Friday Quickie: Suffering from an excess of good taste?

An interesting dichotomy is often created between the technical prowess of a performance and the depth of the emotional narrative. It is commonplace that some performances are maligned as being cold and technical, while less-than-perfect performances are excused and even lauded because of a sense of greater emotional involvement.

Richard Storm, reviewing the Sarasota Music Festival for the Herald-Tribune, has one such review.

REVIEW: Sarasota Music Festival faculty artists touch the heart

Every music student has been there: Listening while a beloved teacher illustrates the way a particular composition should go, exploring the heart and soul of the piece, possibly slighting some of its technical requirements.

Hehe. Yep, those who can't -- teach. Right?

Which is more important: note-perfect execution or an exploration of the composer’s intentions?

That's a tough one. It really seems to allude a deeper philosophical question: what makes a piece of music what it is...the information in the score or the manner in which player performs it?

It's a complicated question, to be sure, which requires quite a bit of nuance in answering. However, before answering we should ask, more fundamentally, why should these two be diametrically opposed? It seems that a piece could be performed note-perfect and to the composer's intention. If not, then there would seem to a fundamental flaw, a Catch-22 of sorts, in the composition to begin with. Right?

But it's your rhetorical question, so...

No-brainer: The soul wins every time.

I'm guessing the "soul" is the composer's "intention", not the actual notes he wrote. From the point of view of the listener I can understand this feeling.

So, having attended the concert, enlighten us to the "soulful" rendering of the evening's performances.

So, while the faculty artists who performed at the Sarasota Music Festival Artist Showcase Thursday afternoon did not always achieve technical perfection, they fulfilled their roles as mentors and teachers of the fine young musicians who are training with them at the festival.

Huh? Because the faculty performed, and didn't achieve technical perfection, they were mentors and teachers?

The best example of this important distinction...

That performing all the right notes isn't important?

...was found in John Perry’s intensely engaging rendition of Robert Schumann’s moving and challenging Fantasy in C Major, an extended reaction to forced separation from his beloved Clara.

Which is why he dedicated the work to Franz Liszt? (note: link is to a pdf of the score)

And which (the infallible) wikipedia claims was composed in part as a monument to Beethoven, even quoting Beethoven in the work?

But whatever, I get it...all great composers get boiled down to one or two simple storylines: Mozart's all-consuming genius, Beethoven's deafness/savior of concerts with new music, Schumann's love of Clara/going crazy, and Brahms' love of the corn dog pizza.

figure corn dog pizza: And people say America doesn't invent anything anymore.

But we were talking about how great the interpretation of the piece was...

Perry’s performance was by no means technically perfect...

Yeah, I think you've mentioned that. If there's one thing performers love, it's having wrong notes pointed out to them.

...but it was touching in its intensity, powerful in its commitment to communication.

And this intensity and commitment to communication was enhanced by the lack of concern for right notes and technical perfection?

It's an interesting theory, but I'm going to need some convincing as to how the "heart and soul" of the piece was enhanced at the expense of the technical aspects of the piece.

Tell us more about how the performer plumbed the emotional depths of Schumann's desperation over his separation from his beloved Clara?

Yes, notes were missed,...

No, no, we get it. Ix-nay on the ong-wray otes-nay.

...there were messy and muddy moments,...

(This sure is a funny looking positive review.)

...but the final result was an appreciation of both the genius of Schumann and the influence of Perry on his students.

Please pardon me if I'm asking an obvious question, but how was this muddy, messy, technically imperfect performance an appreciation of the influence of Perry on his students?

I'm not sure we're getting anywhere, how about we check in on some of the other faculty performances.

The same evaluations...

Again, the technical and emotional battle for supremacy.

...applied to an over-cautious performance of Gioachino Rossini’s youthful “indiscretion” — his String Quartet No. 1, in an arrangement for winds, performed with great skill but very little witty spirit by Leone Buyse, flute; Franklin Cohen, clarinet; Frank Morelli, bassoon; and William Purvis, horn.

Okay, let's summarize...the Schumann had wrong notes, but was ultimately a good performance. And by contrast, the Rossini was played with "great skill" (which I can only assume means all the right notes), but wasn't spirited, and therefore not as satisfying a performance.

Hmmm...I'm beginning to see your point. This is indeed a conundrum.

Where was the mischievous wit for which Rossini was famous,...

It was probably lost in all the right notes being played...

...even at the age of 12,...

Wait, pardon the interruption -- Rossini was famous for his mischievous wit when he was 12? Famous with who -- his mom?

figure Rossini: Getting a lecture from his parents after his famous mischievousness caused him to trample Mr. Wilson's newly planted begonias.

...when he is alleged to have written this charming piece? Perhaps the performance suffered from an excess of good taste.

Just like the corn dog pizza.

That caution may also have affected the first piece on the program;...

The way they performed the Rossini may have affected the first piece? I'm assuming the "first piece on the program" was performed before the Rossini...right?

...Erno Dohnanyi’s “Aria,” performed by Buyse and Jonathan Spivey, piano, in which cautious good taste may have resulted in flute tone slightly under pitch.

Sounds like another excellent teaching moment for the kiddies. Intonation, just like accurate notes, aren't as important as the soul. Right?

Also, I have no idea what "cautious good taste" means. But it obviously is something to avoid. ...or not?

But back to our exploration of technical versus emotional. It seems what we have here, with the Dohnanyi, is a less than technically perfect performance, that was at the same time also suffering from "good taste" (e.g. not a satisfying emotional performance).

Does this suggest a flaw in our basic premise?

Hmmm...one more example maybe?

Yasha Heifetz’s clever arrangements of arias from George Gershwin’s glorious folk opera, “Porgy and Bess,” performed by Alexander Kerr, violin, and Jean Schneider, piano, was much more like the expectations of the students in the audience in its energy and swing.

Wait, I thought all these wrong notes, lack of wit, and bad intonations were what we expect when our beloved teachers perform for us? But I guess I should have assumed that when you said it had "energy and swing", that meant it was "exploring the heart and soul of the piece, possibly slighting some of its technical requirements." However, I'm not quite sure how the example of this dichotomy was a positive learning experience for the kiddies -- I guess we're teaching them priorities?

But, perhaps your larger point stands, that technical blemishes aren't as detrimental to the success of a performance as are cautious, unspirited performances. I suppose that there is some truth to this notion when it comes to live performances. How these two facets of musical performance became inversely intertwined remains a mystery to me. But I suppose there's a logic to it, that people wished to be moved by music, not impressed by it.

And while I'm certain that the case has yet to be proven, I think there is sufficient evidence that emotional performances are the greater performances. And for that reason, I am ordering that technical perfection keep at least 500 yards from the "heart and soul" of a piece at all times.

Another Possible Outcome of the Infinite Monkey Theorem

Emanuel Ax plays Chopin and Schumann in recital

Dependability isn't necessarily the greatest compliment in classical music, but in Emanuel Ax's case, it's dependability of the highest order.

Figure 1. Extinct volcano: High degree of dependability; they’re also often fun to look at.

Figure 2a. Dormant volcano: Not so dependable

Figure 2b. But deathly exciting!

Figure 3. Active volcano: Also a high degree of dependability, plus, “meh.”

Okay. I’m going to go out on I limb, here, and offer an interpretation, because, hey, we’ve got to start somewhere and this could be interpreted in any number of ways. So, here is how I read it: Emanuel Ax brings a dependable quality to his performances. That seems reasonable, I think. Sure. Why not?

Outbursts of musical temperament do indeed happen...

Implying: dependability really means flat, monotone, or tempered. But then again, what the hell is “flatness of the highest order” supposed to mean? Let’s see. Or more likely, let’s not and say we did.

Outbursts of musical temperament do indeed happen with this 60-year-old pianist, but you don't feel as if you've missed anything when the repertoire requires and receives a genteel veneer [...]

Weird. It’s as if scores impart information. And who knew that performers actually follow what’s on the printed page? Geesh! The more you know...

To continue, Ax’s flat (?) dependability is interrupted by outbursts, which tend (?) to obscure genteel “things” written in the score, which are subsequently played. Clear enough. [Ahem]

But that doesn't mean Ax was glossy.

Right! He had “outbursts of musical temperament,” remember? Or were those written in the score, too, implying that the outbursts were independent of the score?

The Schumann selections showed the composer at his most lyrical, though even amid the extravagant outpouring of the Fantasy in C, Ax revealed glimpses of the composer's darker side, as if to show how his musical love letter to Clara Wieck (his future wife) was just one side of a passionate personality that at its most benign retreated into the world of E.T.A. Hoffmann's scary fairies, and in future years would drive him to attempt suicide.

I think Lacan would have something to say about Schumann’s fulfilled desire for Clara.

Figure 4. No objet petit a for you!

As happens from time to time, or simply all the time, the issue, I think, is that composer and performer--more appropriately, interpreter—are being confused. Is Ax being temperamental? Or is Schumann being temperamental?

More on point, if Ax is being temperamental, then what the fuck is this dependability thing?

Those were only glimpses, however.

Well, maybe Ax is dependable in that regard. You know, making sure those glimpses (which are flat and/or glossy?) aren’t obscured by his own outbursts.

Ax doesn't impose retrospective anachronisms onto music.

Figure 5. Powerpoint slide from Advanced Criticism, Week 4: Knot Tying

Where were we, again? Oh right: Huh?

Because the first movement's burst of C-major exaltation is the sort that even geniuses...

Uh, hold on. Looking at the score, I’m hard-pressed to call any of it firmly in C major. (Here’s just the first page; I dare you to call it a burst.) But, then again, scores exist for performers to ignore.

That’s it! Maybe Ax is dependably ignoring the score, which he follows sometimes, but only during moments of genteel veneer.

Because the first movement's burst of C-major exaltation is the sort that even geniuses deliver only a few times in a creative lifetime, the Fantasy's subsequent movements were fated to be anticlimactic.

Fate, ruins, Clara, olives, Beethoven, Im Lengendenton, An die Ferne Geliebte: whatever. After all this, I demand to know about Ax’s dependability!

Wisely, Ax didn't try to sustain the music's emotional temperature in later movements, but let the piece go to different, also compelling places, often by tapping into the singular eloquence of simplicity.

Figure T-Shirt.

With Ax, the notes unfolded with the inner time clock of Vladimir Horowitz but with a tone that lacked a bit of Ax's usual sheen in favor of the more mellow coloring of Arthur Rubinstein.

Dependably imposing anachronisms without imposing anachronisms?

His own strong personality accommodates influences from elsewhere in ways that add to (rather than dilute) his musical identity.

Oh. Dependably imposing anachronisms without imposing retrospective anachronisms that dilute his musical identity, which sometimes comes in outbursts of musical temperament that don’t obscure glimpses of genteel veneer the score requires, which is then to be played. Got it.

In the second half, which included Chopin's Andante spianato and Schumann's early Fantasiestucke, his tone quality deteriorated...

Uh. In other words, Ax's tone quality wasn't dependable?

...perhaps in an attempt to climax the recital with fortissimos this particular instrument couldn't easily take.

The piano wasn’t dependable!

Better to end with a bang than a whimper.

Random, closing sentence shrouded in irony.
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Same Review, Reviewed Again

How’s this for cliché—the new music piece was difficult; Schumann is no Beethoven; Beethoven was the highlight of the concert? More specifically, how about this—John Adams’ music is more fun than Schoenberg’s, but it isn’t great; Robert Schumann’s orchestration and thematic development is not very imaginative; Beethoven’s worst is still better than most?

Sound familiar? Thought so.

Here’s another rehashing of the same outline, this time filled in by James McQuillen of the Oregonian. At least thesauri abusers make the review sound original.

Enjoy Your Symptom!

New York Times Writers Love Food Metaphors, Hate Cold

A decent little review that requires a little gentle ribbing:

Sources of Heat and Light to Challenge an Icy Season

At least in the NY Times they understand capitalization [looks askance at Houston Chronicle].

On a miserably cold winter evening,

Mr. Holland? NO?! You’ve been sitting too close to him, then.

musical comfort food

The sonic equivalent of macaroni and cheese? Or cassoulet? I’m confused, and a little sad. But not cold! Take that, New York in February!

like Schumann’s vibrant Piano Quintet provides warming nourishment.

It does? Okay, metaphorically, I guess. Seems lazy, though (although I do get to use the “food metaphor” tag!).

It was given a vigorous performance on Monday at Weill Recital Hall by the Modigliani String Quartet and the pianist Jean-Frédéric Neuburger.

Jean-Frédéric...Neuburger? I’m guessing he’s…Scotch/Irish?

The Modigliani, with the violinists Philippe Bernhard and Loïc Rio, the violist Laurent Marfaing and the cellist François Kieffer,

What’s with the French first name/German last name thing? Are they Flemish or something?

was founded in 2003 at the Paris Conservatory,

Oh. No. Just French. One assumes. And apparently young. That’s cool.

where its members studied with the Ysaÿe Quartet.

Nice mentors to have, I’ll wager. I bet they’re good…

Both Mr. Neuburger, 21, and the ensemble were winners of the 2006 Young Concert Artists International Auditions and made their debuts in the Young Concert Artists series last season. They were presented here by the organization in an encore performance.

Apparently they’re actually awesome, too! Sounds like a great concert. On a miserable night.

The musicians plunged into Schumann’s Piano Quintet (written in 1842, a prolific year for his chamber music)

His...music was prolific that year? I call bullshit.

with youthful dynamism, bringing the requisite vitality to the exuberant opening measures and the fugue of the finale. Mr. Bernhard’s tone occasionally turned strident in the excitement, but it was an enjoyable performance, and Mr. Neuburger made fine contributions.

The dynamism was youthful, the vitality requisite. What?

The concert opened with Debussy’s String Quartet, which mystified audiences at its premiere in 1893.

I think they call that a lede. It’s supposed to make me more interested. It did! I love that piece! I’d like to hear more about that!

Too bad for me.

The Modigliani played with animated zest, and an underlying tension built up momentum to frenetic climaxes, highlighting the taut pizzicatos

(pizzicati)

in the second movement and the languid exchange of the main theme in the third.

Hey! Now I know where Empiricus gets his mad libs. (And why.) The zest was animated! Animated, I tell you! Is the “zest” thing part of the larger food metaphor?

Mr. Neuburger also offered a solo selection: the Prelude and Fugue, No. 14, and the Prelude and Fugue, No. 15, from Shostakovich’s Opus 87 cycle. The bleakness of the No. 14 prelude (interrupted here by a loud cellphone) contrasted with the initial energy of the No. 15. But as with much Shostakovich, that work soon descended into relentless despair.

Relentless despair. Like much Shostakovich. So much semiotics, so little time.

Mr. Neuburger’s chilling rendition of the manically macabre fugue from No. 15 made me shiver.

Ok, a little redemption for the overly-described but cleverly alliterated “maniacally macabre”.

As an encore to reward the enthusiastic full house, the musicians played the third movement from Brahms’s Piano Quintet, a satisfying dish to fortify listeners heading out into the frigid night.

Fortified, they went into the cold night, warm. What was this thing called again?

Sources of Heat and Light to Challenge an Icy Season

The heat was…from the fortifying comfort food-music. I think.

The light…never really came up. The Shostakovich sounds dark-ish...

Maybe the zest was light? Like...lemon zest, to brighten a dish? I’m confused again. But not cold!

You're Crazy, Man!

Radu Lupu recently performed Schumann’s Piano Concerto with the NY Philharmonic. And Mr. Holland got to tell us about it.

Emphases mine

Unusual was the way the piano part was made to mingle with the orchestra rather than stand out against it. When higher-register melodic lines shifted from the keyboard’s treble keys to the violin sections, Mr. Lupu changed from soloist to accompanist. Lower voices rose out of the bottom and the middle of the piano and became principle players. Again and again one heard a leading man happy to give way to his supporting cast. If Mr. Lupu had been a singer, he would certainly have been a tenor or bass.

I agree. A tenor or a bass.

Besides, those castrati were all primo uomos.
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