Music and Books

Reading about music is not as good as listening to it. However, there is definitely something to be said for educating oneself about the great art of music through the written word. If music was truly meant to stand alone, composers would leave us no notes in the score, and orchestras would be able to save a lot of money by not printing all those programs that we desperately try to thumb through before the lights go down. (Additionally, this blog would probably not exist… but I’m not even going to think about that catch-22). Reading about the history and context of a piece, the composer that brought it into the world, and the world into which it was brought can add many layers of meaning to the notes.

This is why I’ve recently set myself to reading a book or two about music. In college, I took a handful of music history classes, and did my fair share of reading for them, but I was hoping to go a little bit beyond a dry textbook. The first book I picked up was a relatively short read entitled Stradivari's Genius: Five Violins, One Cello, and Three Centuries of Enduring Perfection, which follows five violins and (you guessed it) one cello from their creation at the studio of Antonio Stradivari to the 20th century. What is interesting about this book is that the author, Toby Faber, chooses to structure his book as if it were a biography of these instruments. He discusses them as if they were living people, moving through different periods of their lives. In the process, we learn about how the instruments were made, how history changed around them, and how we, as a modern society, still just can’t figure out what makes a Stradivarius violin so wonderful. I was intrigued by the fact that, despite watching so many string instruments be played on the stage in front of me, I knew so little about these instruments. After reading this, I’m always going to feel sorry for those people in the Smithsonian American History Museum who quickly browse by the musical instrument cases – they are missing so much.

If you’re in the mood for a heavier read, I strongly suggest The Rest Is Noise: Listening to the Twentieth Century by Alex Ross. Ross is the New Yorker’s music critic and also the recipient of a MacArthur Genius Grant – the guy knows what he’s talking about and he knows how to write it wonderfully. I will say, this book takes some mental energy to get through, but it is well worth it. Ross walks us through the tumultuous 20th century, demonstrating how history and social currents, the lives of the composers, and the music are all so complexly intertwined. On top of being acutely interesting, the book is very well written and obviously thoroughly researched. I wouldn’t want to go head to head with Mr. Ross in a game of musical trivia. Although I already felt comfortable with modern art and music, I felt so much more proficient after reading this, both on a micro level (Ross goes into great detail on a number of popular pieces) and on a larger, overview level.

After reading about a piece that I have already heard, I love to listen to it again to see how my perception has changed. The fact that I always hear more than I did before speaks to the value of picking up a book or two about music.

Hollywood Epics!

You have to love a movie that pulls you in for three or more hours not with cheap thrills and glitzy special effects, but rather with excellent acting, a great storyline and an all around beautiful production. This is the Hollywood epic. They are bigger than the sum of their parts and are remembered for decades after their release. I am by no means a movie connoisseur (although I would like to think I’m working on it) but I do love big Hollywood productions, and I loved the October 8th concert by the Baltimore Symphony at the Strathmore because it featured the music from so many of these great movies. (I was disappointed to have missed last week’s season opening concert, but seeing this concert made up for it) I think that in order for a movie to truly achieve top status in the annals of Hollywood history, all the components have to work together like clockwork. I don’t want to lessen any of these facets by attempting to rank their significance, but I think we can all agree that the music to these wonderful Hollywood movies is pretty significant, and when we hear it, we love it.

I personally found movie music to be a gateway drug into music appreciation. When I was much younger, my father would listen to what is now a rather outdated Best of John Williams CD on these massive speakers we had in our living room. The house would be filled with The Imperial March or Close Encounters of the Third Kind Theme. As I got older, I appreciated the music even more. While in band in middle and high school I became even more interested in movie music (which makes you so popular at that age…) and started developing ears for classical music as well. I was soon hooked and credit the music of the movies for getting me started on classical music.

I know that some musical purists write off movie music. I understand why this might happen. A movie score is written to supplement another medium, where as most traditional music was composed to make a statement on its own. Movie music is also written for a much wider audience than who would normally enjoy traditional classical, and any time you try to broaden the appeal of an art form, you are going to risk alienating the group to whom it was originally targeted. However, I am always happy to see those defending the quality of some (not all) of the music we hear in the movies. Although they are usually treated in a pops format, you won’t find too many orchestras that don’t occasionally throw in some movie tunes, and many music appreciation and history curriculums now include the genre.

And I think that most of us have a special place in our heart for movie music – especially the music of the epics. I think this is because we hear the music and we associate it, naturally, with the movie. However, we then associate that movie with the time in our lives when it was produced, or even an entire era. Every time I hear the music to Titanic, which was performed at last week’s concert, I will remember those awkward middle school days when that movie was king (of the world!). When The Lord of the Rings came up, I drifted back to my high school days. Although, I was not alive when many of the movies featured at the concert were popular, I know that many in the audience could probably remember being amazed at How the West was Won, or who they were dating when Ben Hur’s chariot raced by and Lawrence of Arabia rode through the sand. These movies and the amazing music associated with them bring us back to different times in our lives. I would like to think that as humans, we try to remember the good more than the bad, so it’s easy to see why we love these movie tunes that bring us back to such good times.

The Magical Music of Disney

Who doesn’t love Disney? If you were at the Magical Music of Disney concert on July 16th or 17th you know that not too many people don’t. Mary Poppins, Aladdin, The Little Mermaid? You can probably hum a lot of those tunes without even thinking about it. I will even go out on a branch and admit that I’ve played a lot of them in band during my high school and college days. The vast spectrum of appreciation was reflected in the diversity of the audience - I have never seen such a range of people at the Strathmore! There were all ages and types of people enjoying music that is truly timeless.

Although it sounds odd, I hope a lot of those people were not regulars to the Strathmore and the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. I think a lot of cultural organizations fall into somewhat of a rut at times, as they tend to draw the same audience over and over again. It’s obviously great to be a repeat patron, but part of the mission of a symphony orchestra should also be to expose as many people as possible to the joys of music. As I was looking around last Thursday night at all the young people (in some cases very young people) in the audience, I was glad to see so many being exposed to great music at such a young age. Hopefully, those children will start building memories around those great tunes that same way that so many previous generations have. The movies of Walt Disney, and the excellent music that always accompanies them, have become part of our culture and I sure hope it stays a part. A large chunk of that audience was not alive when Julie Andrews sang in Mary Poppins (I wasn’t), and many probably weren’t even alive when The Little Mermaid made such a splash in the late 1980’s, but they definitely seemed to know the music. Through great summer programs like this one (and through the magical marketing of Disney), this great music will hopefully be passed down for years to come.

Another magical moment that I had at this concert was when it dawned on me that I was able to follow along with the movie just by hearing the music. Over the orchestra, a giant projection screen was showing stills or clips from the movie that the music was selected from. Outside of the orchestra, there was no sound or dialogue attached to the films and photos. Hearing the music while also seeing these silent clips of the movie reminded me how much of a story music really can tell on its own. Through the emotion in the music you are able to figure out who the bad guys are, when things are going well for the hero, and when love is in the air. Additionally, I was reminded of how much a movie would lose if you stripped away its musical component. Most people out there could probably hum at least a few bars from The Lion King, and probably even sing the songs, but do you really know more than just a random quote or two from the non-musical dialogue? A movie without music, like a world without Disney, would truly be a good bit less magical.

The 4th and the 1812

The 4th of July has come and gone and that means you have probably gotten your fair share of patriotic music. A good brass section is right up there with hot dogs and sparklers on the must-have list for an Independence Day celebration. Every city or town that can scrape together a band or an orchestra does so on the Fourth of July to accompany their firework celebration. The very image of a marching band leading the parade or a community orchestra playing under a band shell at the end of an open field is distinctly American. (The Music Man, anyone?)

One of the reasons that the marches of John Phillips Sousa, undoubtedly one of America’s most populist composers, became so famous is simply because they could be heard. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that Sousa’s marches don’t hold a roman candle to Rachmaninoff’s concertos when it comes to technical nature, but they are a lot more hum-able. While the high art music of the turn of the century was heard by a wealthy few that could amass in concert halls, the marches of Sousa and his contemporaries were blaring down the streets and parks of America for free or little charge. You could literally hear them a mile away.

Sousa and his marches paved the way for the boisterous marches and brass songs we now hear on the 4th, like Yankee Doodle Dandy, Stars and Stripes Forever, etc. However, you can almost always count on the concert ending with the same song – the 1812 Overture. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the 1812 Overture as much as the next music appreciation blogger, but why the heck has this piece come to be so closely associated with our Independence Day? For one thing, the piece was composed by Tchaikovsky (seen at the right), a composer hailing from a country that for the better part of the 20th century, had quite a few nuclear missiles aimed at us. Although he did visit a few times, I imagine that Tchaikovsky, like many other European artists of the time, thought very little of American art.

As I said, I do like many things about the 1812. Chief among them is the thematic progression of the piece. In brief, Tchaikovsky is musically portraying Napoleon’s failed attempt to take Russia in 1812. The sounds of La Marseillaise (France’s ever-popular national anthem) can clearly be heard intermingled with the melody of The Tsar’s Hymn, just as the Russian and French armies were clashing in battle. At times, the French theme sounds quite triumphant, as it did indeed seem that Napoleon would win the day. At the last second, the Russian artillery (the famous cannons at the end of the Overture) unleashes on the French army as the bitter winter decimates their numbers. The Overture ends with the Russian theme completely overpowering the French theme.

You might notice that America does not enter into that story, although a cursory memory of high school American History might tell you that we were involved in the War of 1812. We were fighting off the British, who were also fighting the French, and thus allied with Russia. In fact, Britain’s army successfully invaded the good ol’ USA in 1812 and burned Washington D.C. to the ground. So, all and all, we’re using a song that celebrates the victory of one of our enemies against us as the center piece of our Independence Day celebration…

And why is this? One reason is that Arthur Fiedler, the famous conductor laureate of the Boston Pops, wasn’t going to let a bit of music history (or the Cold War, for that matter) get in the way of a good show. Since there aren’t too many pieces out there that call for a percussion section to be augmented with howitzers, he added the piece to The Boston Pops’ Fourth of July line-up in the 1970’s. As the Boston Pops is the country’s premiere pops orchestra, many other bands and orchestras followed their lead. (For more history and discussion on this, here is a great article from Pittsburgh Post-Gazette)

Another reason might be that as a country, we just aren’t secure with ourselves yet, musically. Our musical tradition is not nearly as old or as deep as many of the other western powers. Austria’s Radetzky March was written in 1848, La Marseillaise of France is from 1792, and Great Britain’s Rule, Britannia! dates to 1740. Stars and Stripes Forever was premiered in 1896, and many of the other pieces that are so closely associated with America’s “classical” cannon are even more recent, as they are rooted in jazz, show tunes, or even movie music. To say that the US needs a deeper appreciation of its own classical contributions is a tall order, and one that I have already made, so I’ll go down the easier path and say that maybe time will work this one out. Perhaps in my older days I’ll see more 4th of July concerts where Rhapsody in Blue is the headliner.

The Twilight of the Small

Before she struck up her orchestra on their last piece of the season in the Strathmore Music Center, Marin Alsop made a little joke. “We thought we would end with something small” and then there was laughter from the audience. Anyone who had looked at the program and knew the basics of western musical history would pick up on the verbal irony of that line. The final piece was by Wagner, and nothing about Wagner is small. And of all things, this was an arrangement of highlights from The Ring of the Nibelungen – the Texas of musical pieces.

As I started listening to the piece I began thinking to myself “What is it about Wagner?” Countless people call him their favorite composer (There is a Wagner Appreciation Society in DC, FYI), and others will walk out of a concert that is featuring his music (I’ve actually heard of this happening). From everything I’ve heard he was an absolutely vile person – extremely anti-Semitic, he was obsessed with his own legacy and success, and unmercifully critical of pretty much anyone who didn’t see things his way. Ludwig II, Bavaria’s mad king, bankrupted his state to build an entire castle in Wagner’s honor. Wagner was unquestionably Hitler’s musical inspiration, and his music provided a soundtrack to the construction of his nefarious Third Reich. Love him or hate him, we just can’t get over this guy.

Maybe it’s because the music is just so big. Wagner wrote for massive orchestras and created walls of sound. He was one of the first composers to use tubas regularly, and went as far as creating his own instruments when he couldn’t find preexisting ones to get the sound he wanted. His operas were also incredibly long (Die Meistersinger is almost 5 hours long). It’s largely due to Wagner that opera is stereotyped as long and overly dramatic. Whenever you see a spoof of opera featuring an over-weight couple with braided hair and Viking horns singing at the top of their lungs, that’s Wagner. (Specifically, it’s The Ring of the Nibelungen). When you add all this to the huge, iconoclastic character of the composer, you have a result that is going to stick with people.

Maybe it’s because he was so technically good. Wagner is famous for popularizing the music concept of the leitmotif – a recurring musical theme that is attached to a character or thing. This was a huge breakthrough at the time, although it’s second nature today. Think of how much Star Wars would lose if you didn’t hear that dark, brassy march every time Darth Vader walked across the screen, or how much less powerful Lord of the Rings would be if you didn’t get those triumphant chords every time the hobbits made progress towards finding the ring. (As a side note, read the synopsis to The Ring of the Nibelungen… notice anything?) Pretty much any movie that’s worth its salt uses leitmotivs. These themes embedded in the music are one of the reasons that Wagner’s music works with his operas so well. The music seems to elicit visual images. Francis Ford Coppola knew how to use this to his advantage.

Finally, all of this comes together to create an almost outrageous sense of drama. (Case in point is tonight’s piece – Wagner needed a grand way to finish the series of four operas that formed The Ring of the Nibelungen, so at the end of the score you will find stage directions instructing you to light the opera house on fire. I’m not kidding). More than a composer, Wagner saw himself as a storyteller. He was acutely proud of his Germanic homeland, and used the very best of Central and Northern European folk tales to create the plots of his operas. In Wagner’s work you will find a huge helping of the most resounding themes of humanity; good and evil, love and hate, power and weakness, forgiveness, betrayal, loneliness, insanity, the longing for immortality. As humans, we just can’t get enough of this stuff - it’s just so big and so good. It strikes chords with our deepest emotions.

We’re going to be talking about Wagner for a long time to come.

Humanities and the Recession

The humanities have had a rough time lately. It seems that when hard economic times roll around, the humanities are the first lines to get shaved out of the budget. You have to wonder if, when times are better, those lines will be restored or increased in any capacity. This is a loss in more ways than one. Obviously, less money to the arts and humanities means fewer artistic creations and performances, which is regrettable, but what about the long term implications?

When I was much younger, I remember going to a concert of The Florida Philharmonic Orchestra, in my hometown of West Palm Beach. (Ironically, the Florida Phil has since gone under). This was shortly after the September 11th, 2001 attacks, and everyone in our great country was still very much in mourning. During the concert, the conductor addressed the audience and spoke of the place of the arts in times such as these. The conductor mentioned that, in times of war, some critics question the importance of the arts and say that they offer no solutions in the face of such serious matters. This comment was met with sounds of discomfort from the audience. The conductor went on to say that this sort of thinking should be challenged. There is a reason that the humanities are called such – they are what make us human. In times of national need and mourning, we need to get in touch with our humanity more than ever. Using the arts as a channel, we must get back in touch with our friends and our family, as well as ourselves. Now that we are in another crisis of an economic nature, I believe that this need of the humanities still stands.

I think this argument for the importance of the arts and humanities can even be taken a step father. Beyond the individual, there is a societal need for the humanities. One of the things that strikes and disturbs me most about this recession is that not too many people seemed to see it coming. A few economists and political advisors raised a red flag, but obviously not enough to really make a difference. That is alarming. All these economists and social scientists, and people with intellectual capacities off the charts, yet we, as a society, were not able to stop this or even predict it? So much for economic forecasting. Yet, when you look at the arts, they are often ahead of the curve. Authors like F. Scott Fitzgerald denounced materialism before the Great Depression gave us a tangible record of its damage. Stravinsky and his contemporaries foreshadowed the First World War by introducing a sense of chaos into music. Even Hollywood seemed to take up the fight against McCarthyism before Capitol Hill did. The arts have always had a prophetic power.

I am not saying that composers should replace economists, but I do believe that the predictive ability of the humanities holds a valuable place in our society. Instead of restricting the influence of the arts when times are tough, perhaps we should be looking to this influence for guidance.

Although pulling out a pocket book is only one of many ways to attack the problem of the diminishing significance of the humanities in our lives, I would be remiss if I didn't mention it. "Sometimes cutting back just isn't an option", one of the slogans of the BSO's recent funds drive, fits in rather nicely with the point's I'm presenting.

Of Romeo and Radiohead

The concert held on Friday, April 24th at the Strathmore was an excellent program which led the audience through an exploration of the boundaries of music. It isn’t too often that you will get a concert featuring a Mozart piece coupled with a piano transcription of a contemporary British rock band and a piano concerto to be played exclusively with the left hand.

The interactive and nontraditional tone of the concert was kicked off by an aside from Conductor James Gaffigan. I always love to hear a little bit of commentary from the conductor - I think it makes the peace more readable for the audience. If nothing else, it breaks up the somewhat severe atmosphere that can come to exist at a concert. Mr. Gaffigan introduced the first piece, ballet music from Mozart’s Idomeneo, with some comments about how much variety was packed into the piece, as well as some jabs at the character of Mozart. (I think this is a running joke in the musical community - I have a distinct memory of sitting in high school band class trudging through a Mozart piece and hearing somebody play a line completely wrong. The director cut us off, looked at the offending musician and said “Mozart would have slapped you for that… and then he would have slept with your wife.” Hearing a teacher say something like that in high school provides enough fuel to get you through the day). Mr. Gaffigan was right, this was a very interesting piece with lots of different musical moods. I also have to acknowledge the energy with which he conducted the piece, although I feared that if this was how he treated Mozart, a heart attack or a baton impaled violinist was awaiting him when he got to the Prokofiev piece at the end of the program.

As if jumping forward in time a hundred and forty years wasn’t enough, we were then treated to a piano concerto written for one hand. Christopher O’Riley, of NPR’s “From the Top” fame, played Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand in D Major with all the rapture that the composer surely intended. Listening to a piece like this, which was so obviously composed for showmanship, you can’t help but think that you are supposed to be watching keenly as well. Seeing a piano virtuoso work with one hand is an odd visual sensation, which is only augmented by the dramatic effects of the strings’ bowing and the conductor’s gigantic conducting.

And this brings us to the highlight of the program, Mr. O’Riley’s transcriptions of music by Radiohead. I can not claim to be too familiar with the work of this contemporary rock band, but I have heard some of their songs and I know that it isn’t the sort of thing that many symphony orchestras go around putting on their programs. After a brief spoken introduction, Mr. O’Riley played his three transcriptions brilliantly, followed by some Debussy as an encore. Whether you liked the pieces or not, what you were seeing here was an artist pushing the boundaries of music. Moving a subject from one medium of art to another is not uncommon - how many times have poems or pieces of literature informed symphonic works? However, moving a subject from the domain of popular music to that of artistic music always raises a few more eyebrows. Even in the Royal Court of Austria, Mozart’s opera’s, which are now thought to be so conservative, were accused of containing subject matter of a base nature. The lady sitting behind me at the concert did not seem too pleased that Rock and Roll was on the evening’s program – she let out an audible sigh of relief when we moved on to the Debussy. Interestingly, when something moves the other way, from high art to popular, the alarm is not as severe. I don’t remember people taking to the streets when Puccini’s Madame Butterfly became Miss Saigon.

The second half of the concert was equally filled with diversity and contrast. The fun and jazzy sounds of Bernstein’s Dances from On the Town (I’ve had that darn tune stuck in my head all weekend) were a very noticeable foil to the intensely dark and dramatic tones of Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet. I laughed at the thought of putting Bernstein’s West Side Story Dances up against Prokofiev’s treatment of the same subject matter, but that might have just been too ironic for an already intellectually dynamic night. Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet is one of those pieces that you can really get into – it’s deep and dark, and at times, just really loud. The audience responded to this energy. There was even a yell of “yeah!” from the balcony right before the movement for the death of Juliet. After you’ve heard bits from a classical ballet, a one-handed French Impressionistic concerto, a 20th century American Jazz-Dance piece, British hard rock on a piano, and Soviet-Social Realism - anything goes.

The Global Crisis and Art

The economic crisis we are currently in has the entire world shaken to its core. Obviously, this is a terrible thing for everybody – the arts very much included. News of budget cuts is everywhere, and you don’t have to look very far to see something about cut backs that are specifically targeting the arts or cultural programming. As terrible as this all is, I have to wonder if there is a silver lining to it.

It seems that crises have always been excellent catalysts of artistic creation. Just to look back at the 20th century, a period that seems particularly characterized with instability, one can find enough examples to fill unlimited pages. First, and perhaps most importantly, the First World War shattered the paradigm of western culture. The effects of that conflict engulfed the whole of society, but were particularly felt in the arts. In the field of painting, look at Otto Dix, George Grosz, and Francis Bacon (one of his works seen at the right) for visceral evidence of this. In literature, Hemingway is a prime example. In music, Schoenberg and the Second Viennese School, and atonalism in general had their roots in this period. Although Stravinsky was said to have famously broken the romantic tradition in western music with his Rite of Spring (which debuted in 1913, before the First World War) you don’t have to listen to too much music from that period to know that the upheaval created by the Great War is what really pushed things over the edge. Similarly, the Second World War brought out excellent art in the most terrible ways. My favorite example is Shostakovich’s devastating 7th Symphony, titled Leningrad, which was inspired by the German siege of that city in 1941. In addition to these calamities, there was the Great Depression, the conformity of the 1950’s, McCarthyism, the Cold War, etc. All of these things, however terrible, provided a great degree of horrific inspiration to artists in every field and region of earth.

What is it about times of tension that create such good art? There is no answer to that. Obviously, emotions run high in times like these, and there is definitely no lack of subject matter. I think there is also something to be said for the way that these crises mandate the reformation of the national character and consciousness. The art of WWI exposed the failings of the radical nationalism that had paralyzed Europe at the beginning of the century, and the art of the 1950’s definitely did what it could to poke holes in the blind conformity that was sweeping the country. As cliché as it is, I love The Great Gatsby because I appreciate Fitzgerald’s critique of the warping of the American Dream during the 1920’s. This might not have been an economic crisis, but he definitely argued that it was a moral one.

How will the current global crisis play out in the art world? Like the 1920’s the materialism and greed which crept into the American Dream forced us to painfully reevaluate our personal and cultural positions. Although I can not say I enjoy the situation that we are in, I will say that I am interested in, and have high hopes for, the music and art it will inspire. I guess it’s a little something to look forward to.

Mozart and his Requiem

I respect Mozart and his influence on western music as much as the next consumer of classical music, but I have always been more drawn to the emotionally charged pieces of the romantic period and the intellectual depth of modernism. Mozart’s works are technically flawless, but there is something about many of them that just doesn’t connect with me personally. The Requiem is different. It’s so full of textures and emotion. At times it is tender, and at other times it is fiery. At its core, it is a profound piece of music that masterfully combines a beautiful orchestra with a powerful choir and soloists. To see it performed by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra in the Strathmore on March 7th was a joy for the eyes and ears.

Before delving into the history of the piece, one is first struck by the technical aspects. This is a big piece of music - literally. Strings and brass and vocal soloists, and a massive choir bring this piece to life. Watching this piece unfurl, I thought to myself how difficult it must be to keep something this grand together. I love watching conductors, seeing how they control the environment with subtle or gargantuan gesticulations, so seeing conductor Jun Märkl sweeping the air so grandly as to be seen by the last row of the choir was a thing to behold. I would also be a traitor to my instrument if I did not point out that this is one of the first times that the trombone is seen in such a prominent position. The fact that low brass even had a spot in a classical piece is notable, not to mention some beautiful solo parts.

The true allure of this piece is the mystery that has surrounded it since its composition in 1791 (you could even say it started even before composition, as Mozart was so unclear of the identity of the man that came to him to commission it). I have always been captivated by stories behind the music, and how fate and circumstance molded the modern perception that we have of a piece of music, and Mozart’s Requiem, a piece written for the powerful circumstance of death, takes the cake in this respect. The story is so compelling that it has been retold as a short play by Pushkin, an opera by Rimsky-Korsakov, and a play by Peter Shaffer which was later adapted into 1984’s Best Picture of the Year – Amadeus. As the story (I apologize for abridging it so) goes, that Mozart did not know the gentleman who had commissioned this piece, and with his health diminishing as he wrote the piece, he mistakenly embraced the logic that the death mass must be for him. This belief must have fueled him to work on the piece with a special dedication, even as his death became imminent. The Lacrimosa section was the last music that Mozart ever wrote, leaving his pupils to finish the Requiem.

It’s a sad story, but, in an odd way, it seems morbidly appropriate for a man who gave so much to our musical tradition. Psychologists (as well as experience and common sense) tell us how the fear of death and the desire to leave a legacy are powerful drivers of our actions here on earth. Mozart saw both in this piece. This confluence of emotion and talent in composition is something remarkable and desperately uncommon. Although the Requiem might not have been intended for him, it is his. In listening to it, you can see and hear a genius searching for his place in this world and the next.

Of Sound and Solitude

This past weekend, I read a piece by William Deresiewicz entitled The End of Solitude. In addition to being a wonderfully thought provoking and well written article, the think-piece made my mind wonder (as many things do) to thoughts of music. In his piece, Deresiewicz argues that solitude, which was once valued in society, has now become something which we are constantly attacking with modern technology. During the Romantic era of the nineteenth century, solitude became both secularized and salient, Deresiewicz writes. The writings of Thoreau, Wordsworth, Melville, and Whitman are excellent examples of man’s need for some degree of solitude. In spending time isolated, or wrapped up in nature and divorced from human influence, man was able to find the divine.

How many times in your day are you alone? If you live in a city or metropolitan area, that doesn’t help. Cell phones, e-mail, text messages, twitter, YouTube, and Facebook create a world in which even when we are physically alone, we are still communicating with others in a fairly direct fashion. “A constant stream of mediated contact, virtual, notional, or simulated, keeps us wired in to the electronic hive…” Without solitude, we are becoming Star Trek’s Borg Collective.

Although the happenings of the 20th century are probably what got us into this crisis of solitude, there are several musical pieces from this era that contemplate this need for isolation. I immediately think of 4’33” (said as “Four Thirty Three” or “Four Minutes and Thirty Three Seconds”) by the experimental composer John Cage. In the piece, a pianist, backed up by an orchestra, plays a rest for four minutes and thirty three seconds. No notes are heard. As per John Cage’s instructions, the instrumentation, as well as the duration of the rest can be changed. Although the piece is frequently the butt of musicology jokes, there is something to it. Cage is forcing you to hear silence, which does not happen too much in our society. In hearing this silence, you are meant to contemplate the greater nature of music, art, and life. (Cage was a truly unique composer, some of his music can be seen at the left - yes, that's the sheet music). Charles Ives’ The Unanswered Question, performed by the BSO a few weeks ago as the opener to their Organ Symphony program, is a piece in a similar vein. There is very little to the piece; flutes, strings, and a few trumpets playing mostly sustained notes create dissonance, a sense of timelessness, and a slightly ominious mood. As the title of the piece would suggest, it begged several question about music, sound, and art, of which there is no answer. You must contemplate, in solitude, these questions for yourself.

When I think of the times in the day that I am truly alone, I cannot think of many. An exception to this incessant stream of signals, I believe, can be found in music. Although the aforementioned pieces are especially appropriate examples, the very nature of all art and music has a certain built-in quality of meditative solitude – you must enjoy this art by your own standards, by yourself. Ironically, when I am listening to classically performed pieces, live or on a recording, I find my mind drifting more freely than it does on almost any other occasion. Even though there are hundreds of others in the room, and you are listening to a signal created by not just one, but dozens of other humans, it is very possible to feel alone. Although it might not correspond directly to Deresiewicz’ idea of solitude, I think this feeling of isolation you may achieve when you are wrapped up in a piece of music is close to what is he is getting at. It is a temporary release from the electronic hive.

Feb. 19th Concert

I love walking out of a concert burning to talk about what I’ve just heard. For one thing, it means that the music successfully flushed everything else out of my head, and with the stresses of life, who doesn’t need that to happen every once in a while? Additionally, it means that the music fulfilled one of the many purposes of art by begging us to contemplate it in some way. Walking out of last Thursday’s (Feb. 19th) concert at the Strathmore, I had a lot to talk about.

Starting off a concert with a Charles Ives piece is an edgy move that is sure to catch the attention of your audience. The Unanswered Question, the first piece on the program, is no exception. For those unfamiliar with the composer, he was… to put it lightly… ahead of his time. There are stories of Charles Ives, as a young boy, sitting on a street corner at an open-air fair, between two brass bands, and listening to them perform at the same time, their melodies crashing in dissonance inside his head. When this is your childhood memory of music, you are going to write some interesting things. Although it sounds nothing like a brass band, The Unanswered Question does take full advantage of dissonance and lives up to the pensive quality of its title. The piece never gets too loud, although it does layer sounds in a way that forces the listener to ask “where is this going?” As you would expect, this question is not answered by the time the piece fades away. Conductor Marin Alsop’s use of her musicians worked very well for the piece. She only had the flute section on stage, with the strings backstage and trumpets positioned at the side and back doors of the hall. This, obviously, created an unsettling effect. Hearing violins in front of you, you squinted at the stage wondering why you couldn’t see them, only to be shocked to trumpet blasts from the left or right. The concert was off to a great start.

Although more traditional, the concert’s highlight, Saint-Saëns’ 3rd Symphony (AKA The Organ Symphony) was equally notable. This beautiful, sweeping work is really a fine example of a romantic symphony, especially when it is masterfully performed. I have always loved Saint-Saëns for his ability to create something that is just enough outside the ordinary to really intrigue you. And such a diversity of style he had! Among his most famous works, Carnival of Animals is all over the board, from tender to bombastic, Danse Macabre (depicted at left) is the quintessential Halloween piece, and Danse Bacchanale (if you don't think the classics can be edgy, watch that clip) from Samson et Dalila has to be one of the most fun and energetic pieces out there (if you’re into low brass or timpani, you would especially agree with me). The 3rd Symphony, with the incorporation of the massive organ, also does not disappoint. What I love about this piece is the truly restrained use of the organ. It is not a concerto for the instrument, but rather an example of the instrument’s ability to contribute to the texture of the traditional symphony. When the organ first enters, several minutes into the piece, you actually feel it before you hear it, it’s coming in so low and soft. In contrast the stops are (proverbially and literally) pulled out at the beginning of the final movement when it comes through in all its glory.

To think, all this and some Mozart, too. Three centuries of music in three pieces -quite a lot to reflect on, if you think about it.

Towards a new American culture

With the inauguration and the opening of a new Congress, it seems like there has been a lot of political rhetoric in our lives recently, even by the standards of Washington, D.C. Don’t ask me to remember what speech it was from, but one of the things our new President recently said that struck a chord with me was that Americans need to change their culture (or something along those lines). In the context of the speech, President Obama was referring to the culture of greed and materialism on Wall Street and the financial markets which got our economy into the hole it is in, but his comments also made me reflect on the broader concept of culture in America.
What is American culture? It’s a hard question, and I wouldn’t be wise to try to answer it through this medium, but it’s definitely something to think about when you want to give your brain an exercise. Because of our diversity, I think it’s safe to say that American culture is multifaceted and influenced by a massive number of sources. On the other hand, America has been accused of not having its own culture, and of being too young of a people to have truly developed a cultural identity.

Again, this is an argument that entire books have been written on and it would be an injustice to attempt to condense further discussion on our nation’s cultural identity into this short discussion. However, I do feel safe saying that whatever American culture is, we could benefit from more of it. More trips to the symphony or a play, more dances, more books. When I hear the President saying we need to change our culture, I agree whole heartedly – we need to change our culture by become more in touch with it. In my opinion, the arts are selfless and are the antithesis of the greed and corruption which have caused such problems.

Even when the world seems to be too chaotic to deal with, a well performed piece of music, or a well executed play has a way of cutting through the mess outside and making you feel at peace with yourself. Multiple research endeavors have shown that people who regularly interact with the arts lead happier, fuller lives. Increasingly, the arts are even being seen as having medicinal qualities, with stories of people overcoming illness at a more rapid rate when they actively engage in music appreciation, or pick up a paint brush. Therefore, I don’t think it is a huge jump of knowledge to think that a dose of culture can help an ailing nation.

It is unfortunate that in times of economic trouble, funding for the arts is one of the first things on the chopping block, although that is a subject for another day. There is, however, a silver lining as people see this time of challenge as an opportunity to reconnect (or connect for the first time) to an artistic outlet that brings them joy. I recently came across an article about the effects of the recession on philanthropic donations and was pleased to see a quote that reminded me of this. When asked why, in a time of recession, she gave $30 million to the Performing Arts Center of Miami-Dade County which bears her name, Adrienne Arsht commented “to me, the arts are as necessary to our existence as almost anything else.”

Happy New Year!

The new year is a great time to start new things... like a blog about a symphony orchestra. Through this forum, I hope to share some of my perspectives and thoughts on the fine music of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and symphonic music in general. Like many active and potential members of a BSO concert audience, my "formal" knowledge of music is limited. I played piano and trombone (not very well) in high school and a bit of college and even dared to pick up a violin for about a year because I wanted to create the beautiful sounds of an orchestra myself - that didn't happen. What I can say I do very well is appreciate listening to music. I also love talking about it and love sharing my interest with others.

The new year is also a great time to make resolutions. It seems like every year I resolve to find more time for culture in my life, but this year I'm going to stick to it. Being a young and new member of the Washington, D.C. metropolitan community, I find that there are just so many opportunities! Going to the symphony more often is going to be right up there on the list next to "spend more time with friends and family" (this could actually happen) and "go to the gym three times a week" (this probably won't happen).

However, I'm going to add a twist to this resolution. I'm going to bring other people to the symphony, too. I think a lot of people have figured out that dinner and a few tickets to a classical concert makes for a great and special date night with the significant other, or a particularly classy night out with friends, but what about as a gift? A little while back, I was lying in bed thinking about all of the things I had to do the next day (and wasn't particularly looking forward to), one of which was to buy a present for that person-who-has-everything. It suddenly dawned on me that this friend of mine had been chatting with me earlier about how he wished he could take better advantage of cultural activities around town. How about a gift of two tickets to Verdi's Rigoletto, which was playing in a few weeks at our local performing arts center? I remembered how, knowing that I enjoyed classical music, a friend of mine had gotten me two tickets to Carmen and it was a great gift. My gift of tickets was a similar hit. A pair of tickets was not really that expensive (I think it was between $60 and $70 for both, about what I would normally pay for a nice gift for a good friend), and it was definitely a unique gift. My friend and his date really enjoyed the evening, and we had a good discussion about it after the fact.

If you happen to know a person's taste in composers or musical styles, even better - here is a chance to tell the person "I didn't just buy you a sweater, I actually thought about this!" Even if you don't know the person's taste, you are still telling them "I think you're a classy person who would enjoy a sophisticated night out." You're also helping the person set up a lovely date or evening with a significant other, which is surely appreciated.

Try it, and see if it helps you and your friends keep "go to the symphony more often" in the success column of your New Year's resolutions.