A first: a short piece in Washington City Paper, made possible by a colleague and former editor who landed there after a paper here in Philly went belly-up (only to emerge in a different form, sans arts coverage). I used to pick up WCP on trips into DC from the Shady Grove Metro station, and I may have more bylines there in the future. Yes, I know I don't live in DC. I'll make it work.
A find: a piece in the Courier-Post that both previewed a concert and highlighted a remarkable church music program in Moorestown. The music ministry at First Presbyterian Church is surprisingly prolific -- I compared it to a top-level college athletics program -- and brings in a large number of passionately interested young people. I wasn't able to attend the Chapel Choir's May 23 performance of Mozart's Mass in C, but my experience attending the choir's rehearsal had me convinced that teenagers can connect with Mozart on a deep and meaningful level. It's rarely been my intent to crusade, but the classical-music-is-for-old-people-and-the-elite narrative is one I take pleasure in subverting.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
Momentum
Yesterday, I took in a concert by the NYC-based new-music group counter)induction. They appear several times yearly in Philadelphia, but this was the first time I'd had the opportunity to hear them. Their program, titled "The Child is Father to the Man," examined connections between composers and their pupils. The first half paired Xenakis with his student Dusapin; the second, George Crumb and two of his students at the University of Pennsylvania, Douglas Boyce and Kyle Bartlett.
The overall structure of the concert reminded me of a work by Ken Ueno, whom I met at a Philadelphia Music Project panel in January. "Kaze-no-Oka," his concerto for traditional Japanese instruments opens with two bars of fast, loud music; he says, in his program note, that this quick burst of notes "merely functions to introduce potential energy." In similar fashion, there were a few direct echoes of Xenakis' string trio "Ikhoor" later in the program, but the spirit of the piece -- call it momentum -- pervaded the rest of the afternoon. Each of the pieces that followed the Xenakis reached the fevered pitch that "Ikhoor" maintained for its entire length; the main variations were in how each composer went about reaching that level of intensity and how long they chose to sustain it.
In short, the Xenakis was furiously committed, dizzying, and over far too soon. It was a thorough working-out of the possibilities of register and timbre, with a very compact and economical marshaling of instrumental forces. Full disclosure: I'd never heard Xenakis performed live, and it was a visceral, unforgettable experience. To the Philadelphia music community: more, please.
The Dusapin was much more diffuse and dominated by the sound of piano. The spirit of "Ikhoor" seemed to enter the piece through a few small gestures -- mostly glissandos and trills -- but the deepest sense of concentration came in the form of Steven Beck's almost mantra-like piano playing, including a strummed-sounding passage of simple thirds, bookended by wiry figures from clarinet and cello.
The Crumb, though more concerned with surface effects -- whistling, declaimed bits of poetry -- combined timbral experimentation with an embrace of decay and silences. The furiously concentrated bits, especially from clarinet and flute, trailed off in ways that evoked the distortion that time and distance introduce to reliable memory. The small-scale figures that Beck drew out of the piano, from both inside and outside the piano, built up into a kind of musical echo chamber. The sum of the chirping and chiming bits seemed, to me, to conjure up a feeling of nocturnal darkness: a "silent" night that turns out to be populated with birds, insects and all manner of other noisemakers.
In the Boyce, I was taken with the overlapping patterns in a narrow range of notes from the clarinet and cello, as well as with the sense of the musicians leaning into the dissonance as their roles within the ensemble periodically shifted. It was perhaps the closest to the Xenakis in its density and the sensation of being pulled in multiple directions; the four instruments sounded more like seven or eight and tugged the piece in as many opposing ways.
Kyle Bartlett's world premiere, "Present," closed the concert and left many listeners with the sense that it should have been longer. This was the only piece on the program to feature all six of c)i's players, but, as in the Dusapin, Steven Beck's piano playing set the tone for an energetic, engrossing work. His nerve-jangling runs, broken up by wide leaps in register, were refracted and parceled throughout the ensemble. There were some slashing figures in the strings that recalled the Xenakis -- which, originally, were somewhat reminiscent of Stravinsky -- and jumped out from a roiling texture.
Bartlett's a friend, and we've discussed in the past how her pieces are guided by a dream-like logic: connections between disparate sections often resist being found, while others emerge without probing. The latter struck me at the end of the piece, as a riot of activity is abruptly cut off and the violin enters with an altered version of Beck's busy piano riff. It seemed to me like the first impression of a dream one has after waking, before the whole thing evaporates. You can't hold onto it for long, and the same is true for "Present." Were it longer, it would be somehow less immersive.
The overall structure of the concert reminded me of a work by Ken Ueno, whom I met at a Philadelphia Music Project panel in January. "Kaze-no-Oka," his concerto for traditional Japanese instruments opens with two bars of fast, loud music; he says, in his program note, that this quick burst of notes "merely functions to introduce potential energy." In similar fashion, there were a few direct echoes of Xenakis' string trio "Ikhoor" later in the program, but the spirit of the piece -- call it momentum -- pervaded the rest of the afternoon. Each of the pieces that followed the Xenakis reached the fevered pitch that "Ikhoor" maintained for its entire length; the main variations were in how each composer went about reaching that level of intensity and how long they chose to sustain it.
In short, the Xenakis was furiously committed, dizzying, and over far too soon. It was a thorough working-out of the possibilities of register and timbre, with a very compact and economical marshaling of instrumental forces. Full disclosure: I'd never heard Xenakis performed live, and it was a visceral, unforgettable experience. To the Philadelphia music community: more, please.
The Dusapin was much more diffuse and dominated by the sound of piano. The spirit of "Ikhoor" seemed to enter the piece through a few small gestures -- mostly glissandos and trills -- but the deepest sense of concentration came in the form of Steven Beck's almost mantra-like piano playing, including a strummed-sounding passage of simple thirds, bookended by wiry figures from clarinet and cello.
The Crumb, though more concerned with surface effects -- whistling, declaimed bits of poetry -- combined timbral experimentation with an embrace of decay and silences. The furiously concentrated bits, especially from clarinet and flute, trailed off in ways that evoked the distortion that time and distance introduce to reliable memory. The small-scale figures that Beck drew out of the piano, from both inside and outside the piano, built up into a kind of musical echo chamber. The sum of the chirping and chiming bits seemed, to me, to conjure up a feeling of nocturnal darkness: a "silent" night that turns out to be populated with birds, insects and all manner of other noisemakers.
In the Boyce, I was taken with the overlapping patterns in a narrow range of notes from the clarinet and cello, as well as with the sense of the musicians leaning into the dissonance as their roles within the ensemble periodically shifted. It was perhaps the closest to the Xenakis in its density and the sensation of being pulled in multiple directions; the four instruments sounded more like seven or eight and tugged the piece in as many opposing ways.
Kyle Bartlett's world premiere, "Present," closed the concert and left many listeners with the sense that it should have been longer. This was the only piece on the program to feature all six of c)i's players, but, as in the Dusapin, Steven Beck's piano playing set the tone for an energetic, engrossing work. His nerve-jangling runs, broken up by wide leaps in register, were refracted and parceled throughout the ensemble. There were some slashing figures in the strings that recalled the Xenakis -- which, originally, were somewhat reminiscent of Stravinsky -- and jumped out from a roiling texture.
Bartlett's a friend, and we've discussed in the past how her pieces are guided by a dream-like logic: connections between disparate sections often resist being found, while others emerge without probing. The latter struck me at the end of the piece, as a riot of activity is abruptly cut off and the violin enters with an altered version of Beck's busy piano riff. It seemed to me like the first impression of a dream one has after waking, before the whole thing evaporates. You can't hold onto it for long, and the same is true for "Present." Were it longer, it would be somehow less immersive.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Overdue
My apologies for the months of absence. It's been an unusually busy and fruitful period, highlighted by my engagement, in late January, to my long-time girlfriend and our wedding in Maryland on April 10th.
Non-marital highlights include continued coverage of classical music and the arts for the Courier-Post, including numerous concerts by Symphony in C, the Camden, N.J.-based training orchestra I profiled last year for Symphony, as well as the orchestra's Carnegie Hall debut. I've also touched on chamber music, opera, jazz, theater and dance in recent months, and I was even nominated for a New Jersey Press Association award, but was muscled out by a food critic who writes for a Pennsylvania newspaper. So it goes.
Another highlight: a freelance assignment for Chamber Music that is slated for the magazine's July/August issue. It's about social media -- Twitter and Facebook, in particular -- and their impact on the lives and careers of classical and jazz performers. Stay tuned for that.
More TK this summer after a trip down South for a wedding, including previewing a new classical concert series in downtown Camden and another Month of Moderns from the outstanding new-music chamber choir The Crossing. I'll try my best to keep an ear to the ground and, in all ways and at all times, make it new.
Non-marital highlights include continued coverage of classical music and the arts for the Courier-Post, including numerous concerts by Symphony in C, the Camden, N.J.-based training orchestra I profiled last year for Symphony, as well as the orchestra's Carnegie Hall debut. I've also touched on chamber music, opera, jazz, theater and dance in recent months, and I was even nominated for a New Jersey Press Association award, but was muscled out by a food critic who writes for a Pennsylvania newspaper. So it goes.
Another highlight: a freelance assignment for Chamber Music that is slated for the magazine's July/August issue. It's about social media -- Twitter and Facebook, in particular -- and their impact on the lives and careers of classical and jazz performers. Stay tuned for that.
More TK this summer after a trip down South for a wedding, including previewing a new classical concert series in downtown Camden and another Month of Moderns from the outstanding new-music chamber choir The Crossing. I'll try my best to keep an ear to the ground and, in all ways and at all times, make it new.
Monday, January 04, 2010
Wrapping up '09
The Best Music of 2009 rundown hit Phawker on New Year's Day. It contains my write-ups of albums by Dirty Projectors and John Vanderslice, as well as Vol. 1 of music from the TV show "Glee."
My editor had intended to run everyone's Top 10 recommendations, but they didn't make the cut owing to space and formatting. Here are mine, in no particular order, but with a classical/non-classical divide a little over halfway through.
Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca
Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest
Music from Glee, Vol. 1
I recommend these three jointly, because layered vocal harmonies were big this year, and a cappella ones in particular. So, in order, the harmonies here are in service of something fractured and strange, something swooning yet buttoned-down, and something over-the-top, spectacular and slightly fey. As I mentioned before, I sang a cappella in college, and I know deep-down how lame it is, but the diversity of its current uses makes me think that it might someday go legit.
Muse - The Resistance
Taking the arena-filling sound of U2 in a paranoid new direction, while tempering the Messianism and trading the bombast of Bono for that of Brahms or Beethoven.
John Vanderslice - Romanian Names
It's Romantic pop, rather than Baroque, but darker, bleaker and more withdrawn in its lyrics than on past albums. The beautiful, finely-honed sonics remain the same, though.
Andrew Bird - Noble Beast
Lush like Vanderslice, though slightly more precious, but gleefully wordy and overstuffed with lyrics chosen for sound rather than meaning. Dig that whistling, too.
Lady Gaga - The Fame Monster
The girl was everywhere this year, for better or worse, and even she's a Warholian put-on, I'd forgive her based on her infectious beat-mongering and all-out weirdness. I hope she hasn't used up her allotted 15 minutes.
Tyondai Braxton - Central Market
Brilliant musician from Battles ditches band for orchestra, but keeps the laptop and his flexible sense of rhythm and timbre. It's recognizably orchestral, but frenetic, exciting and packed with electronic surprises.
Theater of Voices - David Lang's the little match-girl passion
This piece won Lang the Pulitzer, but he didn't write it with mainstream cred in mind. It's a wrenchingly beautiful, utterly secular take on religious music -- less thorny than the pieces that established Lang's reputation, but no less thoughtful or inventive.
The Crossing and Piffaro - Kile Smith's Vespers
A Philly-centric recording and the most capital-C classical of my selections, and it's capital-R religious to boot, but the way Smith repurposes the earthy sounds of Renaissance instruments for modern music is a marvel. Same goes for the impeccable blend of the singers.
My editor had intended to run everyone's Top 10 recommendations, but they didn't make the cut owing to space and formatting. Here are mine, in no particular order, but with a classical/non-classical divide a little over halfway through.
Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca
Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest
Music from Glee, Vol. 1
I recommend these three jointly, because layered vocal harmonies were big this year, and a cappella ones in particular. So, in order, the harmonies here are in service of something fractured and strange, something swooning yet buttoned-down, and something over-the-top, spectacular and slightly fey. As I mentioned before, I sang a cappella in college, and I know deep-down how lame it is, but the diversity of its current uses makes me think that it might someday go legit.
Muse - The Resistance
Taking the arena-filling sound of U2 in a paranoid new direction, while tempering the Messianism and trading the bombast of Bono for that of Brahms or Beethoven.
John Vanderslice - Romanian Names
It's Romantic pop, rather than Baroque, but darker, bleaker and more withdrawn in its lyrics than on past albums. The beautiful, finely-honed sonics remain the same, though.
Andrew Bird - Noble Beast
Lush like Vanderslice, though slightly more precious, but gleefully wordy and overstuffed with lyrics chosen for sound rather than meaning. Dig that whistling, too.
Lady Gaga - The Fame Monster
The girl was everywhere this year, for better or worse, and even she's a Warholian put-on, I'd forgive her based on her infectious beat-mongering and all-out weirdness. I hope she hasn't used up her allotted 15 minutes.
Tyondai Braxton - Central Market
Brilliant musician from Battles ditches band for orchestra, but keeps the laptop and his flexible sense of rhythm and timbre. It's recognizably orchestral, but frenetic, exciting and packed with electronic surprises.
Theater of Voices - David Lang's the little match-girl passion
This piece won Lang the Pulitzer, but he didn't write it with mainstream cred in mind. It's a wrenchingly beautiful, utterly secular take on religious music -- less thorny than the pieces that established Lang's reputation, but no less thoughtful or inventive.
The Crossing and Piffaro - Kile Smith's Vespers
A Philly-centric recording and the most capital-C classical of my selections, and it's capital-R religious to boot, but the way Smith repurposes the earthy sounds of Renaissance instruments for modern music is a marvel. Same goes for the impeccable blend of the singers.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Late entry
A little info on the most recent item to land on my Top 10 for 2009, Kyle Bartlett's "The Lost Child." I wasn't familiar with "The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser," the Werner Herzog film that was a point of inspiration for Bartlett's opera; it's now on my Netflix queue, hopefully to arrive soon.
It's an unconventional opera, to say the least, featuring a flute-playing actor (or acting flutist) with electronic enhancements, an actor playing multiple roles who also sings, a percussionist, and a bevy of pre-recorded and altered sounds.
Bartlett set the tale in a futuristic surveillance society and portrayed the Hauser figure, Ana, herself. Ben Pierce played the Shadow Man, who brings Ana to Nuremberg; the Sector Manager; the Big Brother-ish figure of The Authority; and Doctor Nassar, who teaches Ana language and attempts to integrate her into society.
As Ana, Barlett convincingly expressed fear, doubt, anger, confusion, curiosity and rapture. After the show, she claimed to have just been making it up as she went along. She was similarly casual about her flute-playing, which drew heavily on extended techniques, including vocalizations, keyslaps, and pitch-bends.
The electronic elements mimicked firing synapses, disconnected thoughts and, during scenes of Ana's introduction to language, the acquisition of vocabulary. I could even detect stray German amid the fractured phrases and processed natural sounds, though I'm not sure if the phrase "Verstehen sie" is original to the Herzog film.
In short, the opera was compelling both musically and dramatically. The primordial elements - of exploring one's origins, or of acquiring language for the first time - echoed other, non-vocal works on the concert, particularly the violin-and-cello duet "Night Vision." Even simple elements, like changes in wardrobe or shifts in Bartlett's approach to her instrument (from unadorned notes to hissed and spat effects back to notes again), conveyed an unforced sense of significance. I don't have much else on my slate for the rest of the year, so "The Lost Child" will probably be the last concert I see in 2009 - and one of the best.
It's an unconventional opera, to say the least, featuring a flute-playing actor (or acting flutist) with electronic enhancements, an actor playing multiple roles who also sings, a percussionist, and a bevy of pre-recorded and altered sounds.
Bartlett set the tale in a futuristic surveillance society and portrayed the Hauser figure, Ana, herself. Ben Pierce played the Shadow Man, who brings Ana to Nuremberg; the Sector Manager; the Big Brother-ish figure of The Authority; and Doctor Nassar, who teaches Ana language and attempts to integrate her into society.
As Ana, Barlett convincingly expressed fear, doubt, anger, confusion, curiosity and rapture. After the show, she claimed to have just been making it up as she went along. She was similarly casual about her flute-playing, which drew heavily on extended techniques, including vocalizations, keyslaps, and pitch-bends.
The electronic elements mimicked firing synapses, disconnected thoughts and, during scenes of Ana's introduction to language, the acquisition of vocabulary. I could even detect stray German amid the fractured phrases and processed natural sounds, though I'm not sure if the phrase "Verstehen sie" is original to the Herzog film.
In short, the opera was compelling both musically and dramatically. The primordial elements - of exploring one's origins, or of acquiring language for the first time - echoed other, non-vocal works on the concert, particularly the violin-and-cello duet "Night Vision." Even simple elements, like changes in wardrobe or shifts in Bartlett's approach to her instrument (from unadorned notes to hissed and spat effects back to notes again), conveyed an unforced sense of significance. I don't have much else on my slate for the rest of the year, so "The Lost Child" will probably be the last concert I see in 2009 - and one of the best.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Top 10
The Crossing, David Shapiro's "It is time," Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill, January 4.
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Michael Gordon's "For Madeline," Perelman Theater, February 28.
Curtis Opera Theatre and the Opera Company of Philadelphia, Alban Berg'sWozzeck, Perelman Theater, March 13.
Symphony in C with harpist Bridget Kibbey, Sebastian Currier's "Broken Minuets," Perelman Theater, April 16.
Greater South Jersey Chorus, Aaron Copland's "At the River," National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, April 18.
The Crossing (again), works by Kile Smith and Joby Talbot, St. Peter's Church, June 10.
John Vanderslice and band, "Exodus Damage," Johnny Brenda's, June 11.
Sonic Liberation Front, "Jetway Confidential No. 3," Institute for Contemporary Art @ UPenn, July 29.
Asphalt Orchestra, works by Mingus, Bjork, Bregovic, et al., 30th Street Station, August 7.
Kyle Bartlett, Benjamin Pierce and Kristopher Rudzinski, "The Lost Child," Settlement Music School, Mary Louise Curtis Branch, December 13.
Honorable mention: Academy of Vocal Arts, "Lucia di Lammermoor," May 5, Helen Ward Corning Theater.
Conflict-of-interest mention: All solo arias and recitatives, as well as the Baroque horn solo, during Choral Arts Society's performance of Bach's B minor Mass, First Baptist Church of Philadelphia, May 9.
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Michael Gordon's "For Madeline," Perelman Theater, February 28.
Curtis Opera Theatre and the Opera Company of Philadelphia, Alban Berg'sWozzeck, Perelman Theater, March 13.
Symphony in C with harpist Bridget Kibbey, Sebastian Currier's "Broken Minuets," Perelman Theater, April 16.
Greater South Jersey Chorus, Aaron Copland's "At the River," National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, April 18.
The Crossing (again), works by Kile Smith and Joby Talbot, St. Peter's Church, June 10.
John Vanderslice and band, "Exodus Damage," Johnny Brenda's, June 11.
Sonic Liberation Front, "Jetway Confidential No. 3," Institute for Contemporary Art @ UPenn, July 29.
Asphalt Orchestra, works by Mingus, Bjork, Bregovic, et al., 30th Street Station, August 7.
Kyle Bartlett, Benjamin Pierce and Kristopher Rudzinski, "The Lost Child," Settlement Music School, Mary Louise Curtis Branch, December 13.
Honorable mention: Academy of Vocal Arts, "Lucia di Lammermoor," May 5, Helen Ward Corning Theater.
Conflict-of-interest mention: All solo arias and recitatives, as well as the Baroque horn solo, during Choral Arts Society's performance of Bach's B minor Mass, First Baptist Church of Philadelphia, May 9.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Before year's end
I'm holding off on posting my Top 10 list of the best performances I saw this year. I pondered the timing of year-end lists last year, and even though the usual critical heavy-hitters have already weighed in several weeks before the end of the year, I'm seeing two concerts this weekend that I hope might crack the Top 10.
First, on Saturday, a concert of Baroque music by Symphony in C with soprano Julianne Baird, which I previewed for the Courier-Post on Sunday. I'm interested to hear how a pared-down Symphony takes to Baroque style, while vocal fireworks from Baird are a given. 8 p.m. Saturday at Rutgers-Camden; I'll be reviewing for the C-P.
Second, on Sunday, a showcase of works by composer Kyle Bartlett. Kyle's a friend and an invaluable resource and sounding board on new music, both in general and in Philly. Before we met last summer, she described herself, via e-mail, as an "absolute hard-ass when it comes to aesthetics." This hard-assery has undoubtedly served her well as she's worked on "The Lost Child," an opera for solo flute with electronics, actor and percussion funded by the Independence Foundation Fellowship in the Arts program.
Another endorsement has already come in from the West Coast. Anyone near Philly should make it to this one. 8 p.m. on Friday at Settlement Music School's Germantown location (6128 Germantown Avenue, Philadelphia), and 7 p.m. on Sunday at the Queen Village location (416 Queen Street). Both are free.
First, on Saturday, a concert of Baroque music by Symphony in C with soprano Julianne Baird, which I previewed for the Courier-Post on Sunday. I'm interested to hear how a pared-down Symphony takes to Baroque style, while vocal fireworks from Baird are a given. 8 p.m. Saturday at Rutgers-Camden; I'll be reviewing for the C-P.
Second, on Sunday, a showcase of works by composer Kyle Bartlett. Kyle's a friend and an invaluable resource and sounding board on new music, both in general and in Philly. Before we met last summer, she described herself, via e-mail, as an "absolute hard-ass when it comes to aesthetics." This hard-assery has undoubtedly served her well as she's worked on "The Lost Child," an opera for solo flute with electronics, actor and percussion funded by the Independence Foundation Fellowship in the Arts program.
Another endorsement has already come in from the West Coast. Anyone near Philly should make it to this one. 8 p.m. on Friday at Settlement Music School's Germantown location (6128 Germantown Avenue, Philadelphia), and 7 p.m. on Sunday at the Queen Village location (416 Queen Street). Both are free.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Four by four, one on one
Two belated posts from a brief flurry of activity for Phawker.com, one of the Internet's largest and snarkiest repositories of my writing.
Q&A with David Harrington of the Kronos Quartet, for Phawker, Nov. 6, 2009.
Before setting up this interview, I wondered if the Kronos' publicity manager would put forward a member other than David Harrington; it had always been my impression that Harrington dominated the group's media presence. In the end, though, Harrington was a wonderful interview -- very thoughtful and generous, and digressive in the best possible way. We were both on the road as well -- he to San Francisco International Airport, I from Bucknell University back to Philadelphia -- and managed to avoid any dropped calls or poor connections.
The collected works and quirks of A.J. Jacobs, for Phawker, Nov. 6, 2009.
I really wanted to attend Jacobs' event at the First Person Arts festival, and it seemed the best way to do that was to put together a retrospective look at his two books and the genre (the First Person Arts director called it "shtick-lit," a surprisingly harsh dig) he's birthed, or at least revivified. Jacobs' presentation ended up being almost stand-up-comedy-like, and though people familiar with his works could have seen many of the punchlines coming, he was funny and endearing off-stage as well, and, fortunately for me, willing to give autographs and to inquire about the work of young, ambitious writers.
Q&A with David Harrington of the Kronos Quartet, for Phawker, Nov. 6, 2009.
Before setting up this interview, I wondered if the Kronos' publicity manager would put forward a member other than David Harrington; it had always been my impression that Harrington dominated the group's media presence. In the end, though, Harrington was a wonderful interview -- very thoughtful and generous, and digressive in the best possible way. We were both on the road as well -- he to San Francisco International Airport, I from Bucknell University back to Philadelphia -- and managed to avoid any dropped calls or poor connections.
The collected works and quirks of A.J. Jacobs, for Phawker, Nov. 6, 2009.
I really wanted to attend Jacobs' event at the First Person Arts festival, and it seemed the best way to do that was to put together a retrospective look at his two books and the genre (the First Person Arts director called it "shtick-lit," a surprisingly harsh dig) he's birthed, or at least revivified. Jacobs' presentation ended up being almost stand-up-comedy-like, and though people familiar with his works could have seen many of the punchlines coming, he was funny and endearing off-stage as well, and, fortunately for me, willing to give autographs and to inquire about the work of young, ambitious writers.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Mouthfuls
The Bay-Atlantic Symphony, reviewed, for the Courier-Post, November 9, 2009.
The Mendelssohn = so good. In addition to the elements of Bach I heard in the Andante "Pilgrim's March," I also felt the kind of relentless, forward-pressing quality that I love about the famed Allegretto in Beethoven's 7th. I hope Rowan and the Symphony can muster a larger crowd for the next concert in January.
Symphony in C's Music du Jour series, for the Courier-Post, November 16, 2009.
The "alt-classical" angle is partly my invention -- Cork isn't (Le) Poisson Rouge -- but I'd love to see more of this kind of activity crop up in Philly and the surrounding area.
I missed the first dinner, the Bulgarian one that Rossen and Rosie prepared, but I won't be missing the Cork event. The strength of their beer list alone (peep it here; it's mostly up to date) demands that I attend.
The Mendelssohn = so good. In addition to the elements of Bach I heard in the Andante "Pilgrim's March," I also felt the kind of relentless, forward-pressing quality that I love about the famed Allegretto in Beethoven's 7th. I hope Rowan and the Symphony can muster a larger crowd for the next concert in January.
Symphony in C's Music du Jour series, for the Courier-Post, November 16, 2009.
The "alt-classical" angle is partly my invention -- Cork isn't (Le) Poisson Rouge -- but I'd love to see more of this kind of activity crop up in Philly and the surrounding area.
I missed the first dinner, the Bulgarian one that Rossen and Rosie prepared, but I won't be missing the Cork event. The strength of their beer list alone (peep it here; it's mostly up to date) demands that I attend.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Two cheers
Brewpubs in New Jersey and the Philadelphia area, for the Courier-Post, Oct. 30, 2009.
Bay-Atlantic Symphony's "Night at the Opera," previewed for the Courier-Post, Nov. 1, 2009.
I don't know how I got so lucky to provide coverage of such disparate but enjoyable topics. A second assignment to write about beer... I never thought there'd be a first!
I'll also be reviewing the Bay-Atlantic's performance on Friday at Rowan. I'm interested in seeing what kind of audience their initial foray into Gloucester County will bring, and also in finally hearing an orchestra that I've been writing solely previews about for more than a year.
Bay-Atlantic Symphony's "Night at the Opera," previewed for the Courier-Post, Nov. 1, 2009.
I don't know how I got so lucky to provide coverage of such disparate but enjoyable topics. A second assignment to write about beer... I never thought there'd be a first!
I'll also be reviewing the Bay-Atlantic's performance on Friday at Rowan. I'm interested in seeing what kind of audience their initial foray into Gloucester County will bring, and also in finally hearing an orchestra that I've been writing solely previews about for more than a year.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The other side of summer
It's pointless to ask "can four months really have gone by?"; they have. But with other news in the classical-blog world (Noise is dead, long live Noise) and an honest-to-God link to this blog from the honest-to-David-Remnick New Yorker, I realized it was time to start back up.
I'll cop to a recent Twitter distraction/infatuation, and musings will continue there. But this is where it all started, and I still don't feel that addenda to reviews and features should be restricted to 140 characters.
A quick summary of my end-of-summer/beginning-of-fall activities: working at a new German restaurant in Philly. Lots of beer and food knowledge gained. But my German, es geht eigentlich nicht. But now the fall arts season has started up, and I've offered a season preview for groups in New Jersey and Philadelphia.
My first review of Camden's Symphony in C has also appeared. I hope to add New Jersey's Bay Atlantic Symphony, newly installed at Rowan University (closer to the Courier-Post circulation area), to my stable of reviews as well.
Other C-P pieces, on a production of Glengarry Glen Ross and an art exhibit at Rutgers-Camden, have also surfaced recently, as has my story for Symphony on Symphony in C, though there's no online version.
Final development: I'm considering purchasing the domain hotbedofintrigue.com. Any thoughts on the best/easiest/most cost-effective way of doing this?
I'll cop to a recent Twitter distraction/infatuation, and musings will continue there. But this is where it all started, and I still don't feel that addenda to reviews and features should be restricted to 140 characters.
A quick summary of my end-of-summer/beginning-of-fall activities: working at a new German restaurant in Philly. Lots of beer and food knowledge gained. But my German, es geht eigentlich nicht. But now the fall arts season has started up, and I've offered a season preview for groups in New Jersey and Philadelphia.
My first review of Camden's Symphony in C has also appeared. I hope to add New Jersey's Bay Atlantic Symphony, newly installed at Rowan University (closer to the Courier-Post circulation area), to my stable of reviews as well.
Other C-P pieces, on a production of Glengarry Glen Ross and an art exhibit at Rutgers-Camden, have also surfaced recently, as has my story for Symphony on Symphony in C, though there's no online version.
Final development: I'm considering purchasing the domain hotbedofintrigue.com. Any thoughts on the best/easiest/most cost-effective way of doing this?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Fantasia on a new-music collective's name
This has been running through my head for several weeks now.
A commissioning fund for new sacred music: Bang on a Canticle
A concert series pairing new pieces with classical favorites: Bang on a Canon
A Marathon concert held on a battleship or a Civil War site: Bang on a Cannon
A Marathon concert held at a famous outdoor site in Arizona: Bang on a Canyon
I could go on all day.
A commissioning fund for new sacred music: Bang on a Canticle
A concert series pairing new pieces with classical favorites: Bang on a Canon
A Marathon concert held on a battleship or a Civil War site: Bang on a Cannon
A Marathon concert held at a famous outdoor site in Arizona: Bang on a Canyon
I could go on all day.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Pipes and drums
Two recent pieces:
"The Rock Tenor," a theatrical classical/rock mishmash, previewed for the Courier-Post. It opens tomorrow night at Phiadelphia's Wilma Theater.
Plus, an interview with legendary Nigerian musician King Sunny Ade for Phawker. The King plays tonight at Wiggins Park on the Camden waterfront. Definitely worth the trip across the Delaware.
"The Rock Tenor," a theatrical classical/rock mishmash, previewed for the Courier-Post. It opens tomorrow night at Phiadelphia's Wilma Theater.
Plus, an interview with legendary Nigerian musician King Sunny Ade for Phawker. The King plays tonight at Wiggins Park on the Camden waterfront. Definitely worth the trip across the Delaware.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Duo
In the July 5, 2009 issue of the Courier-Post:
Two new exhibits at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, my first venture into art criticism that features the work of Haddonfield native John Vick.
Also, Globe-trotting with Opera New Jersey, a preview of ONJ's summer season.
Image: William Klein (American, born 1928), The Pope Appears, Saint Peter's Square, 1956 (negative), 1979 (print), Gelatin silver print, courtesy of PMA.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Constructive summer
At long last, my treatment of David Foster Wallace and "Infinite Jest" has arrived on Phawker. It reflects on Infinite Summer, the summer-long group-read of "Jest" that began last week, and on Wallace's legacy in the wake of his death in September. My reading of the book spanned that sad event, and though the 75-page-a-week pace makes it sound reasonable, I'm not feeling up to making another attempt just yet.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Can do
On Friday, I had the good fortune to attend a panel featuring the composers of Bang on a Can -- Julia Wolfe, Michael Gordon, and David Lang -- in conversation with Anne Midgette of the Washington Post.
The talk dug fairly deep into the group's origins and its progression from the fringe to something resembling the establishment, especially with Lang winning the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 2008.
What excited me most: the upcoming formation of something called the Asphalt Orchestra, a new-music marching band. The idea of it, especially knowing Gordon's affinity for site-specific music and shifting the audience-performer orientation, makes me giddy. My years of propping up a sousaphone with my left shoulder seem somehow vindicated.
One perception-altering observation: I thought that BoaC operated entirely outside of the academic world, that all three made their livings from writing music without holding down positions at universities. "I was unemployable the day before I won the Pulitzer," David Lang remarked on Friday. That changed, though; he now teaches at Yale and Oberlin.
Attendees were treated to a few ear-jangling clips of the trio's compositions: Gordon's "Dystopia," performed by the LA Philharmonic under David Robertson; Lang's "Little Match Girl Passion," written for Paul Hillier and Theatre of Voices and for which he won the Pulitzer; Wolfe's string quartet "Early That Summer" and "Lad" for nine bagpipes. "Dystopia" thrilled me most -- brassy, busy and colored by the Walt Disney Concert Hall pipe organ, but with a deftly multi-layered structure -- but all were highly enjoyable.
I believe it was Julia Wolfe who stated the group was formed "to make the field better, more widely played... [to build] a bigger and more enthusiastic audience." That really resonated with me, because that's what I want to do as a writer and critic. Maybe that's not what a critic's job is or ought to be, but I believe in this music, in new music, and in the music that paved the way for its creation. A 12-hour concert, or a 24-hour one, might be a news-making spectacle, but the individual pieces that comprise it, and the composers behind them, should be known, too.
The talk dug fairly deep into the group's origins and its progression from the fringe to something resembling the establishment, especially with Lang winning the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 2008.
What excited me most: the upcoming formation of something called the Asphalt Orchestra, a new-music marching band. The idea of it, especially knowing Gordon's affinity for site-specific music and shifting the audience-performer orientation, makes me giddy. My years of propping up a sousaphone with my left shoulder seem somehow vindicated.
One perception-altering observation: I thought that BoaC operated entirely outside of the academic world, that all three made their livings from writing music without holding down positions at universities. "I was unemployable the day before I won the Pulitzer," David Lang remarked on Friday. That changed, though; he now teaches at Yale and Oberlin.
Attendees were treated to a few ear-jangling clips of the trio's compositions: Gordon's "Dystopia," performed by the LA Philharmonic under David Robertson; Lang's "Little Match Girl Passion," written for Paul Hillier and Theatre of Voices and for which he won the Pulitzer; Wolfe's string quartet "Early That Summer" and "Lad" for nine bagpipes. "Dystopia" thrilled me most -- brassy, busy and colored by the Walt Disney Concert Hall pipe organ, but with a deftly multi-layered structure -- but all were highly enjoyable.
I believe it was Julia Wolfe who stated the group was formed "to make the field better, more widely played... [to build] a bigger and more enthusiastic audience." That really resonated with me, because that's what I want to do as a writer and critic. Maybe that's not what a critic's job is or ought to be, but I believe in this music, in new music, and in the music that paved the way for its creation. A 12-hour concert, or a 24-hour one, might be a news-making spectacle, but the individual pieces that comprise it, and the composers behind them, should be known, too.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Philly Orchestra season closer: An earthly delight
In the face of economic woes and minor crises in leadership, the Philadelphia Orchestra has soldiered on to produce an admirable, intermittently dazzling subscription season. Charles Dutoit and the Orchestra brought it to a close with performances of Berlioz's Requiem, a piece whose ambition and tumult seemed a perfect finale to a season that exhibited plenty of both.
With themes of the afterlife and light shining on the souls of the departed, the words "celestial" or "heavenly" are applied to this Requiem and others. I came away with the impression of a more earthly delight, more rooted in human frailty and failings than in the firmament.
Dutoit initially took a big-picture approach, guiding the orchestra lightly through the winding scalar figures that churn through the first several movements. The Philadelphia Singers Chorale, at 160 voices rather than the 400 or so that Berlioz recommended, seemed a little underpowered in the "Introitus" but found its footing in the "Dies irae." That chaotic movement threatened to come totally unglued, with four brass choruses spread throughout the hall's second tier and their sound's dissipation into space distorted entrances and rhythms. I'm not sure if there would have been an ideal spot in the hall to hear all four, but they eventually fell into line and joined with four (though it might have been more) sets of timpani to produce a very satisfying roar.
After the stormy "Dies irae," the moments of hush in the ensuing movements were even more pleasing. The Chorale showed immaculate blend, especially in the unaccompanied "Quarens me," and responded strongly to Dutoit's cues, matching the contour he brought to the strings' playing.
What established this Requiem as earthly, in the best sense, rather than heavenly was the sixth movement, the pleading "Lacrymosa." Stabs from the violins gradually transformed into savage blows from brass and percussion that answered pitiful cries of "Save me" from the singers. Dutoit dropped his usual cool detachment and dug in earnestly, gesturing broadly but without putting a stranglehold on the music. The gritty, fevered element of the music resonated strongly; salvation seemed imperiled.
The rest of the concert strove more actively for a feeling of distant, radiant beams. The chorus was hushed but penetrating in the "Offertorium," and the men of the chorus exhibit fine tuning and blended in the "Hostias." In one instance of a forced hand attempting to impart a heavenly sensation, tenor Paul Groves sang his solo in the "Sanctus" from the highest reaches of Verizon Hall. Rather than sounding celestial, it was alienating. Being able to see facial expressions, body language and the mouth's shaping of vowels is vital to appreciating and attempting to understand any singer's performances, and it was dissatisfying to be denied that connection. Groves' sound, though disembodied, was impressive, with a clear, tremulous tone and a loving, lingering approach to his syllables.
The closing "Agnus Dei," with its revisiting of earlier movements, was alternately impassioned and detached, piling up many of the preceding themes and emotions. This pileup in the form of a prayer leads, of course, to the final "Amen." To reach that final exhalation, that sense of final consolation, I get the sense that both listener and performer have to go through hell, and Berlioz's Requiem, diffuse and difficult by its nature, does give you hell. The composer demanded an over-sized orchestra and chorus and wrote, for those forces, a roughly 90-minute work. The ambition of the piece, to me, embodies the desire to create something titanic immortal through art.
Why, then, try to give so much gloss to this very earthly striving? At times, the orchestra's performance aimed for the rafters instead of the heart. It might have benefited from more of the spirit of the "Lacrymosa," where the pleasures of heaven seem threatened, infusing the surrounding movements. A Requiem isn't all angels and harps and lux perpetua. Give us the sweat, the grit, the feeling we just might not be worthy.
For another take: DPS in the Inquirer.
With themes of the afterlife and light shining on the souls of the departed, the words "celestial" or "heavenly" are applied to this Requiem and others. I came away with the impression of a more earthly delight, more rooted in human frailty and failings than in the firmament.
Dutoit initially took a big-picture approach, guiding the orchestra lightly through the winding scalar figures that churn through the first several movements. The Philadelphia Singers Chorale, at 160 voices rather than the 400 or so that Berlioz recommended, seemed a little underpowered in the "Introitus" but found its footing in the "Dies irae." That chaotic movement threatened to come totally unglued, with four brass choruses spread throughout the hall's second tier and their sound's dissipation into space distorted entrances and rhythms. I'm not sure if there would have been an ideal spot in the hall to hear all four, but they eventually fell into line and joined with four (though it might have been more) sets of timpani to produce a very satisfying roar.
After the stormy "Dies irae," the moments of hush in the ensuing movements were even more pleasing. The Chorale showed immaculate blend, especially in the unaccompanied "Quarens me," and responded strongly to Dutoit's cues, matching the contour he brought to the strings' playing.
What established this Requiem as earthly, in the best sense, rather than heavenly was the sixth movement, the pleading "Lacrymosa." Stabs from the violins gradually transformed into savage blows from brass and percussion that answered pitiful cries of "Save me" from the singers. Dutoit dropped his usual cool detachment and dug in earnestly, gesturing broadly but without putting a stranglehold on the music. The gritty, fevered element of the music resonated strongly; salvation seemed imperiled.
The rest of the concert strove more actively for a feeling of distant, radiant beams. The chorus was hushed but penetrating in the "Offertorium," and the men of the chorus exhibit fine tuning and blended in the "Hostias." In one instance of a forced hand attempting to impart a heavenly sensation, tenor Paul Groves sang his solo in the "Sanctus" from the highest reaches of Verizon Hall. Rather than sounding celestial, it was alienating. Being able to see facial expressions, body language and the mouth's shaping of vowels is vital to appreciating and attempting to understand any singer's performances, and it was dissatisfying to be denied that connection. Groves' sound, though disembodied, was impressive, with a clear, tremulous tone and a loving, lingering approach to his syllables.
The closing "Agnus Dei," with its revisiting of earlier movements, was alternately impassioned and detached, piling up many of the preceding themes and emotions. This pileup in the form of a prayer leads, of course, to the final "Amen." To reach that final exhalation, that sense of final consolation, I get the sense that both listener and performer have to go through hell, and Berlioz's Requiem, diffuse and difficult by its nature, does give you hell. The composer demanded an over-sized orchestra and chorus and wrote, for those forces, a roughly 90-minute work. The ambition of the piece, to me, embodies the desire to create something titanic immortal through art.
Why, then, try to give so much gloss to this very earthly striving? At times, the orchestra's performance aimed for the rafters instead of the heart. It might have benefited from more of the spirit of the "Lacrymosa," where the pleasures of heaven seem threatened, infusing the surrounding movements. A Requiem isn't all angels and harps and lux perpetua. Give us the sweat, the grit, the feeling we just might not be worthy.
For another take: DPS in the Inquirer.
Commended to your attention
An article by Tim Page, professor at USC's Annenberg School of Journalism and Thornton School of Music, former music critic for the Washington Post, and an author whose writing on any number of subjects I would be delighted to read. As it happens, here he writes on a subject about which I have rather strong feelings: the future of arts journalism and the importance of educating people in practicing it. The personal touches at the beginning are particularly gripping -- having recently looked back at my own early writings, amen to his "Oh dear" -- and the exhortations near the end seem both a plea for well-reasoned writing and a representation of it. As a whole, it's pointed without being overly proscriptive.
I can also say that I, too, dislike "histrionic excess" in performances of Tchaikovsky, and I'm happy that jacket and tie are no longer required wearing for either critics or regular concertgoers.
I can also say that I, too, dislike "histrionic excess" in performances of Tchaikovsky, and I'm happy that jacket and tie are no longer required wearing for either critics or regular concertgoers.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Fermentation nation
The Garden State Craft Brewers Guild Festival, previewed for the Courier-Post, June 14, 2009.
With my first foray into beer journalism, months of poring over blogs and Joe Sixpack's "Philly Beer Guide", not to mention making contacts in the Philly beer scene, have finally paid off. New Jersey looks to have a pretty robust scene of its own, and I'm excited to check it out. I might provide some coverage of the Festival for my buddies over at Hopheads, including maybe even *gasp* some Twittering.
With my first foray into beer journalism, months of poring over blogs and Joe Sixpack's "Philly Beer Guide", not to mention making contacts in the Philly beer scene, have finally paid off. New Jersey looks to have a pretty robust scene of its own, and I'm excited to check it out. I might provide some coverage of the Festival for my buddies over at Hopheads, including maybe even *gasp* some Twittering.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Rock-crit returns
John Vanderslice and The Tallest Man on Earth at Johnny Brenda's, reviewed for Phawker, June 12, 2009.
JV = one of my all-time favorites. Saw him March 2004 in St. Louis and April 2007 in NYC. Erik Friedlander showed up at the NYC gig and played back-up on a few tunes. No new-music cameos here in Philly, but the set was still brash and boldly experimental. Several songs I thought I knew by heart appeared in vastly different form. The reports from St. Paul were right; this new band can tear it up.
JV = one of my all-time favorites. Saw him March 2004 in St. Louis and April 2007 in NYC. Erik Friedlander showed up at the NYC gig and played back-up on a few tunes. No new-music cameos here in Philly, but the set was still brash and boldly experimental. Several songs I thought I knew by heart appeared in vastly different form. The reports from St. Paul were right; this new band can tear it up.
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