Music of the Future

John Elfreth Wakins, Jr. made a series of predictions in 1900 that were printed in the Ladies Home Journal. Some predictions have actually come to pass, and some predictions, like the entry about education, should come to pass. The section about music is priceless.

Automatic instruments reproducing original airs exactly will bring the best music to the families of the untalented.

This comes via Paleo-Future, where I predict you will be spending a lot of time today. I know I will.

(Thanks Rachel!)

A Great Rossini Story

"He was a strange fellow. He manufactured some brandies, gave a few music lessons, and in that way made ends meet. He never owned a bed--he slept standing up . . . . At night he wrapped himself in his cloak, and slept thus in a corner of any arcade. The nightwatchman knew him and didn't disturb him. Then, at the crack of dawn, he would come to me, pull me out of bed--which I didn't like at all--and then I had to play for him. Sometimes when he hadn't rested enough, he'd go to sleep standing up again while I was working at the spinet. I'd take advantage of that in order to crawl back into bed. On waking up again, he'd look for me there and would be gratified by my assurances that while he had been asleep I had played my pieces without mistakes."

Gioccino Rossini's description to Ferdinand Hiller of his early studies in Bologna with Guiseppi Prinetti.

So Sad: An Aside

This 10 minute video "documentary" taken in Washington D.C. during the recent anti-u-name-it rally, shows the poor education level of the adults who showed up. It is tragic, actually. It's even more tragic than the messages these people have on their signs.

After a decent health care plan gets passed, we have to do something about education, and we have to do it soon. We can't afford to have another generation with any significant percentage of adults as under-educated as the people in this video. It is very clear that these people have been terribly manipulated by powerful entities (corporate as well as religious) that take advantage of their low level of education. I imagine that the powerful entities have serious contempt for these people outside of their use for them as "the base" or a "voting body." These people would be better served to direct their anger towards the people who are trying to (and succeeding to) manipulate them, fuel their deepest fears, and feed them misinformation to repeat and distribute on line.

These people have fallen prey to the ravings of lunatics who dominate certain areas of the airwaves and cable television. I'm sure that many of them mean well, but they appear not to be educated enough to separate reason from propaganda. Many of these people only came to this event because "big brother" on their television told them that they needed to go to Washington on the day after September 11th to voice their anger. That's all they know. That's all many of them need to know. It is terribly sad.

Thank you to Chase Whiteside and Erick Stoll for taking the time and energy to film this.

She had a song to sing, all over this land

Mary Travers (1936-2009)

Rare 1941 Dinu Lipati Test Recordings

Brahms, Intermezzo Op. 116 No. 2 in A minor Bach, Chorale in G major "Jesus bleibet meine Freude" Scarlatti, Sonata in G major L. 387 Chopin, Etude in G flat major Op. 10 No. 5 (A big thanks to Eliane Lust!) And here's a Lipati motherlode to use as a therapeutic ladder of escape for those times when the world seems to be too small, too difficult to understand, and too complicated to negotiate.

Competition

I used to be competitive when I was a child, and it really messed me up. I used to count the number of lines in the plays I was in, and I would measure my strength as an actress by how many I had. I (childishly, since I was a child) believed that the people who had fewer lines than I had were, clearly, not as good as I was. But the people who had more were, somehow, superior to me. I used to think that if I tried hard enough I too could get leading roles, but it didn't happen. By the time I made it to Junior High, I was comparatively short, not built like a dancer, and wasn't the leading-lady type. In spite of the fact that I knew every line and every song in every Jr. High School show, and I went to all the rehearsals, I spent my acting time in the offstage chorus.

There were already very good flutists in my school who played in the orchestras for the shows, so I remained in the chorus. I started playing the flute towards the end of seventh grade, and I decided to work really hard at it. After a few years of hyper-competitiveness, I eventually learned that the only real reward for hard work was in the work itself and in the ability to play. My competitive spirit worked its way out of my psyche, thank goodness, by the time I entered Juilliard (which, I suppose is the ultimate "lion's den" of musical competition). There was also no possible way I could compete with my classmates, so I simply didn't. I got myself onto a path of doing music for its own sake, and I believed that if I really worked hard enough, the quality of what I did would speak for itself.

Why is competition considered such a virtue? A quick Google search gleaned 61,300,000 websites on which to find competition quotes. Perhaps competition is an addiction like gambling. Perhaps the thrill of bettering another person gives a momentary sense of value to the winner. Perhaps that sense of defeat that surrounds the loser gives motivation to win next time. Perhaps it is exciting for kids to compete, but, in my eyes, using childish games as the major measure of accomplishment in the world, is simply childish. There should be room in the world for everyone who does anything of value, but that doesn't look like it is the case when I look at the view through my window, computer screen, and television.

Competition has made its way into everything: music (in all its forms), fashion, drama, art, architecture, cake decorating, cooking, raising animals, education, attractiveness, physical fitness in all its possible forms, and even blogging. Being successful in business doesn't necessarily mean that you have a good product or service to sell. It means that your goods and services are chosen over the goods and services of the competition, for reasons that do not necessarily have anything to do with the actual quality of what you do.

It seems that television has become one large game show, expanding the boundaries of competition to the ridiculous. It is hard to watch cable television during any given hour of the day and not find at least one show that involves some kind of a competition (in between the commercials, that is). Even the news, particularly the cable news, treats every stage of politics as a game (in between commercials, that is).

Sadly, it is those of us who choose not to compete that end up being relative non-participants in the continually competitive game of life.

Don't Judge a Book by its Title

I found Joseph H. Kupfer's Prostitutes, Musicians, and Self-Respect: Virtues and Vices of Personal Life through a Google search concerning self-serving musicians (another rant that I will spare for another post), and imagined, from the excerpt that I read on Google Books, that it might contain some interesting ideas (in the sections of the book that were not available on line). I didn't buy the book. Michael was able to get it through inter-library loan for me, and had a look at it before I did, since the book made it from his office to our living room by way of his backpack.

On first glance he mentioned that it looked like a philosophy book, and he asked me where I found it. I told him. He looked in the index for "music" and told me that there was nothing there. I, in my infinite optimism, imagined that the coverage of the subject of music would be so large that an entry in an index would be superfluous, but I was totally wrong. The subject of music, in the context of self-respect and the idea of prostitution, gets only a tiny mention in the title chapter of the book (which is the ultimate chapter), and it only comes through a discussion of "Sex, a Feminist Perspective," an article from 1986 by Janet Radcliffe-Richards. Kupfer tells us that Radcliffe-Richards "compares the prostitute to the musician. She sees nothing worse about people selling their services to produce sexual pleasure in other than in selling musical services to produce aesthetic pleasure."

Reflections on this argument could move into interesting territory, but Kupfer argues against it in an unsatisfying way. I will quote:

When gifted people capable of creative work forgo the chance to undertake artistically worthwhile projects in order merely to please or make money, we speak of them as prostituting themselves. They have sold out. We need to say "merely" to please or make money because nothing is wrong with pleasing or making money provided the musicians are being true to themselves. This requires pursuing art commensurate with their talents and is likely to develop nonmusical dimensions of themselves as well as their musical abilities. The risk of genuine failure and the discipline required in meeting such a challenge often bring with them nonmusical growth. For example, it takes courage to put one's best efforts on the line. Then, too, humility may be required to seek help or accept one's true limitations. If we never take our best shot, then we can always deceive ourselves by rationalizing that we could have done superlative work had we only tried."

That is pretty much the whole musical discussion. No wonder the word "music" didn't earn a place in the index!

Gee. I could write a book about the myriad humiliations that musicians put themselves through in the course of trying to live a musical life. I have seen, lived through, and experienced many situations that would make a musician's life similar to that of a prostitute. The biggest difference for me between music and prostitution is that music is sacred, and the understanding of a small corner of it through study and practice, is the greatest reward there is. There is, as far as I know, very little personal reward in trading sex for money, aside from the money.

Orchestral musicians put themselves through a large range of humiliations, both social and hierarchical, in order to play professionally (a glance at Blair Tindall's Mozart in the Jungle will give a pretty good idea how much sex-related trade there is in the world of music--and she just touches the tip of the iceberg). Freelance musicians have to vie for position in the eyes of contractors, which sometimes can lead to circumstances that violate appropriate ethical behavior. Orchestral conductors have been known to humiliate musicians that they don't particularly like, for reasons that often have nothing to do with the music at hand, and the stretching of personal boundaries between musicians of influence and musicians new to the profession is, and always has been, quite common.

Perhaps self-promotion, which is considered a musical virtue these days, a little akin to prostitution. As a person who would rather do things than promote what I do, I feel that a piece of music, a performance, or even a lesson or a class should "speak" for itself. I also feel that each musical act accomplishes a purpose, and that purpose is not to reflect on the "greatness" of the person performing that act. For me, in the instance of a piece I am writing, the purpose is to have something that is useful and can bring some kind of emotional and social pleasure to the people playing it and hearing it. The purpose, in the case of a concert I play, is to fill alienating silent spaces with something that can unite all the people in them (including the often-no-longer-alive composer) by making it possible for the audience to enjoy music that is vibrant, fluid, free from technical "blemishes," and is emotionally and intellectually engaging. I believe that voluntarily playing a concert for free or writing a piece for the fun of it has nothing to do with prostitution. But playing a concert for free for a paying audience is extremely humiliating. And writing a piece that a publisher sells without reporting the sales to the composer (or sending royalty checks) is a good way to compromise a composer's self-respect.

I'll stop now. And I'll return this book to the library right away.

Edda, Jetta, and Hans

I devoted a large chunk of my afternoon watching Hans Christian Andersen: My Life as a Fairy Tale on a commercial television channel that managed to infuse this nearly three-hour-long movie with three more hours of commercials. It was painful to wait between segments, but, being a long time devotee of Andersen, I pressed on. I enjoyed the film a great deal, and I particularly appreciated the way the film was written, even though most of the film's plot was indeed a fairy tale. Terri Windling's article about Andersen's life will help anyone separate fact from pure fiction, or fairy tale.

The film's writer was able to mold the story of "The Snow Queen" to fit the needs of the film's plot, and he was also able to make Jenny Lind a central dramatic character. I was rather impressed with the fictional character of "Jetta," (the woman with the dark hair in the above film clip) who served as the third member of a love triangle with Jenny Lind. I wonder if Kit Hesketh-Harvey, the film's writer, gave the Jetta (pronounced "Yetta") character her name because of the Edda, the source from which Andersen might have drawn some of the mythic material he used in his stories.

In my Snow Queen opera, published in 2003, two years after this film was made, by the way, I gave the grandmother character in the story the name Edda. I knew about the name because my step-grandmother was named Etta (pronounced "Edda") and it seemed perfectly appropriate, almost serendipitous to give her that name. The Edda-Jetta connection here, if it is one made from the folkloric connection, is also serendipitous. In searching (in vain) for a way of contacting the screenwriter, I learned that we share the same birthday. Triple serendipity.

Interpreting Avant-Garde Music

I'll leave writing a detailed review of the music that Muhal Richard Abrams, George Lewis, and Roscoe Mitchell played at the Chicago Jazz Festival earlier this evening to Michael, and will spend my two cents on the person interpreting the concert visually for people who could not hear the music. This was my first purely instrumental concert with an interpreter for the deaf and hard of hearing. I imagine an instrumental concert is quite a challenge for an interpreter.

Michael and I arrived early enough to hear a set played by the Jeff Parker Quartet, and ensemble I particularly liked because the keyboard player played a Hammond Organ. I noticed the interpreter, who, moving to the rhythm of the music, tried to transmit what she heard in the music through gesture. She did a fine job, and seemed to be having a great time.
When "The Trio" came on, a different interpreter came to the corner of the stage. This person seemed baffled by the avant-garde music that this group of musicians played. Eventually the first interpreter came back to the stage, and tried her best to translate electronic sounds and extended instrumental techniques, set in a format that lacked both regular meter and harmony, into sign language.

Some of the sounds these musicians made during their 50-minute set are very difficult to describe by using words. I didn't see the interpreter use signs other than signs showing which instrument was playing to describe what was happening in the music (and there was a lot happening in the music), and use facial expressions to transmit some of the emotional expression. The musicians themselves were improvising in such a free way that it was difficult to figure out where phrases were going before they got "there" (and they stood remarkably still on stage: this was a concert, not a "show"). The addition of sampled sounds (including train sounds and nature sounds) from Lewis' laptop added a great deal to the texture, and it sometimes took a while to figure out exactly which sounds were made by the instruments and which sounds were made by the laptop.

I thought she did an admirable job, and seeing her there started me on a train of thought (yes, my mind did wander once in a while during the performance). I began thinking about the ultimate value that a savvy interpreter could add to the experience of the ASL-informed members of an audience for new music, both hearing and non-hearing. S/he could give verbal descriptions of the contours and textures in the music, much the way a film voice-over script gives aural commentary on the visual happenings in a film for people who are unable to see.

It is difficult to do with improvised music. The interpreter must be quick with his or her commentary, but with music that s/he could study beforehand, and relate a commentary in real time, an interpreter could add something quite special and useful. It could even work for avant-garde music from earlier times, like Haydn and Beethoven!

And he can also dance . . .

. . . and the piano can too!

Melodica Anthology

I had a wonderful time looking through Daniel Wolf's brand new Melodica Anthology today, and I imagine you will too.

Orzo D'apres D'Arabian (or perhaps Devant)

My late Sunday morning habit of watching Melissa D'Arabian's show on the food network always inspires me to make a veganized version of one or more of her dishes for Sunday's dinner. Even though I only caught the last four minutes of her show today, her orzo that behaves like risotto (and doesn't need any attention while cooking) got me very excited.

When I went to the website for her show, the recipe wasn't there, so I had to guess. My guessing came out so deliciously that I'm putting my recipe here. This recipe served two of us, and there was enough left over for another hungry person.

1T olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped
1/2 orange bell pepper, chopped
the zest of one lemon
1/4 t (or so) of Italian herbs

1 cup orzo
2 cups vegetable broth
freshly chopped Italian parsley

Heat the oil, and on rather high heat, caramelize the onion. Add the pepper and the lemon zest, and cook it for a few more minutes. Add the dry orzo, the dry herbs, saute them for a minute, and then douse the whole mixture with the vegetable broth.

Bring the mixture to a boil, and cook it uncovered on medium high heat (keep it boiling) for 10 minutes, or until most of the liquid is absorbed. Then throw in the parsley, turn off the heat, and cover the pot until you are ready to eat.

We had it with asparagus roasted in olive oil, garlic, and lemon juice, and Michael had salmon that was also cooked in lemon juice.

Now I'll go and compare what I did to what Melissa did (if the recipe is up now).

Nora Ephron's WBUR Interview about Julia Child

Nora Ephron's interview, like everything else she does, is inspiring, very human, and deeply revealing.

And let's give credit to John Morris for writing the theme song that we get to hear at the end of the interview.

. . . but I digress

Words spoken by Paolo Gambara in Gambara, written in 1837 by Honore de Balzac and translated into English by Clara Bell and James Waring.

"Hitherto men have noted effects rather than causes. If they could but master the causes, music would be the greatest of the arts. Is it not the one which strikes deepest to the soul? You see in painting no more than it shows you; in poetry you have only what the poet says; music goes far beyond this. Does it not form your taste, and rouse dormant memories? In a concert-room there may be a thousand souls; a strain is flung out from Pasta's throat, the execution worthily answering to the ideas that flashed through Rossini's mind as he wrote the air. That phrase of Rossini's, transmitted to those attentive souls, is worked out in so many different poems. To one it presents a woman long dreamed of; to another, some distant shore where he wandered long ago. It rises up before him with its drooping willows, its clear waters, and the hopes that then played under its leafy arbors. One woman is reminded of the myriad feelings that tortured her during an hour of jealousy, while another thinks of the unsatisfied cravings of her heart, and paints in the glowing hues of a dream an ideal lover, to whom she abandons herself with the rapture of the woman in the Roman mosaic who embraces a chimera; yet a third is thinking that this very evening some hoped-for joy is to be hers, and rushes by anticipation into the tide of happiness, its dashing waves breaking against her burning bosom. Music alone has this power of throwing us back on ourselves . . ."

Town Meeting

(click for a larger view)
Before going to this evening's town meeting with Tim Johnson, the person who represents our area in Congress, I thought I should become familiar with his positions on various issues so that, on the off chance I might get called on to ask a question, my question could be totally informed. Imagine my surprise when I searched for "health care" on his web site, and found the above "lorem ipsum" text rather than policies and positions. Why would an elected official not post positions on vitally important issues on his or her dot-gov website? Perhaps the same reason that the people who worked in his office did not really give us satisfactory information about his positions on health care when we visited last week.

Thanks to the hard work of many dedicated people, I was able to go elsewhere to find the information I wanted to find.

The meeting was held at the community college where I teach, and the auditorium (the same auditorium where I watched Barack Obama's inauguration between classes last January) was nearly full when we arrived. I spied two empty seats in the middle of the center section, and people I thought to be a nice couple in their later 60s moved over a couple of seats so that Michael and I didn't have to go in so far in order to sit down.

The man, who was sitting next to me, asked me what "side" I was on. I was a bit shocked at the question, but I said that I was in favor of health care reform. He then told me that if he knew that he wouldn't have moved over for me. I thought he was kidding. I asked him if he was kidding because he had a smile on his face. But he wasn't kidding. That was the end of our conversation.

Rep. Johnson arrived ten minutes late, and when he finally arrived he spent a good nine minutes making self-promotional introductory comments. He also made sure that he spent a good five minutes describing the size of our national debt, so the actual amount of time he spent listening to and responding to questions came to about three quarters of an hour (the meeting was supposed to start at 5 and he conveniently had somewhere to go at 6). He did make sure that he called health care reform "socialized medicine," and later in his responses to various questions referred to President Obama sarcastically as our "esteemed leader." He talked about illegal immigrants as people who have "gamed the system," referring to them as simply "illegals."

He responded to thoughtful questions from audience members who voiced the need for health care reform with canned answers that did not answer the specific questions. He was condescending, hostile, angry, and he did his best to try to scare people about the dangers of what he called "socialized medicine." One person cited objective facts about health care from an objective non-partisan source, and Rep. Johnson simply told him that his facts were wrong. I imagine that Rep. Johnson was wrong when he stated that only one tenth of the people in the auditorium were in favor of health care reform. Perhaps he got that information from reading his web page.

I'm glad I went to this meeting. I had a far better impression of him from his campaign material and his voting record than I had from witnessing his sarcasm and his anger. The audience (except for the man to my immediate right) was extremely civil, the Representative was abrasive. When he is up for re-election, I will do everything in my power to work for the person or people running against him.

N.B. Here is an excellent animated explanation from earthly comics about how the insurance business works. It should clear up any questions that anyone might happen to have.