Friday Miscellanea

This seems like a good thing: Brooklyn Museum Names Cellist Niles Luther First Composer In Residence

Luther is kicking off his residency by composing three musical arrangements to accompany the exhibition Hiroshige’s 100 Famous Views of Edo (feat. Takashi Murakami), which opened today.

The museum said, “While not aiming to precisely replicate sounds of 19th-century Tokyo (then Edo), Luther’s compositions deftly incorporate traditional Japanese scales, modes and techniques to evoke the era’s ambiance as reflected in Utagawa Hiroshige’s prints. Drawing on his own experiences in Tokyo and collaborations with Japanese instrumentalists, Luther blends Eastern and Western musical elements to capture the essence of Hiroshige’s work, underscoring its lasting relevance. In this way, Luther’s music serves as a link between eras.”

I took a similar approach in setting the poems in my collection Songs of the Poets. The texts were drawn from a wide variety of poets and I tried to find a suitable musical style as an analogue to the poem. Mind you, in the case of a translation from an Aristophanes comedy, that meant using stylistic ideas from a Rossini opera buffa! 

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Finally: In praise of the viola.

What’s special about this release is the eclectic menu assembled by a young Jamaican-American, Jordan Bak, who is clearly going places. Bak opens with a three-minute Chant by Jonathan Harvey, dinking back and forth between tonal and post-tonal contemplation. A Romance by Ralph Vaughan Williams, discovered among posthumous papers, is just what I need in these stressed-out times. 

Bright Sheng reimagines a South China folksong about a woman missing her lover in moonlight. It’s called The Stream Flows and it has vivid imagery. Augusta Read Thomas has made several alternate versions of her successful 2018 Song Without Words. The viola original still works best.

The album’s two most substantive, and sumptuous, pieces are by British composers. Arnold Bax’s viola sonata of 1922 is massively mellifluous, rippling with tunes that sound half-remembered and might even be original. Imagine Copland and Holst taking a country walk. The finale is so satisfying.

Gosh, I wish I could write something "massively mellifluous"!

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I think they should have named it "Odio" instead: Udio. But here is the problem: for me, music is an intrinsic good, something that is good in itself. For most people, I guess, music is an instrumental good, something that adds a bit of flavour to life, puts a nice soundtrack in the background. Not for me. But this gives me problems that perhaps others don't have. For example, I tried to watch The Two Towers movie the other day but I turned it off after a few minutes, largely because of the music. I can't watch a Tolkien story with Wagnerian style music. But, on reflection, I realize that this is just an indicator of how the film itself, especially in the characterizations, is also shifted far away from the books. So I can't watch it for that reason as well. In that way, the music is a valuable warning sign. Your milage may vary.

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A Secret Code May Have Been Hiding in Classical Music for 200 Years

But even discounting those final revisions, the Opus 132 that the world came to know was not exactly the Opus 132 that Beethoven handed to his copyist. The composer littered his original score with unusual markings that the copyist simply ignored. Below one staff, for example, Beethoven jotted “ffmo”—a tag that wasn’t a standard part of musical notation, and wasn't used by any other major composer. In another place, he drew an odd shape like an elongated diamond, also a nonstandard notation. None of these marks made it into even the first clean copy, let alone the published version. Almost no one would see those marks in the roughly 200 years after Beethoven first scribbled them down.

Then, one evening in 2013, the violinist Nicholas Kitchen was in New Mexico coaching a quartet through Opus 132. Kitchen is a man of obsessions; one of them is playing from a composer’s original handwritten manuscripts, rather than printed music, so he had a facsimile edition on hand. The errant “ffmo” caught the eye of the quartet’s cellist. “What’s this?” he asked.

As soon as Kitchen saw Beethoven’s mark, something in his brain shifted; later, he would tell people that it was as if someone had turned over a deck of cards to reveal the hidden faces behind the plain backs. Suddenly, he had a new obsession. Over the next several years, he would come to believe he had discovered Beethoven’s secret code.

As a performer I have always been fascinated by the idea that there are special hints and instructions from the composer that somehow fell through the cracks.

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Here, thanks to a commentator, is the nightmare of Spotify:

Questions have arisen about Spotify’s possible inclusion of AI-generated music in its artist radio playlists. This comes after Adam Faze, studio chief of FazeWorld, on Twitter shared a playlist of 49 songs that appeared to be the same track, but with different artist names, song titles, and album artwork.

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Over at The New Yorker, Alex Ross asks What Is Noise? and in the process reveals quite a lot about himself:

With a universal definition hovering out of reach, the discourse concerning noise often starts with the personal. My history with the thing is fraught: I hate it and I love it. As a child, I was extraordinarily sensitive to loud sounds. Family expeditions to Fourth of July fireworks displays or steam-railway museums routinely ended with me running in tears to the safety of the car. When, in early adulthood, I moved into the noise cauldron of New York City, I was tormented by neighbors’ stereos and by the rumble of the street. I stuffed windows with pillows and insulation; I invested in industrial-strength earplugs; I positioned an oversized window fan next to my bed. This neurosis has subsided, but I remain that maddening hotel guest who switches rooms until he finds one that overlooks an airshaft or an empty lot.

All the while, I was drawn to music that others would pay money to avoid. Having grown up with classical music, I found my way to the refined bedlam of the twentieth-century avant-garde: Edgard Varèse, John Cage, Karlheinz Stockhausen, György Ligeti. In college, I hosted a widely unheard radio show on which I broadcast things like Ligeti’s “Poème Symphonique”—a piece for a hundred metronomes. When someone called in to report that the station’s signal had gone down, I protested that we were, in fact, listening to music. Similar misunderstandings arose when I aired Cage’s “Imaginary Landscape No. 4,” for twelve radios. When I moved on to so-called popular music, I had ears only for the churning dissonances of Cecil Taylor, AMM, and Sonic Youth. I became the keyboardist in a noise band, which made one proudly chaotic public appearance, in 1991. At one point, my bandmates and I improvised over a tape loop of the minatory opening chords of Richard Strauss’s “Die Frau Ohne Schatten.”

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‘Misguided wokeism’ puts people off opera, says top London conductor. I think we were just talking about this.

“I think opera in many quarters is seen as something elitist,” Pappano told BBC Radio 4’s This Cultural Life. “The [British] politicians, for instance, don’t come to the opera house, they used to, whereas in Italy, the president of the republic would come and there’d be big applause, it would be celebrated by the audience ... in Germany too.

“Here it’s looked on with great suspicion. That drives me nuts, I have to tell you. England is a haven for culture whether it is pop culture or classical culture, literary culture, theatrical culture, this is one of the great addresses and yet we’re embarrassed by it.”

Pappano said the opera industry had had a “rough time because the money becomes less and less every year”.

“Why be embarrassed about something that is a treasure?” he said. “The Royal Opera House, the English National Opera, the Welsh National Opera are beacons, they’re internationally recognised and centres of excellence, you know, honing talent.”

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We have a couple of obvious choices for envois today. First up Jordan Bak, viola, with through the filtering dawn of spreading daybright by Jeffrey Mumford. There wasn't anything on YouTube from his new album and the title of this piece almost sounds like one I might have chosen!

Next, Nicholas Kitchen and the Borromeo Quartet with the third movement from the String Quartet 132 by Beethoven:

Lastly the Lachrimae Pavan by John Dowland played by Elizabeth Pallett: