Critic Defies Logical Explanations

Word choice is a funny thing. And this can be especially true when that word is in the large, bolded text at the start of an article. It may be my shitty worksheet/fill-in-the-blank education, but my eye tends to gravitate to those words and give them extra importance.

So, you'll forgive me when I read the following title, and wondered...hmmm.

Review: Vienna Philharmonic defies expectations in Danville
Loren Tice, Lexington Herald Leader, September, 29, 2010

Defies? Really? I'm not sure you're using that word correctly.

Petulant children defy their parents.

Republicans defy logic.

figure defies expectations: "I'm not much for giving inspirational addresses, but I'd just like to point out that every newspaper in the country has picked us to finish last. The local press seems to think that we'd save everyone the time and trouble if we just went out and shot ourselves. Me, I'm for wasting sportswriters' time. So I figured we ought to hang around for a while and see if we can give 'em all a nice big shitburger to eat!"

But the Vienna Philharmonic usually exceeds expectations. You see most people naturally assume (based on their storied history and reputation) that they are a very good, if not great, orchestra. To defy that reputation, you have to assume that the Vienna Philharmonic purposefully played poorly.

Defy can mean exceed, but usually that applies to something or someone originally thought to be terrible at the given task. Kind of like those Police Academy movies. Rarely are great things/people that exceed our expectations described as "defying" them.

figure more defiance of expectations: Nerds! Nerds! Nerds!

You see?

It's a small thing, but you know, we're just picky that way here at the Detritus.

But what do I know, maybe they sucked. Let's find out, shall we?

The great thing about expectations is when they are dashed — for the better.

Dashed? Again, that words has negative connotations when associated with something good.

For example, hopes are dashed.

When expectations are dashed that really only means, "not for the better".

The august Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra never plays outside the musical capitals of the world. But Monday night, there they were in Danville's Norton Center for the Arts on Centre College's campus.

Yes, this is odd. Explanation?

And they surely would make a poor match to one of the most exuberantly youthful conductors in the world today: Venezuelan Gustavo Dudamel. (The Vienna Philharmonic uses only guest conductors.)

Yes...they would...make a poor match? Why is that again?

Count it a match.

Right. No time for explanations. I forgot this was music criticism -- just make unprepared, cliched assumptions and go from there.

So, how was it a match?

Dudamel was wise to never over-conduct.

Not that I disgree, but when would it be wise to "over-conduct"?

I think the words themselves suggest that one should never do that. It's kind of like over-cooking food -- I can't really think of time that I'd recommend that.

Not once did he subdivide a beat to be clearer.

Less clear conducting. Got it. That does sound better.

His trust in the cohesion of musicians he barely knew was total.

He trusted them to just play, even with his unclear conducting? I guess that makes sense.

And what he got in return was total commitment.

To his non-conducting? Okay, I'm a little confused.

Might you say that the orchestra defied him? Seeing as we don't know what that word actually means.

It is so rare to see every single musician dig in with so much conviction. Some expectations held.

Wait a minute. So, some expectations held. Did you establish which expectations didn't hold yet? Surely, we're getting to that part soon, right?

I think we should back up a minute and clarify ourselves. What are our expectations...generally speaking?

Dignity from central Europeans as opposed to informal directness of Americans.

I'm not sure with this exactly means, but it fits in with my cliched understanding of Europe as snooty and pompous and America as awesome and extreme (whooo!), so I'll go ahead and nod approvingly.

figure dignity: Europeans as I understand them to be.

The sound of the instruments reflected that.

Reflected what? Dignity? What does that mean?

The string tone was not volume-rich and certainly not edgy, but it was unbelievably luminous.

Interesting. So this means, by logical contrast, that American orchestras are loud, edgy and unbelievably not luminous.

Sounds about right.

Woodwind tone was subtle, even thin, especially in the double reeds.

Hmmm. This sounds rather not good, as it were. Maybe I'm misreading you here...maybe the Vienna Phil did defy expectations.

What else ya got?

The flutes were so cottony smooth that they didn't cut through the texture well in solos.

Double reeds and flutes sucked. Check.

The grand exception was the first clarinet: a tone of gold, played by a man with music in his very bones.

In what part of the body are the "very" bones?

The perfect showcase for these instruments...

Wait. What?

The perfect showcase for thin double reeds and flutes that can't cut through the texture?

...was the concert opener, Antonín Dvorák's Symphony No. 9, "The New World."

Oh, well...I didn't know it was Dvorak's "New World". Carry on.

As much as Americans love to claim this work — Dvorák wrote the piece in the United States — it is quintessentially European in sound.

Thank you. That's what I've been trying to say.

The symphony is often played with American brashness, but this reading was controlled excitement.

Controlled excitement. Sounds like this might have been part of Tanner Family Fun Night.

figure jodie sweetin: Meth? Well, not exactly what I had in mind, but...okay.

Blend and clarity of layers were in perfect balance. And so were the musical thoughts.

The musical thoughts were in balance?

Several times, a soft flute solo was answered by violins so caressingly it was like willow branches bending over lovers. Now that was Dudamel's doing,...

Are you sure it wasn't Dvorak's doing?

...and he indicated it with typical understatement.

Dudamel? Typically understated?

I thought his style was too undignified for the Vienna Philharmonic, which I assumed was because he was typically not understated in his conducting.

Is this our defied expectation?

Oh, he could be a viper with his baton.

An understated viper...

The very next moment was an explosion that was riveting in its contrast.

And this wasn't in the score?

But there was not a bit of the showboat in his gesture. That shows respect for the orchestra.

You thought his respect for the Vienna Philharmonic was in doubt?

Are you suggesting that Dudamel doesn't respect the LA Phil, or any of the other symphonies he guest conducts?

All bets were off for the first selection after intermission,...

Really? Wow, what sort of brash, over-the-top piece do we have next?!

...Leonard Bernstein's Divertimento of 1980.

Oh. A Divertimento? A divertimento with a "Turkey Trot"...all bets were off?

[btw, I love this piece...it's just not an "all bets were off" type of piece. It's...you know, a divertimento.]

The orchestra's personality did a complete about-face. The extrovert Bernstein, with his fabulous fanfares and peg-leg dances and naughty non-sequiturs, found plenty of gamers to match him.

Naughty non-sequiturs? I love those...let me give it a try.

figure non-sequitur: Thank you once again, Failblog.

Perhaps the jazz riffs could have been more down and dirty.

Perhaps.

But you had to love Dudamel's Charlie Chaplin conducting style.

I don't know what this means, but you're right, I do have to love it.

Two Maurice Ravel pieces topped off the evening, Pavane for a Dead Princess and Boléro, and you would expect French music to sit uncomfortably.

Oh, those Frenchman, and their uncomfortable music.

But exquisite subtlety was back. There was no over-emoting in the sad Pavane.

How did you know that I like to understand all music by virtue of some sort of trite, simplistic stereotypes? And you've made this real easy...American music, loud and brash; European music, boring and understated.

Do you happen to teach music appreciation at the local community college?

But we're getting a bit unfocused. We were talking expectations and the defiance of those expectations...

The beginning of Boléro was as courageously done as the beginning of the Dvorák symphony: almost inaudibly soft. Few conductors will try it. It couldn't have been missed, how much tension was built in expectation of the crescendo to come. That expectation was fulfilled.

"Fulfilled"? That's a funny way to defy an expectation.

And the ending was full-bore abandon — along with the audience's appreciation of it. Then what a delight in a Viennese encore treat, Johann Strauss Jr.'s Pizzicato Polka. It was, of course, tort sweet.

Wait...doesn't tort mean "a wrongful act"? What an incredibly odd word choice.

Or did you mean "torte"?

Whatever.

To summarize, Loren Tice had some expectations. Those expectations were defied. However, the orchestra played well, in the expected manners of each piece, and was conducted in a way conducive to the orchestra and the music. The end.

If You Don't Eat Your Meat, How Can You Have Any Pudding?

The concert program as a hermeneutic object has been, until pretty recently, not all that interesting to me. Usually, it seems, the organizing idea behind a concert program is about as interesting as "all the pieces are sort of about planets!" or "all the composers probably liked flowers".

Figure 1: An astonishingly original idea for your next Obligatory Jocular Costume party.

However, I'm coming around a bit. So, when thinking about a concert as a text to be interpreted, consideration is given not only to the pieces programmed, but the order in which they're presented. This can lead to more interesting issues, such as those raised recently in this review:

Visitors from Vienna Bring Both the Pastoral and the Not-So-Pastoral
(James R. Oestreich, New York Times, 1/27/2010)

However, as with all things hermeneutic, the license to interpret is easily carried too far. I'm not sure that's the case here, but it's something of which to be wary.

Programming symphonic concerts is too often done to formula, the lamest, nowadays, being overture, concerto, intermission, symphony.

Agreed, and point taken.

I'll also take this opportunity to note that Messiaen's "Intermission with Bird Songs, Traffic Noise, and Cigarettes" is my favorite work in that underrated genre.

If anything more challenging can be slipped by the marketing department, it is tucked somewhere inside to avoid encouraging patrons to arrive late or leave early.

Why would the marketing department care when you come or go if they sell you a ticket?

Hmm.

Oh, wait: I forgot to put on my hermeneutic hat!

Figure 2a: Apparently, literally every fucking thing in the world is available on a hat at CafePress.*

Figure 2b: Seriously?! What the hell?

That's better. Let's try this again.

If anything more challenging can be slipped by the marketing department, it is tucked somewhere inside to avoid encouraging patrons to arrive late or leave early.

Besides privileging the Romantic-transcendent cultural paradigm by placing the hierarchical, canonic works at the marked positions of the beginning and end of the concert, this programming strategy further others the "challenging" work by "tucking" it away (or "slipping" it in) between the metaphorical legs of the event-body, resulting in a gendered construction that patriarchally confines the transgressive or dangerous pieces out-of-sight.

Wait. What?

Oh, hell. That was my New Musicology hat.

Figure 3: Apologies to Dr. Susan McClary, Distinguished Professor of Musicology at UCLA.**

Where is that blasted hat?

[rifles through the hat closet at Detritus Towers]

Maybe this is it?

If anything more challenging can be slipped by the marketing department, it is tucked somewhere inside to avoid encouraging patrons to arrive late or leave early.

It sounds like the marketing department is trying to prevent the protrusion into reality of the real by sublimating the object-cause of its desire.

Gah. That's not it, either.

Figure 4: Objet petit a

Ah, screw it. No hat, then. I'll have to proceed with only my meager, Cthulhu-given interpretive skills.

The Vienna Philharmonic, in its three programs conducted by Daniel Barenboim and Pierre Boulez at Carnegie Hall over the weekend, managed to present a lot of challenging material: substantial works by Arnold Schoenberg in each concert, a piece by Anton Webern, another by Mr. Boulez.

I am, I think, firmly on the record as being in favor of this programming.

And at least at the first concert, on Friday evening, the order of the program represented a small triumph of musical values over marketing wimpiness.

Ah, now we're talking. Let's do some goddamn interpretation! Who's with me?

Mr. Barenboim offered a quick historical jaunt, from the bedrock harmonies of Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony through the unmoored and disintegrating tonalities of the Prelude and “Liebestod” from Wagner’s “Tristan und Isolde” to the 12-tone machinations of Schoenberg’s Variations for Orchestra (Op. 31), and it made for a rich and illuminating experience.

I would totally go to that concert. So, Mr. Oestreich, why the preamble about the programming?

But as much sense as that ordering made, it was by no means inevitable.

So the chronological order of the program made sense, as the structure of the concert mirrored the linear, unidirectional flow of time. But, crucially, it was not inevitable.

It's the cutting edge: considering performing pieces not in the order in which they were composed.

The program book, in fact, listed an earlier version,

Ah. Now that's interesting!

...with the mildly intractable Schoenberg work coming before the lush payoff of the Wagner.

Bucking the positivist, rational, linear logic of chronology in favor of the aforementioned "marketer's choice" arrangement.

So, to be clear: The program listed the Schoenberg as the middle work, but it was actually the last on the concert.

An insert sheet gave the revised order, evidently arrived at late,

A fair interpretation.

...and you could almost see the always provocative hand of the headstrong Mr. Barenboim at work in it.

Only a Maestro could have conceived of (provocatively) re-ordering the program at the last minute? To chronologically?

He virtually confirmed as much at the end of the evening when he conspiratorially announced the encore,

Wait wait wait.

There was an encore? This absolutely and drastically affects any close reading of the program. What was it, for Azathoth's sake?

Figure 5: Azathoth, the Insane Outer God at the Center of the Universe. We are all naught but his dreams of dancing. (Duh.)

...Johann Strauss’s “Thunder and Lightning” Polka, “for you and for those who left before the Schoenberg.”

Ha. That's great.

If and only if you stayed for the Schoenberg, which was strategically moved to the end of the program, you got a lollipop.

I take it all back. That's out-fucking-standing.***

*Gratuitous profanity indicates here that I am in no way advertising--or even advocating--for or against this company.

**The music school at UCLA is called the Herb Alpert School of Music, which is almost unbearably awesome. It's a fact; you can look it up.

Figure Anhang: A supplement implies a structural lack.

***This profanity is emphatic, and more elaborative than structural.