The Envelope. Please.
October 5, 2009
What did we ever do without low-res iPhone snaps?
Those of us who got to see Waylon Flowers and his ineffable puppet Madame will always recall one of their greatest lines: ” Sylvia Miles would attend the opening of an envelope.” In a Manhattan autumn, the opening of many envelopes with nice, stiff invitations or tickets in them, is followed by many an opening gala.
My first opening of the new season was at the Dicapo Opera, in its surprisingly elegant church basement. No peeling concrete floors or piano-destroying dampness here. This is, after all, an upper-East Side church basement. It was the premiere of a new chamber version of Tobias Picker’s opera Emmeline . After a reputedly grand production at Santa Fe (which I did not see), it was good to have a chance to absorb it in intimate circumstances in a very creditable performance.
Next, on the way to the Metropolitan Opera opening night, there was a Steinway Hall event for Sony Masterworks to launch a remarkable project in which very, very advanced physics are called into play to recreate piano performances by Rachmaninoff — on a piano he may have played in his day. The climax of an already pretty exciting hour came when Joshua Bell showed up to play a duet from his own new release — with “Rachmaninoff” at the piano. The keys moved; the sound was glorious; but we saw only the violinist, since the pianist breathed his last in Beverly Hills in 1943. It was a little spooky and plenty thrilling.
Then, a half-hour later, came the Met opening, which has been sufficiently discussed in the world media, goodness knows. My own experience was to enjoy the performance at the time, allowing myself to wait until later for most of the inevitable critical reflections. That way, the negative perceptions didn’t spoil a brilliant evening. I’ve been able to read all the pros and cons (and to enter into many discussions of the production) without the bitterness that many seem to feel on both sides of the argument. After all, you don’t go to an opening night at the Met to be unhappy.
Though I wasn’t at opening night of the New York Philharmonic, I did hear the dress rehearsal that morning. Having known quite of a lot the work of Magnus Lindberg in the past, I was nevertheless astonished at his ability to capture just what was needed for the festive opening of a new season — and of the new régime of Alan Gilbert — in his premiere that opened the program. I have since heard it again in a subscription concert, and my admiration only increases, as does my conviction that the Philharmonic has made a very good choice in committing so much important work to Lindberg for this crucial season. In another piece of outside-the-box programming, we heard the oft-heard Renée Fleming as I’ve never heard her before in Messiaen’s luminous Poèms pour Mi, and subsequent performances this past week of Charles Ives masterpieces continue to encourage one about the Philharmonic’s immediate future.
Because of another obligation, I had to miss the first night of the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, but I did get to the gala — and very lively it was — that opened the New York Film Festival in the same hall a few nights later. As always, it was a thrill to be seeing a new film, with its director and stars present. Really good food, too, which seems to be a dependable feature of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s shindigs (he said, feigning habituation after only two experiences of their galas).
The next night brought the opening of the recommended series Yale in New York, when the School of Music, under the shepherding of David Shifrin gave a stupendous concert at Zankel Hall in honor of Benny Goodman’s centenary. It was made up of classical works with which The King of Swing was closely associated (and which were mostly commissioned by him). While it was all eminently worth hearing, the pièce de résistance, inevitably, was the Copland Clarinet Concerto, played without a conductor by an orchestra from the Music School, with Shifrin himself as the soloist. Sheer beauty.
Then last night, at the other extreme of scale from the large concert halls, there was the opening concert of the Helicon Foundation‘s new season. Since the closing of Albert Fuller’s magnificent salon upon his death, these remarkable sessions have been moved to an ample drawing-room just off Fifth Avenue. My grateful recollection of a delicious Vienna-saturated evening moves me to recommend this membership-based organization for those who like intimate music-making at the highest level.
So many openings; so many pleasures to anticipate. It’ll be nice not to have to dress up quite that much all the time, though — and it’s off to my first fall visit to Le Poisson Rouge tonight.
Ah, Sweet Mystery of Useful Niche Sites!
October 4, 2009
Bust of Victor Herbert in Central Park
Victor Herbert (whose 150th birthday came around this year) was a real power in American music. A cellist of note, his concerto for the instrument has been successfully revived by Yo-Yo Ma, and he was conductor of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra during a golden age of arts in that city. But perhaps most important of all was his contribution to the American musical theater through his sparkling operettas. Even if you don’t know a whole show (who does?), aspects of his work are part of popular culture. There was, until recently, even a very specialized store in Greenwich Village that traded on this general knowledge of Herbertiana by calling itself Toys in Babeland — a store that might have been designed for Naughty Marietta.
A new Web site for aficionados, performers, and scholars sets out to make available the scores of all of these historically important and hard-to-find stage works. At the moment, Herbert’s hit songs (like “Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life!”) are well represented — with rare orchestrations by the composer. But PDFs of the original operetta scores are steadily being added as well and are not only sold there via a reasonable Pay Pal transaction, but, once purchased, can be duplicated for performance at will. There are also informative articles on the works and even the offer of a first CD of remastered Edison recordings of Herbert interpreting his own compositions.
This is one of those sites that is not at all remarkable for its attractiveness or any particular display of Web-savvy. It’s just the generous sharing of valuable information not otherwise available — a kind of activity that begins to fulfill some of the dearest hopes of us who tied our fortunes to the Web back in the ’90s.
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Tip of the hat to Steven Ledbetter, who posted concerning this site on the Society for American Music e-list
True Story
October 2, 2009
Cab driver: So, how much did it cost to attend Juilliard?
Friend: Oh, about $27,000 back when I was there.
Cab driver: You paid $27,000 to PLAY PIANO?!?!??!?
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As told by Anna Polonsky, based on a friend’s experience
Superb New Recordings of John Musto
October 2, 2009
This is Not a Partisan Political Post
September 30, 2009
When you hear book-publishing types getting all pious about the threat that new media pose to the sacred process of book-manufacture, remember this article.
Social Media and Classical Music
September 18, 2009
I used to work for a powerful executive in the record industry who maintained that many people were reluctant to buy classical recordings because they got embarrassed in the stores. They were uncertain about pronunciations, and therefore shied away from exposing themselves to the disdain of record-store clerks. If you’re old enough to remember record stores, you may have encountered some clerks that would in fact laugh someone to scorn for having learned in French class that final letters are usually silent and thus leaving off the final S in an exception like Saint-Saëns — or the final Z in Boulez or Berlioz. Such shibboleths can constitute a real self-esteem minefield for the timid. But one doesn’t have to be a wimp to want to avoid the company of snobs.
The playing field is now quite different. But while record-store clerks are no longer the factor they used to be, people still like what they know about. How do we achieve (at least relative) confidence in what can seem fenced-off areas? Overwhelmingly, we get it from our friends. How do we learn most cultural details? Bette Midler claims that she pronounces her first name as she does because her mother thought that’s how Bette Davis said hers. (How any woman in post-World War II society could have made that mistake defies belief, of course.) In turn, we know how to pronounce La Midler’s name only because we’ve heard it before. The same with sports. We weren’t born knowing what strikes, balls, and bunts were, and we didn’t learn about them by reading a book. We heard about them from our friends. We’re always lamenting declines in music education, as well we might. But the most effective communication is from friend to friend (which of course also means that effective music education of a person can also produce music education for the friends of that person).
The always-brilliant Jonah Lehrer put a short piece on his blog yesterday about social networks and economic and cultural choices.
After all, the best way to figure out what kind of music you like, or whether or not you’ll enjoy Napoleon Dynamite, is to study your friends. If they’re looking forward to the new Monsters of Folk album, then so are you; if they enjoy old kung-fu movies, then you probably do as well.
Even someone whose musical tastes are far-developed, unusually broad, and constantly expanding — like, say, me — is much influenced in certain cultural choices, and in chances he is willing to take, by his daily social contacts. Hearing enthusiasm expressed about a new string quartet or composer or recording at the dinner table is marketing gold, of course. But the invasion of Facebook into a person’s life, if he or she uses the Friends feature intelligently and not just as a race for numbers, can actually be a valuable extension of this process, as well as being a highly efficient one in terms of scale. I find that I attend many a good event because a Facebook Friend references it, usually leading me directly to information and purchase facilities. (By the same token, when I arrive at the event, I am likely to see friends — and Friends — all around me.)
This is simply human nature exercising itself by other means and on a different scale. We remain social beings under all circumstances and through all filters.
Classical music marketing in many ways remains in its infancy. But, as has been asserted here before in other connections, new technologies offer us more effective means — and far less costly ones — than we dreamed of only a few years ago. Some of us are spending a lot of time thinking how to use these better. I have experienced good results from using such conduits of communication to share with others what I find rewarding. I’m finding that the best way of employing them is to consult my own experience of what has worked on me and to follow the most direct routes to people — most commonly to friends and thus to their friends. While there is what was recently a futuristic side to the technology involved, the actual fundament is simply organic. It’s social. It reveals that buying a full-page ad in the Times is a far more artificial measure.
Banjo Heaven in Bricktown
September 11, 2009
Amidst all the media attention devoted to blockbuster exhibitions at our leading museums, it’s easy to neglect the fine work being done by smaller museums with specialized focus, and often in less-trafficked places.
What brings this to mind now is the grand opening of the American Banjo Museum in Bricktown, Oklahoma City yesterday. Their admirable Web site more than justifies the trouble they are taking over this one instrument, so important in the history of American vernacular music; and the serious treatment that they accord their subject could serve as a model to many.
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Tip of the hat to Marianna Whitmer at the Society for American Music
An Ear-Training Ace
September 7, 2009
All musicians value acute hearing, and singers live by control of their voices. But here’s an instance where both attainments were turned to virtuosic criminality.
RogerEvansOnline.com 