me (Jenn)

In the immortal words of Marvin the Paranoid Android

“Pardon me for breathing, which I don’t do so I don’t know why I bother to say it anyway, oh GOD I’m so depressed.”

I think I may have used that one before, but whatever. I don’t have time to worry about such things; I just got back from Walt Disney World and I will be spending the rest of this regular, humdrum, real-life week mere seconds away from bursting into tears. In an effort to combat this near-inevitability, here’s an absurd video in which pianists take off their clothes. You’re welcome.

A way to go (and away I go!)

Oh, hey guys! I was going to tell you something before today’s viola joke… let’s see, what was it…

I’m going to Walt Disney World! Again! Like that one time! And that other time too! And that time I kind of went but not really! I’m not crazy, honest.

A short trip this time, though; I leave this afternoon and will return on Tuesday with a Not Monday Video. Don’t forget to vote in the Composer Cagematch! Voting will still close on Saturday at midnight as per usual and Piotr and George need you. And make sure you’re following me on Twitter in case I find something musically interesting while I’m there (which I always do).

Anyway. Laugh:

Q. How does a violist’s brain cell die? Continue reading »

See the music, hear the dance

“See the music, hear the dance,” says Balanchine. This is important.

I took a choreography course as an elective in grad school. It was not a wholly successful venture, as we performed our own works and I am not always entirely at home with being Under Scrutiny, but I do think I improved my skills.

We always talked through our pieces, about what was working and what wasn’t, and the professor gave some insight into her own struggles. One such issue was her sometimes frustration with finding a piece of music she desperately wanted to choreograph but being unable to see her way to any steps. A student had set her final dance to such a score – a piano piece by Debussy – and the professor expressed her admiration at the student’s ability to pick up on layers on the music to fuel her steps. “Those are layers I never would have noticed as right to highlight.”

The best dances are those that do not exist outside their music. The dull ones – you know the ones I mean, I’m sure – have choreography that may impress with tricks and spins but have little or no relation to the music being played in the background. It’s just a beat, or a collection of lyrics meant to do all the work of explaining the purpose of the dance so that the dancer and choreographer don’t have to bother with it (there are rare exceptions to this).

On the flip side, to go back to Balanchine, he didn’t want to choreograph to Beethoven because he felt Beethoven’s music needed no further augmentation. Similarly, there are dances that are created without music at all.

If they want to play, music and dance must do more than play nice with each other. They must complement each other, and find the new layers.

Thoughts?

For more on this, you might be interested in my interview with Shannon Schwait of CityDance.

Chop chop

I took in a drama course my senior year of high school and wrote a brief play based on T. S. Eliot’s poem “Portrait of a Lady,” a poem in which Chopin figures prominently. The girl I cast as the titular lady said “Chop-in,” and was surprised when I corrected her. (This paragraph is meant to illustrate how I can be a pretentious twit sometimes. Discuss!)

Currently, the middle school girls at my ballet studio are dancing to a piece by Chopin, and they wrote character sketches to fuel the expression of their steps. The spellings have been creative — Chopan, Shopin, and my personal favorite:

Ouch.

Here is a list of my demands

I don’t work in the hospitality department at the music center, but I’m just a few cubicles over from the people who do, plus we share a refrigerator.

Sometimes I open said refrigerator and see impressive-looking foodstuffs labeled with an emphatic “DO NOT EAT.” Right now there is a fruit pie bearing these very words. This means that the food is intended for a visiting performer.

I hear some interesting stories about the requirements built into artists’ contracts, not just in the area of food but also the layout of the green room and the behavior of the audience. I’m going to be super-lame here and not name any names in the interest of not getting in trouble with The Man, but here are some anecdotes:

• One pop star stipulated that the green room must be stocked with multiple specific types of alcohol, including some very expensive bottles of wine. She mostly didn’t drink it.
• A combination actor-singer consented to a meet-and-greet before his concert, but he refused to take photos with individuals — groups only — and made one girl change her homemade fan shirt as it was dubbed a bit too amorous (okay, fair enough).
• I’ve heard about quite a few performers who absolutely refused to allow anyone to enter the hall once the concert had started; anyone who was late would have to wait until intermission to take their seats.
• Other requested items: black and white pillows, halogen desk lamps, a “comfortable” space (er, yes, but in what regard? No further details provided)

I may sound a little snarky, but it’s mostly just salt — no one ever asks me what kind of baked good I want when I arrive in a new town; of course, the only thing standing between me and acres of bread pudding is a dearth of talent and charisma. But it also makes me giggle, because somewhere out there is a musician who receives a fruit pie everywhere he goes.

All right, professional musicians and performers of all stripes, I know you’re out there in my sea of readership. Give me the list of your demands! And how about those who cater to the whims of others — what are the most ridiculous requests you’ve fielded?

Where you sit and where you stand

Hey, remember high school orchestra chair auditions? That gladiatorial arena that pitted instrument against instrument in a clawing, biting scramble to score a seat two feet closer to the conductor, the same person you were auditioning for and who you’d known for up to four years, thus stripping away that cool and steadying wall of anonymity that might have otherwise supported you?

Right, so I was in one of those, my sophomore year (a trying year for me, orchestrally, but we can talk about that later), and I was visibly nervous, because that’s what happened to me during auditions: a neon light flashed above my head like a raincloud in a cartoon or a prism above a Sim, and the sign read NERVOUS. And O’Bryan, the conductor, told me to chill out. “Be like Elizabeth,” he said, referring to the first chair violist. “When she makes a mistake, she just says ‘Sorry!’ and keeps right on plugging, totally cool.”

Well, folks, Elizabeth happens to be one of my best friends, so I was able to ask her about this admirable attitude recently. “The only reason I was like that,” she told me, “was because I knew there was no possible way I could be demoted.”

It’s true. Elizabeth was a solid violist backed by a troupe of shaky violists. If she had been removed from her post the whole structure would’ve collapsed in the ensuing violaquake.

I just want to ask you guys about the orchestra (and by implication, band) culture, here. Concertmaster and assistant concertmaster and first chair are all prestigious titles to be sure, and it’s good that musicians have a seat to aspire to. But how much emphasis do you place on them? And beyond that, how much emphasis do you place on every chair after?

In all the school orchestras I ever participated in, your chair was permanent and a de facto indication of where you stood in your section. Anybody ahead of you was better than you, definitively, and if you had to move up you had to challenge your better with a face-off re-audition.

In professional orchestras, however, I understand that aside from the first two chairs, everybody rotates, the idea being that anyone who’s made it in is darn good and a place closer to the sun, as it were, should be afforded to everyone.

Of course, in many schools, music isn’t auditioned, so the logic is flawed. But do you think the rotational system could work in a school orchestra setting? What impact do you think it would have on the ambiance? Or is that cuttthroat culture all in my head?

My, what big teeth your piano has!

This Saturday Strathmore will be hosting Video Games Live!, which is one of those video-games-and-music-and-lights-and-dancers-and-stuff extravaganzas, one of the few orchestral performances that come with a seizure warning. You know the type.

I’ll be working the concierge desk for the evening show, and I’ve already pulled my “I <3 Alistair” t-shirt in preparation. Want to get ready too? I’d recommend you practice pulling your hands off the piano keyboard; you never know when that thing’ll grow teeth.

Scarring? Jarring? Alar(m)ing? Face your fears and teach yourself to play the Mario theme.

Andre Watts, Colin Currie, and Jean-Yves Thibaudet are always hanging in my apartment

Fun fact: Andre Watts, Colin Currie, and Jean-Yves Thibaudet hang in my apartment all the time.

HA! See what I did there?

You’ve just been afforded an exclusive glimpse into the Baroquelair, where loot stolen from the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra graces my walls. Of course, when I say “stolen” I mean “Benevolent Dictator Jamie told me I could have old posters back when I was a BSO intern” but I’m trying to build up a mystique here.

What I like about the three I was given lifted in a clever heist is that they all feature a concert I attended – in the case of the Watts poster, I saw Brahms’ German Requiem; I saw Colin Currie perform Incantations and  pissed off Hannu Lintu with my thoughts on his tempi; and I saw Jean-Yves Thibaudet in “Demons, Drama, and Dance”. (I’ve linked back to my reviews for all of them, so go nuts!)

As an added bonus, check out this old playbill I legally purchased from the post office gift shop at Colonial Williamsburg.

The Beggar’s Opera! This old-timey comic opera was cause exceeding great joy in my musical partner-in-crime Bekah and I when it appeared in our undergrad listening tests. It is truly an inspiration to every parent who has ever wanted their little girl to grow up to be a prostitute.

In case you’re wondering, here’s what’s on the opposite wall:

Yeah, I know. You’re so surprised.

* Note: My deepest apologies for the deplorably shoddy cell phone photo quality on display above. It’s a super-cloudy day, I lack sufficient lighting in my apartment, and I suddenly remembered that I’d left my SLR at my parents’ house. If I haven’t replaced them with GOOD versions in a couple weeks, just poke me about it. Sorry So Sloppy!

The Best

Two weeks ago I made a list of composers I considered to be the greatest, in terms of talent, innovation, and output. I tried to make this as objective as possible while still noting that my own preferences and the limits of my knowledge base must unavoidably come into play.

This week? IT’S SUBJECTIVE TIME. Which, indeed, is kind of like Miller Time — alcohol free, yes, but with just as much opportunity to shout your opinions while gesticulating wildly and possibly falling out of your chair.

All of this is just to say that here I would like to present my list not of the greatest composers of all time but the ones I like BEST. Basically the idea here is a collection of the composers that, when the radio deejay says, “next is a piece by ________”, make me say “YAY!!!” Here goes:

1. BEETHOVEN (duh)
2. Bach
3. Khachaturian (and I stand by my decision)
4. Stravinsky
5. Schubert
6. Holst
7. Prokofiev
8. Shostakovich
9. Ravel
10. Tchaikovsky

There is of course a fair amount of overlap, but I bet some of them surprise you. Before you pull out your extra-sharp pitchfork, rest assured — I’m not suggesting Khachaturian ranks above Stravinsky in… well, in ANY category, really. Stravinsky is definitely the better composer. But Khachaturian makes me super happy! So high up the list he stays. Ya get me?

The nice thing about this list is, it’s even more changeable than a best-of list, undulating and evolving with your changing moods and interests; I expect Handel could sneak on to mine any moment now.

Now about you — who are you feeling right now?

The Greatest

Note: By the end of this post I will ask you to create your own list of the top ten composers. I’m ruining the ending for you because I think it might be neat if you do it now, before you’re corrupted by my list or the NYT list or your grocery list or what have you. Just a thought. Thank you; good morning!

Hey, remember how I said the lynchpin of the Composer Cagematch! is not who you feel is the better composer but rather who you love more? Well, put a pin in it. We’re playing a new game now.

A couple weeks ago while at my grandmother’s house my family got into a discussion about who the greatest composers of all time were — greatest, not our favorites. (Yeah, my family has random chats about classical composers — just wait until I tell you about the great Dvorak’s Origins Argument of Thanksgiving 2011. That one still resurfaces from time to time.) My mom pulled up a list from The New York Times music critic to get his top 10. Take a gander here.

His list began with the traditional top three but then had me ducking a few curveballs — Brahms? Really? Then he said in his article he would expect such skepticism — and it got me thinking as to what MY top ten would be. Naturally I don’t mean to say I’m a completely impartial judge (I’d say the immediately preceding sentence already knocked me out of contention for that title), but in making such a list I think one would have to look at quality over blind adoration. You’ll see what I mean.*

So… for now, here’s my top ten. I betcha my list could change as early as tomorrow, but in this moment, here are what I call The Greatest:

1. Bach
2. Beethoven
3. Mozart
4. Stravinsky
5. Schubert
6. Bartok
7. Shostakovich
8. Handel
9. Haydn
10. Prokofiev

What I find most interesting about this exercise is less about who made it but who didn’t — or rather, which sorts of composers didn’t. I didn’t name a single composer outside the Austro-Hungarian or Soviet area; nary an opera composer to be found. This is the hole in my classical understanding; this teaches me where I need to go next to expand my repertoire — and maybe revise my list once I have.

Well? How do you feel about my list? I expect some fightin’ words as opinions must always create. And what about you? For bonus points, how has your list evolved? If I can remember, I want to make this list up again next year and see if it’s changed. Someone remind me in 11.5 months, okay?

* Do you SEE that? Do you SEE how I put Mozart at number 3, even though he makes me want to sic a fictionalized Salieri on him? He’s there because he was a genius, and even if I don’t dig most of his works, I can recognize that. Incidentally, this is also how I feel about Faulkner.