A picture is worth...part deux

Last Saturday morning at Jones Hall:



and that evening:



Does The Cat in the Hat and Wayne Brady trump Frosty the Snowman and Jimmy Carter? Vote!!

In conclusion, The Elements

Hi everyone, I hope all of our loyal fans weathered Hurricane Ike safely, and if you are reading this, it means...you have power!!!

Here is what the Houston Symphony learned in its (and all of our) intimate and volatile relationship with the elements recently. Hurricane Ike redefined the old show-biz adage "the Show Must Go On."

AIR: When hours of AIR at 110-120 MPH shatters window glass, and then causes said glass, continuously and after the fact, to fall out of skyscrapers through the AIR right near the show, the show must NOT go on.

WATER: When WATER is flooding the streets and bayous near the show, yet failing to come out, even in a trickle, treated and sanitized from our faucets for bathing and general hydration purposes, the show must NOT go on.

EARTH: When mud, uprooted and mangled trees and general EARTHly debris litter the roadways, buildings, and houses near the show, the show must NOT go on.

FIRE: When "Got Power?" has replaced or immediately follows "How are you doing?" the show should probably NOT go on. Also, do not operate generators or bonFIREs indoors, leave a candle burning unattended, or play with matches. Especially near the show. Thank you.


A BIG PS:

Come by the Hall this weekend. We have cold beverages, ICE, A/C, running water, and most importantly, an incredible performance of Shostakovich Symphony No. 13, with the poems that Shostakovich used as lyrics to write this epic and groundbreaking piece, being read by the very poet that wrote them, Yevgeny Yevtushenko. Besides being a snappy dresser, Yevtushenko stands as one of the most famous symbols in the struggle for human truth and freedom in the 20th century Soviet Union.



Above: Yevtushenko poet-ing. This outfit is tame compared to what he wore to rehearsal!

Air Tchaikovsky

Most people think we start our season on Opening Night, hence the name "Opening Night." But in fact, like sports teams, we also have quite a pre-season slew of events happen BEFORE Opening Night. We consider them "friendly matches" as well, a way to warm up into the routine and intensity of the season.

This week, literally taking my sports metaphor onto the playing field, we "played" at a Texans pre-season game against the Tampa Buckaneers (yarrgh! avast!). I say "played" because at halftime, we all trooped out onto the field (on the carefully assigned path, if there's one thing professional sports teams do NOT want you doing is messing up their turf, be it astro- or otherwise) in our concert blacks (appropriate football gear, dontcha think?) and proceeded to "play" the last movement of Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony. But as any rodeo-goer who has heard a concert in the Reliant Stadium can tell you, you can't "hear" a "concert" in the Reliant Stadium. It is, to put it in technical terms, follow me closely here, A F-R-I-G-G-I-N-' M-E-S-S. A noise soup. An indistinguishable slop-bucket of sound. You see, in such a cavernous space, there is something like a 3 minute reverb, and every different part of the stadium hears at different times yet also all at once.

Even with all modern technology has to offer, the best we can do is take a pre-recorded snippet of music (Tchaikovsky) and then do what legions of Guitar Hero fans have been doing for years before the gaming instrument of their salvation was invented- air viola. Or air trumpet, or air snare drum. You get the idea. But therein lies the rub- it turns out professional musicians really CAN'T air-play. It's really hard!

So there we were, in our concert blacks, trying not to let our heels and endpins mar the turf, trying to look like we WERE playing for the fans and cameras, in accompaniment to music that once we HAD played, but without making a sound. Some instruments just simply cannot do this, and every now and then the aurally restrained music coming out in real time would TOTALLY clash with what we were kind of hearing (you still have to keep in mind the reverb, even with amplified assist) out of the speakers. That is the worst kind of nails-on-chalkboard kind of thing to professional musicians, so then you had everyone trying to compensate not only to each other but also the recorded sound, end result= cacophony.

Well, at least to us on the field. But to the people in the stands, I think all they heard (in a beery sort of way) was that there was a REALLY COOL piece being played by an ACTUAL SYMPHONY during halftime at a football game. I like to think the ring of cacophony ended a foot outside our circle, letting the fans hear only the intended music. There were high-fives and cheers all around as we left the field, a hero's reception. Just like a scene from Friday Night Lights.

I'd do it again. Anything that de-mystifies "scary" classical music to the people is fine by me. Only next time, I gotta practice my air-Tchaikovsky.

How long does it take to install a choir?

I've been quite busy since the last entry, my faithful bloggie lurkers, playing upon my little viola here, on the East Coast, and south of the border. In the process I've gotten some perspective on how differently things work around the world:

In case you didn't know, in the U.S. orchestras are run by boards and committees comprised of philanthropic volunteers that meet and vote to hire the executive staff, management and even conductor, who then are responsible for hiring other staff and musicians. Except for small governmental educational and community grants for community projects, all of the money must be raised and comes from donations from individuals, foundations, and corporations. Ticket sales only make up about 30% of the income. But south of the border (and almost everywhere but in the USA) orchestras are completely government-supported. The money comes from the government, and the staff and management are government employees and answer to the Ministry of Culture. Pros: Ticket prices in Mexico are quite low and as a result, the act of going to a classical concert is commonplace. The audiences are diverse in age and financial status. Classical music is accessible to everyone; there is no stigma of elitism to intimidate people from coming to cultural events, and more people are educated about it. Cons: Since the government has the final say on matters of salary and artistic production, things move at the lightning speed of corrupt bureaucracy. And when musicians want to take any action it often becomes quite politically drastic. I heard accounts of hunger strikes by conductors trying to hang on to their positions. Even better, apparently there was a certain section of the orchestra that at one point decided to try and kidnap that week's guest conductor by sending him a note to his hotel saying that the rehearsal location had been changed, and a "taxi" (driven presumably by the kidnapper's accomplices) would come to pick him up to take him to the new location (luckily, the plot was foiled).

Here in the U.S., such shenanigans would never fly, though that doesn't stop us from occasionally fantasizing. I DID hear a great story from a friend of mine who happens to have just joined our Board of Directors (a.k.a. the philanthropic volunteers). She loves Mahler's Second Symphony so much that she actually sneaked into the choir to sing the performance (this was a University concert, not a professional symphonic one). She dressed like the chorus members and shared a seat with her friend/accomplice on the chorus risers. I admire her chutzpah, but I don't recommend trying this at your Houston Symphony concerts!! Our tough stagehands will manhandle you off stage. One of them used to be in the circus, you know.

Speaking of Mahler 2, was anyone else stymied at the very long pause between movements 2 and 3 of our Mahler performance earlier this month? Traditionally this is when the choir comes on stage. Since they don't sing until the end of the last movement, it is kinder than having them wait over an hour before uttering a note. But choirs are not known for their hustle. It must be something about the robes, and the processional nature of a large group of singers navigating risers and safety rails. They were nothing if not..STATELY. It made me wonder-just how long does it take to install a choir anyway? I bet in Mexico they would've moved a little faster-Safety rails? we don't need no steenkin' safety rails!

Tonight through this weekend we are performing our last subcription concert of the season. It is a Spanish-flavored program -two pieces of De Falla, Rimsky-Korsakov's Capriccio Espagnol, and featuring Rodrigo's Guitar Concerto, performed by Elliot Fisk. The Chronicle featured a piece on him yesterday that said he was "the last student of famed classical guitarist Andres Segovia to achieve an international career." Which begs the question- what about Charo (whose real name is María del Rosario Pilar Martínez Molina Baeza Rasten)? She "cuchi-cuchi'd" her way across the deck of the Love Boat all throughout the 1970's. THEY were cruising international waters. She also studied with Segovia. I'd call that an "international career."

Midterm Q and A

OK readers, I've gotten a few questions unrelated to the subjects of my blog posts in the last couple of days, and they are good questions, so I am going to post them (and my answers) here. Hopefully that will generate a whole slew of queries on all and sundry HS type subjects, which I will be happy to answer HERE in this blog thread.

Q: I called the symphony the other day to ask a question about the upcoming Saint-Saens organ symphony.The customer service rep said that wind instruments would be used in place of the organ, as there is no organ in Jones Hall. Is that true? In that case I might spend the extra money and see the Beethoven seventh even tho it's not a wavelength concert. (Didn't you say the seventh was your fav?) -John

A: Hi John, it's true there isn't a pipe organ in Jones Hall; however, we usually use something the musicians not-so-affectionately refer to as "the mighty Wurlitzer" (an electric beast-think funeral home dirge). The word backstage last time I asked was that there is a "new solution," and it will be "much better." There IS an official organist listed on the program- and a very fine player- Matthew Dirst, so I know the part will not be distributed *gasp* to the winds, but sadly it will not be a traditional pipe organ. Maybe all you organ aficionados can start a grass-roots campaign for the city to install one in Jones Hall, or better yet, build us a real Symphony Hall (Jones is "multi-purpose") with a wheezy, be-piped organ beast of our very own.

However, you should ALSO come to Beethoven 7th, because it IS THE BEST PIECE EVER WRITTEN ON THE PLANET.

Q. Hi Rita, Just a quick note to follow up. I am totally hooked on your blog! It makes me wish I had stuck with violin all those years ago. I made a mistake in "Lightly Row" in my first performance at age 6 and refused to ever play again! Thanks again, Kris

A. Hi Kris, glad you like it! Were you a Suzuki Method student? I was- and my mother tricked me into my first concert at age 5- I had no idea what was going on, was pushed onto stage and when the curtain went up and I saw all those people- tears!!! I think it was "Lightly Row" as well! That piece should be banned!! Ha! Think of all the money made by therapists over the years on "Lightly Row Trauma Syndrome" or LRTS!!

My pal Louie

Everyone knows a guy like my pal Louie. Intensely awkward, prone to say the wrong thing in delicate social situations, always falling for the wrong or unavailable girl...my pal Louie was one of those guys. A kind person would call him stocky, but no matter what, his clothes never fit right. More often than not you'd see him striding down the street with shirt misbuttoned, clothes not matching, hair untamed, muttering to himself. He existed in his own very rich inner world, with the frequent consequence of passionate outbursts that had no relation to the situation or topic at hand. Louie was slightly paranoid and when he was younger, prone to delusions of grandeur. Having had a difficult relationship with his alcoholic father (a dour, frustrated man who worked in a thankless government position) and highly protective of and devoted to his mother, at one point he became convinced that he was not his father's son; according to Louie, his mother must have conceived him with a better-bred, more intelligent man.

If Necessity is the mother of invention, then Hardship is the father of inspiration. Like many a genius -for make no mistake, Louie was a genius- his early life was shaped by tragedy and hardship. When he was 16 his mother died, followed shortly by his baby sister. Louie became the de facto head of the family, responsible for the welfare of his father and brothers. Having already exceeded his father's skills, he petitioned and got permission from his father's bosses to receive half of his father's salary. This would ensure that Louie would have the money to use in support of his family, rather than drunk away on a bar stool. The employer agreed to this on the one condition that his father retire immediately and perhaps even leave town; however, Louie never had the heart to rob his father of all dignity in this way, so he never went through with the petition.

So you see, for all his lack of social skills, paranoid fantasies and general irascibility, Louie had an awful lot of heart. And after the death of his burdensome father, Louie's early adulthood was marked by productivity and success. Though he tried to alienate them with his gruff manner and blunt honesty, he managed to flourish with the help and intervention of his friends, who discreetly did things like replace his old clothes with new, find him places to live and work undisturbed, take him on holidays in the country. All for the simple fact that when they were around him, they couldn't help but feel that they were in the presence of something like a higher genius, an incredible force that represented perhaps the best humanity could ever dare to offer.

Any psychologist will tell you that people who have experienced loss and responsibility such as Louie had in his teens, become wary of good fortune. They may feel like they don't deserve it; they may feel like nothing good can ever happen to them. It is like a superstition; and Louie remarked about it to one of his friends at the time: "Sometimes I feel that all this undeserved fame will drive me crazy; for once, good luck is seeking ME and because of that I dread a fresh disaster." Self-fulfilling prophecy or not, the worst tragedy was still to come. Louie, the genius musician, for whom the ability to hear, analyze and create sounds was of paramount importance, was slowly going deaf. "For almost two years," he wrote to a doctor friend, "I have ceased to attend any social functions, just because I find it impossible to say to people, 'I am deaf.' If I had any other profession I might be able to cope with this sickness, but in my profession it is a terrible handicap. And if my enemies, of whom I have a fair number, were to hear about it, what would they say?"

Poor Louie! Cut off from everything precious to him! Forced into seclusion to be even more misunderstood than he already was, just when life was becoming less of a hardship. This stunning development sent him into the most violent mood swings, and at age 28, he wrote a goodbye letter to his brothers: "..men who think I am malevolent, stubborn, or misanthropic, how greatly you wrong me... from childhood on, my heart and soul have been full of the tender feeling of goodwill, and I was inclined to accomplish great things...though born with a fiery, active temperament, susceptible to the diversions of society, I was soon compelled to withdraw myself...I must live alone, like one banished...if I approach near to people a hot terror seizes me, and I fear being exposed-that my condition might be noticed....driven to despair....I would have ended my life..it was only my ART that held me back."

I spent one crazy night in Vienna years ago, armed with a Sony Walkman (*gasp*, pre iPod!) full of his music. As I played it, I wandered to each place where Louie had written that particular piece. Though I could never know if what I heard through the headphones was what he heard in his own head, I wanted to see what he saw with his eyes, smelled the old cobblestone, brick, and musty corridors, touched the surfaces..I wanted to try to recreate his environment of creation, of all the senses, save one, cruelly left to perhaps the greatest musical mind of all time.

Our Louie.

for another Beethoven immersion experience, please attend our daylong Beethoven festival in Jones Hall this Saturday, March 8, from 10 am- 11 pm. Symphonies, quartets, trios, sonatas, dramatic works, a film and lectures will be presented, along with the presence of actual Louie DNA, a lock of the master's hair (and the analysis of that, boys and girls, we will save for another blog).

Are You Interested in Photography?

Run, don't walk, over to the Houston Symphony this weekend for a stunning production of Strauss' Alpensinfonie, accompanied by photos taken by photographer/cellist Tobias Melle.

The photos are projected on a giant screen over the orchestra and change with the various points of narrative in Strauss' music. Since the name of the piece is "The Alpine Symphony," you can infer the subject of the photo montage. Thanks to today's technology, all sorts of fade in/out effects are seamlessly used (though at one point during the dress rehearsal today, I experienced a little motion sickness- the panoramic shot that panned a little too fast).

Richard Strauss is one of the few composers that dealt almost exclusively in program music; that is to say, music that is composed specifically with a story in mind. In music this is not quite as obvious as it is in art, (think Soup Cans vs. splatters) but really most of the time with "Program Music" the themes and their subjects are pretty obvious. But hey, this is America, home of "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?" where apparently it PAYS to be obvious.

My small tangent of bitter dissatisfaction with the dumbing down of our country aside, in the case of this production, the photos really do add to the piece. Its like accessing visual umami (take THAT "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader!!"). It adds another dimension to the listening experience that actually in adding, creates something more than the sum of its parts. People who have experienced listening to great works of music while traveling through breathtaking scenery may know of what I speak.

While I have yet to find light waterproof speakers with sufficient decibel levels that I can attach to my hiking daypack, I have had moments like this while driving at top speed through the Arizona desert at night, blasting either Elgar's or Dvorak's Cello Concerto through the car stereo with the windows rolled down. And here's an eerie coincidence- we are ALSO, on the same program, playing Elgar's Cello Concerto with our Principal Cellist Brinton Averil Smith as the soloist. There won't be any accompanying scenery for the Elgar, you will have to use something called "your imagination" for that one. But never fear, the multi media show commences at the start of the second half, and you will be pulled along with us on the breathtaking journey.

I hope to see you there (though you won't see me, we will be in the dark) and welcome any descriptions of musical umami from you loyal readers! Where were you and what was playing when you had your transcendental experience? Inquiring minds want to know!