September 17, 2008
Movado Hour (2008 Sep 14)
ec and danchilada went to the Movado Hour last Sunday for an amazing performance-
| John Cage | In a Landscape for Piano |
| Steve Reich | Clapping Music for Two Performers |
| George Crumb | Music for a Summer Evening (Marokosmos III) for Two Pianos and Percussion (Two Players) I. Nocturnal Sounds (The Awakening) II. Wanderer – Fantasy III. The Advent IV. Myth V. Music of the Starry Night |
My favorites were In a Landscape and Music of the Starry Night – since they made me forget I was in a small candlelit room in NYC – but it would’ve been hard for anyone not to be captivated by the entire concert. Seriously, I’ve almost dozed off at all previous Movado Hours, but last Sunday’s bucked the trend. Clapping Music was basically two guys clapping for 5 minutes with no other accompaniment. But this wasn’t just any clapping. After the 5 minutes are over, you’re unsure of how to applause for fear that your clapping sucks in comparison. For anyone interested in more Steve Reich, check out his 1976 album Music for 18 Musicians – if you didn’t know minimalist music existed, this is it.
Then there’s the matter of the hieroglyphs they would have us believe are scores for these pieces.. Despite my extensive schooling in guitar, I had never been certain how to notate music for Tibetan prayer stones, slide-whistles, or the jawbone of ass. Yes, apparently it’s a percussion instrument utilized by George Crumb.
Our favorite parts of Myth, in order:
1. Aanngghh..
2. (whispered) kai ko ko kee kah
3. AaaAAanngghhhhhhhh…. aaaAAnnnggghhhhhhh
4. HEY! HEY!
5. kai ko ko kee kah kai ko ko kee kah kah ko
May 13, 2008
Joy!
The IMSLP will be back online on 1 July 2008!!!! Congratulations IMSLP, you made it through!
[IMSLP – International Music Score Library Project was a virtual library of out-of-copyright music scores/sheet music. Its growth was literally exponential; from week to week it would double or triple itself in size and variety, and due to the multiple (often historic) editions of pieces that were posted, it had enormous historical value. Universal Edition, an Austria-based music publishing company, threatened IMSLP with relatively unreasonable lawsuits which it couldn’t afford to defend itself against, so it shuttered on October 19, 2007, much to the chagrin and sadness of its devotees, including myself. IMSLP was run out of Canada, where copyright expires a couple of decades before they do in Austria. However, Project Gutenberg, public access/wiki people, etc. banded together to support the IMSLP project, and have somehow been able to revive it. Down with the old world. Onwards, people!]
For more information on IMSLP and the story of their demise and rebirth, please go here, it’s actually a really fascinating one: http://imslp.wikidot.com/start
February 28, 2008
Classical hallucinations
I’m not sure if it was the alligators pirouetting while doing an overhead lift with a hippo or a drunken Bacchus riding a pygmy uni-donkey, but when I first saw Disney’s Fantasia, it enthralled me as a child and is one of my favorite films to this day. I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count the hours I have spent watching the film and it certainly fostered my enjoyment of classical music. As crazy as this may seem, one of the vestigial side effects of repeated exposure to Fantasia has been my spontaneous visualizations while listening to classical.
My most recent imagining came on Monday, when I experienced Carnegie Hall for the first time. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra opened the evening with Matthias Pintscher’s Osiris which, like the few other modern classical works I’ve heard, produces suspense and fear. The piece began, and in my mind I saw a crate sitting in a dark, empty space bathed in a spotlight. After only a few minutes, I was drawn closer to the crate, but not of my own free will, rather more out of compulsion. The soft tension of the sounds told me something was wrong; something just didn’t feel right, but no matter how much I wanted to turn away the crate was inescapable.
Along with the progression of the piece, details slowly developed. I saw that it sat on the stage of an enormous Victorian theater and only then did I realize that the crate was actually gigantic and that I was originally viewing it from a great distance and lacking any visual references. The size was beyond intimidating. The orchestra became more violent and I was close enough to notice that the crate was in fact shaking. What started as gentle nudges grew into a tremor.
At this point I was close enough to see that what I had thought was a solid, well-built crate was actually more of a makeshift, wooden box. As I came nearer, the gaps between the planks grew larger to where I could actually see into the darkness that was inside. Initially, I only saw the white of a blood-shot eye staring at me and the ivory of bared teeth. I could tell that the climax was drawing near; upon looking through the cracks, I made out the shape of a monstrous ape convulsing ferociously. The box was now quaking.
The climax came suddenly, and with it the box splintered into shards of wood. All that remained was the ape and his rage. The theater trembled as dust fell from the rafters and the old structure creaked and moaned. His vengeance was furious and destructive. Piece by piece he reduced the theater to rubble to reveal a surrounding jungle. Then just as quickly as the climax came, the music died away and his frenzy was over. He slipped quietly into the bush and vanished from sight.
Now, I must confess that I know very little about classical music, and nothing about modern classical. The piece was inspired by the Osiris myth, and I’m sure someone well-versed in both Egyptian mythology and modern classical music could give you more insight as to the merits of the work. Unfortunately, I can only leave you with two conclusions: sometimes I let my imagination get the better of me, and the music was frightening. If anything, it probably means I should cut back on the Hitchcock.
February 19, 2008
Upcoming: the Movado Hour
I suppose I’ll start:
Coming up tonight: Cuarteto Casals at the Movado Hour, in Baryshnikov Arts Center, playing Kurtag and Beethoven.
The Movado Hour has been going on for about a year and a half to two years now, a free salon-style music series initiated by Baryshnikov himself, I assume with the intention to remove classical music from its prohibitively expensive prices and atmosphere (a la hush hush! how dare you shift in your seat at Carnegie Hall? Don’t you know that sound reverberates here?). One can reserve up to two spots by calling the reservation line one week in advance and leaving a voicemail. In the beginning, spots used to be open until the day of the concert, I guess because not that many people knew about the Movado Hour. But this time around, it filled up within one day! One day! I sort of despise how competitive everything gets in New York, but I suppose I shouldn’t begrudge the Movado Hour its success. It deserves it, after all.
More on the concert to come.
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