An interesting quote from San Francisco Symphony conductor, Michael Tilson Thomas, about the symphony listening experience from the audience point of view (via the Wall Street Journal).
“In some places, there is a certain ritualistic aspect to it. The audience expects to have a certain kind of experience, which perhaps reaffirms certain nice and comfortable things from their life. The idea that you can shake it up a bit at the concert or experience something new is very particular to this area and this audience.”
I know that Thomas was trying to say that Bay area audiences are different, and perhaps the Bay area is better than most places, but I still see a lot of both groups of people at the symphony.
San Francisco Symphony’s summer season ends this weekend with a bang with a really fun program, starting with John Adams’ Short Ride in a Fast Machine, Chris Noth (“Mr. Big”) narrating Copland’s Lincoln Portrait, the original jazz band version of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue (super cool), and a collaboration with the UC Berkeley Marching Band for the hit Broadway tune “Seventy-Six Trombones”. Come early for music and dancing with the Martini Brothers, plus desserts and specialty drinks in the lobby. For more information, click here.
It was a merging of two worlds at the San Francisco Symphony. In a daring program led by conductor Edwin Outwater, the headliner for the show was a suite from Duncan Sheik’s new musical Whisper House, arranged for orchestra by Simon Hale. Following the immense Tony award-winning success of Spring Awakening, this is Sheik’s second Broadway musical that recently played at the Old Globe in San Diego with lots of early buzz.
It’s easy to see how this suite could easily see the music backing a “a hybrid alt-rock concert-psychological ghost story” of ghosts telling a little boy about life and love through evocative stories both startling and touching. Atonal influences are sprinkled throughout, lending an eery tension and wavering longing. Duncan Sheik himself sang, as well as Holly Brook in ethereal tones.
As an element of a big picture, this score might work successfully in creating a compelling theatrical atmosphere. However in this setting, Sheik’s Whisper House was a bit of a fish out of water. Unfairly taken out of context, it was disorienting without a plotline as to what was going on and who the characters were as the audience was plunged into the songs with barely any warning.
It’s difficult to be scared of ghosts in bright house lights, which were on to allow for the audience to read the lyrics in the program, as the first song warns, “We’re here to tell you/ghosts are here for good/and if it doesn’t terrify you/it should!”. Also, without a sweeping storyline or characters you care about, lyrics such as “Steel your heart/Life is hard/Never easy/Believe me” fell a bit flat. Without the dramatic pull of a full production, it’s a bit inconclusive if the music is enough to stand on its own.
However, the orchestra provided a shroud of atmospheric sound that is never heard in a Broadway stage these days. The richness of Hale’s orchestration was easy to get lost in, and Sheik’s evocative melodies and themes are heart-tugging in a poignant deja vu sort of way. Sheik’s music encompasses a broad spectrum of influences that makes his vision for Broadway so visionary. Even though this might not have been the best setting for his music, it still made me curious about the musical itself.
Vivier’s Zipangu was the odd piece in the program, an experimental piece written in 1980 for a small string ensemble. Amidst the grating dissonance and unearthly harmonics, there is a hazy outline of variations on a theme and the semblance of a meandering development as Vivier explores the range of sounds that the strings have to offer, from string plucking to slides. An uneasy tension prevails, and is never quite resolved. It’s a piece that I’d picture in a smaller venue, played loudly and unapologetically, maybe at a smoky underground speakeasy or accompanying a Merce Cunningham dance performance.
Edwin Outwater led the San Francisco Symphony with admirable restraint. Gounod’s Ballet Music from Faust was refreshingly lacking in pretension, shaped with gentle dynamics in an interpretation that allowed the music to shine. Outwater coaxed a remarkable clarity and articulation from the orchestra. Even in the crowded stage that played Poulenc’s densely layered Suite from Les Biches, the orchestra played as one in a witty and exhilarating interpretation.
Even if the evening wasn’t to your taste, the spirit of adventure in the San Francisco Symphony is admirable and challenging. This new direction of welcoming artists outside the classical music world was also successful at recruiting a large percentage of younger people in the audience, the largest percentage of under 30’s that I’d seen in a long time.
A few weeks ago, I had seen this on Reverberate Hills, and so I recognized this group when I ran into them at the ferry building in San Francisco. It was both PR and fundraising rolled into one, as they sang (with remarkable harmony and pitch) Christmas carols in the pre-Christmas season. My date was handed the note explaining their group which I wasn’t able to see, but you can read more on Patrick’s blog in the link above.
Some blurry photos I snapped. Click to enlarge.
How much new music can a dollar buy?
The increase in student fees and other cuts at the UC system in California are appalling, and something has GOT to change.
As on Reverberate Hills, donations can be made to:
Department of Music
University of California, Berkeley
104 Morrison Hall #1200
Berkeley, CA 94720-1200
(Specify “Berkeley New Music Project”)
Last week, the San Francisco Symphony took on an international flair with their all-Russian Summer & the City program, called “my classic Russian composers”. Conductor James Gaffigan led the symphony in an outpour of emotion from the hearts of Russian composers. The stage was filled with more of the familiar faces of the SF Symphony for the larger orchestra that this romantic program required. But as Mike astutely observed in a comment in my earlier entry, the one-rehearsal-per-performance format didn’t serve this program in its best light. Despite its visible cracks, it was a fun concert for both my symphony newbie friend and I.
The evening opened with Mussorgsky’s fiery A Night on Bald Mountain. This piece narrates a story of evil spirits and their festivities and ends with church bells that break up the madness and ends with hope and peace. Made famous by Disney’s Fantasia, the SF Symphony’s version was a welcome version vastly different from the ostentatious Disney version. This performance strayed more to the careful and muted spectrum especially in the beginning until the horns came blaring in an impressive climax of the evil spirited orgy. The effect was deliciously messy, yet never stridently so.
Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto followed, with soloist Orion Weiss. Weiss made a huge impression when I saw him last year with the Marin Symphony in the Beethoven concerto with a highly individual and daring performance. In this performance, Weiss started out well with a big, round sound. However, he lost his footing in a technical run early in the first movement that also briefly lost the orchestra, and the piece never recovered. Weiss seemed to lose his confidence, and the volume range remained limited for the rest of the performance, and at times it was difficult to hear. The hesitant pace lagged, momentum fizzled. Overall, I found it an uneven performance with unclear intent. I did find myself wishing though that the piano sounded more off-the-cuff intense and spontaneous rather than awash in quiet introspection that swallowed itself whole. Still, a thoughtful and sensitive performer, Weiss infused a refreshing lean and elegant air to the extravagantly romantic concerto, and there were flashes of pure beauty. Clearly this was an incident that’s chalked up to limited rehearsal time and youth, and not an accurate reflection of his obvious musical talent.
The night ended with Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scherazade loosely based on the story of the Arabian Nights, which was my favorite piece of the night. The orchestra seemed to let go and let fly with lush melodies and warmth. For a few blissful moments, the music depicted hot desert perfumed air under an expansive starry sky with a hint of magic.
When I see something on stage that I’m familiar with, I always have an idea of how it should look or sound in my head. Do they do it like the original Broadway cast, or do they dance it like how Balanchine “intended” (another argument all in itself), or does it sound appropriately Liszt-y enough? It’s always satisfying to see or hear something like how I want it to sound like.
But it’s still my favorite when I see a performance that is different from what I expect, yet it convinces me that this is how it should sound like. It’s that lightbulb moment of something learned anew from a persuasive performance, a challenge for the audience viewer. It’s a peek into a performer’s heart, an individual stamp, an unexpected twist, and a fleeting work of art.
At the San Francisco Symphony, the all-Mozart program was one such performance, with new revelations uncovered around every corner in pieces I thought I already knew. Last night’s performance of the all-Russian program was a little unclear in its intent and statement despite the sold out house, yet not without its romantic passionate outpourings. More to come on this later.
The San Francisco Symphony’s Summer & the City season has been a really fun one. I find it easier to bring people that have never attended the symphony before, and although many usual symphony members are missing, I found it really fun to sit back and revel in the music. Many are familiar pieces from my childhood that I played in various youth orchestras, and my musical memories are strongly tied to growing up with them.
San Francisco Symphony’s Summer & the City ends tonight with a fun program of Americana classics, including James Earl Jones narrating Copland’s Lincoln Portrait.
Last Friday night, I finally got a chance to attend my first San Francisco Symphony’s Summer & the Symphony series this year for an all-Mozart program conducted by James Gaffigan. The sunflowers were in full bloom in the lobby, and the gentle stylings of a lobby piano player added to the festive atmosphere. When I picked up my tickets at the box office, a really nice ticket office guy gave me a sponataneous serenade of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene”. Who knew that a serenade was included in the price of a ticket?
Look, Mozart came! We couldn't decide if he was hired by the symphony or if he dressed up by his own free will.
It was an artful experience to watch conductor James Gaffigan lead an all-Mozart program. Gentility and delight abounds in Mozart’s music, where even in its maelstrom, stormy moments, you always know that the sun will shine again very soon. Gaffigan was the night’s master sculptor, lovingly shaping every lilting phrase with care and consideration. Unexpected charm lurked around every corner, giving Mozart’s overplayed music new life and a current freshness.
The opening overture to The Magic Flute had a cultivated yet buttery suaveness, interspersed with reverent, hymnic overtones. Mozart’s Elvira Madigan Concerto No. 21 followed, with pianist Jeremy Denk as Gaffigan’s perfect partner-in-crime. Every mindful detail in this concerto took off in meticulous flights of fancy in Denk’s thoughtful hands. I admit this has never been my favorite piano concerto, especially the second movement which I usually find painfully static. This performance miraculously made it my favorite for the night – Gaffigan coaxed a gently propelling bass line which gave movement to the impossibly slow melody. Denk made the piano sing like a wind instrument, with never ending phrases and notes that seemed to hang in mid air, and the melody weaved a slow yet mesmerizing spell.
Being the summer however, lots of familiar faces in the symphony were missing especially amongst the principals. The tightness of the group suffered a little bit, especially in the beginning moments of the final selection for the night, Mozart’s Symphony No. 40 in g minor. However the evening ended on a high note, with a spontaneous encore with Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, as Gaffigan introduced, to end the evening not in a minor key but with “musical champagne”. This surprise encore seemed to disarm the audience of their “good concert behavior”, as people behind me hummed to the familiar melody and the audience clapped along. Rather than being annoyed as I usually might, I found myself wanting to sing along as well. To everyone’s delight, Gaffigan walked off the podium in the middle of the piece and let the orchestra play by themselves, as he sat behind the orchestra on the floor to enjoy the music. This move even had the fidgeting children in the center terrace to sit up and pay attention, and Gaffigan even gave them an affable wave. It was a fun moment that had everyone smiling as they left the auditorium, and a perfect end to a warm San Francisco summer evening.
In the past week or so, I’ve gotten hopelessly addicted to the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition that’s currently being live streamed over the internet. It’s every classical music/pianist dream (and new media person (Doug, I’m looking at you)) come true. Not only are all the performances live streamed as it happens, but the rehearsals are shown as well. It’s thrilling to get a glimpse of rehearsals, everything from the Van Cliburn finalist’s one-on-one rehearsal with conductor James Conlon going over the details of the piece, to the casual attire of the performers in glasses, to hearing unscripted and honest moments in the struggle between soloist and orchestra in coming together as one cohesive whole. It also has the added excitement of following your favorite performers in a reality-show setting sort of way with the excitement of a competition and the emotion-grabbing storyline of watching your favorites succeed or fail at every elimination. Perhaps a combination of American Idol and the Bachelor, if you will. In addition, it really gives a sense of how much work goes into putting a piece together and increases appreciation for the art form itself in addition to demystifying it. Isn’t this the goal of classical music these days in the MTV generation? And I’m amazed with the Takacs Quartet and James Conlon – they have the impossible task of putting together rehearsals and flawless performances with 6-12 different pianists in a unique competition setting.
This live stream is also for the newbie as well. They have an extensive “commentary” option where, as you’re watching, you can turn on comments that describe the piece you’re listening to. They point out the theme, the second theme, counterpoint, and the return back to the first theme with a different mood, or expansion on a theme. The points are concise and easy to understand and really relevant. I found it helpful for unfamiliar pieces. The level of options available in the live stream and archives are astounding.
It’s this sort of widely available accessibility that will draw fans in and get people excited about the art form and get classical music to shed its elitist shroud of better-than-thou obscurity. Like sports that I see everywhere, the Van Cliburn competition not only has it available to view online including archives of each performance (rehearsal footage was taken down, boo!) but quite a number of heateddiscussions on blogs that post everything from smart and funny reviews (another one here) to who danced on the dance floor, who performed with a broken toe, and what a competitor ate for dinner. It reminds me of the paparazzi that stalk celebrities, sports or not, like no other, and generates buzz for these performers as people. The classical music world could use a little bit of this.
Extending the sports metaphor further, my coworker suggested that I hold a “fantasy Cliburn” like they do for March Madness.
Granted, accessibility isn’t everything – point proven by the fact that I’m still not a baseball or football fan (although I have been known to attend an occasional Giants game). It also opens the door for criticism in the face of such transparency. On one hand, it’s exciting to see people so passionate about the art form. Yet commentors were brutal in discussing a tense moment between conductor James Conlon and Haochen Zhang, the youngest competitor in the Van Cliburn finals. Zhang was trying to convey to the conductor that someone thought the orchestra was too loud sometimes, and Conlon replied that the orchestra is an important factor too, and sometimes more important than the piano. (I do hope this isn’t the reason why the rehearsals aren’t currently being archived, because commentors talked endlessly about it). Conlon was a target of public criticism for his words because people thought he was being condescending to a musician so young. I disagree – I hardly doubt that Zhang is the only young soloist who works with an experienced conductor who hasn’t been guided in the same way and neither parties acted any less than with honorable professionalism. It was an honest moment and the tension between conductor and soloist SHOULD be there, as an equal meeting of two minds who come together to form a cohesive piece of music that requires both parts. Naturally, Zhang is worried about his status as a valid competitor and being heard, and Conlon is concerned about the work as a beautiful piece of music. Compromise and give-and-take and careful thought should be a natural part of the rehearsal process, and for me, it was a wonderful example of watching two very good musicians collaborating together.
And what better moments to watch the rehearsals than to watch an orchestra interact with a blind soloist who can’t see cues and downbeats? As Tsujii worked against both a sight and a language barrier, it was simply astounding to watch him pick up subtle cues such as breathing (!!!) and to pick up as the orchestra started to play without being told where he was.
This transparency will only serve the public and the music community in the long run. Controversy and discussion is a good thing for classical music. It gets people engaged and turned on, and it makes people listen more closely. For me, I was definitely watching for the balance between orchestra and piano in Zhang’s piece, and it was absolutely sublime.
As for my favorites – I haven’t listened to everything, but I’ve come to realize that this is not a competition about who’s the best piano player, but it’s a competition of the musician with a unique point of view, or as the judges kept on saying, a pianist who has “something to say”. My favorites are Tsujii’s preliminary round (esp the Chopin etudes) and his Chopin concerto (his Rachmaninoff concerto tomorrow is going to be very exciting), Zhang’s semifinal recital (especially the Chopin preludes) and Mariangela Vacatello’s Beethoven concerto. Di Wu’s Rach 3 tomorrow will be something to look forward to as well, in addition to Tsujii’s final round recital.
If you haven’t caught the competition so far, plug your computer into your largest speakers (as I am now) and listen. You’re listening to the future of music, and it’s an amazing and rare glimpse into the world of classical music. The competition goes until tomorrow, and the winners will be announced tomorrow.
Click here to watch and be amazed and form an opinion and share your opinion with others. Who are your favorites??
Just for the fun of it… here’s a clip of Tsujii’s semifinal recital of Beethoven’s monumental “Hammerklavier”. I’m a bit torn about this performance (I’m referring to the full piece, not this clip). He’s not the most refined player almost the point of distraction, but there an intangible quality that’s extremely moving and unforgettable. I hope this video clip captures some of that. Opinions?
UPDATE: I am so thrilled with the conclusion! No one captured my heart as much as Tsujii and Zhang, as much as I admired Vacatello’s spunky bright sound and Yeol Eum Son’s sparkly brilliance that never quite reached crystal clarity for me. I really hope this means that we’ll see way more of Tsujii and Zhang in the future. Tsujii also won the Best Performance of a New Work, which I’m assuming is referring to his Musto piece (he was the only performer to perform it in its dreamy haziness), and I’m definitely going to go back and listen to Yeol Eum Son’s chamber music piece. I also agree with Bozhanov’s marvelous Franck chamber music piece that he did with the Takacs Quartet, both for his bold choice in picking this difficult piece as well as its masterful delivery.
For those of you looking to donate to the Van Cliburn foundation, it’s too bad that you can only donate $75 or more. It’s a shame that the foundation is missing out on smaller donations. You can support the foundation however by buying recital CD’s and DVD’s that are available for purchase (recitals only, no concertos or chamber music available). Click here for the Cliburn store. Hopefully this will be enough to keep this webcast free in future competitions! What a fun journey it’s been.
Now, what if I told you that he’s blind, since birth? He’s never read a note in his life (in the traditional sense, at least), and he has never seen the piano. Does that change your opinion of his playing?
Funny how the mind works. Bias is an invisible, elusive thing. I was flipping through some of the videos of the world famous Van Cliburn International Piano Competition which is amazingly live streamed across the internet. It’s incredibly addicting because the level of playing is so high and the intensity is palpable even through the internet. At a brief initial glance however, a lot of the competitors sounded the same to me. A huge part of this is no doubt due to the fact that I’m not listening live, but with the existing conditions, they all sounded really well studied, guarded, careful and precise. However, my ears perked up when I heard Nobuyuki Tsujii, the performer in the video above. He had the advantage of a fantastic beginning to the Chopin etudes, but his unique artistry stood out immediately. There was a warm flash to his playing layered with a well of sensitivity, a refreshing raw unfinished edge but real heart. A quick search on the Van Cliburn website led to his biography and information that he has been blind since birth. After acquiring that knowledge, I began to find his playing absolutely heartbreaking, even down to his practiced and awkwardly endearing bows. From my point of view, he isn’t technically the best player in the competition, yet I can’t help but to root for him.
Why is it that as audience members, we pore over artists’ biographies in the program? Their personal lives shouldn’t matter in the audience’s opinion of the artist and his or her art. Or does it, or more importantly, should it?
A friend of mine thinks it’s irrelevant that he’s blind, and pointed out that it would be more impressive if he played that way and he was deaf. True. He’s advanced to the semi finals, by the way. His semifinal chamber performance with the Takacs Quartet will be tomorrow afternoon if you want to tune in. I’m sending him the best of luck all the way over here from California.
I also listened to Stephen Beus who unfortunately didn’t advance to semi finals, but I liked the elegance in his playing.
Be sure to check out the live stream of the competition online, here. So worth it.
Who are your favorites, and who else should I check out? There are simply too many to listen to.
Picking a program to attend can be a tricky thing. It’s usually a balance of who’s performing as well as what’s being performed (what other factors are there in a concert?). The San Francisco Symphony’s program on Friday night wasn’t particularly screaming my name, yet it proved to be a night of new revelations.
The evening was under the tight direction of Yan Pascal Tortelier, and his collaboration with the symphony proved to be a luminous one. In the opening selection of George Bizet’s Music from L’Arlesienne, the symphony almost sounded like a completely different orchestra. Tortelier took a rather cliched piece and brought out a range of ravishing colors. From its confident start to a transparent sound brimming with crisp, articulated details, the orchestra came alive under his direction. The result was captivating, with Tortelier visibly encouraging the orchestra and seemed to have music spilling out of his very being that he had memorized, directing without a score.
Organ soloist Paul Jacobs
The Poulenc Organ Concerto in g minor followed, a piece unabashed in its innovation and dense ideas. The Poulenc showcases different facets of the instrument, including sounds that I’ve never thought the organ could do in my limited experience with this instrument. Poulenc seemed to play into the organ’s stereotypical sound of blaring dissonance sounding like the awesome angry voice of God, as well as openly flaunting its reputation by sounding like the flute or a stringed instrument in witty conversation with the orchestra. Soloist Paul Jacobs played with admirable authority, expertly commanding the complicated instrument. It was intriguing watching him at work, pulling out stops and watching his feet at work. I felt like I was discovering a completely new instrument, and a unique and even a little offbeat one at that.
The second half of the concert featured works by British composer, Ralph Vaughan Williams, a composer not often featured other than his ubiquitous rendition of “Greensleeves”. The Lark Ascending is a beautiful yet simple symphonic poem, reminiscent of a leaf blowing with the wind over stark moors in its plaintive melodies. Violin soloist Nadya Tichman’s gently musical style was a lovely and perfect fit for this piece. Vaughan Williams’ Symphony No. 4 in f minor was an elegant mess of a piece. Even in its most chaotic moments that maneuvered deftly over different keys and offbeats, there was a sense of dignity. Maybe this is a stereotypical British quality, but it was a complicated, intriguing mess that begs for a second experience.
This concert reminded me that the San Francisco Symphony is one of the city’s most precious treasures. It brings in interesting soloists and interesting works and creates masterpieces out of them, even in the most overplayed pieces. And, most of all, I forgot at how fun a concert can be. This was definitely one of the most fun I’d had at the symphony in a while.
Regarding the relationship between his music and dance, at around 42:30. (Thankfully, they cut me out of the video but Page repeats my question.) His answer became a multi-minute freeform association about dance, but it was fascinating to hear his stories about dancers and his admiration for the art and artists. He talks about his first forays into writing music for dance, and I can’t get the image of a 42 year old Philip Glass struggling with dance combinations out of my head. The entire conversation with music critic Tim Page was very good. He talks about minimalism in music, his recent performance in San Francisco with his Music in 12 Parts, his past and future projects, and more. My favorite part is that he’s a little bit of a geek. His candor was endearing and his thoughts, admirable. What’s not to love??
My initial writeup of this conversation, and a photo I snuck in, here.
