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Controversy

Wow, that Roberto Sierra Mass really stirred thing up with our loyal readers! All I can say to all of your comments (see the previous post) is that as many opinions as our audience had, our musicians also had. You guys out there are just a good a sampling of musical opinions and tastes as any group of people would be, "classically trained" or not. Keep up the dialogue guys! (and for my part, I liked the La Bamba section, the Oye Como Va section, and a lot of the other sections but agree it was a bit long-winded!)

See below for highlights from our readers:

"It’s not often when, before the concert, the usher stands in front of your section and announces that going to the rest room during the intermission is probably going to be a good idea. At that point I knew this was not going to be a typical evening with the HSO."

"It was brilliant and the HSO’s performance was superb."

"I'm not a musician, so I can't really appreciate the 'technical' aspect of the piece. In all honesty, I haven't quite heard the entire piece ... I left during intermission!!. But what I have heard of it did not sound like anything I would pay to hear again--or even want to hear again. If I was new to the symphony that night (especially considering how Beethoven was first on the program), I probably wouldn't have gone back."

"The way I see it; it is the responsibility – even duty – of a major symphony orchestra to perform all major classical works of significance for the general public to hear. In the last few decades Roberto Sierra has immerged as one of the major classical composures of modern times. Even though entertainment is a very important part of any “for profit” musical organization; education also falls under the parameters of what a symphony orchestra is to provide."

"to put it in a form of musical theatre jargon; one might look at this concert as the Beethoven being the spoon full of sugar that helps the medicine - Missa Latina - go down. But let me tell you; Roberto Sierra’s Missa Latina is on fine piece of modern day classical composition. And… the HSO’s presentation of Beethoven’s Eight was truly a spoon full of sugar."

Why Classical Music is NOT dead

Enough said.

Mad Finns and Wolves

I'm just fresh off the stage at Jones Hall, where this weekend's repertoire is Ravel's La Valse, Stravinsky's A Fairy's Kiss, and Brahms Piano Concerto. Conductor, Hannu Lintu; soloist, Hélène Grimaud . That is not what was SUPPOSED to be on the program, nor is the conductor the one that was SUPPOSED to be leading us this weekend.

By the end of May 2009, the 2008-09 Houston Symphony season may be looked at as the "oops-deked ya!" season. It started with Ike's forced two week cancellations, went on to fevered Greeks with fiendish determination, continued with unrequited reconciliations (our former music director Andre Previn cancelling his April appearance), and this week, because of a small matter of childbirth, guest conductor Xian Zhang would not be conducting. Luckily, and I mean EXTREMELY luckily for us, a favorite stick-beater from last season, Hannu Lintu, was available. Of course, with last minute artist substitutions, it is not unusual that repertoire would also change, because who has every last piece in the world ready to conduct at his/her fingertips? More unusual was the appointed soloist changing from Beethoven to Brahms a week before the concert, but hey, if you raise wolves you gotta be somewhat adaptable, no?

At the first rehearsal, the mad Finn (come on, click on the hyperlink, you know you want to), who is the repository of fiendish smiles, gave us one and said "Let's hurry up and rehearse the program before anything else gets changed." Ironically, (or not so much) the next day when the pianist was supposed to show up to her rehearsal we were informed that her plane from South America was delayed and we would have a piano stunt-double play the part of Hélène until her plane landed. When she finally did arrive for the last 45 minutes of rehearsal, she played as if we had rehearsed all week, she is another one with some mad Skillz, both with wolves and piano.

But this is all really a lot of unnecessary though colorful background for the REAL story, which is the mad Finn. He is generating a lot of buzz backstage, and the fact that backstage is buzzing at all is amazing because us old jaded orchestra players usually flee the backstage at the first opportunity...no chance to buzz.
***bzzz***
"He looks like Mick Jagger" bzzz bzzz
"with Jimmy Stewart's accent" "from the eyebrows up he could be Jim Carrey as the Grinch" bzz bzzz bzzzz

Lintu/Carrey/Jagger/Stewart. I told a colleague today how much I was enjoying the rehearsals. His reply: "Really? I can't follow him. But what a musician."

Which led me to study him harder during the concert. Why could some of us follow him and other colleagues couldn't? I started to wonder if we all looked at different body parts for a clue as to the tempo. Yes, if you looked at the end of the stick (baton), it was actually impossible. By the end of the Stravinsky, I came to the conclusion that I NEVER look at the end of the stick. I believe I was watching the twitching of the right shoulder...or maybe it was the left elbow...both knees...the lower lip? Maybe it was the general kinetics of his motion that gave me the hints I needed to musical direction...I was watching for MUSIC, not for BEAT. And there may be the answer. Leonard Bernstein's beat was also impossible to follow, but he gave the direction in other ways, rocking on the balls of his feet, twitching his torso, lifting his shoulders.

Lintu: Hair standing hilariously on end. Intense smirks, winks, grins, glares, and nods. Limbs flailing comically but always with the utmost drama and direction. Is that good all the time? Time will tell, but it sure is a hell of a lot of fun.



Finland Finland Finland..
the country where I want to be
your mountains so lofty, your treetops so tall
Finland Finland Finland,
Finland has it all

Star Wars-Episode VII :Clash of the Nerds

I think most symphonic musicians will tell you that they like to play the music of John Williams. The reasons are many: the music is well written. John Williams knows what he's doing, compositionally. We like the movies.

What happens when you pair a group of classical musicians with a group of die-hard Star Wars fans that specialize in dressing up in character? Certain similarities are made clear, as any attendee of this weekends' "Star Wars and More: music of John Williams" could see.

Top Ten Similarities between the South Texas Star Garrison and the Houston Symphony:

10. Pasty complexions due to weekends spent indoors honing our craft/costumes/practicing/welding breastplate armor/making reeds
9. Ewoks/children's choirs need to kept under firm control at all times
8. We always Feel the Force
7. Sometimes ya gotta buy an extra seat on the plane for the Wookie/Doublebass
6. You can never have enough laser light effects
5. Work your A** off all you like, but in the end, its a pile of hardware (R2D2/percussion) that can steal the scene
4. We're a big hit at birthday parties and nursing homes
3. Light sabers and bows are quite interchangeable in backstage swordfights
2. Getting up in front of thousands of people while channeling fictional characters is what we do best

and

1. When the tall scary guy in black raises his arms, we fall silent.


Below: violist Wei Jiang, Jedi in a tux
Below that: our tall scary guy in black, Maestro Michael Krajewski temporarily subdued by more Jedi Knights...or is he?

Mad Violin Skillz

2009 is shaping up to be an interesting year. In the last 24 hours, two heroes have entered my area of awareness: Sullenberger, the pilot of the US Airways jet that had to emergency land in the Hudson after the engines were taken out by geese, and our violin soloist this weekend, Leonidas Kavakos, who will be playing the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto with a 103 degree fever.

That guy has got some mad violin skillz. I've written twice before on this blog about how the show must go on, and how ill or injured musicians can pull on amazing adrenaline reserves, kinda like car crash victims, but the Tchaikovsky takes some serious chops to pull off, and this guy has got chops to spare. A regular well-stocked charcuterie, that one, no shortage of chops there, even in times of dire virus.

OK I admit to my pro-Kavakos bias. He is a fellow Greek, and well, there isn't a huge Greek classical music tradition compared to, say, Germany. Some people would even put forth that the highlight of Greek classical culture ended over two millenia ago. To them, I say.... we've got Callas- and Kavakos-among others, so just shut up and finish your spanakopita like a good little hypocrite (Hypocrite comes from from Greek hupocrits, actor, from hupokrnesthai, to play a part, pretend...yes, we Greeks really do on occasion behave like that movie).

From a string players perspective, Kavakos is da bomb. In the last 50 years, American conservatories have turned out well-oiled violinists like clockwork. They are all quite pleasant to listen to and easily identified as to the location of their factory (to continue my awful metaphor) by a few telling characteristics. Kavakos, who was trained mainly in Greece and then a little while in America, defies all expectations and boundaries. He is his own artist, a consummate storyteller, and fever or no, it will be a concert to remember.

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!

All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go

Top Ten Things To Do During the Writer's Guild Strike of 2007

10. Watch Baywatch reruns on TV Land. Long live the Hoff!
9. In keeping with the Star Trek-Boston Legal connection, try to convince Majel Barrett Roddenberry to create some new storylines to keep William Shatner's cash flow going.
8. Catch up on some Holiday Catalog reading.
7. Convince yourself that reality TV outside of anything starring Gordon Ramsey is really interesting.
6. Start laminating Houston Symphony trading cards to enhance their eBay value.
5. Have some fun with your friends' heads on JibJab.
4. Go through the HS Wavelength Blog Archives, and see how fun it is to read this blog, translated into pirate-speak. Arrr!
3. Fer Pete's sake, go outside and get some fresh air!! Run! Bike! Walk your dog!
2. Now that you're not sitting ON the couch, fish under the cushions and take all your newfound wealth to the Houston Symphony Store and buy Symphomaniac merchandise for all your loved ones for Christmas.


and the number one thing to do during the Writer's Guild Strike of 2007 is:

1. Get your sorry self to the Houston Symphony this Friday, Saturday, or Sunday to see how many percussion instruments Evelyn Glennie needs to drown out a symphony orchestra!!! Oh, and the Prokoviev is pretty good, too.

A rose by any other name.....

Tonight we are playing a concert with Kenny G. I don't know whether or not you'd call "G" his stage name, or just an abbreviation. Yesterday while rehearsing our Classical weekend concert with Emanuel Ax, we were informed that "Mr. G's" plane would be late, so rehearsal today would start late as well. "Mr. G?" Is that like "Mr. T?" As in "I pity the fool that don't think I am the best damn smooth jazz golfer in the WORLD!"

Let's be honest here, people. Stage names USUALLY, though not always, substitute for a very unfortunate real name. As in G for "Gorelick." Yikes. Last summer we played with Clayton Holmes Grissom (Clay Aiken). Actually, the Houston Symphony's Who's Who of unmanageable last names is quite the tongue twister: Anthony Dominick Benedetto (Tony Bennett), Florencia Bisenta de Casillas Martinez Cardona (Vicki Carr). Declan Patrick McManus (Elvis Costello), Vito Farinola (Vic Damone), Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr. (John Denver), Christina Claire Ciminella (Wynonna Judd), Sidney Leibowitz (Steve Lawrence), Rosita Dolores Alverio (Rita Moreno), and Louis Weertz (Roger Williams)...to name a few of the ones that will 'fess up.

Then there are musicians that probably SHOULD take stage names. Check out this link to an album cover from a fairly famous jazz pianist/organist, (stop snickering, are we in Kindergarten?) Dick Hyman.
Reinhold Jockisch was a famous musician from the mid 19th century whose edited string parts are widely used today. On the other side of the coin, we have Arnold George Dorsey, who took a perfectly fine name and decided to mess up data entry workers everywhere by seeking fame as Englebert Humperdinck. Not to be confused with the COMPOSER Englebert Humperdinck, of "Hansel and Gretel" fame, who didn't change his name to Arnold Dorsey, or anything else.

Of course, this blog's descent into the banal would not be complete without the story of colleagues in university music departments that sign up fake students (in honor of one of the oldest running Simpsons gags) to take their yearly final jury exams--just for a little levity when the proctor calls out their names. Ben Dover, Mike Rochitches, and Oliver Klosoff were some of those gems. I'll stop while I'm ahead....or at least only a little behind... and leave you with a few outlets.

I need to get to Macy's anyway- I hear they're having a sale on my favorite bedsheets- from Polo by Ralph Lifchitz (Doesn't exactly conjure up images of genteel English countryside, does it?).

Communism and American Music: a.k.a. I Love a Good Conspiracy Theory

This week we are performing works by two of the most quintessential American composers of all time: Samuel Barber and Aaron Copland. And BTW, that is pronounced “Cope-land,” and is NOT a movie starring Sly Stallone, Harvey Keitel, Robert DeNiro, and Ray Liotta. We’re talking serious, historical, classical music here kids, not a serious, fictional, police corruption/Mafia flick. Though Italians DO figure heavily in both Classical music and Mafia films….hmmm…I’ll leave that one to the true conspiracy theorists.

Speaking of conspiracy theories, here’s some more dish: Because of the "Red Scare" and Congressional and FBI investigations, Copland was blacklisted in the 50’s for being sympathetic to the American Communist Party. Now check this out: the Third Symphony (1946), performed this week, contains in its entirety his brass piece, “Fanfare for the Common Man.” The fanfare was composed in 1942 as a contribution to a series of wartime fanfares commissioned by Eugene Goossens (then conductor of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra). It would later be used to open many Democratic National Conventions, as well as be played at top military funerals and State events. Copland himself said he felt free to recycle it because he never expected the original fanfare to attain such remarkable popularity as it had done. So, the Third Symphony, with its perceived symbolism-- of that of the end of World War II, a successful struggle that had been pursued with idealism and national unity, and which left the country entering a period of new prosperity and new thoughts about itself; that patriotic and heroic piece, was composed by a man who less than a decade later was blacklisted for being a communist and anti-American!! Well, maybe it was the parallels drawn by musicologists between the Third Symphony and Shostakovich’s Symphonies….. and it has been further noted that Copland shared a bit of the Russian composer's fascination with Mahler…..And really, that title: “Fanfare for the Common Man” How Marxist is that?

Now watch if you can, comrades, my deft slight-of-hand, as I weave Samuel Barber into my wacky web: Barber composed one of my favorite violin concertos that we are playing with the amazing virtuostic violinist superstar Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg (eerie music here….she comes from Italian-Russian descent!!!!). His most famous piece is probably the “Adagio for Strings;” like the “Fanfare for the Common Man,” it is also played at many funerals and somber State events! What’s more, here is an excerpt from a letter that he sent his mother at the tender age of nine:

“Dear Mother: I have written to tell you my worrying secret. Now don’t cry when you read it because it is neither yours nor my fault. I suppose I will have to tell it now, without any nonsense. To begin with I was not meant to be an athlete. I was meant to be a composer, and will be I’m sure. I’ll ask you one more thing .—Don’t ask me to try to forget this unpleasant thing and go play football.—Please—Sometimes I’ve been worrying about this so much that it makes me mad (not very).”

NOT PLAY FOOTBALL?!?!?!?! How un-American is that? I bet he even hated apple pie. And here’s one last thing (hey, was that a sigh of relief I heard from the peanut gallery?): Because of his being blacklisted, Copland’s “A Lincoln Portrait” was withdrawn from the 1953 inaugural concert for President Eisenhower. Obviously in support of his Commie comrade, Barber often carried around Lincoln Portraits –cleverly disguised as five dollar bills- in his wallet!!!!!

See ya next time- I’ve got to go put on my aluminum foil helmet against the space aliens. They’re watching, you know.

Back from the wild

Hello suckers...I mean loyal Wavelength subscribers and bloggie guests. The Houston Symphony is back in season. We the musicians have as usual been escaping the heat/ gallivanting around the world since you saw us last, from the grassy plains of Iowa to the volcanic crags of Mount Kilimanjaro.

A good number of Houston Symphony musicians go for 2-3 weeks to the Grand Teton Music Festival. It's a pretty light schedule there, only 4 rehearsals and 2 concerts a week, so come afternoons you can see most of the musicians on a mountain, hopping over streams, sliding down scree, running from grizzlies...One year I remember walking down a very heavily traveled, paved trail to find a group of tourists taking pictures 3 feet away from a baby grizzly. "It's OK," one Hawaiian shirt-clad woman told my rapidly retreating back, "it would've attacked by now, if it was going to." "I don't think its mama cares much about that," I muttered back, reflecting on clueless cityfolk and theories of Darwinism in general.

This year was a VERY good wildlife encounter year for me; by which I mean plenty of viewings not involving scrambling up a tree or crouching to protect my soft tasty underbelly. My dog Stella and I managed to flush out moose (meese? mooses?), foxes, snakes, and most exciting of all, a Great Grey Owl. Fellow Houston Symphony member/violinist Marina and I were hiking up to a mountain called Oliver's Peak when I saw a huge movement to the left of the trail. It was daytime, perfectly sunny and warm, and the owl with her six foot wingspan flew across the trail, paused on a branch not 2 feet from me, assessed my dog for snack potential, (found her wanting) and flew off.

"Can you believe that?" I said excitedly to Marina.
"Believe what? I had a rock in my shoe" she answered.
"...you...you didn't see it?"
"See what?"

Apparently staring at shoes has caused Marina to miss many a sighting. She told me she's missed Rod Stewart standing right next to her in Jackson, Wyoming, because she was fixated on a pair of shoes in the Jackson Bootlegger (dubbed "Bootlicker" by festival musicians).

The Rod Stewart near-sighting was confirmed by the newspaper. It's not unusual to see celebs in Jackson. Many a violist (not naming names) has spent a rehearsal conniving how to get "rescued" by Harrison Ford in his helicopter. Actually, part of the fun of concerts in the Tetons is the "spot the celeb" game. This is usually delivered in a series of urgent whispers in between movements of pieces.

"psst! Robert Wagner, 3rd row center!!"
"You mean the guy sitting next to William Shatner?"
"That's not William Shatner, that's Jon Voight!"
"Really? Maybe....hey look! Edie Falco!! Next to Bob Hope!! Hey, isn't Bob Hope dead?"

I feel sorry for the non-celeb victims of all these unconfirmed sightings. Do they wonder why everyone on stage is staring at them? Do they check their teeth for spinach? The sudden growth of a third eye?

Even better, in my opinion, are guest artists, or conductors that look like famous personalities (though maybe not any more famous than they are in their own minds). Then what you hear, sotto voce in between movements, are things like:

"Hey, I didn't know Colonel Sanders/Bob's Big Boy/Skeletor/David Hasselhoff conducts/plays the piano/violin.."

You know you're not in Houston when...

Greetings from the Big Apple!

It's the time of year for my yearly three week stint at New York University, where I teach and play at a String Quartet seminar. This year, a whole gaggle of Wavelength members/readers/blog contributors have come to see what all the fuss is about. Tonight, as they are attending a New York Philharmonic concert (oh right, that OTHER orchestra), I am putting together their thoughts about the city into electrons for all of you NOT here with us to enjoy.

You know you're not in Houston when...



10. "WALK" means walk, and "DON'T WALK" means haul ass.

9. The weather actually follows the meteorologists' predictions from hour to hour.

8. Aloha! You give your change to a homeless person's Hawaii fund.

7. The public transportation is efficient and you can't make an illegal left turn into it.

6. You plan your outfit according to how many blocks you have to walk.

5. The roaches have roaches.

4. Jaywalking is not a crime, its a way of life.

3. Enchiladas, bad; bagels, good.

2. You can buy a knock-off copy of the fabulous purse that the transvestite hobo is carrying from the street vendor down the block.

1. You call someone a "Symphomaniac" and they deck you.

Hope to see y'all/youse guys next week in Houston at Jones Hall for the Led Zeppelin or Disney concert!

Idol, Part 3: Ima Hogg Competition

Well kids, it's a few hours before the finals of the Houston Symphony Ima Hogg competition. This is the second year we have done it "American-Idol" style, holding the finals in public and letting the audience participate in the voting. Also for the second year, the finalists (four of them) are accompanied by the Houston Symphony during the final round. This was a big hit last year and seems like it will be even bigger this year.

The prizes are not as monetarily big as AI, but are prestigious enough in our small classical world: the first prize winner is given a concert with the Houston Symphony in Jones Hall and a small cash award of $5000. The second prize is given $2,500 and a summer outdoor performance with the Houston Symphony. The third prize is $1,000, no concert, ditto the fourth prize, with a check for $500.

Really, having made it to the finals is a win in itself. Especially now that all finalists get to play the "Finalist" concert with the orchestra, and a good conductor, in an acoustically very nice hall like Rice's Stude Hall. Way better than the underwater muffled sounds of Jones Hall, and way, way better than playing an amplified concert outside at Miller Theatre in the dead heat of a Houston summer.

I can't give my picks out for the winners- I don't want to jinx it. Suffice to say that last year, the orchestra favorite did not win first. We think it was because her piece was not as technically demanding as the person that won first. Which really opens up a can of worms: do you give more points to someone who plays an "easy" piece with great beauty and artistry, or someone who plays a "hard" piece, maybe not as perfectly or beautifully, but give them points for having the cojones to do it in the first place?

This is the big problem with all competitions, any competition. It happens in the Olympics, on American Idol, on Dancing With the Stars.

This year the repertoire played by the four finalists are not as disparate in terms of technicality, it should be interesting to see what happens. I think the big question will be one of instrument popularity. Tune in on KUHF to the live radio broadcast and vote for your favorite on the KUHF website or the HS website!

Legends

The classical music world lost a beloved figure on April 27 with the death of Russian cellist and conductor Mstislav Rostropovich.

Many of us string player types grew up listening to his many recordings. For me, it was his Tchaikovsky "Variations on a Roccoco Theme." Later on, I not only had the pleasure of playing in an orchestra where he was the soloist, but working with him as a conductor (he was the conductor, I was the violist).

In 1990, I was the only American representing Germany in the "Deutsches-Sowietisches Jungendorchester (German-Soviet Youth Orchestra)," in a residency in Portugal collaborating with the Kirov Ballet. Slava was the conductor and part-producer of this production of Prokoviev's Romeo and Juliet. The shows took place in an ancient Roman amphitheater just over the Spanish border in Badajoz. The orchestra was seated on stage behind the action. Because of that (or because of some sadistic/manic Russian costumer), we had to wear these really hot and heavy monk's robes. Another crazy thing about the production was that the dress rehearsals had to take place at 2:30 a.m. "Because of the heat..the dancers...your robes..." was the reason we were given. It seemed strange at the time, but not necessarily much stranger than many things seem when you are in your early 20's. I remember on the day (night?) before the dress rehearsal we were advised to go to bed early so we could be rested in time to get up and meet the bus at 1 a.m. Apparently no one told Slava this, because he started wandering around at 9 PM looking for musicians to have a rehearsal with. Or go drinking with, I can't remember..it's all a vodka soaked blur at this point.

There were a few things that stick in my mind about the first performance. The last note of the piece is one chord that is held for a few minutes. Us monks were astonished though when our beloved Slava stopped conducting right at the beginning of the note, walked downstage to the inert bodies of Romeo and Juliet (who had died within inches of each other, arms outstretched towards each other but not touching), grabbed their hands and clasped them together on his knee, his head bowed over it, to tumultuous applause. This way, way, over-the-top melodramatic moment was diminished a few moments later when a section of the super-duper VIP (read: countesses and such) seating collapsed into the ancient subterranean Roman gladiator waiting rooms over which it had been shoddily constructed. For a moment the Maestro was confused, thinking the screams were ones of approval and adoration, but sadly, they were screams of panic and trampling.

Luckily, no one was seriously hurt and the production continued its run to huge, un-collapsing crowds and greater adulations.