Through the auspices of the Carnegie Neighborhood Concert series, I heard JACK Quartet (Ari Streisfeld, Christopher Otto, Violins; John Pickford Richards, Viola; and Kevin McFarland, Cello) at the Brooklyn Public Library’s Dweck Center for Contemporary Culture on Sunday afternoon.
Cat o’ Nine Tails (1988), John Zorn (b. 1953)
String Quartet No. 4 (2012), Light and airy (High in the Sky Singing); With motion (Dance of Light); Dark, heavy, and earthy (with a heavy groove); Gently rocking (with utmost sensitivity, babbling), Hans Abrahamsen (b. 1952)
Structures for String Quartet (1951), Morton Feldman (1926–1987)
String Quartet (1964), Introductory Movement; Main Movement, Witold Lutosławski (1913–1994)
Cat o’ Nine Tails began with some heavy, scratching sounds from all four players. As explained to us from the stage (after the fact), the piece involved numerous “jump cuts,” so there would be a strain of tango, then scratching, then a waltz, then the Looney Tunes tag, etc. While the piece had some humor, the avant-garde qualities were a little grating, to my ears. In fact, that is a fairly apt description of all four pieces on the program. (Some patrons left after the first piece; at least seven left during the Lutosławski.)
Abrahamsen’s composition’s descriptive movement names were fairly telling—especially the first. The High in the Sky Singing was a sort of “scree” that was very thin and reedy sounding.
With Structures, we were told from the stage that Mr. Feldman’s thought process included presenting the individual sounds themselves for themselves, not necessarily relating to each other. Along those lines, the Lutosławski quartet involved aleatoric sections—while there were moments when everybody had to be in the exact same place at the exact same time in the score, the individual players were able to vary the way they got there, so an element of chance was involved throughout.
In addition to the abovementioned scree and scratches (indeed, one scratchy section almost sounded like ducks quacking), there were the usual pizzicato and rhythmically bouncing of bows on strings techniques employed. The playing was of a high quality, I guess. With so much of the music being a little difficult to listen to, it’s hard to know for sure.
This is at least the second time I’ve heard JACK and I’ve enjoyed previous concerts more. I’m certainly glad that I went, but this particular program was just a bit too avant-garde for my tastes.
On a fun note, if you go to the photos section of their website, the airborne photo http://tinyurl.com/oa4esqo (sorry, you’ll have to cut ’n’ paste) is, from left to right, John, Ari, Christopher, Kevin.
ConcertMeister
Monday, April 28, 2014
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Chamber Music (and All That Jazz) at Rodeph Sholom (4/19/14)
Somehow, I got on an email list for this series. After having received several notices,
I finally made it to a concert on Saturday afternoon, and I’m glad I did. A very enjoyable afternoon.
The players: Eliot Bailen, cello and guitar; Thomas Kneeland, bass; Chris Parker, drums; Ted Rosenthal, piano; and Susan Rotholz, flute and vocals. So we essentially had a jazz trio (piano, bass, and drums) with cello and flute. Myriad possibilities executed very well. The set kicked off with Afro, by Paquito D’Rivera (b. 1948). It opened with solo cello that was then joined by bass, flute, and piano. There were many short, rhythmic phrases bouncing back and forth, and it was very bright and bouncy overall. Three Duke Ellington (1899–1974) pieces were on tap next. In a Sentimental Mood, for cello and piano (but the other players crept in from time to time) was slightly bluesy and relaxing. It felt like being in a classy nightclub. In a Mellow Tone, for jazz trio, was up tempo, but not too frantic, with some classic tossing of the melody back and forth, and with the bass player acquitting himself very well. Warm Valley, for flute, cello, and jazz trio, was laid back (according to the cellist, in spoken notes from the stage), and adding the flute and cello back in made for a nice, rich sound. All three were arranged by Jed(?—it was wrong in the program, announced from the stage, and even told to me by a concertgoer after the performance, but I’m danged if I can find where I wrote it down) Distler, and nice arrangements they were.
A mini folk segment followed. Never Never Land, by Jule Styne (1905–1994), with lyrics by Comden & Green, was quaintly sung by Ms. Rotholz, accompanied by Mr. Bailen on guitar. And yes, the other players slipped in from time to time as well. Turn, Turn, Turn, by Pete Seeger (1919–2014) followed, as a sing-along involving the audience as performers. This is not my favorite situation, and the slightly uncomfortable result was pretty much borne out. The folk segment was, for me, the least effective.
I Want to Be Happy, by Vincent Youmans (1898–1946) was next, in a manic-frantic-but-still-interesting treatment, with a pleasant, gentle waltz section that then jumped right back into manic-frantic. Turkish Tophie, by Chris Parker & Roger Blanc (Chris being the afternoon’s drummer/composer and Tophie being a reference to his name, Christopher) was also in the slightly rushed, up tempo style. I was reminded of “crossing the desert”–style jazz, with some very nice melodies.
Another performer/composer selection followed: Jazzing Up the Classics, by
Ted Rosenthal. Schumann’s Traumerai had a jazzy solo piano opening followed by the tune itself laid out in a straightforward manner for the cello, with piano riff accompaniments. A jazz trio section followed, in a still very accessible style. A lightly jazzed up version of Greensleeves followed. When I say “accessible,” I mean that the music has been given a jazz treatment, but not so much that the tune or the treatment itself is overly distorted.
The concert closed out with another Ted Rosenthal number, Sunny Side Up, for flute, cello, and jazz trio. It had a Latin flavor, and was nice, brisk fun. All in all, this was a well-thought-out and well executed program.
Just a brief note, here. This new (to me) venue was a lot brighter than most; my note taking resulted in a couple of audience members asking me about it afterward. I briefly recounted how ConcertMeister came about, as a result of me needing to find ways to spend time, on my own, outside of my apartment. So I scoped out free and low-cost concerts and was eventually convinced that sharing my views might be interesting. It’s possible that I have two new readers out there. If so, please feel free to add comments, if you’re so inclined. I also shared my insights on free concert venues with them. Maybe I’ll see them at future concerts.
ConcertMeister
I finally made it to a concert on Saturday afternoon, and I’m glad I did. A very enjoyable afternoon.
The players: Eliot Bailen, cello and guitar; Thomas Kneeland, bass; Chris Parker, drums; Ted Rosenthal, piano; and Susan Rotholz, flute and vocals. So we essentially had a jazz trio (piano, bass, and drums) with cello and flute. Myriad possibilities executed very well. The set kicked off with Afro, by Paquito D’Rivera (b. 1948). It opened with solo cello that was then joined by bass, flute, and piano. There were many short, rhythmic phrases bouncing back and forth, and it was very bright and bouncy overall. Three Duke Ellington (1899–1974) pieces were on tap next. In a Sentimental Mood, for cello and piano (but the other players crept in from time to time) was slightly bluesy and relaxing. It felt like being in a classy nightclub. In a Mellow Tone, for jazz trio, was up tempo, but not too frantic, with some classic tossing of the melody back and forth, and with the bass player acquitting himself very well. Warm Valley, for flute, cello, and jazz trio, was laid back (according to the cellist, in spoken notes from the stage), and adding the flute and cello back in made for a nice, rich sound. All three were arranged by Jed(?—it was wrong in the program, announced from the stage, and even told to me by a concertgoer after the performance, but I’m danged if I can find where I wrote it down) Distler, and nice arrangements they were.
A mini folk segment followed. Never Never Land, by Jule Styne (1905–1994), with lyrics by Comden & Green, was quaintly sung by Ms. Rotholz, accompanied by Mr. Bailen on guitar. And yes, the other players slipped in from time to time as well. Turn, Turn, Turn, by Pete Seeger (1919–2014) followed, as a sing-along involving the audience as performers. This is not my favorite situation, and the slightly uncomfortable result was pretty much borne out. The folk segment was, for me, the least effective.
I Want to Be Happy, by Vincent Youmans (1898–1946) was next, in a manic-frantic-but-still-interesting treatment, with a pleasant, gentle waltz section that then jumped right back into manic-frantic. Turkish Tophie, by Chris Parker & Roger Blanc (Chris being the afternoon’s drummer/composer and Tophie being a reference to his name, Christopher) was also in the slightly rushed, up tempo style. I was reminded of “crossing the desert”–style jazz, with some very nice melodies.
Another performer/composer selection followed: Jazzing Up the Classics, by
Ted Rosenthal. Schumann’s Traumerai had a jazzy solo piano opening followed by the tune itself laid out in a straightforward manner for the cello, with piano riff accompaniments. A jazz trio section followed, in a still very accessible style. A lightly jazzed up version of Greensleeves followed. When I say “accessible,” I mean that the music has been given a jazz treatment, but not so much that the tune or the treatment itself is overly distorted.
The concert closed out with another Ted Rosenthal number, Sunny Side Up, for flute, cello, and jazz trio. It had a Latin flavor, and was nice, brisk fun. All in all, this was a well-thought-out and well executed program.
Just a brief note, here. This new (to me) venue was a lot brighter than most; my note taking resulted in a couple of audience members asking me about it afterward. I briefly recounted how ConcertMeister came about, as a result of me needing to find ways to spend time, on my own, outside of my apartment. So I scoped out free and low-cost concerts and was eventually convinced that sharing my views might be interesting. It’s possible that I have two new readers out there. If so, please feel free to add comments, if you’re so inclined. I also shared my insights on free concert venues with them. Maybe I’ll see them at future concerts.
ConcertMeister
Monday, April 14, 2014
Chaplin, Again (4/12/14)
The third installment of the Celebrate Chaplin series presented four silents from 1916 and 1917. I didn’t post about the previous program, all from 1916, and all from Essanay Studios, because they were very formulaic and quite similar to each other. Having said that, I commented to someone, just before going to the third installment, that variation would be nice to see—and that’s exactly what we got on Saturday!
In 1916, Chaplin went from Essanay to Mutual Film Corporation in what was a very lucrative deal. More to the point, Chaplin had more of a hand in writing and directing his own films and it made a huge difference, at least to me. The gags were still very similar, but they were staged and controlled well, in terms of length of time per gag and length of time between gags, and I found that that really made a big difference for the better. Also, in the four films that were shown on Saturday, The Count (1916); The Pawnshop (1916); The Immigrant (1917); and The Adventurer (1917), Chaplin was working with the equivalent of a stock theater company cast. A lot of the same performers were in all four films, but their characters and performances were varied enough that it really worked well.
The Count had some very funny stuff right from the start. Chaplin is a tailor’s apprentice, measuring a rather matronly client. But he’s measuring her ear. And the width of her smile. He eventually gets to her shoulders and arms, and (conspicuously) glosses over her bosoms. When he gets to her waist, he flings the tape measure over her head and behind her back—but also behind the back of the dress dummy behind her. His visual ‘takes’ are very funny. Eventually, the tailor takes over and is astounded when he reads Chaplin’s handwritten list that includes: Waste – 5'. In another bit of wordplay fun, when Chaplin imitates the Count at a fancy party, he presents his card: Count Broko. When the real Count arrives (and before the cops are sicced on Chaplin), the real Count presents his card: Count Vroko.
I believe I’ve seen The Pawnshop before, but it’s still darned funny, with slapstick props such as a feather duster being chewed up by an electric fan, a double bass turning into Chaplin’s body, the ever-present ladder hitting everyone coming and going, and a disemboweled alarm clock.
The Immigrant is a rather touching love story, though still with plenty of gags and plenty of laughs. And The Adventurer has Chaplin as an escaped convict who ends up at a fancy party, after saving ‘The Girl’ and her mother from the sea. When the cops arrive looking for him and his photo is in the newspaper, he quickly adds a beard (exactly matching that of one of his tormentors), thus causing even more confusion. The chase sequences, up and down staircases, jumping off of the balcony (multiple times—hey! if it’s funny the first time, it’s funny every time, right?), and impersonating a floor lamp, added to the general mirth and mayhem.
So after some so-so (by comparison) 1916 films, Chaplin’s growth in artistry and writing/direction made these four 1916/1917 films, accompanied by Ben Model at the Steinway, a lot of fun. I was not the only one to truly LOL!
ConcertMeister
In 1916, Chaplin went from Essanay to Mutual Film Corporation in what was a very lucrative deal. More to the point, Chaplin had more of a hand in writing and directing his own films and it made a huge difference, at least to me. The gags were still very similar, but they were staged and controlled well, in terms of length of time per gag and length of time between gags, and I found that that really made a big difference for the better. Also, in the four films that were shown on Saturday, The Count (1916); The Pawnshop (1916); The Immigrant (1917); and The Adventurer (1917), Chaplin was working with the equivalent of a stock theater company cast. A lot of the same performers were in all four films, but their characters and performances were varied enough that it really worked well.
The Count had some very funny stuff right from the start. Chaplin is a tailor’s apprentice, measuring a rather matronly client. But he’s measuring her ear. And the width of her smile. He eventually gets to her shoulders and arms, and (conspicuously) glosses over her bosoms. When he gets to her waist, he flings the tape measure over her head and behind her back—but also behind the back of the dress dummy behind her. His visual ‘takes’ are very funny. Eventually, the tailor takes over and is astounded when he reads Chaplin’s handwritten list that includes: Waste – 5'. In another bit of wordplay fun, when Chaplin imitates the Count at a fancy party, he presents his card: Count Broko. When the real Count arrives (and before the cops are sicced on Chaplin), the real Count presents his card: Count Vroko.
I believe I’ve seen The Pawnshop before, but it’s still darned funny, with slapstick props such as a feather duster being chewed up by an electric fan, a double bass turning into Chaplin’s body, the ever-present ladder hitting everyone coming and going, and a disemboweled alarm clock.
The Immigrant is a rather touching love story, though still with plenty of gags and plenty of laughs. And The Adventurer has Chaplin as an escaped convict who ends up at a fancy party, after saving ‘The Girl’ and her mother from the sea. When the cops arrive looking for him and his photo is in the newspaper, he quickly adds a beard (exactly matching that of one of his tormentors), thus causing even more confusion. The chase sequences, up and down staircases, jumping off of the balcony (multiple times—hey! if it’s funny the first time, it’s funny every time, right?), and impersonating a floor lamp, added to the general mirth and mayhem.
So after some so-so (by comparison) 1916 films, Chaplin’s growth in artistry and writing/direction made these four 1916/1917 films, accompanied by Ben Model at the Steinway, a lot of fun. I was not the only one to truly LOL!
ConcertMeister
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Two-in-One
New York Festival of Song (4/1/14) and Homage (4/5/14)
I found these to be two interrelated concerts in that they both included modern works, indeed, some New York, US, and world premieres. The New York Festival of Song program, on Tuesday, presented two sopranos and one mezzo-soprano along with two flutes, two clarinets, mandolin, guitar, and two pianists. I’m not making this up, you know. Seven composers were represented, and there was one world, one US, and two New York premieres. That said, most of the vocal writing was angular, in terms of line, and a little difficult to understand, in terms of text—and isn’t that what it’s all about? Or at least a major component? All three vocalists, Justine Aronson, soprano; Elizabeth Farnum, soprano; and Mary Nessinger, mezzo-soprano; acquitted themselves very well. Of the three, I felt that Ms. Aronson came off the best—I found her voice interesting and clear, and her diction to be very clear. And that is important when composers are setting very difficult texts to very difficult musical lines. Indeed, at the end of one of her songs, I wrote, “Oh what have you done with the garden entrusted to you,” oh! … that’s what those lyrics were! I could only decipher them after the fact.
Also, some of the stage management was a bit difficult to deal with. Resetting the stage for two flutes, two clarinets, a stringed instrument (I forget whether it was guitar or mandolin), and piano for about three-and-a-half to four minutes’ worth of music seemed hardly worth it. I understand, and value, what NYFoS is trying to achieve. It’s just a bit too esoteric—even for me.
Paul Barnes’ piano program on Saturday, Homage: A Program of Music Inspired by Music, set some lofty goals. On paper, it was pretty nifty. A Bach Prelude and Fugue was followed by a modern Homage to Johann Sebastian Bach (2012), Jackson Berkey (b.1942); and From Monstre sacré: Jeux et théorie: connexion libre avec Bach (2011), N. Lincoln Hanks (b.1969). Mr. Barnes played Bach with a very full sound. The Homage to Bach was pensive, but easy to listen to. The Monstre was scherzo-like with shifting rhythms.
The next set was a Jackson Berkey Nocturne (2013, New York premiere); an Ivan Moody (b.1964) Fioriture (2013, world premiere); followed by the Chopin, Nocturne in D-Flat Major, Op. 27 No. 2. (As an aside, this was listed as No. 1 in the program but as No. 2 in the, really poorly written, program notes—there were multiple references to world-, US-, and American-premier performances). Really? From a college professor?
For all of his prowess at the keyboard, and it was impressive, I found Mr. Barnes' Chopin to be a little less fluid than I would have liked.
The second half of the program (even more sparsely attended than the first) included music of Philip Glass and Joan Tower. Mr. Glass’ minimalism (not my favorite) was more tuneful, and palatable, than most Glass I’m aware of. Ms. Tower’s (who was in attendance) pieces (solo piano arrangements of a larger work, Homage to Beethoven, a piano concerto) were slightly less satisfying to me than the Glass—and that’s saying something.
Am I glad I went? Yes. Will I seek out these artists again? Maybe. Will I seek out these composers again? Maybe. But I’ll definitely keep exploring—and reporting.
ConcertMeister
I found these to be two interrelated concerts in that they both included modern works, indeed, some New York, US, and world premieres. The New York Festival of Song program, on Tuesday, presented two sopranos and one mezzo-soprano along with two flutes, two clarinets, mandolin, guitar, and two pianists. I’m not making this up, you know. Seven composers were represented, and there was one world, one US, and two New York premieres. That said, most of the vocal writing was angular, in terms of line, and a little difficult to understand, in terms of text—and isn’t that what it’s all about? Or at least a major component? All three vocalists, Justine Aronson, soprano; Elizabeth Farnum, soprano; and Mary Nessinger, mezzo-soprano; acquitted themselves very well. Of the three, I felt that Ms. Aronson came off the best—I found her voice interesting and clear, and her diction to be very clear. And that is important when composers are setting very difficult texts to very difficult musical lines. Indeed, at the end of one of her songs, I wrote, “Oh what have you done with the garden entrusted to you,” oh! … that’s what those lyrics were! I could only decipher them after the fact.
Also, some of the stage management was a bit difficult to deal with. Resetting the stage for two flutes, two clarinets, a stringed instrument (I forget whether it was guitar or mandolin), and piano for about three-and-a-half to four minutes’ worth of music seemed hardly worth it. I understand, and value, what NYFoS is trying to achieve. It’s just a bit too esoteric—even for me.
Paul Barnes’ piano program on Saturday, Homage: A Program of Music Inspired by Music, set some lofty goals. On paper, it was pretty nifty. A Bach Prelude and Fugue was followed by a modern Homage to Johann Sebastian Bach (2012), Jackson Berkey (b.1942); and From Monstre sacré: Jeux et théorie: connexion libre avec Bach (2011), N. Lincoln Hanks (b.1969). Mr. Barnes played Bach with a very full sound. The Homage to Bach was pensive, but easy to listen to. The Monstre was scherzo-like with shifting rhythms.
The next set was a Jackson Berkey Nocturne (2013, New York premiere); an Ivan Moody (b.1964) Fioriture (2013, world premiere); followed by the Chopin, Nocturne in D-Flat Major, Op. 27 No. 2. (As an aside, this was listed as No. 1 in the program but as No. 2 in the, really poorly written, program notes—there were multiple references to world-, US-, and American-premier performances). Really? From a college professor?
For all of his prowess at the keyboard, and it was impressive, I found Mr. Barnes' Chopin to be a little less fluid than I would have liked.
The second half of the program (even more sparsely attended than the first) included music of Philip Glass and Joan Tower. Mr. Glass’ minimalism (not my favorite) was more tuneful, and palatable, than most Glass I’m aware of. Ms. Tower’s (who was in attendance) pieces (solo piano arrangements of a larger work, Homage to Beethoven, a piano concerto) were slightly less satisfying to me than the Glass—and that’s saying something.
Am I glad I went? Yes. Will I seek out these artists again? Maybe. Will I seek out these composers again? Maybe. But I’ll definitely keep exploring—and reporting.
ConcertMeister
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
March Songbook (3/31/14)
Monday night’s concert featured one composer, Steve Silverstein, in combination with 11 different lyricists (12 if you count him as his own lyricist), performing a total of 18 songs. Whew! The vocalists ranged from students and recent graduates of the American Music and Dramatic Academy to current Broadway swings and understudies to more mature performers, some of whom are trying to make a return to performing. Eclectic, to say the least. The opening number, There Aren’t Enough Hours, poked fun at Mr. Silverstein himself—playing auditions, coaching students, mounting cabaret acts, composing, laundry, dishes, etc.—a laundry list of not enough hours for too much to do. It was a good start to a fun show.
A “sleep” set caught my attention. Put It to Bed catalogued all of the frantic things keeping a fellow from falling asleep, including worrying about falling asleep, and figuring out how to fall asleep, and just how much sleep he’d finally get when ... he ... falls ... asl–alarm clock! The second, Burning Down the Days, was a little gentler at the opening, mulling over relationship problems until they escalate and finally subside.
A trio of laments followed. Mr. Silverstein said he was drawn to Disney-style heroines, and it pretty much showed in the linked trio of songs, Mother Nature’s Lament, with some clever lyrics (“My hot flashes caused the greenhouse effect”); Ice Queen’s Lament, with backup singers—the Chiller Dillers; and Tooth Fairy’s Lament (“Traipsing through the forest with a sack of coins, and a sack of rot-ten teeth!”). One was a stand-alone song and two were from children’s shows.
The kids from Ice Queen’s Lament scored a hit on their own with What’s Your Problem, an ensemble number about New Yorkers bugging each other—on the streets, on the subway–and it featured honest-to-goodness harmony, so you know it made me happy. A Christmas Confession was quite funny. A lonely gal is on the outside looking in at all the people having lots of Christmastime fun when she realizes, “I want a Jew for Christmas!”, and “Trader Joe’s has vegan ham.” This particular song was actually composed for a Christmas version of Songbook, where composers are asked to submit a Christmas song from one of their own shows or to compose a Christmas song especially for Songbook.
Without slighting any of the lyricists, Mr. Silverstein seemed to have an affinity with a couple of them that he’s worked with for long periods of time, including Ruth Williamson and John Treacy Egan. In fact, the final number was Ms. Williamson’s lyrics sung by Mr. Egan, Path You Choose. It was a positive, almost-power-
ballad–type of song that produced a good effect without being overly sentimental.
Mr. Silverstein’s music showed a broad range of styles that encompassed vaudeville, pop rock, ethnic (a few hints of Fiddler-like riffs), and generally well-rounded theater music. This was a highly enjoyable Songbook, and I look forward to the April installment.
ConcertMeister
A “sleep” set caught my attention. Put It to Bed catalogued all of the frantic things keeping a fellow from falling asleep, including worrying about falling asleep, and figuring out how to fall asleep, and just how much sleep he’d finally get when ... he ... falls ... asl–alarm clock! The second, Burning Down the Days, was a little gentler at the opening, mulling over relationship problems until they escalate and finally subside.
A trio of laments followed. Mr. Silverstein said he was drawn to Disney-style heroines, and it pretty much showed in the linked trio of songs, Mother Nature’s Lament, with some clever lyrics (“My hot flashes caused the greenhouse effect”); Ice Queen’s Lament, with backup singers—the Chiller Dillers; and Tooth Fairy’s Lament (“Traipsing through the forest with a sack of coins, and a sack of rot-ten teeth!”). One was a stand-alone song and two were from children’s shows.
The kids from Ice Queen’s Lament scored a hit on their own with What’s Your Problem, an ensemble number about New Yorkers bugging each other—on the streets, on the subway–and it featured honest-to-goodness harmony, so you know it made me happy. A Christmas Confession was quite funny. A lonely gal is on the outside looking in at all the people having lots of Christmastime fun when she realizes, “I want a Jew for Christmas!”, and “Trader Joe’s has vegan ham.” This particular song was actually composed for a Christmas version of Songbook, where composers are asked to submit a Christmas song from one of their own shows or to compose a Christmas song especially for Songbook.
Without slighting any of the lyricists, Mr. Silverstein seemed to have an affinity with a couple of them that he’s worked with for long periods of time, including Ruth Williamson and John Treacy Egan. In fact, the final number was Ms. Williamson’s lyrics sung by Mr. Egan, Path You Choose. It was a positive, almost-power-
ballad–type of song that produced a good effect without being overly sentimental.
Mr. Silverstein’s music showed a broad range of styles that encompassed vaudeville, pop rock, ethnic (a few hints of Fiddler-like riffs), and generally well-rounded theater music. This was a highly enjoyable Songbook, and I look forward to the April installment.
ConcertMeister
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