The first thing you notice upon entering the theater for American Repertory's latest production is that the usher doesn't hand you a program. The next thing you notice is that the set is a looming collage of recycled trash. Eve Ensler's new play, O.P.C. (obsessive political correctness), is about the ravages of consumerism. The character Romi is so crippled by environmental anxiety that she drops out of Harvard and becomes a scavenging squatter, much to the dismay of her mother, who is running for U.S. Senate. The opening scene between the two makes it clear that what lies ahead is two hours of proselytizing.
The play is billed as a comedy, and some people were amused by the social satire and political cynicism, but I would have been more entertained by subtler treatment. Ensler is adept at character studies that draw us into a person, giving us a window to their outlook on the world. That empathy was missing in O.P.C.; the playwright opted for preachy activism.
The most provocative idea was the absence of a printed playbill. At intermission you could find a few ring binders with the cast list and production notes; the list of show sponsors was written in soap on the lobby windows. It will be interesting to see if A.R.T. continues to go paperless for all future productions. They would need to take it a step further, placing scan codes around the entrances (or on the tickets) to point mobile devices to a virtual program, with pop-up ads to satisfy underwriters. A downside would be the distraction of the audience lighting up screens during a performance to see who's who.
Romi's ultimate objective was the protection of endangered species. I had to applaud A.R.T. for saving several trees and repurposing thousands of plastic bottles.
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Monday, November 24, 2014
Sibelius 7, Brahms 2
Benjamin Zander and the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra consistently excel with three composers: Tchaikovsky, Mahler and Sibelius. The conductor seems to respond to the extroverted dramatics of their output. The first half of Sunday's concert featured three works by Jean Sibelius, and the musicians never sounded better. The opening bars of Finlandia were exactly the way I want to hear them (reference John Barbirolli and the Halle Orchestra in their 1966 recording): swell—hit—silence [repeat]. The acoustics of Sanders Theatre embraced the volume of sound without blurring the force. It was like a beast breathing down your neck. The Swan of Tuonela, with Peggy Pearson's harrowingly calm English horn solo, and Symphony No 7 were equally captivating. I didn't dare turn my back on the orchestra. Maestro Zander was visibly affected at the close of the symphony. There must have been pride in his orchestra, but also perhaps a feeling of letting go. He is of an age where any concert might mark his final performance of a given work.
I changed seats for the second half of the concert in order to get a better view of the soloist for Brahms's Piano Concerto No 2. My mistake. I moved behind a family with three sons; let's call them six, eight and eleven years old. The boys were well behaved, in that they were quiet during the concert. When they whispered to each other it was a true whisper, not a throaty stage whisper. The middle son was apparently a musician. He had a notebook of hand-written music and drawings. It looked like during the Sibelius he had sketched one of the double-bassists, and during the Brahms he drew the back profile of the conductor. The elder son spent the entire concert playing a racing car game on his mobile device. Granted, it was in silent mode, but I had to tune him out of my peripheral vision. The youngest was playing a video game on his mother's phone right in front of me, so I held up my program to block his display. He settled down and tried to nap for the the second movement, so the mother took the phone to check her email. The six-year-old got an attack of the fidgets during the third movement and was in desperate need of a jungle gym during the finale.
I don't understand why a family would pay several hundred dollars for an afternoon of video games. If they wanted a shared classical music experience, why not listen to the radio together in the living room, or watch a video of the Berlin Philharmonic? Very puzzling.
How was the piano soloist, HaeSun Paik? Okay, I guess.
I changed seats for the second half of the concert in order to get a better view of the soloist for Brahms's Piano Concerto No 2. My mistake. I moved behind a family with three sons; let's call them six, eight and eleven years old. The boys were well behaved, in that they were quiet during the concert. When they whispered to each other it was a true whisper, not a throaty stage whisper. The middle son was apparently a musician. He had a notebook of hand-written music and drawings. It looked like during the Sibelius he had sketched one of the double-bassists, and during the Brahms he drew the back profile of the conductor. The elder son spent the entire concert playing a racing car game on his mobile device. Granted, it was in silent mode, but I had to tune him out of my peripheral vision. The youngest was playing a video game on his mother's phone right in front of me, so I held up my program to block his display. He settled down and tried to nap for the the second movement, so the mother took the phone to check her email. The six-year-old got an attack of the fidgets during the third movement and was in desperate need of a jungle gym during the finale.
I don't understand why a family would pay several hundred dollars for an afternoon of video games. If they wanted a shared classical music experience, why not listen to the radio together in the living room, or watch a video of the Berlin Philharmonic? Very puzzling.
How was the piano soloist, HaeSun Paik? Okay, I guess.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Ornithology and matrimony
A jilted bride languishes in a self-imposed prison of madness and decay. An amateur naturalist fathoms the fetters of his marriage during a lecture on the mating habits of waterfowl. This is the basis for two one-act operas by American composer Dominick Argento.
Miss Havisham's Wedding Night is based on a character from Charles Dickens's Great Expectations. Aurelia Havisham is jilted not so much at the altar but in her parlor, where she receives a note of regret during her final preparations for the ceremony. She smashes all the clocks and remains in her wedding attire (less one shoe she had yet to put on) for the next fifty years. The opera is a forty-minute virtuoso mad scene in which Aurelia replays that fateful day in her mind. Soprano Heather Buck's greatest talent was showing that Miss Havisham is aware of her madness. It was a heartbreaking display of noble indignity.
A Water Bird Talk is loosely based on Anton Chekhov's short play On the Harmful Effects of Tobacco, with slides and excerpts from John James Audubon's The Birds of America. The reluctant Lecturer cowers onstage in the shadow of his offstage wife. Each new slide of a bird elicits a tangent on his own home life, where he has a brood of seven daughters (all born on the 13th). When the Lecturer sits down at a piano to demonstrate a birdcall we see him fly free into dreams of what he once might have been. Baritone Aaron Engebreth had the right sympathetic humor to make us love and pity the hen-pecked husband.
Miss Havisham's Wedding Night is based on a character from Charles Dickens's Great Expectations. Aurelia Havisham is jilted not so much at the altar but in her parlor, where she receives a note of regret during her final preparations for the ceremony. She smashes all the clocks and remains in her wedding attire (less one shoe she had yet to put on) for the next fifty years. The opera is a forty-minute virtuoso mad scene in which Aurelia replays that fateful day in her mind. Soprano Heather Buck's greatest talent was showing that Miss Havisham is aware of her madness. It was a heartbreaking display of noble indignity.
A Water Bird Talk is loosely based on Anton Chekhov's short play On the Harmful Effects of Tobacco, with slides and excerpts from John James Audubon's The Birds of America. The reluctant Lecturer cowers onstage in the shadow of his offstage wife. Each new slide of a bird elicits a tangent on his own home life, where he has a brood of seven daughters (all born on the 13th). When the Lecturer sits down at a piano to demonstrate a birdcall we see him fly free into dreams of what he once might have been. Baritone Aaron Engebreth had the right sympathetic humor to make us love and pity the hen-pecked husband.
Suffolk University's refurbished 100-seat Modern Theatre was an ideal venue for these two intimate monodramas. A dozen or so musicians filled the small pit, with a harp and keyboards in the left and right loges. Odyssey Opera's conductor Gil Rose is a champion of Argento's works, and all of the artists involved did the composer justice.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Yo-Yo Ma and the kitchen sink
There was a little bit of everything at Symphony Hall on Thursday: a world premiere, some works for chorus and orchestra, three vocal soloists, and a superstar cellist playing a concerto. Music director Andris Nelsons opened the evening with Koussevitzky Said:, a choral scherzo by American composer John Harbison. This 2012 commission celebrated the 75th anniversary of Tanglewood, setting to music some commentaries by former Boston Symphony Orchestra conductor and Tanglewood founder, Serge Koussevitzky. The Tanglewood Festival Chorus joined the BSO onstage, and their most memorable lyric was "The next Beethoven will from Colorado come."
The second item was the world premiere performance of Lakes Awake at Dawn, a meditation for mixed chorus and orchestra by Latvian composer Eriks Esenvalds. This was easily the most accessible composition of the new millennium I have heard so far, with calm harmonies and comforting dissonances. The remaining concerts are likely sold out; listen to the first half hour of the live radio broadcast on Saturday night if you are interested.
The capper for the first half of the program was Sergei Prokofiev's Symphony-concerto for cello and orchestra featuring soloist Yo-Yo Ma. The best part was unscripted collaborative musicianship during the second movement; a draft caught the cellist's sheet music and half turned a page. He tried to settle it with his bow, but had to continue playing. Without missing a beat Andris Nelsons reached over and turned the page forward. Yo-Yo Ma shook his head, and the conductor turned the page back. Five minutes later another draft, conductor turned the page, soloist shook his head, conductor turned the page back. When a third gust took the music, a violist sprang forward and held the page down. She remained crouched by the soloist for the rest of the movement. A violinist even passed along a pencil to weigh down the bottom of the page. Watching this silent communication and generous cooperation among musicians during a blazing performance made the Prokofiev concerto the high point of the season.
The second item was the world premiere performance of Lakes Awake at Dawn, a meditation for mixed chorus and orchestra by Latvian composer Eriks Esenvalds. This was easily the most accessible composition of the new millennium I have heard so far, with calm harmonies and comforting dissonances. The remaining concerts are likely sold out; listen to the first half hour of the live radio broadcast on Saturday night if you are interested.
The capper for the first half of the program was Sergei Prokofiev's Symphony-concerto for cello and orchestra featuring soloist Yo-Yo Ma. The best part was unscripted collaborative musicianship during the second movement; a draft caught the cellist's sheet music and half turned a page. He tried to settle it with his bow, but had to continue playing. Without missing a beat Andris Nelsons reached over and turned the page forward. Yo-Yo Ma shook his head, and the conductor turned the page back. Five minutes later another draft, conductor turned the page, soloist shook his head, conductor turned the page back. When a third gust took the music, a violist sprang forward and held the page down. She remained crouched by the soloist for the rest of the movement. A violinist even passed along a pencil to weigh down the bottom of the page. Watching this silent communication and generous cooperation among musicians during a blazing performance made the Prokofiev concerto the high point of the season.
The large feature after the intermission was Sergei Rachmaninoff's choral symphony, The Bells, based on a loose translation of the poem by Edgar Allen Poe. Joining the BSO and full chorus were Russian soprano Victoria Yastrebova, Czech tenor Pavel Cernoch and Lithuanian bass-baritone Kostas Smoriginas. I was afraid the work would be a unwieldy beast, but my fears were unfounded. Andris Nelsons proved that he can hold together large forces and bring out both nuance and magnitude.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Venezuelan quartet comes to Cambridge
Wednesday was to be the Boston debut of the Simón Bolívar String Quartet, but when that concert sold out the Celebrity Series added another concert for the evening before, on Tuesday. So I ended up seeing their second concert, and it wasn't really in Boston; both performances took place in Pickman Hall at the Longy School of Music on the fringe of Harvard Square, Cambridge.
The members of the quartet came up through el Sistema, a program in Venezuela that puts instruments in the hands of young children and fosters their classical music education. These four players are currently the principal chairs in the string section of the Simón Bolívar Orchestra (formerly Youth Orchestra, but its musicians grew up). As the recordings and videos of the orchestra demonstrate, el Sistema has produced some great results.
The evening began with Felix Mendelssohn's String Quartet No 2 in A minor. This work, written when the composer was seventeen, is a perfect calling card for prodigious, youthful musicians. The piece can handle athletic vigor or stripped-down transparency; there are any number of valid readings. The SBSQ played the first two movements with lyrical romanticism, which left me expecting delicate tenderness in the third movement. The tempo marking is Allegretto con moto (moving slightly fast), but it came across as 'pedaling wicked fast', about twice the tempo that the opening movements had prepared me for. They then slashed their way through the Presto of the fourth movement. My overall impression of the Mendelssohn was one of liberation. These players were not bound by any one playing tradition, but that freedom didn't make for a coherent whole.
The next work, Argentinian composer Alberto Ginastera's String Quartet No 1, was made for slashing. The SBSQ reveled in the rhythmic percussiveness of the opening Allegro violento ed agitato and the following Vivacissimo (wicked lively), yet played appropriately Calmo e poetico in the third movement. That section opens with the cello, viola and second violin droning on the standard tuning notes of a guitar while the first violin explores various melodic tangents. The final Allegramente rustico got the audience's hearts and hands thumping.
After intermission we heard the final work, String Quartet in C minor by Johannes Brahms. Given the energized interpretation of the Mendelssohn, I was surprised by the placid understatement of the slow movement in the Brahms. As the concert entered its second hour I couldn't shake the image that the cello and lead violin sounded pudgy, like the instruments didn't fit easily into the notes they were supposed wear. There is a middle ground between reckless abandon and clinical precision, but the Simón Bolívar String Quartet has yet to find a convincing artistic voice.
The members of the quartet came up through el Sistema, a program in Venezuela that puts instruments in the hands of young children and fosters their classical music education. These four players are currently the principal chairs in the string section of the Simón Bolívar Orchestra (formerly Youth Orchestra, but its musicians grew up). As the recordings and videos of the orchestra demonstrate, el Sistema has produced some great results.
The evening began with Felix Mendelssohn's String Quartet No 2 in A minor. This work, written when the composer was seventeen, is a perfect calling card for prodigious, youthful musicians. The piece can handle athletic vigor or stripped-down transparency; there are any number of valid readings. The SBSQ played the first two movements with lyrical romanticism, which left me expecting delicate tenderness in the third movement. The tempo marking is Allegretto con moto (moving slightly fast), but it came across as 'pedaling wicked fast', about twice the tempo that the opening movements had prepared me for. They then slashed their way through the Presto of the fourth movement. My overall impression of the Mendelssohn was one of liberation. These players were not bound by any one playing tradition, but that freedom didn't make for a coherent whole.
The next work, Argentinian composer Alberto Ginastera's String Quartet No 1, was made for slashing. The SBSQ reveled in the rhythmic percussiveness of the opening Allegro violento ed agitato and the following Vivacissimo (wicked lively), yet played appropriately Calmo e poetico in the third movement. That section opens with the cello, viola and second violin droning on the standard tuning notes of a guitar while the first violin explores various melodic tangents. The final Allegramente rustico got the audience's hearts and hands thumping.
After intermission we heard the final work, String Quartet in C minor by Johannes Brahms. Given the energized interpretation of the Mendelssohn, I was surprised by the placid understatement of the slow movement in the Brahms. As the concert entered its second hour I couldn't shake the image that the cello and lead violin sounded pudgy, like the instruments didn't fit easily into the notes they were supposed wear. There is a middle ground between reckless abandon and clinical precision, but the Simón Bolívar String Quartet has yet to find a convincing artistic voice.
Monday, November 17, 2014
Underwater and backwards
It is hard to justify paying the premium for a Celebrity Series of Boston ticket when it comes to visiting orchestras. Boston already has a top-level orchestra that you can see perform most weeks of the year either at Symphony Hall or Tanglewood. The appeal would have to be for the infrequent concertgoer who is drawn by name power. Case in point, on Sunday evening American conductor Michael Tilson Thomas brought the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra to Symphony Hall with guest violinist Gil Shaham. Fine musicians all, but it would have been more of a treat if the Celebrity Series flew the ticket holders out to San Francisco to see them perform.
The first half of the program had a diabolical theme, starting with Franz Liszt's Mephisto Waltz. Gil Shaham then joined the orchestra in Sergei Prokofiev's Violin Concerto No 2 in G minor. The first two movements contain some of Prokofiev's most lyrical writing, but the third movement bears the composer's devilish grin. Shaham played with animation, but his sound didn't carry well to the back of the hall and was sometimes covered by the orchestra.
The second half of the program had a water theme, starting with a new commission by young American composer Samuel Adams. Drift and Providence uses fragmentary motifs and soft attacks to paint a liquid mood. I can't say that it blurs the melodic line, because there isn't any line of melody to blur. The work sounds like it is being played underwater and backwards.
The SFSO closed the evening with Daphnis and Chloé, Suite No 2 by Maurice Ravel. This is an apt companion piece to Adams's new work; the rise and fall of the opening measures suggests a seascape, and when Daphnis and Chloé premiered a hundred years ago audiences didn't quite know what to make of it. The second suite has since become a rhapsodic staple of the orchestral repertoire. It will be interesting to see which of the new works emerging in the 21st century will gain foothold twenty-five, fifty or a hundred years from now.
The first half of the program had a diabolical theme, starting with Franz Liszt's Mephisto Waltz. Gil Shaham then joined the orchestra in Sergei Prokofiev's Violin Concerto No 2 in G minor. The first two movements contain some of Prokofiev's most lyrical writing, but the third movement bears the composer's devilish grin. Shaham played with animation, but his sound didn't carry well to the back of the hall and was sometimes covered by the orchestra.
The second half of the program had a water theme, starting with a new commission by young American composer Samuel Adams. Drift and Providence uses fragmentary motifs and soft attacks to paint a liquid mood. I can't say that it blurs the melodic line, because there isn't any line of melody to blur. The work sounds like it is being played underwater and backwards.
The SFSO closed the evening with Daphnis and Chloé, Suite No 2 by Maurice Ravel. This is an apt companion piece to Adams's new work; the rise and fall of the opening measures suggests a seascape, and when Daphnis and Chloé premiered a hundred years ago audiences didn't quite know what to make of it. The second suite has since become a rhapsodic staple of the orchestral repertoire. It will be interesting to see which of the new works emerging in the 21st century will gain foothold twenty-five, fifty or a hundred years from now.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Hamlet, Stravinsky and air traffic control
This week I swapped my Boston Symphony Orchestra ticket from Thursday to Saturday, also swapping sides of the balcony. I usually sit over the violins, but this evening I sat over the cellos, giving me an open view to the percussion section. Percussionists were in full force tonight, with five players for Australian composer Brett Dean's trumpet concerto, Dramatis Personae, and six players for Igor Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring.
Andris Nelsons opened the concert with Tchaikovsky's overture-fantasy Hamlet, which had thematic links to the other works. The middle movement of Dean's concerto is entitled 'Soliloquy', and Stravinsky's ballet score ends with the self-sacrificial death of a young maiden (Ophelia).
Swedish trumpeter Håkan Hardenberger played the 2013 world premiere of Dramatis Personae in Austria, and has since played the local premieres in England, Germany, and now Boston. The first movement, 'Fall of a Superhero', pits the soloist against his arch-enemy, the orchestra. The orchestra wins. The entire concerto is an exploration of sound textures: at one point the timpanist places an upside-down cymbal on his kettledrum and beats the cymbal while pumping the pitch pedal. The third movement, 'The Accidental Revolutionary', shows the composer's sense of humor; the finale sounds like a Salvation Army band playing the march from Symphonie fantastique on a runway, tying up air traffic for the entire northeast corridor.
The Rite of Spring lets two timpanists give nine kettledrums a good thumping. I'm glad I had a direct sightline to the rhythmic display.
Andris Nelsons opened the concert with Tchaikovsky's overture-fantasy Hamlet, which had thematic links to the other works. The middle movement of Dean's concerto is entitled 'Soliloquy', and Stravinsky's ballet score ends with the self-sacrificial death of a young maiden (Ophelia).
Swedish trumpeter Håkan Hardenberger played the 2013 world premiere of Dramatis Personae in Austria, and has since played the local premieres in England, Germany, and now Boston. The first movement, 'Fall of a Superhero', pits the soloist against his arch-enemy, the orchestra. The orchestra wins. The entire concerto is an exploration of sound textures: at one point the timpanist places an upside-down cymbal on his kettledrum and beats the cymbal while pumping the pitch pedal. The third movement, 'The Accidental Revolutionary', shows the composer's sense of humor; the finale sounds like a Salvation Army band playing the march from Symphonie fantastique on a runway, tying up air traffic for the entire northeast corridor.
The Rite of Spring lets two timpanists give nine kettledrums a good thumping. I'm glad I had a direct sightline to the rhythmic display.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Rosanne Cash in Cambridge
I celebrated my sister's birthday by taking her to see her all-time favorite singer and songwriter, Rosanne Cash. We went to Sanders Theatre in Cambridge on Thursday night to see Cash and company perform her latest release, The River & The Thread. Leading the band on acoustic and Telecaster guitars was Rosanne's husband and music director, John Leventhal. His wing man on Telecaster, acoustic and lap steel was Kevin Barry, a Boston-based teacher at the Berklee College of Music. Each guitarist was masterful at weaving unobtrusive support around the other's blazing solos. The bassist was Zev Katz, a longtime collaborator with Cash and Leventhal. Rounding out the band were keyboardist Glenn Patscha and drummer Dan Rieser.
The first set was all the songs from The River & The Thread played in sequence. Rosanne's patter between numbers shed light on the creative sparks behind the songs and continually showed her humor, intelligence and love for music. Here is a distillation of the playlist:
A Feather's Not A Bird – Rosanne set the tone with her American roots style. She draws on country, folk and gospel influences without sounding derivative. What makes Rosanne Cash a great songwriter is that she is a great listener, to both the musical tradition and the stories of the people she encounters. Cash's voice, with its clear, light twang, is ageless.
The Sunken Lands – Her father's first memory of the old family home was five cans of paint.
Etta's Tune – The secret to 65 years of marriage is to repeat each morning, "What's the temperature, darlin'?" As Rosanne observed: "what a non-confrontational way to start the day."
Modern Blue – This is the first time that Barcelona and Memphis have appeared in the same song.
Tell Heaven – A gospel number that embraces agnostics.
The Long Way Home – Life's journey has too many left turns.
World Of Strange Design – As seen through the prism of the deep South.
Night School – A musing on Mobile, Alabama. She's never been there, but she vetted the details on the internet.
Night School – A musing on Mobile, Alabama. She's never been there, but she vetted the details on the internet.
50,000 Watts – The transformative power of radio.
When The Master Calls The Roll – Rosanne's current husband John Leventhal and her former husband Rodney Crowell co-wrote this tune for Emmylou Harris. Rosanne wasn't having that. She eventually got Crowell to rewrite the lyrics with her, turning the song into a tribute to the Cash ancestors of the civil war.
Money Road – It's a dark trail from William Faulkner's home to the Tallahatchie River.
The second set intermixed a few of Rosanne's early originals with covers from the American folk and country songbook. Most of these latter songs came from her album, The List, a selection of titles that her father, Johnny Cash, thought essential for her exploration. Here's the set:
Radio Operator
Movin' On (by Hank Snow)
Blue Moon With Heartache
When The Master Calls The Roll – Rosanne's current husband John Leventhal and her former husband Rodney Crowell co-wrote this tune for Emmylou Harris. Rosanne wasn't having that. She eventually got Crowell to rewrite the lyrics with her, turning the song into a tribute to the Cash ancestors of the civil war.
Money Road – It's a dark trail from William Faulkner's home to the Tallahatchie River.
The second set intermixed a few of Rosanne's early originals with covers from the American folk and country songbook. Most of these latter songs came from her album, The List, a selection of titles that her father, Johnny Cash, thought essential for her exploration. Here's the set:
Radio Operator
Movin' On (by Hank Snow)
Blue Moon With Heartache
Rosanne and Leventhal performed the next three songs as a duo:
Ode To Billie Joe (the Tallahatchie makes another appearance)
Long Black Veil
Sea Of Heartbreak (she recorded this with Springsteen; he never shows up)
The full band returned to the stage to close the show:
Tennessee Flat Top Box
Seven Year Ache
Encore: 500 Miles
How was the concert? Engaging vocals with excellent musicianship – my sister and I loved it.
Ode To Billie Joe (the Tallahatchie makes another appearance)
Long Black Veil
Sea Of Heartbreak (she recorded this with Springsteen; he never shows up)
The full band returned to the stage to close the show:
Tennessee Flat Top Box
Seven Year Ache
Encore: 500 Miles
How was the concert? Engaging vocals with excellent musicianship – my sister and I loved it.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Programming: Know your audience
The Boston Philharmonic Youth Orchestra held a concert on Sunday in Symphony Hall. The orchestra is made up of teens and young adults studying throughout New England. These prodigies exhibit the highest levels of musicianship with adventurous repertoire. Here was this afternoon's program:
Shostakovich: Festival Overture
Dvorák: Cello Concerto in B minor
– Intermission –
Bartók: Concerto for Orchestra
This follows a typical format: a short stirring piece to kick off the concert; [brief pause to seat latecomers]; something to feature a guest artist; intermission; a large work to show off the orchestra.
 |
| Children should be seen and not heard |
The folk trio Peter, Paul and Mary used to save their hit "Puff, the Magic Dragon" till the end of their concerts. When they eventually realized that most of the children were asleep by that point, they started playing the song earlier in their shows. I can understand why the BPYO put the Bartók concerto at the end of the concert; it's rousing finale made a matching bookend to the whirlwind Shostakovich overture. But the Bartók had more energy to withstand a restive audience than the Dvorák did.
By intermission many parents realized their children had had enough, and they took them home. A more pragmatic sequence for the afternoon would have been:
Shostakovich
Bartók
– Intermission –
Dvorák
The guest soloist for the Cello Concerto was Natalia Gutman. This 72-yeal-old Russian cellist is a living link to musicians of the Soviet era such as Mstislav Rostropovich and Svatislav Richter. It would have been more respectful of her artistry and interpretation to give her the quieter audience of the second half. Regardless, it was lovely to hear her encore of the bourées from Bach's Cello Suite No 3 in C major, BWV1009.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Wine report: It's called WHAT?
There is a growing breed of winemakers trying to break the mold of fusty respectability. They are using oddball names for their labels in order to grab casual drinkers and build brand recognition. On Thursday evening the Boston office held a competition to find the best-tasting wine with a funny or irreverent name. The judges rated the wines for name appeal on a scale of 1 (huh?) to 5 (HAH!). They also judged drinkability on a scale of 1 (um....) to 5 (YUM!).
The entrants who supplied the wine joined impartial tasters to form the panel of judges. This was a biased, non-blind tasting. Contestants could stuff the ballot box in their favor if they chose, but were cautioned that they might actually win the as yet unrevealed "prize". Many thanks to all who participated.
For food pairings we found offerings with similarly improbable names. There were four cheeses: The Drunken Goat, Hooligan (a soft stinky cheese ready for a brawl), Moses Sleeper and Red Witch. We also had Pigs in a Blanket and Orville Redenbacher's Poppycock. There was one respectable offering (really better than we deserved), a Tortilla española with aioli sauce, but since there was a mustache over the ñ it qualified.
First the white wines. They are presented in alphabetical order. The numbers denote the average name appeal / average drinkability score / combined total.
Armas de Guerra (Weapons of War) – 3.42 / 3.0 / 6.42 – Spain, 85% Doña Blanca, 15% Godello. The tasters noticed a sweet or floral aroma, and the taste response ranged from yummy, honey and floral to bitter esters and a saltiness that finished like contact solution.
Fat Bastard – 3.75 / 3.3 / 7.05 – France, Chardonnay. We either loved or hated the smoky nose. It had a bold, forward taste that some loved start to finish and others found sharp or harsh.
KungFu Girl – 3.64 / 3.36 / 7.0 – USA, Riesling. Many liked the honeydew aroma; the dissenter called it sophisticated grape soda. Most noticed the sweetness, and were either put off by it or found it not as typically sweet as an American Riesling. The favorable responses found it pleasant sipping and the best of all the whites.
Vineyard Salute, Flygirl White – 2.58 / 2.3 / 4.88 – USA, 52% Pinot Gris, 38% Viognier, 10% Roussanne. The wartime propaganda artwork had mixed appeal, but there were strong reactions to the aroma and taste: one liked the Moscato character, another called it "both sweet and ... jarring". It turned unflattering after that: "jet fuel perm solution" and "smells and tastes like a burnt tire".
Woop Woop – 3.67 / 2.55 / 6.22 – Australia, Chardonnay. We were expecting something rowdy out of this bottle, but the artwork on the label was just so, well, pretty. One drinker was surprised to find this was Australian because it was such a modest Chardonnay. Apparently "Woop Woop" is the equivalent for "the boonies" and tasters kept their distance.
Then the red wines:
Goats do Roam – 3.25 / 3.09 / 6.34 – South Africa, Red blend. The first impressions were favorable with notes of stone fruits and easy drinkability, but a second visit found it harsh, bitter and tannic.
Ménage à Trois – 3.25 / 3.36 / 6.61 – USA, Cabernet sauvignon. This is the one wine whose taste appeal exceeded its branding. The fans: Wow! Yum! Delish! The trolls: Flat. One-dimensional.
The Pope's Funny Hat – 3.42 / 2.45 / 5.87 – USA, Red blend, Châteauneuf-du-Pape style. This homemade wine by local garagistes Gavone Brothers was young, slightly watery and had a light pomegranate color. But it was also the most complex of the red entries. Several samplers were put off by the aroma, but I found an intriguing mixture of spiced plum, boot leather and toasted cheese (this would go great with a ratatouille parmesan). There were flavor notes of mocha that either drew you in or pushed you away. Perhaps this one had too much character for its own good.
Troublemaker – 3.5 / 2.7 / 6.2 – USA, Red blend. A bouquet of rubbing alcohol and airplane glue yielded to a spicy gasoline palate with a finish of cleaner. The most damning praise was "Agreeable, nice". This Troublemaker was ready to take on the Hooligan cheese.
Someone dropped a surprise on us with this write-in entry:
First-rate Old Fart – 3.63 / 2.13 / 5.76 – Italy, Red. There was an explosive shock appeal to the name, but for flavor this was a first-rate stinker. It smelled like an ashtray and tasted like ZaRex. Not surprisingly, this scored the lowest in drinkability.
The non-alcoholic Flying Cauldron Butterscotch Beer was almost entirely overlooked, but it earned a middle-of-the-road 3 / 3 / 6 and tasted like candy.
The results
Top three names: Fat Bastard, Woop Woop, KungFu Girl
Top three tastes: KungFu Girl & Ménage à Trois [tie], Fat Bastard
Top three combined scores:
Fat Bastard – 7.05
KungFu Girl – 7.0
Ménage à Trois – 6.61
The scorekeeper recused himself, disqualifying Fat Bastard, so the winner was:
KungFu Girl!
Amanda R. won an aerating pour spout and a Box of Boogers!
The entrants who supplied the wine joined impartial tasters to form the panel of judges. This was a biased, non-blind tasting. Contestants could stuff the ballot box in their favor if they chose, but were cautioned that they might actually win the as yet unrevealed "prize". Many thanks to all who participated.
For food pairings we found offerings with similarly improbable names. There were four cheeses: The Drunken Goat, Hooligan (a soft stinky cheese ready for a brawl), Moses Sleeper and Red Witch. We also had Pigs in a Blanket and Orville Redenbacher's Poppycock. There was one respectable offering (really better than we deserved), a Tortilla española with aioli sauce, but since there was a mustache over the ñ it qualified.
First the white wines. They are presented in alphabetical order. The numbers denote the average name appeal / average drinkability score / combined total.Armas de Guerra (Weapons of War) – 3.42 / 3.0 / 6.42 – Spain, 85% Doña Blanca, 15% Godello. The tasters noticed a sweet or floral aroma, and the taste response ranged from yummy, honey and floral to bitter esters and a saltiness that finished like contact solution.
Fat Bastard – 3.75 / 3.3 / 7.05 – France, Chardonnay. We either loved or hated the smoky nose. It had a bold, forward taste that some loved start to finish and others found sharp or harsh.
KungFu Girl – 3.64 / 3.36 / 7.0 – USA, Riesling. Many liked the honeydew aroma; the dissenter called it sophisticated grape soda. Most noticed the sweetness, and were either put off by it or found it not as typically sweet as an American Riesling. The favorable responses found it pleasant sipping and the best of all the whites.
Woop Woop – 3.67 / 2.55 / 6.22 – Australia, Chardonnay. We were expecting something rowdy out of this bottle, but the artwork on the label was just so, well, pretty. One drinker was surprised to find this was Australian because it was such a modest Chardonnay. Apparently "Woop Woop" is the equivalent for "the boonies" and tasters kept their distance.
Then the red wines:
Goats do Roam – 3.25 / 3.09 / 6.34 – South Africa, Red blend. The first impressions were favorable with notes of stone fruits and easy drinkability, but a second visit found it harsh, bitter and tannic.
The Pope's Funny Hat – 3.42 / 2.45 / 5.87 – USA, Red blend, Châteauneuf-du-Pape style. This homemade wine by local garagistes Gavone Brothers was young, slightly watery and had a light pomegranate color. But it was also the most complex of the red entries. Several samplers were put off by the aroma, but I found an intriguing mixture of spiced plum, boot leather and toasted cheese (this would go great with a ratatouille parmesan). There were flavor notes of mocha that either drew you in or pushed you away. Perhaps this one had too much character for its own good.
Troublemaker – 3.5 / 2.7 / 6.2 – USA, Red blend. A bouquet of rubbing alcohol and airplane glue yielded to a spicy gasoline palate with a finish of cleaner. The most damning praise was "Agreeable, nice". This Troublemaker was ready to take on the Hooligan cheese.
Someone dropped a surprise on us with this write-in entry:
The non-alcoholic Flying Cauldron Butterscotch Beer was almost entirely overlooked, but it earned a middle-of-the-road 3 / 3 / 6 and tasted like candy.
The results
Top three names: Fat Bastard, Woop Woop, KungFu Girl
Top three tastes: KungFu Girl & Ménage à Trois [tie], Fat Bastard
Top three combined scores:
Fat Bastard – 7.05
KungFu Girl – 7.0
Ménage à Trois – 6.61
The scorekeeper recused himself, disqualifying Fat Bastard, so the winner was:
KungFu Girl!
Amanda R. won an aerating pour spout and a Box of Boogers!
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Around the world with Andris Nelsons
New music director Andris Nelsons is back in town for three weeks of concerts with the Boston Symphony Orchestra. The globe-hopping conductor is simultaneously finishing his final season as music director of the City of Birmingham (England) Symphony Orchestra. In addition to a European tour with the CBSO, he will guest conduct the Leipzig Gewandhaus, Vienna Philharmonic, Royal Concertgebouw and Berlin Philharmonic Orchestras. He also takes the podium in February for the Royal Opera House Covent Garden production of Wagner's The Flying Dutchman.
This evening's program stayed close to the conductor's native roots. Latvian violinist Baiba Skride joined him and the BSO in a performance of Sofia Gubaidulina's Offertorium. This contemporary Russian work starts with the melody jumping around from instrument to instrument and then expands to a kaleidoscope of sound. Sometimes the notes crunch like an avalanche, sometimes they bounce off each other in zero gravity. There is so much harmonic exploration that when a major chord comes around it sounds dissonant. Baiba Skride used the same violin that fellow Latvian Gidon Kremer used in the 1981 premiere of the work. She coaxed a variety of textures out of the instrument, from sliding harmonics to a biting snarl. Andris Nelsons had full command of the score's shape-shifting idiom; the orchestra evoked sunlight sparkling on glass and a waterlogged hull becalmed in the doldrums.
The other item on the program was from Finland, Jean Sibelius's Symphony No 2. This was a more traditional and familiar soundscape, and Nelsons reveled in the symphonic splendor. There were chances for the trumpets to shine, and they shone like molten silver. Equally fine were the principal violist, cellist, timpanist and the many wind soloists. The conductor was in brilliant form tonight, yet he was reluctant to bask in the applause. He is clearly honored to be associated with such a group of exceptional musicians. He singled out individual players, then sections, then the entire orchestra, deflecting the audience's ovation toward them before taking his own modest bow.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
A madwoman crosses a river
A wandering madwoman, in search of her lost son, crosses a river. On the far bank she finds a grave, the boy's ghost, and her sanity. This barebones tale of miracle and redemption is the premise of Benjamin Britten's church parable, Curlew River. The style is a mixture of Latin ritual and Japanese Noh play.
The venue was Synod House in New York's Morningside Heights. A haze of incense in the neo-Gothic architecture turned the clock back several centuries in the Christian Era. Seven musicians sat at one end of the grand hall. A raised white platform ran the length of the hall with banks of tiered seating on either side, four rows deep. At the far end was a tall mast, topped with a cross.
Ian Bostridge sang the madwoman. The British tenor, who turns fifty this Christmas, still looks like a gangly teen. His voice has kept its elasticity, but his youthfulness undermines his credibility as commanding sea captains or ancient monarchs. Here, however, his towering gaunt frame augmented the madwoman's deprivation.
Jeremy White, Neal Davies and Mark Stone played an abbot, a traveler and a ferryman. Eight men and two boy trebles were a chorus of pilgrims and acolytes. A third treble sang the dead son. Britten's score calls for flute, horn, percussion, harp, viola and double bass; Martin Fitzpatrick conducted from a chamber organ.
Monochrome video projections on the platform and ferry sail depicted the river, the grave, the gulls mistaken for curlews. The madwoman spattered white grief upon a black void. The power of this production lay in what director and designer Netia Jones found below the surface of the stark text.
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