I just ran across this in The Spectator and I can't resist sharing with you:
The previous Friday, violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja and pianist Joonas Ahonen played at Milton Court, and if you’re instinctively wary of PatKop’s cult following I can only say that she walked on in plain black and launched into Schoenberg’s 1949-vintage Phantasy with a vibrato so rich that this determinedly knotty music felt as sensuous (and as generous) as Strauss. There’s no timbre that Kopatchinskaja can’t draw from that violin of hers. She created echoing spaces around a tiny, wire-thin scrap of metallic tone in Webern’s Four Pieces, and dismantled and reassembled Beethoven’s Kreutzer sonata like some constructivist sculpture.
The house was packed, and it wanted encores. Kopatchinskaja exploded, shrieking, into a movement from Schoenberg’s Pierrot lunaire. More! She challenged us to guess the composer of a Schubert-ish salon piece – a tiny lemon-drop of a thing – and said we couldn’t leave till we’d got it. ‘Xenakis!’ shouted some wag. ‘Mendelssohn’ ventured another, and then everyone was at it while Kopatchinskaja kept shaking her head and waving her bow: ‘No! No! No!’ It turned out to be an unpublished work by the 17-year-old Gyorgy Ligeti, and reader, I called it.
I've been talking about PatKop a few times lately and this is the best description I have seen of her playing. Here she is with the first movement of the Beethoven Violin Concerto. Yes, she can play the core repertoire:
I'm a collector of obscure and unusual musical forms such as the loure, the haka and, most recently, the chamade.
the loure, sometimes louré is described in Wikipedia: "The loure, also known as the gigue lourée or gigue lente (slow gigue), is a French Baroque dance, probably originating in Normandy and named after the sound of the instrument of the same name (a type of musette). It is of slow or moderate tempo, sometimes in simple triple meter but more often in compound duple meter. The weight is on the first beat, a characteristic emphasised by the preceding anacrusis, which begins the traditional loure. Another feature is the lilting dotted rhythm." The most famous example I know is from the E major violin partita also known as the Lute Suite No. 4.
"Haka are a variety of ceremonial dances in Māori culture. Haka are often performed by a group, with vigorous movements and stamping of the feet with rhythmically shouted accompaniment. Haka have been traditionally performed—by both men and women—for a variety of social functions within Māori culture. They are performed to welcome distinguished guests, or to acknowledge great achievements, occasions, or funerals." [from Wikipedia]
"In war, a chamade was a certain beat of a drum, or sound of a trumpet, which was addressed to the enemy as a kind of signal, to inform them of some proposition to be made to the commander; either to capitulate, to have leave to bury their dead, make a truce, etc. Gilles Ménage derives the word from the Italian chiamate, from Latin clamare, to call." [from Wikipedia] There is an even more interesting article about the organ stop en chamade.
Some examples: first, the Loure from the 4th Lute Suite:
Next a famous haka by the New Zealand All Blacks rugby team:
(I composed a haka for choir, but that's the only one I know of!) Finally, an organ performance using the en chamade stop:
It might be interesting to write a piece that references the military context. Here is a little clip, in French, describing how the term has evolved into modern speech where it means to be overcome by romantic emotion.
Most writing about pop music in the mass media is really about selling more product--no actual criticism allowed. So when I see this in Rolling Stone, it gets me interested: 50 Genuinely Horrible Albums by Brilliant Artists
“THERE IS NO great genius without a touch of madness.” Greek philosopher Aristotle made this observation roughly 2,300 years ago, long before legit geniuses like Bob Dylan, John Lennon, Carole King, Elton John, Madonna, and Prince proved him right. Among the many celebrated masterpieces these artists have given the world, they have also turned in works so monumentally putrid that nothing short of “a touch of madness” can explain their existence.
Some of these albums were the products of way too much cocaine. (Elton, we’re looking at you.) Some of them came from label pressure to move beyond a cult following by creating commercial music. (Hello, Liz Phair.) Some of them were crafted before a band found its true sound (Pantera, take a bow), while others came long after key members parted and the band had no earthly reason to still exist. (Cough-Genesis-cough).
At Carnegie on Friday, in her recital of Beethoven’s final three piano sonatas, Uchida did behave like a different artist from the one who recorded these works nearly two decades ago. I don’t believe that age is inherently necessary or helpful in music — Igor Levit had a handle on Beethoven’s late style in his 20s — but what was reflected onstage was the unaffected wisdom and clarity that comes with decades of interpretive rigor and commitment.
Read the whole thing.
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I've noticed a few articles lately feting various pop artist for their amazing marketing skills and how they have amassed great sums of money. Of course, it is rather more common for musicians to have bad luck in this area. Here is an example: Leonard Cohen’s Heirs Accuse Former Manager and Attorney of Forgery.
Leonard Cohen’s children and heirs, Lorca and Adam Cohen, have filed a motion accusing the legendary singer-songwriter’s former manager, Robert Kory, and his legal representatives of forgery and asking the court to remove him from the role of trustee, to compel him to turn over the estate’s assets, and return the money he has earned from his activity in that role.
The motion, which follows a probate petition filed last fall, cites a deposition wherein Kory’s former attorney admits to removing a page from Cohen’s signed trust after the singer’s death and replacing it with one stating that Kory is the primary trustee — a felony.
And Cohen had a lot of trouble with a previous manager:
In late 2005, Cohen's daughter Lorca began to suspect his longtime manager, Kelley Lynch, of financial impropriety. According to Cohen biographer Sylvie Simmons, Lynch "took care of Leonard's business affairs ... [She was] not simply his manager but a close friend, almost part of the family."[86] Cohen discovered that he had unknowingly paid a credit card bill of Lynch's for $75,000, and that most of the money in his accounts was gone, including money from his retirement accounts and charitable trust funds. This had begun as early as 1996, when Lynch started selling Cohen's music publishing rights, despite the fact that Cohen had had no financial incentive to do so.
In October 2005, Cohen sued Lynch, alleging that she had misappropriated over US$5 million from Cohen's retirement fund, leaving only $150,000.[87][88] Cohen was sued in turn by other former business associates.[87] These events placed him in the public spotlight, including a cover feature on him with the headline "Devastated!" in the Canadian magazine Maclean's.[88] In March 2006, Cohen won a civil suit and was awarded US$9 million by a Los Angeles County superior court. Lynch ignored the suit and did not respond to a subpoena issued for her financial records.[89] NME reported that Cohen might never be able to collect the awarded amount.[90][k] In 2012, Lynch was jailed for 18 months and five years' probation for harassing Cohen after he dismissed her.
But there was a beautiful denouement to that chapter: after discovering he was pretty much broke, he wrote a new book of poetry and scheduled a signing session at a Toronto bookstore: thousands of people showed up and they had to close off several streets. He then embarked on a world tour and played to full houses worldwide.
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Give the drummer some is a piece about the technology of the drum machine. Lots of interesting observations and some humor:
I am a professor of science and technology studies. I am interested in social attitudes to new technologies, particularly those involving artificial intelligence. I am also a part-time mediocre drummer, relieved not to have to rely on my musical talents to pay the bills. We drummers tend to be ambivalent about technology. Like most musicians, ours is a craft that is technologically mediated. The affordances of sticks, pedals and things to hit with them enable our sound. We are used to the jokes that suggest we lack the intelligence of our fellow musicians. (What’s the difference between a drummer and a drum machine? You only have to punch the information into a drum machine once.)
In her sharp put-downs, sidelining of procedure, and singular, maniacal artistry, Tár – played by Cate Blanchett in the film of the same name – embodies all the tropes of the autocratic conductor. The first of a glut of forthcoming “maestro movies” (Bradley Cooper’s Leonard Bernstein biographical drama Maestro is currently in production, as is The Yellow Tie, on the life of firebrand Romanian conductor Sergiu Celibidache), Tár isn’t just a character study, though – it depicts the intertwined social and artistic hierarchies, subtle codes and often grotesque power dynamics of the orchestra as a workplace.
The best music for relaxation had a slow tempo, simple melody and no lyrics. The optimum time for listening was 13 minutes.
Our test subjects reported positive benefits including decreased muscle tension, negative thoughts disappearing, feeling peaceful and contented and being able to sleep better. So next time you’re feeling stressed, give yourself a time out, all you need is 13 minutes!
79% had reduced muscle tension
84% has less negative thoughts
82% had a better nights sleep
82% felt restful & contented
Cue up the Pachelbel Canon!
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I guess our first envoi has to be the Pachelbel Canon:
Now I'm too relaxed, so let's hear something a tad more arousing, the Piano Concerto No. 2 by Bartók:
We were talking about ensembles that play from memory: here is a guitar quartet playing Debussy:
Let us imagine ourselves listening in on policy meetings at the Press. As we move further into the 21st century political pressures to increase things like diversity, inclusion and equity are more and more evident. So the Press decided to conform to these pressures. This is, above all, a political statement:
Oxford University Press is committed to promoting and maintaining a culture of equality, diversity, and inclusion, and acting upon issues of diversity and inclusion is vitally important to fulfilling our mission. We recognize that many groups are currently under-represented in our music catalogue, and we are committed to changing and rapidly improving this through future publishing. As part of this commitment, we are currently accepting submissions from composers who:
• live with a disability; and/or
• are women; and/or
• identify on the broader spectrum of gender; and/or
• are from under-represented ethnic groups; and/or
• are from a lower socio-economic group
We encourage composers from these groups to submit their music for review.
Note one interesting divergence from the American model: instead of "equity" they substitute the word "equality," perhaps an homage to the French Revolution? Can we imagine the discussion? The editors open their email to discover several new submissions. Do they look first at the scores or at the accompanying letter? The score will reveal something about the musical quality of the submission. But the important information, according to the policy, must be contained in the cover letter: not just the name of the composer, but whether they have a disability, their gender identity, their ethnic descent and their income level. Perhaps the score could be sent later as the initial decision, apparently, will be made on the basis of the cover letter.
In the 21st century every desirable area in society, such as music publishing, has to reflect the current demographic makeup of the society at large. Why is this? Just because? What if someone questions it by saying that notated music is roughly a millennium old in Great Britain and for all but the last fifty years or so the population was overwhelmingly white. So one would expect that, unless we are just talking about music composed in the last few decades, the authors would be overwhelmingly white. The issue of the presence of women composers is an interesting one that probably requires a closer look.
But let's take a run at that word "desirable" because if we look behind that, why don't we apply the same inclusive policies to the less desirable areas of employment? Does progressive policy demand that we promote inclusive policies in the areas of ebony, reed and tone-wood harvesters, those who mine and smelt the metals used in musical instruments, the demographics of the employees of piano manufacturers and so on? Why should these policies only apply to the most desirable and politically prominent areas in the music business like publishing and, for example, conducting?
What really troubles me about these policy pronouncements are two main issues: there was no discussion, no debate, simply a statement of fully formulated policy. Second, there is no hint of awareness of things like historical and cultural forces and events that have shaped the development of music, nor is there any awareness of the element of aesthetic quality, nor commercial viability. Traditionally a publisher would seek to balance these two aims: aesthetic quality and salability. Now it appears that the primary criteria are those relating to membership in a notional excluded or oppressed group. Where is the discussion explaining why these groups were chosen? These things are not nearly as obvious as they would seem. If they were to apply a strict adherence to the policy they would have to measure the makeup of their catalogue against the demographic weight of all of these identity groups: the correct percentage of disabled, women, non-binary, various ethnic groups, not to mention the economic class of poor people. What does any of that have to do with musical quality?
This obliviousness to history and tradition is deeply ironic because Oxford University Press is, after Cambridge University Press, the oldest university press in the world, dating back to the 16th century.
So what should the editors at OUP be considering in regard to submissions? It's really perfectly obvious, isn't it? As far as scholarly works go, ones that advance our understanding in significant ways, bring things into perspective in new ways and so on. As far as compositions go, the usual criteria apply: compelling musical interest, works that would be of wide appeal, etc.
I rather suspect that this boldly stated policy will be quietly eased into the background and then dropped entirely in a few years. After all, its only purpose is political and that usefulness will wane in time.
Let's kick off with an item from the ever-prolific Ted Gioia: Why Musicians Can't Retire. Well, of course musicians can retire and Ted gives lots of examples:
Years ago, I felt cheated when some superstar musicians retired—especially if I hadn’t had a chance to see them in concert. But Stan Getz once took me to task when I told him my disappointment that Benny Goodman, who was still alive at the time, rarely performed on the West Coast in his final years. “He deserves to enjoy a period of retirement,” Stan admonished me. “He has been playing for audiences since the 1920s.”
And, of course, Stan was right.
Except for a few benefit concerts and a couple of special events, I retired from doing concerts quite a while ago. But I tend to tell people that I'm not retired, I'm on a lengthy strike for higher pay and better working conditions!
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One of the most interesting artists I saw in Salzburg the last time I was there was violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja. Wait, did I say violinist? In the concert I saw she was performing the solo sprechstimme part in Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire--and conducting! But most of the time she is playing the violin as in this concert reviewed in The Guardian: Patricia Kopatchinskaja/Joonas Ahonen review – freewheeling explosive expressionism.
Schoenberg’s Phantasy Op 47 began the concert. It’s one of the late pieces, like the String Trio, in which Schoenberg seemed to recapture some of the freewheeling expressionism of his early atonal works, and it’s a musical world that Kopatchinskaja inhabits instinctively. Webern’s Four Pieces Op 7 followed, the briefest of miniatures, each just a wisp of music, and all projected with just as much expressive power as the Phantasy before them.
The performances of the Beethoven sonatas didn’t shrink from emotional extremes either. In the second of the Op 30 set, in C minor, Kopatchinskaja’s playing was full of ferocious effects – fierce staccatos, steepling crescendos, sly portamentos – interspersed with moments of almost ghostly, vibrato-less quietness. There was an edge-of-the-seat danger about it all, with intonation sometimes teetering too, and the Kreutzer Sonata Op 47 (which had been preceded by Morton Feldman’s Webern-esque Piece for violin and piano from 1950) predictably received the same treatment, only if anything even more intensely.
Richard Taruskin began his Oxford History of Western Music seriously proposing the era of literate music in the West was coming to an end, a kind of death-of-classical-music that was more typical of a Norman Lebrecht. By the end of the fifth volume he concluded that classical music wasn't dying, it was changing.
I have more than a handful of times floated the idea that the symphony and the orchestral traditions of the long 19th century constituted an equivalent to the ars perfecta of the late Renaissance mass. When the mass of the earlier era gave way to new styles and forms partisans of the older style complained that the new recitative genre was garbage, that any unmusical hack could do that and simulating the rhythms of human speech in such a dubiously literal way was not really musical or expressive.
Here we are in 2023 and I would venture the proposal that rap has become a kind of recitative in our era, declamatory speech that is organically fused with melodic activity and it's the kind of thing that is denounced as the death of melody by partisans of the older ars perfecta equivalents of our era. The historical irony would be that recitative in Italian opera was viewed by partisans of Palestrina and company as being as much anti-musical junk in the time of Monteverdi as rap is viewed by fans of Italian opera now.
The first couple of paragraphs alone give us a lot to talk about!
Paintings that imitate music exist on a spectrum. On one end, there are abstract artists such as Williams and Paul Klee, for whom music itself sometimes becomes the subject matter. On the other end, there are the likes of James Whistler, Paul Gauguin and Wassily Kandinsky, who paint in a ‘musical manner’, moving away from a concern with representing reality. Whistler, known for his almost abstract ‘nocturne’ pictures, defined painting as ‘the exact correlative of music, as vague, as purely emotional, as released from all functions of representation’. Though not going as far towards pure abstraction, Gauguin saw colours and lines as having the power to evoke emotions and thoughts just like music. When asked why he painted red dogs and pink skies, Gauguin replied: ‘It’s music, if you like!’
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I usually avoid doing obituaries, leaving that to Slipped Disc, but I just learned that the great Spanish film director Carlos Saura passed away this month. In the 1980s he did a wonderful trilogy of films on flamenco including one of Manuel de Falla's ballet El Amor Brujo. The choreographer was Antonio Gades and Christina Hoyos the featured dancer. Here is a scene from that movie:
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While a number of trends seem to be unfortunate, I am always coming across terrific new compositions, organizations and musicians well worth celebrating. I'm not the only one: America’s Culture Is Booming. Really.
But I care about more than just artistry. I also want to foster a healthy cultural ecosystem that lets creative people thrive. Maybe that’s why I’m anxious.
So here’s my report on where we are today. I think the facts might surprise you.
First revelation: It really is boom times. At least, the numbers are huge:
A hundred thousand songs are uploaded daily to streaming platforms.
In the last year, 1.7 million books were self-published.
Every minute, 2,500 videos are uploaded to YouTube.
There are now 3 million podcasts—and 30 million podcast episodes were released last year.
About 86% of youngsters want to grow up to become influencers, and they contribute to these impressive numbers.
A hundred years ago, you folks didn’t even own a radio. Just last year, you thought TikTok was a breath mint. And now look at all those big numbers.
Mind you, there is a downside--follow the link for the problem, which is on the demand side.
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We start our musical clips with the Phantasy op. 47 by Schoenberg:
It has been said that Schoenberg is famous for being able to empty any concert hall, but, surprisingly, he has always been one of my favorite composers. Next we have some pop music that is actually a lot of fun, both musically and visually:
Here is a tricky early piano piece by Thomas Adès:
Sure, two staves is really necessary for piano music, and maybe three for complex textures. But four staves seems a bit excessive.
