As I was packing, I was listening to Radio David Byrne. There’s a lot of new, interesting stuff on, including the new Dirty Projectors album which hasn’t come out yet. (They are my favorites these days along with some others on the playlist: St. Vincent, Final Fantasy, The Bird and The Bee). What’s great is how Byrne-influenced all this music is. The Children of Byrne & Eno have grown up and continued the tradition of artsy, beautiful, witty, world-influenced, electronic music! Yay!
What a strange and mysterious symphony. What captivates me is its use of “negative space.”
It opens in a void. All darkness and quiet, no key, no specific tonality. It’s like wandering in a dark room. How big is the room? We don’t know — we’re lost in the emptiness.
And as the symphony progresses, it always wants to return to the darkness, the negative zone of silence. It’s as if the notes of the symphony are written around a great emptiness, to show its architecture.
It’s about something other, something mysterious.
I conduct it this weekend, in misty, beautiful Victoria, BC.
So rehearsals for Mahler 9 begin tomorrow. Mahler entered my life as a teenager. I spent hours and hours listening to this music by myself, playing bass gigs so I could buy another Mahler CD. I think a lot of teenagers have their own personal “sad” music. For my friends it was The Cure or New Order or Depeche Mode; for me it was Mahler. It’s tragic, cathartic, full of yearning. Even when it’s joyful there’s always a tremendous cost. The hugeness of the music reflected the feelings I had inside of me. The questions it asked were questions I was asking myself, too shy to ask others. From a young age, I always took metaphysical questions very seriously. I thought about death and what it all meant. Mahler became my constant companion on this journey,
I opened up my high school yearbook last week and there it was, an “I <heart> Mahler” bumpersticker. I put it up over my seat in student government for everyone to see. I wanted more people to <heart> Mahler too. But more importantly, it was a mark of my individuality, what set me apart. Mahler’s sadness was my sadness. It was my mark of rebellion. Mahler was my purple mohawk.
I’ve spent the last few months immersed in Mahler’s Ninth Symphony, in preparation for a concert in a few weeks with the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony. It amazes me that I’m actually going to conduct this piece soon — it’s something I’ve dreamed of doing for a long time. I’ve been trying to figure out how to share this experience on the blog. I could go on and on, but I’ve never been into reading long blog posts (or writing them). So I’ve decided to do a series of “Mahler Entries,” which will be a collection of experiences I’ve had with the piece. I hope it will get people excited about the work. I personally couldn’t imagine what my life would be life without it.
So I’ve got a Mahler 9 coming up in a few weeks with the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony. As you might imagine, I’ve been working on this piece for months and months and living with it for years and years. This symphony is about the end of a lot of things, not least among them the end of Vienna as Mahler knew it. The symphony is, in my mind, a witness to the end of the Austro-Hungarian empire and a collapse of the traditions and culture of that city. A good book to read about this is the extraordinary epic novel by Joseph Roth, The Radetsky March. It talks about how the Radetsky March becomes a parody as the empire collapses and becomes more and more decadent. Sound familiar? Those who know the second and third movements of Mahler 9 will get what I mean. In fact, the third movement of Mahler 9 may be a parody of the Radetsky March itself.
But what about the parody of the second movement? It’s about the ländler and the waltz. As I’ve been studying the second movement this week it occurred to me that I’d never seen a ländler danced or heard an authentic folk version played. So I did a search on YouTube and decided to go even further by typing in “Bohemian Ländler,” the kind of sounds Mahler might have heard in his childhood in Iglau.
This is what I got:
It occurs to me that there are more sources at our fingertips to learn about music than ever before. Who knows if this clip is accurate, but it certainly feeds my imagination.
I find every journey to the South really really interesting. This is my first time in Memphis.
First, the orchestra: excellent group, great hall. They love to play music, which is what makes me happy when I conduct. No matter how good an orchestra is, if it feels like just another day at the office what’s the point? Of course I have to do my part to make this happen. So in many ways, when I’m working with a given orchestra in a given week, I’m thinking to myself, “How can the music-making be as vivid, as distinctive as possible?” Kudos also to David Loebel (music director - the real thing), and the excellent staff, who have really built something here.
The visit to the town has been full of feeling and emotion for me as well. Seeing the National Civil Rights Museum was incredibly moving because the facade of the museum is the actual Lorraine Motel, where MLK was assasinated.
What made it even more moving was seeing it in context. With Barack Obama elected president, MLK’s sacrifice and struggle really hit me more than ever before. But there was another context in which I saw this museum: it sits next to one of the poorest zip codes in America, with an infant mortality rate higher than Nigeria! We still have a long way to go. We can do better than this.
Also of course, this is the birthplace of blues and rock and roll. It’s still an enormously musical place. Shouldn’t cities like Memphis and New Orleans be our Vienna? They’re not of course. In the US we have trouble celebrating our own culture. The more I think about it, the culture we celebrate is just a reflection of having and making a lot of money. That’s why we don’t have Carnegie Hall in Memphis.
Beyond that — I’ve been exploring and eating. The best fried chicken ever (Gus’s), catfish, ho-cakes, and some BBQ to come. I’m going to try and hear some American music as well after rehearsal tonight.
Working with the Columbus Symphony this week. They’ve recently recovered from a near-death experience (the orchestra was dark for 6 months) where all sorts of bad things happened. Despite this, the orchestra is playing very well. They are a great group of musicians.
There are challenges ahead here, and everywhere for orchestras “in this economy” (that dreaded and ubiquitous phrase). I tend to look at the situation very objectively. It’s easy to point fingers, and play the blame game, but it’s not particularly productive, I think. The objective problem is this: orchestras are non-profits, they need more donors and more earned income (audiences). We need to get more people excited about orchestral music. How?
Well I always put my self in the shoes of one of these “new people.” Why aren’t they coming? Do they hate music? I don’t know anyone who hates music, actually. We all know why “new people” don’t come to the symphony. “It’s stuffy, elitist, snobby, boring, not fun, and they don’t play the music I like.” That’s what they say, but of course most of them haven’t been to a single concert.
It’s the image.
Why don’t orchestras work on their image more? It’s the key. We’re doing all the right stuff. We play a variety of music in my orchestra, from Bach to Radiohead. No one can say we don’t have at least one concert that offers “music they like.” We add untold depth and riches to our community through our educational programs, and by playing the worlds most beautiful music at the highest level.
But not enough people know that.
Image. Image. Image.
Let’s start with the word “symphony.” If you are not a symphony patron, does that word have a positive, negative, or neutral connotation? I think for many it’s a negative, because of its stuffy, snobby vibe. But there’s another romantic side to the word that I notice in contemporary culture. (Justin Timberlake, for instance, in his song “My Love” — “if I wrote you a syyyymmmphony.”) Can we turn the image of the symphony to the romantic thing Justin croons about in his song? We need to start at the very beginning with the word — symphony — that defines us. With imagination, we can make the word what we want it to be.
It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m decompressing. It was a busy week.
We had TIME FOR THREE here this week, who played in our Intersections series. They got a good REVIEW in our local paper, The Record. The end of the review is really funny to me though. The reviewer comments that the orchestra didn’t have enough to do during the concert:
“Perhaps this show belonged with the symphony’s Pops series (where I would probably go see Tf3 again for all the froth and fun). While applauding Outwater’s efforts to challenge the boundaries of symphonic music in this series, I vote for more intersection and less wallpaper.”
Now I happen to agree strongly with the reviewer that the orchestra didn’t do enough. It’s a problem with Time for Three … they don’t have enough charts yet. They’re working on it. Even so, I couldn’t resist bringing them to KW asap., despite the fact that the orchestra would be sitting most of the time. In an ideal situation, the orchestra should have had more to do. No doubt.
But what’s funny to me is that he’s suggesting what does and doesn’t belong in the INTERSECTIONS series, a format I INVENTED only four concerts ago! That’s kind of cool — it must mean that the four shows that we’ve done already have a common vibe …
The real intention is that INTERSECTIONS is a completely flexible format, and that includes some concerts where the orchestra plays a lot (like the electronica show earlier this year) and sometimes not so much. It’s about whatever is new, interesting. In the case of Time for Three, the music they play is an intersection: it’s impossible to categorize as bluegrass, classical, country, hip-hop, etc. That’s why I think they belong in this series.
At any rate, this particular critical response shows the human need to categorize art, which is not what art is about, ultimately. But that tension has been around since the beginning of criticism.
There were some extra events around this concert, including an apres-concert gathering at the Jane Bond in Waterloo. Good turnout of musicians, staff, and audience. And we had a party at my place earlier in the week to attract new folks to the KWS. It was a younger crowd, and they got to hear Time for Three up close. Here’s a video of them playing for the party. It was their first time as a group in Canada, but they chose the right music to impress the Canadians! Soon they’ll figure out it’s not “Tom Horton’s” and then they’ll really be in business.
I spent (US) election night in Canada, basically by myself with a glass of wine (well, more than one). The next day I found myself being congratulated by various Canadians, not only because the guy they wanted won, but because our country had taken an enormous step into the future. It made me think a lot of America’s audacity, which can be both bad (last 8 years) and good (the election). I wonder what our future holds?
In town that week was Richard Stolzman, who played a tribute to Benny Goodman. Richard is what some of my musical friends and I would call a “spaceman.” An intrepid musical traveler who (successfully) explores the outer limits of musical phrases and colors and sound. What comes out of his horn sounds like nothing else on earth, and that’s a good thing. It was really really inspiring to work with him. His music-making immediately imprinted on my soul. What more could one ask from an artist?
Headed back to SF for two days of good food (Shanghai Dumpling King, SPQR, Suppenküche) and a short protest against the gay marriage ban (aka prop 8). Again, the Canadians reaction to that was interesting. It was basically, “What’s up with that?!” In Canada they’ve figured out that you can be “traditional,” deeply religious, and conservative AND not imprint your religious/cultural beliefs on others. Everyone gets along just fine. I think Prop. 8 is just a temporary setback.
Now I’m staying in Pasadena and got to see the Huntington Estate, which has the most beautiful and poetic gardens. It was a clear day, and the light was so beautiful, a sprinkler could be poetic.
And they had a cactus garden …
And a Japanese Garden …
These are all in the same place. Another one of those LA fantasies that really exist. It was a bit like a movie studio, because you could see where the fantasy gardens ended, and the desert climate and urban reality began. It added a whole layer of melancholy to the place, which made it even more beautiful.
It was a great concert for a great cause: Paul Newman’s PAINTED TURTLE camp. Lord, there we lots of actors there, reading Hemingway while the SFS and I played Copland in the background. It was interesting seeing the different approaches to acting that these guys had. Some were totally prepared and intense about their scenes (Bruce Willis was amazing); some were wingin’ it (no comment). The kind of variation possible in how an actor work is huge. It’s much different for a classical musician. We have to play all the notes live, and get them RIGHT. That being said, the amount of charisma onstage was outrageous. That’s something classical music needs more of.
Since the actors were reading, it was all about the voice. It’s amazing how iconic these voices are. Jack Nicholson really talks like that! It’s wild. He shook my hand and said “congratulations,” and it took him twice as long to say that as most normal folks. And to hear Danny DeVito say “mashed potatoes” was hilarious! I mean, who says those words better? I thought Anette Benning had an extraordinary voice as well.
A personal highlight was meeting Edward James Olmos, who did an amazing job and clearly has a big, generous heart. He’s one of my favorite actors and is amazing in Battlestar Galactica (which I love love love*). At the end of the show he was pumping his fist in the air and yelling “yeah! thank you! thank you!” It would also be cool if we did that at the end of classical shows.
*for BSG fans: he told me “the end will be very satisfying — it will feel like the journey is really over.”
