violent and vital was happening.

Send the women and children to safety!

Well, pagan fertility rites are not for hidebound suburbanites.

This is so true.

And lastly, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution demonstrates how you really explain a metaphor.

ASO plays new music, familiar Beethoven on fire

On fire? The musicians were on fire while playing new music and familiar Beethoven?

For long stretches, the orchestra was playing on fire.

Okay. They were on fire.

Was it something like this?

figure on fire: If only Beethoven had lived to see this.

So, clearly "on fire" is a metaphor. But what exactly was on fire -- they were playing great? Everything was coming together beautifully?

It wasn't a radically different interpretation, in terms of tempos, phrasing and balances, such as the prominence given to inner voices.

Hmmm. Interesting, but I'm still not totally clear. How about an analogy to help explain the metaphor?

But like a racing yacht that accumulates an advantage in a regatta by sailing a hair closer to the wind, Knussen delivered a remarkably intense reading by trimming the orchestral sails just taut enough to drive momentum forward, just loose enough that there was never a hint of anxiety or strain or excessive loudness.

And then the orchestra caught fire...just like most racing yachts.

He had us believing that the slow second movement was about the most unexpectedly interesting work Beethoven even composed -- intelligent, loving and always deeply musical.

But, of course, we knew better.

Call for a Moratorium

Alas, it has long been tradition to make puns and jokes using musical terms and names. I love puns and jokes, sometimes even especially music-based hilarity. But some traditions have played themselves out. Like:

Q: Why couldn't Mozart find his teacher?

A: Because he was Haydn!

See! An alarmingly clever --and super-tired--play on words. Or this:

Q: Why did Mozart kill all of his chickens?

A: They kept saying "Bach! Bach! Bach!"

Great. That's just great.

It is, more than anything, the puns on the name "Bach" for which I am calling a moratorium.

Alas, I am too late. The normally-reliable John von Rhein of the Chicago Tribune offers this gem, in re: the upcoming Bach Week Festival.

Cue the choir. Sound the trumpets. Bang the drums.

Why, whatever for?

The Bachanalia is about to begin!

Can we please, please stop the madness?

RESEARCH UPDATE:

Very unfortunately, there is already a group of the same name.

Color me...unsurprised.