Feast of Music

Reunion

I only ended up making it to one of the two concerts I intended to this past Sunday - and was late at that - but it was clearly the one not to miss. Tashi, a quartet that first played together over thirty-five years ago, consists of the world's leading clarinetist (Richard Stoltzman), one of the world's leading pianists (Peter Serkin), the world's foremost contemporary music cellist (Fred Sherry) and the former violinist of the Beaux Arts Trio (Ida Kavafian). They broke the mold in more ways than one: they performed in casual clothes, wore long hair, and were the first classical group to appear at a New York nightclub,  playing the now-defunct Bottom Line.

These four formidable musicians joined forces with one particular piece of music in mind: Olivier Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time. They studied the piece directly with Messiaen, and would end up performing it over 200 times during the five years of their existence, producing a best-selling recording that is still considered the gold standard. (Alex Ross considers it one of the top ten classical recordings ever made.) They decided to reunite for the centennial of Messiaen's birth, choosing the Free For All at Town Hall series to make their first New York appearance in over thirty years.

The quartet, split into eight sections and nearly an hour in length, was written by Messiaen in a WWII prisoner camp, scored for the musicians he had at his disposal. (Messiaen himself played piano.) It lives in a mysterious, otherworldly soundscape, alternately soothing and terrifying, astringent and tonal. Serkin - a master of Messiaen's notoriously difficult piano music - exploded onto the keyboard, lurching across his bench in fits of energy. Stoltzman played the long solo of the 3rd section with astonishing authority and grace. The fifth section had Sherry playing sad and tender, full of quavering notes that mirrored the cold, harsh conditions of the camp. In between, there were dissonant blasts and brute fortissimos that sent meeker patrons fleeing for the exits.

The final section is an intimate, achingly beautiful passage for violin and piano. Soft and gentle, it rises slowly towards its spiritual conclusion: here, finally, Messiaen leads us to refuge. Kavafian and Serkin created some real magic, leaving the audience of over a thousand in stunned silence for a full minute after the final notes wafted into the balcony. It was a moment those of us present will not soon forget.

If you missed them, the closest place you'll be able to catch Tashi over the next few months is at Tanglewood, where they'll be playing on August 7. I've actually got a ticket to that one, which I bought before the Town Hall show was announced - feel free to contact me if you're interested.

Paul and Philip

An insightful, casual conversation tonight between Philip Glass and Paul Simon at BAM's Harvey Theater, where the two composers shared thoughts for 90 minutes, mostly about music. Simon started things off with a bang.

PS: "Who, in your mind, were the greatest composers of the 20th Century?"

PG: (after much hesitation) "Charles Ives, because of how he was able to marry innovation to lyricism. I've always had a thing for composers who didn't teach, who were mavericks: Nancarrow, Partch...In the end, the only music that matters is the music that we love, the music that we want to hear."

PS: "If you can get people to listen, they're at a level of heightened awareness."

PG: "I see songwriting as a very refined art, one that I myself have been unable to master. I find it incredible that you wrote the music before you wrote the words (for Graceland)."

PS: "How do sounds become language?"

PG: "It's about the rhythm of words matching they rhythm of the music."

PS: "And what do you think about that?"

PG: "I think it's a very good idea."

PS: "What compelled you to write an opera in Sanskrit?"

PG: "Because it's consonants followed by vowels. English is not a good language for opera. English cuts off their words with hard consonants. It takes a lot of time and energy to teach singers how to sing in English. It's a distraction from the music."

PS: "It always happens: I'm on tour, playing my 30th show, and then all of a sudden - usually in the middle of "You Can Call Me Al" - I go: "What am I doing? I'm imitating myself!"

PG: "I made a conscious choice to perform my own music. It's given me a deeper appreciation for what interpreters do: they - not the writers - are the ones who create the music. They realize the music. That's an important word: they make it real. In a sense, I've become an interpreter of my own music."

PS: "I have absolutely no connection to the person that wrote The Caveman. I don't even remember writing those songs. But, I remember feeling that it suceeded at what it was trying to do."

PG: "Young composers worry about when they're going to find they're voice. But that's not the problem. The problem is: how do you get rid of it?"

PS: "There's no plan. I just follow what I like."

Stochastic Finale

For all of you who might be listening to the Stochastic Hit Parade on WFMU right now, here's hoping you made it out to Barbes this past Wednesday to see our girl Bethany in action. For those who didn't, you missed her mixing up some field recordings and hauling out her horn, which she used to flay both the Elliott Carter Wind Quintet (1948) and a Gounod "Mélodie" (joined by pianist David Moore.) Give the girl some props: not only did she go out in front of a full house and play live, she did so with the goddamned hardest instrument in the house. And, she friggin' nailed it.

She finished the night at the podium, leading a series of "Post Participles": improvisations for ensemble inspired by blurbs from the new music mag Wire. It was all near-noise madness, the kind we've grown to know and love these many Sunday nights. Well done, girl.

Ok, back to your radios.

Daily Double

I don't know if I can pull it off, but there are two free Messiaen concerts happening today, both at 5pm: "L'Ascension" on the organ at St. Thomas, and the "Quartet for the End of Time" at Town Hall. The latter is being played by TASHI (Peter Serkin, Richard Stoltzman, Fred Sherry, and Ida Kavafian) who are making their first New York appearance in over 30 years. Game plan: hit St. Thomas first, then hop the V to Town Hall, where the Messiaen is on the second half of the bill. My Metrocard's about to get a workout.

Stop. Look. Listen.

I spent both Thursday and Saturday nights at the 7th annual Look & Listen Festival, which puts new music concerts in art galleries in Chelsea and Soho. This sort of thing is nothing new - Steve Reich and Philip Glass used to play almost exclusively in Soho lofts and galleries - but it's an idea that makes sense, giving the listener something to look at other than the musicians, who are focusing on - duh - the music.

Both evenings featured a mix of acoustic and electric instruments, with WNYC's John Schaefer and New Music Box's Molly Sheridan filling in the set changes with composer interviews. Personal highlights: So Percussion, 2 Foot Yard (with Carla Kihlstedt singing and playing violin), and Mark Stewart's homemade instrumentarium, assisted by members of the Ethel, Daedalus and Electric Kompany quartets.

The real fun was, though, was afterwards at the Broome Street Bar, where most of the composers and musicians turned up. More on that later. 

Thursday May 1, Robert Miller Gallery, Chelsea

So Percussion

Biava String Quartet

Odd Appetite (Ha-Yang Kim and Nathan Davis)

2 Foot Yard (Marika Hughes, Carla Kihlstedt, Shahzad Ismaily)

John Schaefer with Ha-Yang Kim

Saturday, May 3, OK Harris Gallery, Soho

Mark Stewart

Molly Sheridan

Daedalus String Quartet

Ethel and Electric Kompany with composer Nick Didkovsky

Parting

Last night's Wordless Music show had the bittersweet taste of a farewell. Ronen told the sold-out crowd that this would probably be the last concert held at the Good Shepherd-Faith Church, where Wordless started in 2006 and has experienced some of its most astonishing moments (such as Sigur Ros' surprise acoustic set last season.) But, all good things come to an end, and with the series' meteoric growth over the past year, it's time to find more room for the flocks of indie and new music kids who want to hear come their favorites, and maybe pick up something new along the way.

Violinist Caleb Burhans and guitarist Grey McMurray make up the ambient duo itsnotyouitsme, who say they, "hope to make you cry, in a good way." Caleb, who readers will know from previous posts, played electric but kept it soft, blending with Grey's effects-driven guitar to create a sound that filled the church like the organ you might hear during meditations any given Sunday.

They ended their set with the astonishing, "we are malleable, even though they seem to own us," off their debut album walled gardens. Grey laid down a trance beat that would have fit on any dancefloor while Caleb punctured it with sharp, high attacks. It wasn't loud or fast, but I could feel my heart racing to the steadily building pulse. I was hard in its grip, and it would not let me go. Strong stuff. 

Most classical kids have to endure a hard-fought rebellion against their parents and teachers before abandoning a career in the concert hall for the scary underground of new music. But, Face the Music, a group of pre-teens from the Kaufman Center's Special Music School, exclusively performs new music, implicitly teaching these kids that it's OK to be different. Necessary, even.

There's nothing that can quite prepare you for the sight of a pair of 10 year old pianists playing John Adams' Hallelujah Junction, or a mini-orchestra performing Michael Gordon's Yo Shakespeare, doing both more than justice. (They also performed Ira Mowitz’s Kol Aharon for solo violin, digital soundtrack, and ensemble, in a new version written for them.) The only appropriate reaction was to stand and cheer - which we all did, sullen hipsters included.

The night ended with Stars of the Lid, founded in Austin in 1993 by Adam Wiltzie and Brian McBride, making their first New York appearance since 2000. They played slow, soft drones on their guitars, accompanied by string players and abstract projections filling the sanctuary.

As I sat there, listening to pieces such as "Ballad of Distances" and "Requiem for Dying Mothers," I felt like there was a cinderblock sitting on my chest. This is music of irrepressible sadness, of deep and abiding loss. It's the soundtrack to a broken heart.

Their last number, "December Hunting for Vegetarian Fuckface," evoked awe and wonder, filling the space with majestic chords like those at the end of a Messiaen organ cycle, held to the brink of unbearableness. I couldn't tell how they were getting all those sounds out with only five instruments, but whatever it is, these guys have figured something out.

This may have been the last show at Good Shepherd, but Wordless has a busy summer ahead of it, with four Friday night shows at the Whitney in June, plus outdoor concerts at Celebrate Brooklyn and Lincoln Center's Damrosch Park, all free. I'll see you there.

(Photos 2-5 by Christopher Owyoung; more by your's truly after the jump.)

Mandolin Time

I don't usually get out of the office much during the day, but I cut out early yesterday to catch former Nickel Creek (and current Punch Brothers) frontman Chris Thile at Canal Room, part of the Tribeca Film Festival's Music Lounge. Damn, this guy's almost as good a storyteller as he is with that banj...er, mandolin. Classical highlight: the prelude from Bach's E-major Violin Partita.

Virtuo(u)sity

Opera can play many roles. It can move us through passionate, star-crossed characters who reflect our fears and trials. It can overwhelm us with magnificent set designs and music of incredible power. It can simply entertain.

But, opera does not typically inspire.

The Met is out to change that with its current production of Philip Glass' Satyagraha, the second of his three profile operas (Einstein on the Beach, Akhnaten) written in the 70's and early 80's. Satyagraha concerns itself with Mohandas Gandhi's early career in South Africa (1893-1914), where he developed his system of active, non-violent resistance that would eventually win independence for India and inspire Martin Luther King, Jr. to found this country's civil rights movement ("Satyagraha" is Sanskrit for "Truth force.") As if to drive the point home, ads have popped up all over the city asking: "Could an Opera Make Us Stand Up For the Truth?" and "Could an Opera Make Us Warriors For Peace?" 

My friend Jocelyn and I were fortunate enough to attend Monday's sold-out performance, thanks to the generosity of the Met's press office. For me, this was a pretty big deal: an acknowledgment by one of the world's great opera companies that this website - and others like it - are deserving of the same consideration as the mainstream press. It also reflects general manager Peter Gelb's enthusiastic embrace of digital media, be it the Met's own blog, or the free online streaming of at least one opera each week. To say I was grateful would be an understatement.

Others have already remarked (some disparagingly) on Glass' hypnotic, trance-inducing music, which conductor Dante Anzolini takes at a significantly slower pace than the original production, now nearly 30 years old. But, if you allow Satyagraha to work on you the way Glass intends, you'll find the repeating scales and oscillating themes enter into your head sideways, refusing to leave hours, even days later. Listen to "Protest" from Act II:

The direction, by Brits Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch, supplied an appropriately dreamlike atmosphere, filled with aerialists, stiltwalkers and 20-foot tall puppets made out of newsprint. They also chose not to use the MetTitles translation system, instead projecting selections from the libretto - a non-linear narrative adapted by Constance DeJong from the Bhagavad-Gita - on the set's corrugated iron walls. Each phrase was as sharp and clean as a dagger.

"When the motives and the fruits of a man's actions are freed from desire, his works are burned clean by wisdom's fire, the white fire of truth."

"If a work is done because it should be done and without thought for great benefits, then that is surrender in Goodness."

"By my creative nature, I consort with nature and come to be in time."

After nearly four hours of onstage stasis, the opera concluded with the transcendent "Evening Song": an ascending scale of eight tones repeated over and over by Gandhi (Richard Croft), standing alone at the front of the stage. He sang the words of the Hindu god Krishna, effectively making them his own:

"I come into being age after age and take a visible shape as a man among men for the protection of good, thrusting the evil back and setting virtue on her seat again."

Croft's sweet, pure tenor sailed out into the cavernous house, and as I looked up at the gilded ceiling, thinking about how I happened to be among the 4,000 souls filling the house that night, I have never felt so blessed. It was a transformative moment, plain and simple.

"I'm not sure what just happened," Jocelyn said as we were walking out. "I feel different."

While I won't claim a sudden burning desire to go out and join the Peace Corps, Satyagraha has certainly changed my perspective when it comes to the need for non-violent action in response to social injustice. As I write this, the Rev. Al Sharpton is in the final stages of mobilizing his National Action Network in a city-wide campaign of civil disobedience in response to the police acquittals in the Sean Bell murder case last week. Say what you will about Sharpton: there is no living American that I know of who has so persistently fought for those who have little-to-no voice in our society. And while Sharpton may bear little resemblance to the man known as "Mahatma" ("Great Soul"), you can bet your ass Gandhi would be marching right along side him.

(The Gandhi statue in Union Square Park)

                                          ***

Monday was also the final Connect at the Met event of the season, during which the Met hosts a reception on the Grand Tier prior to the performance, in this case for singles in their 20's and 30's. (They also host evenings for singles 40-and-up, as well as for members of the GLBT community.) The price, $110, would have been too steep for most 20 and 30-somethings I know (including your's truly), though that did include an orchestra-level seat, which would have cost just as much by itself.

When I arrived, I was issued a nametag and offered a choice of wine or soft drinks. One table was filled with hors d'ouvres; another was piled with hardcover copies of Arthur Herman's new book Gandhi and Churchill, free for the taking. On cocktail tables, there were brochures advertising the Met's Young Associates Program for 20 and 30-somethings, which starts at $500 ("Friend") and goes up to $2,000 ("Best Friend"). (No word yet on whether or not the development office has a "BFF" level in the works.) 

Jocelyn and I met a range of people (including some who were clearly no longer in their 30's): everyone from opera aficionados, to several folks who were at the Met (or any opera) for the first time. There were doctors, lawyers, staffers from Carnegie and Lincoln Center, and enough friends-of-friends to keep the mix interesting.

There was also a desert and champagne reception during the first intermission, where we got to exchange reactions. I heard everything from "This is not an opera!" to "I don't know what's going on, but I really like it." If I were the Met, I'd be pretty happy with that.

More Free Summer Fun

The 2008 Lincoln Center Out of Doors festival schedule was announced this week, featuring three weeks of stellar free events. Here are the ones you'll find me at this August.

8/7 - Noche Flamenco/Stephane Wrembel

8/10 - Regina Carter/Simone

8/13 - Hal Willner's Joel Dorn Tribute (feat. Dr. John, Roberta Flack, Les McCann, Mocean Worker, Jane Monheit, David “Fathead” Newman, and others)

8/14 - East Village Opera Company/Ahn Trio/Fernando Otero

8/15 - Wordless Music Series - Rhys Chatham et.al.

8/20 - WFMU Showcase (feat. Extra Golden, The Either/Orchestra, The Ex, etc.)

8/24 - Roots of American Music Festival (Patti Smith, Charlie Haden, etc.)

Russian School

Speaking of free shows, my friend Pete and I made our way over to Hell's Kitchen Friday night for the Movado Hour at the Baryshnikov Arts Center, which offers not only free music but free wine and hors d'oeuvres in a relaxed, cabaret-like setting. Nice.

Pete's not a big classical guy, but even he was blown away by pianist Bella Davidovich and her son, violinist Dimitry Sitkovetsky, who played Schumann, Prokofiev and Ravel, along with a couple of Fritz Kreisler encores. Davidovich, who turns 80 this year, is a living example of the great Russian piano tradition: passionate, yet disciplined, with an emphasis on clarity. Sitkovetsky was right with her, playing with a flair that dazzled without dominating. The whole thing was over in an hour: just the right amount for a newcomer.

"That was awesome," Pete said to me afterward. And he wasn't even talking about the booze. For once.