… a photo discourages me from wanting to see an opera. Go figure.
I am going to save classical music. Give me five or 10 years. You’ll see.
-Teodor Currentzis
(He said this in 2005, so he still has some time to work on this. If classical music needs saving.)
You can see him in action:
and
Let’s dump “elistist” as a label for classical music
Okay. Will do. ;-)
(Never heard that word before, but whatever.)
Update … oh rats, he fixed the typo. I kind of liked it. ;-)
It’s only classical music but I like it – even if I am still in the dark about orchestral manoeuvres
I have a confession to make – before last week I had never been to a classical music concert in my life. I know, it’s shameful. Of course, I have been to those often-painful school concerts when your beloved progeny try to squeeze a familiar tune out of a tortured instrument, the parents scrabbling for the programme in pursuit of hopeful recognition of the aurally unrecognisable.
Want to know what the concert goer thought? Go here. (Scroll down a bit.)
Despite the palpable eloquence of the soloist, Nicholas Daniel, his tone was like a bat squeak from the next county until one ear’s adjusted. It was a relief when the orchestra — the BBC Symphony, of course — and its chief conductor, Jiri Belohlavek, returned to the opulence of Strauss.
BAT SQUEAK!?
Here’s how Mr. Daniel plays:
This week my office has been hosting an international conference of double reed players (oboes and bassoons). Well let’s just say that in a few hours I will be a very happy camper when this conference concludes. The majority of the people who are attending this conference are not members of the LDS Church and are experiencing a little bit of a shock when it comes to the complete lack of coffee and alcohol on BYU’s campus. One of my absolute favorite moments of the week came when a woman approached me at the information desk and asked me about coffee (mind you this was half way through the week when she was already aware of the lack of coffee on campus). Here is the conversation that followed:
Newcomer to Campus: “Now please tell me where I can get some coffee on campus.”
Me: “There is no coffee available on campus but you can get it at most off campus resturaunts.”
Newcomer to Campus: “I already heard that, really though there must be something on campus.”
Me: “I’m sorry but there really is nothing on campus.”
Newcomer to Campus: “You are a student, there must be an underground coffee ring put on by the student’s. Please, just tell me where to find it.”
Me: “No, I can gurantee that there is not an underground coffee ring on campus.”
Newcomer to Campus: Walked away dissapointed
I read it here.
I know my husband, Dan, will enjoy reading about him, too.
English concedes that he is slowing down, that the mountains are steeper than they once were. For his 90th birthday, he vows to make the hike out carrying 40 pounds.
When rising young Italian tenor Vittorio Grigolo insists he’s not just one of those callow crossover stars who turn up regularly on PBS, bells might start ringing, just like on one of those public TV pledge drives.
After all, his debut disc, “Vittorio” (Decca), sounds suspiciously like works by the operatic-leaning Josh Groban (bombastic), Russell Watson (bland yet bombastic) and Il Divo (bombastic times four). Beneath the slickly produced surface of “Vittorio,” however, lurks the voice of a true Caruso. “If it was so easy, then everybody could be an opera singer,” he said in an interview this week from Rome. “People like Paul Potts” — referring to the Welsh clerk turned international vocal sensation thanks to the reality show “Britain’s Got Talent” — “this is not good. These [reality] shows exploit people’s dreams. But the public knows who really can sing. You can’t fool them.”
Hmmm. I do believe you can fool the public. In fact I know you can. Not everyone, of course, but many.
I read the article here.
I think about this today after unintentionally offending someone I met last night. He is a professional musician; I seriously considered a career as a musician in high school and college, but decided against it for a number of reasons, chief among them my mother’s constant nagging that musicians just don’t make any money. So I approached the conversation with said musician with a lot of respect for his accomplishment.
“You actually get paid to play the oboe full-time,” I asked, a tone of amazement in my voice as I realized this guy seems to have a pretty comfortable life in expensive Washington, D.C., putting in his weekly 40-plus on the backside of a musical instrument. What a sweet life, I thought, to get paid for doing nothing more than feeding one’s own artistic passion.
I read it here.
… I have the Canzonetta going through me head now, I’m going to bless all of you with it as well. I’m nice that way. Go figure. I really do love the aria (and there’s not even an oboe in it!), but sometimes I wish a tune would go away for a little while. Know what I mean? :-)
Act 1, No. 1 (numbered not by aria or scene, but just the order of the videos)
and moving on … Act 1, No. 2
Act 1, No. 3
(I’ll probably post more later. Stay tuned.)
We have our final rehearsal in the rehearsal hall today. Then it’s on to the theatre. In Cowell I’m actually able to see the singers and hear them much better than I can in the California Theatre. I’m really looking forward to this! :-)
You know in Roman Holiday when the photographer takes pictures of Audrey Hepburn all day with a cigarette lighter camera? Do tiny cameras exist that an orchestra could attach to music stands to take photos while each member was playing a certain movement or something? I would love to see some shots like that displayed in lobbies or used for advertising materials. Thoughts? What can orchestras do to make their photographs stand out?
The technology to photograph each musician from the stand certainly exists. I think it’s just a matter of demonstrating the value of the concept. I’d personally love to see video of each performer. As far as what an entire orchestra can do to make their performance photographs stand out, I love the visual idea of acrylic music stands and chairs. Lines of sight are a huge problem for photographers and videographers – having fewer things to compete with the performers expressions is key.
Hmmm. Acrylic chairs? Does he mean chairs that you can actually see through, then? So you could see our big rear ends? Um. Please not mine!
I don’t think it’s possible to take a picture of an oboist while playing and make it look good. We just look too darn weird when we play. Even the beautiful players. Notice that no one in these photos is playing the instrument! ;-)
You can read the whole interview here.
(I should point out that he suggests NOT having your instrument in your pictures. Yikes! My instrument is my shield!)
In a concert hall, an audience member making a ruckus can be an annoyance.
When the commotion comes from a white and black Shih Tzu ensconced on the couch, it’s more cute than irritating.
Still, the sound of paw cleaning was enough of a distraction at a recent private concert by members of Mercury Baroque that Ellen Sanborn had to ask Trey the dog to knock it off. But by then, they had a relationship.
“That precious dog started the concert on my lap,” Sanborn said.
And it’s all about the relationships.
At least that was the point of a recent gathering of about 15 at the Houston home of Mike and Donna Boyd for the 40-minute concert of two violins, harpsichord and viola da gamba. The performance was a chance for the Boyds to introduce the group to potential new audience members while offering an evening to remember.
I love this idea … bringing chamber music into homes. It just seems like a wonderful way to make music more personal.
I only did something like this once, and it was a while ago now. I played with a violinist and harpsichordist and I just loved doing it. The people who came were so appreciative, and it was so great to be able to talk to them before and after we played. It also is so much less stressful (or at least it was for me): when you first talk about what you are going to do and you are in an intimate setting it just seems to make things more relaxed. I continue to see some of the attendees at concerts here in town, and I feel a connection to them as I see them sitting in the balcony. I hope they feel the same way.
Anyway, I’d sure love to do more of this sort of thing.
I read about it here.
Mozart. Don Giovanni. And a car.
To talk well and eloquently is a very great art, but that an equally great one is to know the right moment to stop.
-Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
