There are some joys to be had from the credit crunch/recession/slump/whatever after all. The Indy carries news that the original Muzak company is filing for bankruptcy protection. Does that mean we can have some peace and quiet again? I suspect not, of course, but we can dream.
I've lost count of the number of musicians who tell me in interviews that piped music in lifts, lobbies and everywhere else they go is the bane of their lives. And I've always thought it's a form of universally administered anaesthetic: something to deaden our senses just enough to stop us getting too clever, noticing and potentially rebellious.
I disagree profoundly with the Indy's leading article, though, which suggests that Muzak was the food of shopping and that music could now encourage us back to the shops. I promise you that there is nothing, but *nothing*, that will drive me out of a shop as fast as music I don't like.
There aren't many shops that play music I do like, of course. Jigsaw seems to have a propensity for the ugliest kind of pop, which is just as well: I adore their clothes, so the noise saves me a fortune! The one piped music experience I remember with affection was one day in Monsoon when they played Abba and all the customers were singing along with 'Dancing Queen'. Most cheering. But I still didn't buy anything.
Interesting to note, though, that genuine full-blown classical music pumped through underground, railway and bus stations clears away the yobs and hoodies like there's no tomorrow and makes the rest of us feel better about life.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Die tote Stadt - the news in brief
This will have to be short because my brain is so overloaded from last night.
So, the news in brief. Mixed feelings about the production, which in certain ways is extremely striking - the stage-within-a-stage in the dream sequence, the stunning projections and shadowplays of the procession, the brief glimpse of Marietta's 1920s showgirl glory at the end of Act 1, and Paul's momentary hesitation on the threshold as he leaves at the very end. Never sure, though, about productions that show one thing while the text tells you something totally different - eg references to the beauty of Marietta's hair when she is walking around Paul's room with a shaven head. But the imagery is concentrated, the concepts focused and mainly appropriate and the walking houses are a super touch.
I think the singers could have done with a break after Act 1 - the three-act version is a preferable format. But Nadja Michael, despite a little awkward intonation on high, does have the power, the presence and the legs for Marietta; Stephen Gould's voice is big enough to carry off Paul's massively demanding role, and when it's a case of standing and delivering he does so to the manner born; and Gerry Finlay stole the show with the Pierrot Tanzlied.
(But I dream of the ideal Paul, with voice, drama, heart and soul, and he exists, if he could be persuaded... PAGING MR KAUFMANN...PAGING MR KAUFMANN....)
Some concern in the extended first half that everyone was running out of steam, including Metzmacher, whose conducting often felt episodic, failing to shape and build the tension across the long spans; eg Paul's first aria describing his meeting with Marietta came over with little sense of its narrative structure, and that wasn't our tenor's doing but our conductor's.
In the second half (well, the last third), second wind seemed to take hold: the procession and the Paul-Marietta scene alongside it were utterly electrifying. And there the full symbolism of the production, perhaps indeed the unconscious symbolism of the opera itself, came shining out: the war of the 19th versus the 20th century...the strictured, superstitious, hypocritical 19th, transfixed by an idealised and unrealistic past, when faced with the glamour, free spirit and sexual liberation of the 20th, is so threatened that it can only strangle it.
And the terror that Paul may not represent only the 19th century, but the wilfully barbarian 21st.
As for mourning... I still can't comprehend how Korngold could have created such a marvel of human empathy at the age of 20. He was only 23 at the time of the premiere in December 1920. Was it the air he breathed, Vienna in the First World War, the crumbling world, the death of childhood, the end of an era? Or did he just...know - and most of all, have the musical technique to reach directly into his audience's hearts when conveying that empathy?
There was a great deal I didn't understand in the opera when I first studied its 'musical and dramatic structure' in 1987. Now perhaps I understand a little better.
What I still don't understand is why I first gravitated to this, of all operas, in good times, student days, well before coming to terms with bereavement became such a dominant theme in my life (both my parents and my sister died within a few years of each other).
Today is the 15th anniversary of my mother's death.
So, the news in brief. Mixed feelings about the production, which in certain ways is extremely striking - the stage-within-a-stage in the dream sequence, the stunning projections and shadowplays of the procession, the brief glimpse of Marietta's 1920s showgirl glory at the end of Act 1, and Paul's momentary hesitation on the threshold as he leaves at the very end. Never sure, though, about productions that show one thing while the text tells you something totally different - eg references to the beauty of Marietta's hair when she is walking around Paul's room with a shaven head. But the imagery is concentrated, the concepts focused and mainly appropriate and the walking houses are a super touch.
I think the singers could have done with a break after Act 1 - the three-act version is a preferable format. But Nadja Michael, despite a little awkward intonation on high, does have the power, the presence and the legs for Marietta; Stephen Gould's voice is big enough to carry off Paul's massively demanding role, and when it's a case of standing and delivering he does so to the manner born; and Gerry Finlay stole the show with the Pierrot Tanzlied.
(But I dream of the ideal Paul, with voice, drama, heart and soul, and he exists, if he could be persuaded... PAGING MR KAUFMANN...PAGING MR KAUFMANN....)
Some concern in the extended first half that everyone was running out of steam, including Metzmacher, whose conducting often felt episodic, failing to shape and build the tension across the long spans; eg Paul's first aria describing his meeting with Marietta came over with little sense of its narrative structure, and that wasn't our tenor's doing but our conductor's.
In the second half (well, the last third), second wind seemed to take hold: the procession and the Paul-Marietta scene alongside it were utterly electrifying. And there the full symbolism of the production, perhaps indeed the unconscious symbolism of the opera itself, came shining out: the war of the 19th versus the 20th century...the strictured, superstitious, hypocritical 19th, transfixed by an idealised and unrealistic past, when faced with the glamour, free spirit and sexual liberation of the 20th, is so threatened that it can only strangle it.
And the terror that Paul may not represent only the 19th century, but the wilfully barbarian 21st.
As for mourning... I still can't comprehend how Korngold could have created such a marvel of human empathy at the age of 20. He was only 23 at the time of the premiere in December 1920. Was it the air he breathed, Vienna in the First World War, the crumbling world, the death of childhood, the end of an era? Or did he just...know - and most of all, have the musical technique to reach directly into his audience's hearts when conveying that empathy?
There was a great deal I didn't understand in the opera when I first studied its 'musical and dramatic structure' in 1987. Now perhaps I understand a little better.
What I still don't understand is why I first gravitated to this, of all operas, in good times, student days, well before coming to terms with bereavement became such a dominant theme in my life (both my parents and my sister died within a few years of each other).
Today is the 15th anniversary of my mother's death.
"The end is not as abrupt as that. Your name is still spoken. Your face is still remembered. And what you said, and what you did, and what you failed to do, these are still remembered... As long as one is left who remembers you, so long is the matter unended...until you are quite forgotten...you will not be finished with the earth even though you are dead."
(Ferenc Molnar, Liliom - quoted in the ROH programme...)
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Tonight...
...I am finally going to Die tote Stadt. It's not snowing, the trains are running (touch wood) and I hope to report back fully tomorrow morning! Watch this space.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Hungarian Dances goes live at Fiddles on Fire
Glad to report that the Fiddles on Fire Festival - this year, two bonanzas of the hottest global violin playing from Klezmer to Karnatic, first in Gateshead, then in London - is to be the scene of some special Hungarian Dances: Concert of the Novel events in April!
It was all their idea, too. When I went up to The Sage in September, I read from the book, then popped on a sneak preview of Hejre Kati from Philippe's CD. Collectively my audience shot towards the ceiling. The Sage being a wonderful, upbeat, go-ahead arts centre where managers actually speak to one another, someone then looked at my website, saw that there'd been a concert...and an invitation to go live followed soon afterwards.
This is going to be very different from the Kensington event last summer - I have repointed the script to concentrate the action on the story of Mimi Racz. For Fiddles on Fire, we're creating a special programme of 75 minutes, to perform on the two Saturday evenings of the two festival wings, each at 6pm. I've managed to reduce the 130,000-word novel to about 6 pages and with violin music including our beloved Dohnanyi and Bartok, plus Ravel, Debussy, Brahms and, of course, Monti and Hubay, we hope that you'll love the result.
The Sage, Gateshead, event is on Saturday 11 April and I'm hugely grateful to Bradley Creswick, the leader of the Northern Sinfonia, for joining me in this since Philippe has a prior engagement on the other side of the planet.
The London event will be at Kings Place on Saturday 18 April, starring Philippe Graffin and friends. Intriguingly, KP has developed a 'dynamic' ticket system (perhaps inspired by the nearby trains?) in which the earlier you book, the cheaper the tickets are, so...
It was all their idea, too. When I went up to The Sage in September, I read from the book, then popped on a sneak preview of Hejre Kati from Philippe's CD. Collectively my audience shot towards the ceiling. The Sage being a wonderful, upbeat, go-ahead arts centre where managers actually speak to one another, someone then looked at my website, saw that there'd been a concert...and an invitation to go live followed soon afterwards.
This is going to be very different from the Kensington event last summer - I have repointed the script to concentrate the action on the story of Mimi Racz. For Fiddles on Fire, we're creating a special programme of 75 minutes, to perform on the two Saturday evenings of the two festival wings, each at 6pm. I've managed to reduce the 130,000-word novel to about 6 pages and with violin music including our beloved Dohnanyi and Bartok, plus Ravel, Debussy, Brahms and, of course, Monti and Hubay, we hope that you'll love the result.
The Sage, Gateshead, event is on Saturday 11 April and I'm hugely grateful to Bradley Creswick, the leader of the Northern Sinfonia, for joining me in this since Philippe has a prior engagement on the other side of the planet.
The London event will be at Kings Place on Saturday 18 April, starring Philippe Graffin and friends. Intriguingly, KP has developed a 'dynamic' ticket system (perhaps inspired by the nearby trains?) in which the earlier you book, the cheaper the tickets are, so...
Friday, February 06, 2009
'Purely classical' chart begins chez Gramophone
BBC news has a story that a new top record chart for 'purely' classical music (as opposed to Katherine Jenkins singing Leonard Cohen and calling it a 'sacred aria') is being launched in Gramophone's March edition and will be updated weekly on their website. (More from Tommy Pearson on the subject here.)
So how useful is this? Should they have done it years ago? Is this an industry that takes 40 years to cotton on to a good idea, in a magazine named after a machine that all but vanished 20 years ago? But now that it is on its way - with the late Richard Hickox doing well - is it actually of any positive value whatsoever? I am put in mind of the book trade, which is desperately skewed by several big, depressing factors that are usually nothing to do with quality but more about who is willing to spend money on what. (If I start telling you what these factors are, though - and how pernicious, how poisonous and how ought-to-be-illegal - someone will tell me to stop being a whingeing author. So you'll just have to take my word for it.)
In short: the discs that become 'bestsellers' are almost certainly going to be those on which the most money is spent in terms of promotion. Promotion means that the public will know something exists (nobody will buy anything if they don't know it's there). The CDs will then bowl on up the chart, and will sell more. Or are we classical aficionados more independent-minded than crossover and pop flock-followers? What do you think, folks?
So how useful is this? Should they have done it years ago? Is this an industry that takes 40 years to cotton on to a good idea, in a magazine named after a machine that all but vanished 20 years ago? But now that it is on its way - with the late Richard Hickox doing well - is it actually of any positive value whatsoever? I am put in mind of the book trade, which is desperately skewed by several big, depressing factors that are usually nothing to do with quality but more about who is willing to spend money on what. (If I start telling you what these factors are, though - and how pernicious, how poisonous and how ought-to-be-illegal - someone will tell me to stop being a whingeing author. So you'll just have to take my word for it.)
In short: the discs that become 'bestsellers' are almost certainly going to be those on which the most money is spent in terms of promotion. Promotion means that the public will know something exists (nobody will buy anything if they don't know it's there). The CDs will then bowl on up the chart, and will sell more. Or are we classical aficionados more independent-minded than crossover and pop flock-followers? What do you think, folks?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)