Sometimes it is hard to comprehend the bigger picture when you live in the American middle class bubble. This looming financial crisis is clearly going to be devastating and has had a huge impact on our economy, but really I have seen nothing change. If I didn't read the newspapers, I would never have guessed.
So what does this $700 billion dollar bailout mean for art? From Damien Hirst's example, it seems people are still willing to spend hundreds of millions of dollars on it. But will people continue to be as generous towards art that doesn't exclusively benefit themselves? When you hear that banks are collapsing, that our economy is in shambles, your first reaction is not to donate to your local orchestra. You get a little scared, and rightfully so. Maybe you start saving more money and cut out non-essentials. And art is right up there at the top. But why do I assume this, when I don't actually see it happening? I am still going to Beethoven's ninth this weekend, my friends are still going to the ballet, so why should other people change? Situation must be taken into account; a college student living off her parent's generosity and summer savings is far different from someone who must support her family. Art depends on money, and who knows what will happen to the institutions we love.
Thursday, 25 September 2008
Monday, 22 September 2008
Concert Review
It is not often that one gets to here a concert featuring primarily Finnish composers, and even less often does that night include an accordion concerto.
The Vaasa City Orchestra came to Evans Auditorium at Lewis and Clark College Friday as part of their Pacific Northwest Tour, a four day event that included concerts in Seattle, Bellingham and Astoria. For a small orchestra of roughly 30 player, their sound was full and well-shaped by conductor Hannu Koivula. Koivula, a trumpeter and established conudctor in his home nation, had no trouble evoking controlled expression from his group, with the focus and energy to make the silences and meaningful as the sounds.
The program was entirely composed in the twentieth and twentyfirst century by one Brazillian and four Finnish composers, but that by no means implied harmonic homogeny.
The orchestra opened with Pelleas et Melisande by Jean Sibelius, the only household name on the program and Finland’s Romantic pride and joy. The higly programmatic and lusciously tonal piece was soon forgotten in the wake of D’n’A, a concerto for orchestra and accordion written only a year ago by the orchestra’s composer in residence Markus Fagerudd. Highly accomplished accordion player Veli Kujala joined the orchestra, the same soloist who premiered the piece in 2007 with Vaasa. The piece opened in chaos, Mr Kujala pounding uncerimonsiously on the keys while accompanied by arhythmic riffs in the orchestra. Eerie atonalism on this unusual and wheezy instrument made it difficult to listen to at points, but I can now say I have seen someone “shred” an accordion. While the music must be judged on a personal basis based on tolerance and enjoyment of the erractic and bizarre tendencies of modern compositions, neither the execution, nor the clear talent of young Mr Kujala, were questionable. When the piece ended on repeated, jolting fortissimo chords, I had to admit it was an experience, but one I would not like to repeat.
The second half of the program had as much, if far less severe, contrast. It began with a movement from Toivo Kuula’s South Ostrobothnian Suite 1, an intense and densely orchestrated piece born out of the Sibelius tradition, with rich harmonies and pastoral beauty. Mr Kuula, explained Mr Koivula ,was a native of Vaasa and died very young (he was shot and died of complications at the age of 35), and this piece was one of the “beautiful treasures” he left behind. Three pieces by another Finnish composer Vaino Raitio followed, reminiscent of the dances from The Nutcracker and full of rhythmic, interweaving lines. Mr Kujala came back for the final stage in a wonderful redemption of the enjoyablility of his instrument. Egberto Gismonti’s Suite de Gismonti deomstrated the appropriateness of an accordian in combination with an orchestra, both highlighting and integrating the instrument into the group’s sound. The groovy, dance-like rhythms were supported by an appealing combination of consonance and disonance. The musical interest, along with the undeniable virtuosity of Mr Kujala, who fell to his knees at one point, so moved was he by the intensity of a cadenza, made it a memorable finale.
The intimate crowd, noticeably few of which were LC students, rose to their feet in appreciation, but sat again as more troops in the personage of brass players were brought onstage for the encore. Knowing twitters arose from the audience as the familiar and somewhat overzealous chorale rose from the beefy brass section marking the beginning of Sibelius’ Finlandia. We were prompted to rise for the hymn, now a melody of nationalistic importance. It was a fitting end to an enjoyable and musically educational night, with Finnish music presented by a talented orchestra who understand the musical traditions of their native land.
The Vaasa City Orchestra came to Evans Auditorium at Lewis and Clark College Friday as part of their Pacific Northwest Tour, a four day event that included concerts in Seattle, Bellingham and Astoria. For a small orchestra of roughly 30 player, their sound was full and well-shaped by conductor Hannu Koivula. Koivula, a trumpeter and established conudctor in his home nation, had no trouble evoking controlled expression from his group, with the focus and energy to make the silences and meaningful as the sounds.
The program was entirely composed in the twentieth and twentyfirst century by one Brazillian and four Finnish composers, but that by no means implied harmonic homogeny.
The orchestra opened with Pelleas et Melisande by Jean Sibelius, the only household name on the program and Finland’s Romantic pride and joy. The higly programmatic and lusciously tonal piece was soon forgotten in the wake of D’n’A, a concerto for orchestra and accordion written only a year ago by the orchestra’s composer in residence Markus Fagerudd. Highly accomplished accordion player Veli Kujala joined the orchestra, the same soloist who premiered the piece in 2007 with Vaasa. The piece opened in chaos, Mr Kujala pounding uncerimonsiously on the keys while accompanied by arhythmic riffs in the orchestra. Eerie atonalism on this unusual and wheezy instrument made it difficult to listen to at points, but I can now say I have seen someone “shred” an accordion. While the music must be judged on a personal basis based on tolerance and enjoyment of the erractic and bizarre tendencies of modern compositions, neither the execution, nor the clear talent of young Mr Kujala, were questionable. When the piece ended on repeated, jolting fortissimo chords, I had to admit it was an experience, but one I would not like to repeat.
The second half of the program had as much, if far less severe, contrast. It began with a movement from Toivo Kuula’s South Ostrobothnian Suite 1, an intense and densely orchestrated piece born out of the Sibelius tradition, with rich harmonies and pastoral beauty. Mr Kuula, explained Mr Koivula ,was a native of Vaasa and died very young (he was shot and died of complications at the age of 35), and this piece was one of the “beautiful treasures” he left behind. Three pieces by another Finnish composer Vaino Raitio followed, reminiscent of the dances from The Nutcracker and full of rhythmic, interweaving lines. Mr Kujala came back for the final stage in a wonderful redemption of the enjoyablility of his instrument. Egberto Gismonti’s Suite de Gismonti deomstrated the appropriateness of an accordian in combination with an orchestra, both highlighting and integrating the instrument into the group’s sound. The groovy, dance-like rhythms were supported by an appealing combination of consonance and disonance. The musical interest, along with the undeniable virtuosity of Mr Kujala, who fell to his knees at one point, so moved was he by the intensity of a cadenza, made it a memorable finale.
The intimate crowd, noticeably few of which were LC students, rose to their feet in appreciation, but sat again as more troops in the personage of brass players were brought onstage for the encore. Knowing twitters arose from the audience as the familiar and somewhat overzealous chorale rose from the beefy brass section marking the beginning of Sibelius’ Finlandia. We were prompted to rise for the hymn, now a melody of nationalistic importance. It was a fitting end to an enjoyable and musically educational night, with Finnish music presented by a talented orchestra who understand the musical traditions of their native land.
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
We brought down the walls of Jericho
I have been playing so much trumpet lately that I have not been focusing on this blog. And I haven't even been practicing that much. In fact, I barely feel like I practice at all. I hear of these music majors practicing 4, 6, 8 hours a day, and I just do not get it. When do they go to class? Go to rehearsal? Eat? Sleep? Practice for hearings? But the biggest questions I have, especially when it comes to trumpeting, is how can they physically do it? I know, I'm fresh on the scene after having a lack-luster 9 months in the trumpet realm, but I still cannot understand this super-human endurance they must have. Of course, I want to take things slow, build up to being able to practice a good, solid 2 hours a day and feel fine and strong afterward, but I have been thrown back into it, with demanding rehearsals 3 days a week and the attention span of a goldfish. I know I can't beat myself up over not being, to put it bluntly, any good right now, but I just want some easy, 12-step path to being a kick-ass trumpeter. That's what I need to be in order to play all the first parts, all the C and Eb trumpet, all the soprano sax parts (not even written for me!). And I'm not even a performance major!! I don't have time to read or study musicology. I think I should change that. I just need to be incredibly time efficient and focused whenever I'm working. Work hard, play hard, right? An it could be a lot more boring or unrewarding than music.
I suppose I should use this blog as an outlet for writing intelligently, not emotionally, about music.
Maybe next time.
I suppose I should use this blog as an outlet for writing intelligently, not emotionally, about music.
Maybe next time.
Thursday, 11 September 2008
Kronos goes to Bollywood
Kronos goes to Bollywood
The dynamic Kronos Quartet, keeping with their whole-hearted embrace of contemporary music, has turned their attentions to the musical world of Bollywood on their 2005 album You’ve Stolen My Heart (Nonesuch). Since the group was formed in 1973, Kronos has been on the cutting edge of the music scene, reconceiving, even doing away with, the traditional role of the string quartet. They have collaborated with Terry Riley in a 2002 multimedia performance commissioned by NASA, worked with artists from Dave Matthews to Darren Aronofsky to Twyla Tharp, and recorded much of the great twentieth century chamber music repertoire. Now they have turned their attentions across the globe to the hugely popular Bollywood, a name given to the largest part of the Indian film industry. This album was made as a tribute to the late, great R.D. Burman. Burman is considered by many to be the greatest Bollywood film composer of all time, which is quite a feat bearing in mind that by the time of his death in 1994, Bollywood was producing 700 movies a year, almost all of them musicals. He composed for 331 released movies, and not minimalist or subtlely artsy films. Bollywood movies have a distinct reputation for the melodramatic, with love, action, and comedy all sung and danced exuberantly.
The featured singer and Burman’s wife, Asha Bhosle, is equally as accomplished. David Harrington, first violinist for Kronos and producer of the record (a first for him), describes her as “the Queen of Bollywood,” a certainly deserved title. The soundtracks for Bollywood movies are recorded by “playback singers,” Bhosle being one of the foremost and prolific with over 13,000 tracks recorded in her career. In fact, she is believed by many to be the most recorded singer ever.
And you would never guess she was seventy two when she made You’ve Stolen My Heart. This is the first Kronos album to feature a lead singer, with Bhosle performing on eight of the twelve tracks. Part of the effectiveness of both vocal and instrumental melodies comes from the fact that Bhosle is singing in Hindi. Much like Italian opera, it is her sounds and music, not her words, which have to express her meaning to us English speakers. Take the groovy fourth track on the album, “Ekta Deshlai Kathi Jwalao (Light A Match).” The laid-back rhythms, lively vocals, and interspersed sing/talk give it all the significance it needs to be enjoyed, even if we have no idea why or who is lighting a match. Vintage sounds and exotic percussion and even strains of the James Bond theme accompany spirited singing on “Saiyan Re Saiyan (My Lover Came Silently),” another rhythmically vibrant track that ends the album.
The fluid and undulating Bollywood style of singing also translates well to stringed instruments, especially those in the skilled hands of Kronos. “Nodir Pare Utthchhe Dhnoa (Smoke Rises Across The River)” shows off Jennifer Culp’s melodious cello, accompanied by tabla and sounds evocative of an Indian landscape. It was fun to hear the Quartet essentially take on cinematic roles as soloists on the instrumental tracks. Too bad they didn’t dance too.
Kronos forays into film music have been highly successful, having recorded soundtracks for such films as 21 Grams and Requiem for a Dream, and this is no exception. They embrace this fun and energetic style with unique arrangements and collaborations that just make for a good time, especially if you appreciate the sounds of Bollywood.
The dynamic Kronos Quartet, keeping with their whole-hearted embrace of contemporary music, has turned their attentions to the musical world of Bollywood on their 2005 album You’ve Stolen My Heart (Nonesuch). Since the group was formed in 1973, Kronos has been on the cutting edge of the music scene, reconceiving, even doing away with, the traditional role of the string quartet. They have collaborated with Terry Riley in a 2002 multimedia performance commissioned by NASA, worked with artists from Dave Matthews to Darren Aronofsky to Twyla Tharp, and recorded much of the great twentieth century chamber music repertoire. Now they have turned their attentions across the globe to the hugely popular Bollywood, a name given to the largest part of the Indian film industry. This album was made as a tribute to the late, great R.D. Burman. Burman is considered by many to be the greatest Bollywood film composer of all time, which is quite a feat bearing in mind that by the time of his death in 1994, Bollywood was producing 700 movies a year, almost all of them musicals. He composed for 331 released movies, and not minimalist or subtlely artsy films. Bollywood movies have a distinct reputation for the melodramatic, with love, action, and comedy all sung and danced exuberantly.
The featured singer and Burman’s wife, Asha Bhosle, is equally as accomplished. David Harrington, first violinist for Kronos and producer of the record (a first for him), describes her as “the Queen of Bollywood,” a certainly deserved title. The soundtracks for Bollywood movies are recorded by “playback singers,” Bhosle being one of the foremost and prolific with over 13,000 tracks recorded in her career. In fact, she is believed by many to be the most recorded singer ever.
And you would never guess she was seventy two when she made You’ve Stolen My Heart. This is the first Kronos album to feature a lead singer, with Bhosle performing on eight of the twelve tracks. Part of the effectiveness of both vocal and instrumental melodies comes from the fact that Bhosle is singing in Hindi. Much like Italian opera, it is her sounds and music, not her words, which have to express her meaning to us English speakers. Take the groovy fourth track on the album, “Ekta Deshlai Kathi Jwalao (Light A Match).” The laid-back rhythms, lively vocals, and interspersed sing/talk give it all the significance it needs to be enjoyed, even if we have no idea why or who is lighting a match. Vintage sounds and exotic percussion and even strains of the James Bond theme accompany spirited singing on “Saiyan Re Saiyan (My Lover Came Silently),” another rhythmically vibrant track that ends the album.
The fluid and undulating Bollywood style of singing also translates well to stringed instruments, especially those in the skilled hands of Kronos. “Nodir Pare Utthchhe Dhnoa (Smoke Rises Across The River)” shows off Jennifer Culp’s melodious cello, accompanied by tabla and sounds evocative of an Indian landscape. It was fun to hear the Quartet essentially take on cinematic roles as soloists on the instrumental tracks. Too bad they didn’t dance too.
Kronos forays into film music have been highly successful, having recorded soundtracks for such films as 21 Grams and Requiem for a Dream, and this is no exception. They embrace this fun and energetic style with unique arrangements and collaborations that just make for a good time, especially if you appreciate the sounds of Bollywood.
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
Monk-ey Business
A brief and rough review of Meredith Monk's Dolmen Music
Meredith Monk has been singing, shrieking, moaning and chanting her way to compositional and performance stardom since she entered the New York arts scene in the 1960’s. The interdisciplinary artist (Monk choreographs, directs and makes films)as well as music) has made a name for herself in the music world by composing for such personalities as Michael Tilson Thomas and earning recognition by pioneering a very different approach to vocal music. Her third album Dolmen Music, released in 1981, shows off her talents as composer, vocalist and innovator. As Beckett reinvented the components of theater to create recognizable but distinctly unique plays, so Monk takes the essence of minimalism and vocalization and creates her own music. The album opens with “Gotham Lullaby,” a wordless but uniquely expressive piece for voice and piano, simple melodies sung on syllables interspersed with what I can only describe as yelping. The entire album highlights Monk’s use of extended vocal techniques, using the voice as an instrument beyond its traditional association with words. The last and longest track, a combination of four pieces under the title of “Dolmen Music,” shifts from beautiful chant to bizarre wavering in the course of twenty three minutes. I am sympathetic with those wary of twentieth century “innovators.” Sometimes modern composers “fresh and different” uses of instruments can become overwhelming and abrasive, but Monk avoids this with comfortingly tonal accompaniments and steady tempos. Her style effectively combines minimalism with experimental music and the output, if peculiar at times, is both challenging and enjoyable.
Monday, 8 September 2008
All That Jazz
I do not understand classical musicians who look down on jazz. I just don't. I bet they don't dance, which is really too bad for them. I haven't sat down and really talked with one of these people, had them explain their point of view, listen and assessed it. But I know they're out there, and I just don't understand. I love classical music as much as the next girl, but if I want to groove or dance cheek to cheek, as Frank sang, I would not turn on Haydn or Wagner. Jazz has the same transcendent and expressive quality as classical music, and you could argue the improvisational emphasis gives it even more. I get lost in solos as easily as piano concertos. So much soul, so much fun! It's these people that give classical music its elitist, stuffy reputation.
Zorn Again
Though I am not a fan of John Zorn’s experimental jazz saxophone, I put aside my bias and listened to his Quartet no. 2 from Short Stories with an open mind. I was well rewarded. The Quartet follows in the footsteps of Lyric Suite, lacking traditional form or melody but still connected through rhythmic and harmonic movement. The detache bowing, percussive use of the instruments and other effects effectively add intrigue and texture without pretention, a much appreciated quality when compared to many other modern string pieces. Just like a good written story, the piece had an exposition, development and beginning, holding your attention and exciting your interest in the progress of the plot and growth of the characters. Supremely executed by the Kronos Quartet, Quartet no. 2 proved Zorn’s talents translate well into the classical medium.
LATER: Want to know why I liked this Zorn so much? Because it wasn't Zorn. I thought the whole album was by him, but no, just one track and not the track I selected. This piece was by Sofia Gubaidalina, a composer I have heard of and like much better than zorn. Ironic looking back on this now that i know my mistake...
LATER: Want to know why I liked this Zorn so much? Because it wasn't Zorn. I thought the whole album was by him, but no, just one track and not the track I selected. This piece was by Sofia Gubaidalina, a composer I have heard of and like much better than zorn. Ironic looking back on this now that i know my mistake...
Saturday, 6 September 2008
A very good place to start
Julie Andrews taught us that when you sing you begin with Do Re Mi. If only it was simple with writing. I never quite know how to start, so forgive me if this is disjointed.
Inspired by his article about blogging, I just began to explore the journalist and author Alex Ross's own blog, therestisnoise.com. His posts go back years and he seems to have an entire catalog of his written works available, but in an effort to stay hip with the times, I read his most recent article. What a good choice. In this piece, published in the New Yorker, Ross explores the practice of the modern concert, discussing two recently published books on the subject that contrast the informality of pre-20th century concerts to the structure of contemporary performances. I have always thought that the rigidity of classical performances has greatly contributed to its reputation as elite. In blatant contrast to rock or rap concerts, you are not allowed to talk or sing along, wear your orchestra's t-shirt coupled with your filthiest, trendiest jeans, and most concert goers would be more than a little surprised if plumes of pot smoke arose from the audience. Isn't that a fun idea, though? I know, even in the 18th century people didn't act as crazy as they do at modern pop concerts, but just think about it. You go to Davies with a huge picture of MTT on your shirt, ready to belt out "Pierrot Lunaire" and hit on the totally wasted corporate banker sitting next to you. >
as fun as that sounds, let’s not get carried away. I greatly appreciate and respect the sanctity of the concert hall. There are some performances that have so moved me that I honestly thought about extreme and probably lawsuit-worthy measures to convince those next to me to shut the hell up. As the Romantics loved to say, there is a spiritual quality to classical music that is so personal due to the abstract medium. And really, you have to respect that. You have to respect that a piece boring you to tears might be moving your neighbor to tears, and you have no right to at all belittle or interupt that experience. Ross also speaks of the subtleties that have emerged in compositions as the audience has demured, something I certainly appreciate in many modern works.Also addressed in the article is the lack of modern works in the programming of contemporary orchestral seasons. Observing reactions in the marketing department of the LPO, it seemed that unknown or ill-reputed composers were always the bane of their existence. Give them a nice Tchaik 4 or Beethoven 9 and it was a breeze, but come Schoenberg, who was writing one hundred years ago, and they got quite flustered. I understand that people who like classical music and have a night to go would choose something they know they like over something that could potentially suck. And let’s face it, modern music has a pretty, er, inaccessible reputation. But I would love to get into what’s happening now, just like in the indie or pop scene, to be excited about new compositions and modern (not a century old) trends. But it takes a full wallet, a supreme sense of adventure and a whole lot of patience to seek out and find contemporary composers that suite your fancy. It's a commitment I need to make, even though I'm quite snug nestled in my Romantic adoration. It would be well rewarded, I know; just listening to these pieces John Zorn wrote for string quartet has sparked my interest. My friend gave an album by his experimental jazz/rock/awful noise group Naked City in high school, and I evnetually just deleted it off my library as whenever a piece came up in shuffle, I immediately lunged to the computer to change it. The music was so unpleasant that it lost all appeal. I should not have gotten rid of it, though. My tastes have changed dramatically in the past year- I would have never thought I would love Schoenberg (though not sprechstima, sorry) and Berg when I could barely stand to listen to them before. Maybe it's a sign of maturity, maybe I'm just more open minded. I think this will be a continuos theme in this blog of mine.
Inspired by his article about blogging, I just began to explore the journalist and author Alex Ross's own blog, therestisnoise.com. His posts go back years and he seems to have an entire catalog of his written works available, but in an effort to stay hip with the times, I read his most recent article. What a good choice. In this piece, published in the New Yorker, Ross explores the practice of the modern concert, discussing two recently published books on the subject that contrast the informality of pre-20th century concerts to the structure of contemporary performances. I have always thought that the rigidity of classical performances has greatly contributed to its reputation as elite. In blatant contrast to rock or rap concerts, you are not allowed to talk or sing along, wear your orchestra's t-shirt coupled with your filthiest, trendiest jeans, and most concert goers would be more than a little surprised if plumes of pot smoke arose from the audience. Isn't that a fun idea, though? I know, even in the 18th century people didn't act as crazy as they do at modern pop concerts, but just think about it. You go to Davies with a huge picture of MTT on your shirt, ready to belt out "Pierrot Lunaire" and hit on the totally wasted corporate banker sitting next to you. >
as fun as that sounds, let’s not get carried away. I greatly appreciate and respect the sanctity of the concert hall. There are some performances that have so moved me that I honestly thought about extreme and probably lawsuit-worthy measures to convince those next to me to shut the hell up. As the Romantics loved to say, there is a spiritual quality to classical music that is so personal due to the abstract medium. And really, you have to respect that. You have to respect that a piece boring you to tears might be moving your neighbor to tears, and you have no right to at all belittle or interupt that experience. Ross also speaks of the subtleties that have emerged in compositions as the audience has demured, something I certainly appreciate in many modern works.Also addressed in the article is the lack of modern works in the programming of contemporary orchestral seasons. Observing reactions in the marketing department of the LPO, it seemed that unknown or ill-reputed composers were always the bane of their existence. Give them a nice Tchaik 4 or Beethoven 9 and it was a breeze, but come Schoenberg, who was writing one hundred years ago, and they got quite flustered. I understand that people who like classical music and have a night to go would choose something they know they like over something that could potentially suck. And let’s face it, modern music has a pretty, er, inaccessible reputation. But I would love to get into what’s happening now, just like in the indie or pop scene, to be excited about new compositions and modern (not a century old) trends. But it takes a full wallet, a supreme sense of adventure and a whole lot of patience to seek out and find contemporary composers that suite your fancy. It's a commitment I need to make, even though I'm quite snug nestled in my Romantic adoration. It would be well rewarded, I know; just listening to these pieces John Zorn wrote for string quartet has sparked my interest. My friend gave an album by his experimental jazz/rock/awful noise group Naked City in high school, and I evnetually just deleted it off my library as whenever a piece came up in shuffle, I immediately lunged to the computer to change it. The music was so unpleasant that it lost all appeal. I should not have gotten rid of it, though. My tastes have changed dramatically in the past year- I would have never thought I would love Schoenberg (though not sprechstima, sorry) and Berg when I could barely stand to listen to them before. Maybe it's a sign of maturity, maybe I'm just more open minded. I think this will be a continuos theme in this blog of mine.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)