Mood Nocturne

There is a saying attributed to Aaron Copland that “If a literary man puts together two words about music, one of them will be wrong.”

One such literary man is the distinguished poet Edward Hirsch. In his book “The Demon and the Angel”, a collection of brief essays on artistic inspiration, Hirsch writes as follows about the Louis Armstrong masterpiece “West End Blues”: “One feels the duende, for example, in the mood nocturne of Louis Armstrong’s celebrated “West End Blues”, which he recorded with the Hot Fives in 1928.” Hot Fives? Each member was a “five”? Well, that’s not exactly a musical error, simply a copy editing problem. But you tell me what a “mood nocturne” is. What’s more mystifying is the description of the opening cadenza: “It takes a mere twelve seconds and consists of four notes that feel like a clarion call rising out of Armstrong’s rough-and-tumble past, an orphanhood.” What could Hirsch possibly mean by “it consists of four notes”? Maybe he is referring to the opening four notes, which group together by virtue of their equal duration? At least Hirsch can count the choruses in the piece. He writes of how the cadenza is “followed by an odd kind of ensemble chorus” (what is odd about it?) “and then a chorus of trombone.” OK, so that’s two choruses. Hirsch then quotes Wilfred Mellers, who writes that “After the first chorus, however, Armstrong does not play trumpet, instead he scat-sings” (why the hyphen? perhaps a Britishism?) “in duologue” (dialog(ue) isn’t good enough for you?) “with [the] clarinet.” The “duologue” is, of course, the third chorus, not the second. Perhaps Mellers meant that after playing on the first chorus, Armstrong, on his next appearance, does not play trumpet…

Hirsch is right to honor Armstrong alongside Lorca and Rilke, and his reflections throughout the book are intense and beautiful. But why can’t the details be more precise when it comes to music? Or are there similar problems with his writing about poetry?

I came upon this passage the same week that a piece on André Aciman’s “Eight White Nights” in the New York Times Book Review describes a character in the novel as “listening raptly to one of Alexander Siloti’s Bach transpositions.” (Probably the Prelude in B Minor.) I suppose points should be granted that somebody (it’s not clear if the error is the reviewer’s or the novelist’s) knew about Siloti’s arrangements of Bach, but shouldn’t a copy editor have caught the fact that what was meant was a Bach transcription, not transposition?

Da Capo da capo

You can hear last fall’s performance of my Dancepiece by the Da Capo Chamber Players at New Music Philadelphia, a webcast project of the American Composers Forum’s Philadelphia chapter. The Da Capo concert that includes Dancepiece, as well as works by Higdon, Greenbaum, Druckman, and Folio, will be heard Tuesday nights from 9 to 10:30 pm “for a limited time”, according to the site. (Not clear just how long is “limited”.) Program notes are available here.  While you are at the site, check out the other ACF webcasts, and the 24/7 stream of Philadelphia composers.

I am always uncertain.

Quotes from composer György Kurtág:

pg. 29: I am always fully convinced that it’s good  but then it turns out that it isn’t good after all. [in reference to a composition-in-progress]

pg. 31: It’s beyond me.

pg. 34: I don’t know.

pg. 35: I don’t know. When I am listening to good music, I feel ashamed that I may be moving in the same direction in my own work, but I can’t quite carry it through to the end.

pg. 47: I do not know.

pg. 47: I do what I can.

pg. 66: I am inept.

pg. 66: I am always uncertain.

pg. 75: I have no idea.

-from György Kurtág Three Interviews and Ligeti Hommages, compiled and edited by Bálint András Varga.

I read this book of interviews with Kurtág at the same time I was reading Rochberg’s memoirs. It is hard to imagine a greater contrast in tone. Obviously I am drawing the above fragments out of context, but they convey something of the spirit that comes across in the book. At its most extreme, Kurtág’s modesty can shade into his own brand of pretentiousness. But in general, the humility of the man is very moving.

Varga’s earlier books of interviews with Berio and Lutoslawski flow more smoothly - Kurtág is not an aphorist like Berio, and lacks the elegant discourse of Lutoslawski. Nevertheless, Kurtág’s modest tone does not prevent him from offering striking insights into his own work, into music in general.  I wish I knew Kurtág’s music better, so that the passing references - “in that piece you did this” - would have more meaning. There are a few musical examples in the book, but they seem arbitrarily chosen. The book can also be frustrating with regard to little known names mentioned in the text. A list of personae at the end of the book is somewhat helpful, though the need for some of the entries is questionable - anyone reading this book probably already knows who Schubert is.

In addition to the interviews, the book includes texts by Kurtág about his long-time friend György Ligeti. The first is a speech made on the occasion of Ligeti receiving the Siemens Prize; the second is a eulogy, offered at a memorial service. Both of these consist of isolated memories, bits of biography, fragments strung together - not unlike the string of short forms that make up many Kurtåg pieces. His admiration for his colleague and, again, his humility before Ligeti’s genius is touching.

Alex Ross has a clip of Kurtág and his wife Marta playing Bach here.

Darwiniana

Go here to see composer Maurice Wright talk about his new work Darwiniana, to be premiered by the Network for New Music Ensemble at concerts in Philadelphia this coming weekend. Maurice is a master of computer music, and has for some time been applying his expertise to what he calls “visual music” - computer imagery - as well. The piece will bring together an instrumental ensemble, electronic sound, and visuals based on the work of Charles Darwin. Read more about Network’s Dialogs with Darwin Poetry Project at their website.

Update: Daniel Webster’s Philadelphia Inquirer review here.

Notes-and-Rhythms

Anthony Tommasini’s Arts and Leisure essay in the Times today speaks about the end of dogma in programming new music, citing an evening by the Ensemble ACJW at Poisson Rouge to make the case.  Tommasini mentions the stylistic debates that dominated the lunch table during his time as a student at Yale, but it is not news that those arguments have quieted down.

More interesting to me in the article is the staying power of the high modernist composers that everybody is supposed to hate (the article mentions Babbitt and Davidovsky among others). It turns out that the music is less about compositional ideology (Davidovsky in particular is the most asystematic of uptown composers) and more about - among other things - a celebration of virtuosity. Since a performer is always happy to play something that makes him/her sound brilliant, it is not surprising that Ensemble ACJW would program Davidovsky’s Synchronisms #9 or that the Jack Quartet would advocate for Xenakis, or that the superb violinist Miranda Cuckson would issue first-rate discs of music by Shapey and Martino (about which more in a future post).

The other point of interest for me is one that Tommasini makes, but then backs away from as a “passing worry for now”, and this is the problem of the neglected “notes and rhythms” composer, to use the playful phrase of John Harbison that the article quotes. Tommasini mentions Hartke, Stucky, Rouse, Melinda Wagner, Currier, and Tower as (quasi-)mainstream  voices that may be “slipping from the view of young musicians and audiences”. (I say “quasi-mainstream” because “mainstream” is a pretty vexed concept today. Also, check the composer links at right if you want to add more names to the list.) Part of the problem here is that these composers offer journalists or publicists little on which to hang a story - nothing about identity politics, technology or violent rebellion against mentors - merely excellent music.  (The exception on that list being Sebastian Currier, whose impressive use of multimedia has not yet received the recognition it deserves.) If these composers are “slipping from view”, it is because their pieces all too often “slip away” after the premiere - the problem of the 2nd performance that I wrote about earlier. This is not a “someday” problem, as Tommasini suggests; rather, it is a problem now. Shouldn’t there be a dozen flutists planning to play Melinda Wagner’s Flute Concerto? Shouldn’t there be young groups touring with the string quartets of Harbison or Currier? In a healthier musical climate, repeated performances would mean the merely excellent would remain squarely before us instead of slipping from view.

Hear the Chicago Symphony play “Songs for Adam”

My Songs for Adam, a song cycle on poetry of Susan Stewart, was premiered last fall by baritone Brian Mulligan and the Chicago Symphony with Sir Andrew Davis conducting. Now the cycle is being included on the Chicago Symphony radio broadcast schedule.  Beginning February 12 for 7 days, the concert that included Adam will be broadcast on various radio stations throughout the country. Individual stations set their own times for offering the CSO broadcasts. You can find a list of stations and broadcast times here. Beginning February 15, and continuing for six weeks, the concert will be available for online streaming at the CSO website. You can find an excerpt from the score of Adam at my website. I hope you will have a chance to hear what was a superb performance of the piece.

All the Stravinsky $44 can buy

I’ve been listening off and on for some months now (and it will occupy me for many more months) to the 22 CD set of Stravinsky conducts Stravinsky that Sony released a while ago - the one that Alex Ross wrote about here, and Pliable wrote about here. As of this writing it is available on Amazon here.

The set is obviously an important document of a great composer interpreting his own work. (But read today’s Allan Kozinn piece in the Times regarding the problem of taking the composer’s intention too seriously. I liked the article, though I was a bit confused by his references to Schoenberg as “contemporary music”.)  While, as a native Clevelander, I will always revere the Cleveland Orchestra/Boulez Sacre from 1969, holding it above all other versions (I haven’t heard their remake), there is a compellingly crazed intensity to Stravinsky’s own recording. Symphony of Psalms is another highlight, with the stasis of the last movement working its magic. But I have to say that a lot of these recordings just aren’t very good, with ensemble that fails to lock in (this shows up most in the note-filled allegros like the fast movements of the Concerto for Piano and Winds) and appalling intonation - try Agon, for example, where the players are having an agon of their own. The comment attributed to Schoenberg - “my music isn’t modern, it’s just badly played” - applies here.

There are some recorded bits of rehearsal included in the set, and it is disturbing to hear, in one of these, someone in the control room telling Stravinsky that a balance problem can be fixed later on. You never know with any recording just what is control room magic and what isn’t, but in a situation where the recording’s value is partly as a document of the composer’s interpretation, being reminded of the other ears that are at work is troubling. (For a recording of Stravinsky in rehearsal that is not included in this set, go here to listen to him trying out a revision of the Symphonies of Wind Instruments.)

Some intriguing details in the list of  performers in this set: the all-star infield of Barber, Sessions, Copland, and Foss playing the four pianos in Les Noces (recalling such collaborations as the Sessions/Copland/Thomson team of narrators for l’Histoire with Craft conducting Speculum Musicae - a performance that took place at the Whitney Museum early in my time in NYC (I also remember that concert because it was the last time I saw the great pianist Robert Miller before his untimely death), or the Babbitt/Harbison/Carter version of the same piece at Tanglewood a few years ago); Bethany Beardslee in Threni - a rather early document of her work, I would guess;  a number of songs done by Cathy Berberian; Joseph Szigeti and Stravinsky playing the Duo Concertant, alongside other Stravinsky piano performances by both Igor and son Soulima; Laurindo Almeida (yes, that Laurindo Almeida, from the L.A. Four) playing guitar in the Four Songs; and surely two of the more unexpected names: Sebastian Cabot and Elsa Lanchester as Noah and his wife in The Flood.

I’m glad I picked up this set, but I will be looking elsewhere for more satisfying performances.

Linkage

I’m slowly expanding the list of  links in the column at right. Today, some performers I’ve had the privilege of working with are added - more to come! (Be patient if you don’t see your name…)