“The Enchanted Island” — the live audio stream, Dec 31, 2011

I’m sheepish to say that I didn’t listen to the entire thing. Wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear it for the first time like this or at the HD broadcast that I have a ticket for. Ultimately, I did tune in at the very end of Act I though, coming in on the beginning of the beautiful “Chaos, Confusion,” and heard all of Act II, which concluded with a chorus number immediately after one hell of a cadenza by Danielle DeNiese. She sang a modest, fairly typical little cadenza, then paused. The audience started to applaud … and she kept going! It was great! It’s such a thrill to hear these things in a new way, when you aren’t sure what you’re going to hear. And using familiar music counterbalances that, so that you’re sure you’re going to like what you hear, whatever it may be.

It was fantastic. One of the arias they used was a favorite of mine — “Ch’io parta?” from “Partenope.” It was fantastic when I heard the opening of that from the orchestra, and Daniels sang it to bits.

They wasted no time whatsoever in getting some videos up, as well as the short doco about it on the Met’s website. Wonderful, all around. I can’t wait to see it in HD.

I hope we see more of these sorts of things in the future. And I would love to get this on DVD.

Pipe organ vs. organ, or How Dare You Evolve Your Tool

Also brought to mind by Cameron Carpenter‘s musings:

I don’t know how we wound up in the situation where electric guitarists can play their instruments and investigate the new things they can do, but not be seen as pissing on Segovia’s grave … but classical musicians can’t change their instruments and investigate their new possibilities without being seen as disrespecting the old ones. No one accuses Neal Schon of disrespecting Segovia by playing an electric guitar, and even performing exclusively on it. It’s very strange. It’s simply seen as its own instrument on its own terms. Different from an acoustic of course, and capable of doing other things.

It started out as very similar and approached in similar ways, but people began to see the new things it could do as features and not bugs. Distortion? Feedback? I don’t care for them often, but the players on the device began to say, “Okay, we’re not going to call this a problem anymore because an acoustic guitar doesn’t do it. It’s a sound that the device can make, let’s see how to use it artistically.” And now it’s its own device, taken on its own terms, which can investigate new areas of music that are not open to acoustics. Acoustics are still around, and still beautiful, but these new devices exist alongside them. That’s all it is.

In my mind, it also makes me think of how fretless bass players will sometimes use instruments with inlays, while classical string players refuse to do so in what seems like an attempt to keep the instrument as difficult to use as it can be.

The argument made is usually that it locks one into a specific tuning, but I would say that the bass players who use inlays don’t seem “locked” into anything if they don’t want to be. Just because you have a line on your fingerboard that suggests a whole step interval doesn’t mean that you don’t have the freedom to still put your finger any damned place you want.

Besides, my quite good and well-respected teacher encouraged me to look at the fingerboard and use my eyes to make sure where I placed my fingers anyway! If we were relying only on our ears, we wouldn’t be told to look at the fingerboard in the first place! There’s tragic comedy someplace in the fact that string teachers tell students to look at a device with no set tempering, and piano teachers insist that their students not look at their discrete and tempered instrument to play it.

What goes for bass players goes for string players as well. There is zero logical foundation to the statement that inlays destroy musicality. If your musicality is that fragile and your free will that easier overtaken, you shouldn’t be playing the instrument in the first place.

It just boggles me how string players will act like the existence of inlays on the fingerboard will suck their free will out through their eyeballs. What an idiotic opinion. At bottom, it’s nothing but a desire to keep the instrument relatively unplayable without a lifetime of effort, in order to make sure that as few people play it as possible. Keep the fraternity small and exclusive, a sort of country-club mentality. It’s also a way to ensure that one must pass through that fraternity before one is able to play, so that the fraternity gets its chance to take control over what you will say on your device, that you will only communicate approved ideas in an approved way. If you have to pass through that fraternity first, then that gives them the opportunity to make sure that whatever message you send has been dogmatically approved by them first.

Yet why shouldn’t the thing be made easier to play, so that more people can communicate more things on it? It’s technology, isn’t it? We don’t stick to horses and buggies when we can use cars, nor pinces-nez in place of glasses. We don’t incise stone tablets when we can use pens and papers, nor stick to pens and paper when we can use computers. We simply use the right tool for the right job, and where the tool makes things harder, we change it. If people want to use the old-school tools because they like them, then fine. But again, no one says that Tommy Shaw hates and wants to destroy all acoustic guitars just because he sticks to an electric more often than not. I have no doubt that he likes to listen to Pepe Romero.

So why the hell can’t other instruments evolve in multiple directions? Why do people insist on feeling threatened just because someone somewhere doesn’t do something exactly the way they do it? Because someone somewhere insists on being not them? You over there! You’re disrespecting me and calling me into question by not being me!

I also think it sometimes comes from classical music being seen as a geeky thing to do, which causes those who do it to overcompensate in an effort to make themselves seem tougher and more “hardcore.” It’s an insecurity at its heart, a fear that one will vanish if one’s being is not continually validated, along with a fear that, if a player isn’t forced to pass through a monastic order first, they might say Unapproved Things through their instrument.

No, Cameron. What do you really think?

Boy, you don’t go away from a conversation with him wondering what he thought, do you?

  1. Chapter 1: Dancing the Organ
  2. Chapter 2: Changing the Image of the Organ
  3. Chapter 3: Expanding the Repertoire
  4. Chapter 4.1: Advocate of the Digital Organ Part I
  5. Chapter 4.2: Advocate of the Digital Organ Part II
  6. Chapter 5: The Artist as Creator
  7. Chapter 6: Dangerous Obsession: Klaus Kinski
  8. Chapter 7: At Home in Berlin
  9. Chapter 8: Composing “Der Skandal”

He’s right about a device being soulless. The musician is meant to empty their soul into it.

And I wish people had the same realistic acceptance of the issues of a piano, and other instruments. And I completely agree with him about having one relationship with one instrument. As a pianist, I’m sick to death of not knowing what the hell is waiting for me. That’s probably the best part of having a viola. As I play it, I come to know it. The unportability of keyboard instruments is a constant source of stress and annoyance to keyboard players, as is the unfamiliarity of whatever instrument that may be waiting for you. The instrument ceases to be a barrier between the musician and what they want to communicate. Besides … think about that article about Horowitz and the others jerry-rigging their pianos.

Although I do think he’s oversimplifying; Joshua Bell has not played the same violin since he was eight for pete’s sake (an earlier comment he made elsewhere). I’m thinking of that RBP podcast where she rattled off a litany of the various fiddles she’s played. Few modern string players own their instruments outright, which introduces a significant uncertainty to their lives. No one organist is expected to own the Wanamaker.

I also agree with him about the value taking music out of its typical context. I would go further in that one can sense new things in pieces once they are played in new settings, which organs haven’t thus far been free to do. Making an organ mobile reveals new facets to even the standard literature by simply playing them in new places, facets that would never have been revealed otherwise.

I would disagree about there being nothing negative about people not being able to make music anymore. There’s nothing negative about making music on amplified instruments by any means. But yes, it’s a problem that people don’t make their own music anymore. The communication is so much more profound when it goes both ways, and when performer and listener have each been in the other’s shoes.

BTW, don’t invoke quantum mechanics unless you have studied it. Thanks. :-)

Also … how fortunate that he’s male. With his attitude, he’d be burnt alive if he weren’t. America doesn’t love or forgive mud-covered women nearly so much, does it?

I recall hearing that he once remarked that organists can burn out, “live-fast-die-young,” etc. I don’t know if anyone can sustain that level of manic brilliance for a very long time. It will be interesting to see how he evolves as he ages.

An extra finger? Try an extra arm.

Cameron Carpenter pushing the envelope

I recall watching a scene from the movie “Gattaca” about genetically engineered humans blah blah blah yadda yadda Our Hero Struggling Against The Odds And There’s A Hot Chick etc. etc. etc.

Anyway, in one scene, they made some hay about watching a pianist who had been Specially Engineered™ with six fingers on each hand.

The first thing I thought was how no pianist would bother with an extra finger. A violinist — certainly a violist or cellist — yes. But not a pianist.

An extra arm, though? Okay, I might take that.

Organists might like a few more legs, too.

Tightly culturally tied music

Just thinking about this. There seem to be certain types of music that just about everyone likes. Classical is one, no surprise since there’s around 800 years worth of it, so everyone will like something. The Beatles. Billy Joel. Some form of Motown.

Then there’s music forms like country, rap, and opera that are much more culturally tied. In other words, you’re either raised in a culture that likes them, or there is a very strong chance that you don’t. Of course there’s some softness around the edges since musical genres are just commonly agreed upon false hunches at bottom, but for the most part, this obtains. It’s just interesting.

The more I hear of this instrument, the better it sounds.

Schubert’s Ave Maria on pedal steel

It has the vibrato and slide capabilities of strings, the chordal capabilities and ability to carry an entire piece unaccompanied of a keyboard, and better sustain than a keyboard. I’m starting to consider the pedal steel to be one of the ultimate evolutions of musical instruments. If I hadn’t started on viola (and as annoyed as I get with it periodically, I do love it even if I sound like a dead fish smells), I’d probably be looking into it, but I doubt I could find lessons around here. Nor could I fit lessons into my schedule; I already had to quit viola lessons.

But I can enjoy listening to people who can play them well.

Although I would still like to see one fitted into a nice wooden cabinet with some heavy brocade upholstery and good carving. They look like cheap formica kitchen tables, which is unjust. I suppose it keeps them from being too expensive, which is good, but I doubt the things are cheap as it is now. A nice classy looking frame to install the thing in at home would be a wonderful addition, one that just fit around the metal legs so that it looked nice, but that allowed it to still be removed and carried around, so that you could have instrument makers and cabinet makers separately.

Jeez. I’m from Philadelphia. I don’t even like country music.

Update: You know, I say that and then I turn around and talk about Tf3 and how much I like good bluegrass and Cape Breton fiddling. False hunches, indeed.

Wow. What a breakthrough.

If you play the scale to the key that the music is in a whole lot, the weird little tics in the music get easier. Wow. Whodathunk.

I’ve now been positively convinced that I need to play a slow, easy Gm scale for about a half hour tomorrow before starting in on Melody V. This will conclude the first pass through the Fitzpatricks. Then, it’s back to the start for the second coat.

I keep forgetting to shed technique.

I’m not feeling very composey at the moment, but I’m in the woodshed with the viola and not the piano. I should be working on Hanon on the piano while I’m in this mood, a mood to just do something purely mechanical without emotional value. At least then, when I’m finally in the mood to write something, I will still have gained ground.

The viola work is paying off somewhat though. Oh, I’m still a beginner, but I’m getting better. I think the center-mount chinrest will help since moving over the tailpiece with the Guarneri-style I have now has improved things. And I continue to be surprised at the efficacy of slow practice. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. It really does help — Perlman said in a little video he put up on YouTube that “when you learn something slowly, you forget it slowly.” He’s right. I’d never heard it put that way, but he’s right. Practice slowly, get your brain used to thinking of all the myriad things you have to keep in mind as you go, and it will sink in slowly and deeply. One could spend hours going through his videos. I’m glad they’re all still up there, unlike RBP’s podcasts, which have apparently vanished. I’m glad I downloaded many of them, but I didn’t get them ALL. Anyhow.

I just have to start thinking of the piano in more woodsheddy terms as well. Sure I can play it, but I can always play it better. I’m not a beginner but let’s face it, I’m not Martha freakin Argerich, either. If I can’t write a damn thing at the moment, I can at least still improve my technique against the day when I feel like putting something down on paper again. And I won’t feel like such a nonmusical blob anymore, like I do now.