Featuring the music of Ben Caplan
Apparently Mr. Caplan is a composer/lyricist, since I saw no other names mentioned. And he was the musical director/pianist, backed by guitar, bass (electric), drums, reeds, strings and clarinet (if I recall, the clarinetist played in only one piece, hence was not part of reeds, above—why, yes, I am temping at a law firm).
Interestingly, five of the twelve pieces performed were from Mr. Caplan’s I Don’t Want to Talk About It. Wisely, they were dispersed throughout the concert.
The first piece was the name of the show, and it was described as ‘An Adult Schoolhouse Rock’—as a result, it was a little too ‘rock’ for my taste. Alas, I think this is where musical theater is headed. That said, it had clear lyrics and a nice orchestration. The second piece (also from the show named above) was I’m Afraid of Everything, which included planes, heights, really long words and love. Thunk! There it is. Aren’t we all really afraid of love?
The ninth song (also from I Don’t Want to Talk About It) was quite dark. It was performed very well, and dealt in a straightforward way with PTSD, which is at the heart of the musical. That said, the Act II opener of the show was one of my favorites of the evening. Called The Pill Song, it dealt with stimulants, mood levelers, anti-psychotics and caffeine. More to the point, it featured four guys singing in harmony—including a brief, a cappella barbershop segment. The final song of the performance was also from this show. It deserves, and will get, its due later.
There were two epic numbers in the evening, as far as I was concerned. The first dealt with a pair of guys who performed The Ballad of the Cheesecake Factory. These two set a goal for themselves to eat everything on the menu of the chain restaurant. When they realized that it was a 30-page! menu, they still decided to go for it. In a new experience for me, one of the guys went face-first down into a slice of cheesecake to finish the number. Funny, funny stuff. This was a stand-alone song.
The other epic song was also a stand-alone song. One Night in Tel Aviv recounts, vividly, a young man’s trip to Israel. He goes via Birthright, a legit free trip to Israel for young(!) people to tap into their Jewish heritage (I’m not making this up, you know). He not only learns about his heritage, he loses his virginity. Also, funny, funny stuff.
The final song of the evening was also from I Don’t Want to Talk About It. Days I Can had a gentle opening and then dealt, introspectively, with trying to explain the inexplicable about PTSD. Very moving. Maybe it could be a very moving musical?
I must give a shout out to John Znidarsic and his co-producer, Jen Sandler. These folks get all of the performers to volunteer their time for these performances. As an audience member, you never know who you’re going to see—an up-and-coming Broadway performer? A current Broadway performer? In this case, I saw a Fiero (current or former, I don’t remember which) from Wicked, and Tony Award winner James Monroe Iglehart (Aladdin, Genie). And all for free! (I generally put a few bucks in the contribution box from time to time at the Library for the Performing Arts.)
ConcertMeister
Sunday, February 16, 2020
Sunday, February 9, 2020
A Tale of Two Quartets (1/25/20 and 2/1/20)
The Manhattan Saxophone Quartet played seven pieces on Saturday, 1/25. All seven were played by all four members. Here’s the thing about a saxophone quartet—it’s interesting. At first. All seven of the pieces had a connection with French music. A lot of the composers set out to (or so it seemed to me) be as quirky as possible. As a result, there was not a huge variety in the afternoon.
All but one of the composers were new to me. I enjoyed the opening piece, the fourth movement of Jérôme Savari’s Quatuor pour saxophones – Allegro moderato (1861 or 1862). It was jaunty and, oddly, slightly jazzy, though that could have been the newness of hearing four saxophones all at once. The second piece, by Gabriel Pierné (the only composer I recognized) was Introduction et variations sur une ronde populaire (1934). It was slightly dark and somber. The variations began with a sprightly phrase and then were varied in tempo—slow/fast/slow and lilting/faster/really fast, and included modern harmonies that were not too jarring. Nuages (literally, clouds, in French) put me in the mood of a swirling snowstorm. The other multi-movement works didn’t quite do it for me.
The final work, Cache-cache (roughly translated as ‘Hide and Seek’ and written in 1930) was a fun, playful piece, and a very good way to end the concert.
On, now, to 1893.
The New York Classical Players – New Worlds; Dvorak and Debussy String Quartets.
Well, sort of. As it turned out, the program was:
Sonata for Violin and Cello (1922) – (dedicated to Claude Debussy) – Maurice Ravel (1835–1937)
String Quartet in F Major, Op. 96 No. 12, “American” (1893) – Antonin Dvorak (1841–1904)
String Quartet in G minor, Op.10 (1893) – Claude Debussy (1862–1918)
Why in the world Ravel dedicated a work to a dead man is beyond me, but c’est la vie. “La vie.” (Always go for the cheap laugh, taught Mikey.)
There were four movements of the Ravel. The second was my favorite. There were pizzicato sections for both violin and cello, then a very dramatic section followed by a very lyrical section. The entire work was good. But that second movement was my favorite.
The Dvorak quartet was a joy. The first movement had a lovely motif to open with—very tonal and lightly joyful and lush, at times. It was charming and captivating. The second movement was a gently rocking accompaniment to a solo violin line. The solo violin line was then thrown to the cello in an absolutely lovely and poignant way. The third movement brought back one of the themes from the first movement but expanded on it—a perfect blend of charm, poignancy, drama, and fun. The final movement was almost, but not quite, off to the races. It was energetic and effervescent, even though there were contrasting slower sections. But it finished with energy and charm.
As a plus, these four performers knew how to take a bow—often, performers seem hesitant about how to acknowledge and thank their audience. Four people taking their cue from one, bowing together, and deciding whether to take a second bow; it’s not rocket science but it’s also messed up from time to time. These four knew what they were doing.
After intermission, they played the Debussy quartet from the same year—1893. It was pleasant and very different in terms of style. My notes for the fourth movement sort of summarize my feelings about the entire work. It was charming, in a slightly dark way, and it perked up, energetically and dramatically, in an interesting but not really compelling way. It’s not that it was bad; it’s just that it paled when paired with the Dvorak quartet. As always, your mileage may vary.
All but one of the composers were new to me. I enjoyed the opening piece, the fourth movement of Jérôme Savari’s Quatuor pour saxophones – Allegro moderato (1861 or 1862). It was jaunty and, oddly, slightly jazzy, though that could have been the newness of hearing four saxophones all at once. The second piece, by Gabriel Pierné (the only composer I recognized) was Introduction et variations sur une ronde populaire (1934). It was slightly dark and somber. The variations began with a sprightly phrase and then were varied in tempo—slow/fast/slow and lilting/faster/really fast, and included modern harmonies that were not too jarring. Nuages (literally, clouds, in French) put me in the mood of a swirling snowstorm. The other multi-movement works didn’t quite do it for me.
The final work, Cache-cache (roughly translated as ‘Hide and Seek’ and written in 1930) was a fun, playful piece, and a very good way to end the concert.
On, now, to 1893.
The New York Classical Players – New Worlds; Dvorak and Debussy String Quartets.
Well, sort of. As it turned out, the program was:
Sonata for Violin and Cello (1922) – (dedicated to Claude Debussy) – Maurice Ravel (1835–1937)
String Quartet in F Major, Op. 96 No. 12, “American” (1893) – Antonin Dvorak (1841–1904)
String Quartet in G minor, Op.10 (1893) – Claude Debussy (1862–1918)
Why in the world Ravel dedicated a work to a dead man is beyond me, but c’est la vie. “La vie.” (Always go for the cheap laugh, taught Mikey.)
There were four movements of the Ravel. The second was my favorite. There were pizzicato sections for both violin and cello, then a very dramatic section followed by a very lyrical section. The entire work was good. But that second movement was my favorite.
The Dvorak quartet was a joy. The first movement had a lovely motif to open with—very tonal and lightly joyful and lush, at times. It was charming and captivating. The second movement was a gently rocking accompaniment to a solo violin line. The solo violin line was then thrown to the cello in an absolutely lovely and poignant way. The third movement brought back one of the themes from the first movement but expanded on it—a perfect blend of charm, poignancy, drama, and fun. The final movement was almost, but not quite, off to the races. It was energetic and effervescent, even though there were contrasting slower sections. But it finished with energy and charm.
As a plus, these four performers knew how to take a bow—often, performers seem hesitant about how to acknowledge and thank their audience. Four people taking their cue from one, bowing together, and deciding whether to take a second bow; it’s not rocket science but it’s also messed up from time to time. These four knew what they were doing.
After intermission, they played the Debussy quartet from the same year—1893. It was pleasant and very different in terms of style. My notes for the fourth movement sort of summarize my feelings about the entire work. It was charming, in a slightly dark way, and it perked up, energetically and dramatically, in an interesting but not really compelling way. It’s not that it was bad; it’s just that it paled when paired with the Dvorak quartet. As always, your mileage may vary.
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