Archive for November, 2013

Small Town Dance

Sunday, November 10th, 2013

By Rachel Straus

I’ve been living in a small town in north central Spain since June. For someone who writes dance criticism and loves taking dance classes, this sounds like a near death situation. But I’ve embraced provincial life, at least European provincial life.

Salamanca may be two hours from Madrid and it does not have a professional dance company, but it has Espacio de Danza, a studio just outside the city center—the site of the third oldest university in Europe (founded 1218).

Since September I’ve been taking advanced contemporary and ballet classes at Espacio. My teacher is Marta. On the school’s website, there are no pages describing Marta or the other maestras in residence. Why? Perhaps no one would care if she studied at a renowned conservatory or with her auntie. A name like the Folkwang Schule or Juilliard doesn’t mean much here. But Marta has studied somewhere legitimate. She teaches a modernized approach to the Russian Vaganova ballet technique and her contemporary class blends the Limon technique with the Spanish choreographer Nacho Duato’s speed and fluidity. Marta knows how to construct a class that develops strength without building unnecessary muscle mass. In each class, she develops on the material from the last in order to build technical complexity and rhythmic play. Most of all, Marta can choreograph: in her contemporary classes she makes dances, not just mini phrases.

Marta’s “advanced” students are mostly in their early twenties. (I put “advanced” in quotation marks because most of us aren’t quite worthy of that denomination). Except for one student, Marta’s pupils will not go on to be professionals. Oddly, the majority of them are studying to be doctors and nurses. What’s the connection? Perhaps these young women (and one man) are attracted to Marta’s precision and her ability to explain the mechanics of movement anatomically.

What I find most amazing at the Espacio de Danza is the lack of histrionics that is endemic to small town dance studios. None of the students wear flouncy little practice skirts. There are no teacher’s pets, or internecine (bitchy) competition among the students. These people are not performing the clichés enacted in the recently canceled U.S. television series Bun Heads, about a small-town, California dance studio.

The classes end at 11 p.m., and when I shuffle back to the old center, the tapas joints are in full swing. With my hair plastered to my head by sweat, and my heart roaring, I feel ready to return to my work: writing a 300-page dissertation leading to a doctorate in Dance Studies. But first I sleep… like the dead.

http://www.espacioendanza.com/

P.S. Next week I will be less provincial. I’ll be reviewing the Compania Nacional de Danza in Madrid and the Vienna State Ballet, after my week-long lecturing on dance at the Bratislava Academy of the Arts in Slovakia.

Opening Nights and Otherwise

Friday, November 8th, 2013

by Sedgwick Clark

Deep thought of the day: Every performance is different.

Second deep thought: Every listener hears the performance differently.

Two weeks ago I wrote at the end of my “Valery the Variable” blog that opening-night critics had lambasted Valery Gergiev’s conducting of the Met’s Eugene Onegin (9/23) as unbearably slow and stodgy. Having found in the past that the last performance in a series was his best, I deliberately waited for the sixth and last one (10/12) and found that I “couldn’t imagine more effective, naturally flowing tempos.” Last weekend I heard the beginning of Gergiev’s Met broadcast of Onegin on SiriusXM radio—obviously an earlier performance—and it was indeed unbearably slow and stodgy.

Is Esa-Pekka Salonen the anti-Gergiev, by which I mean that one should try to attend his earliest performances? Jay Nordlinger in The New Criterion and Anthony Tommasini in the New York Times rhapsodized about every note of E-P’s excellent program with the Philharmonic, based around the New York premiere of his recent Violin Concerto and performed five times. Ravel’s Ma Mère l’oye Suite gently opened the concert, and Sibelius’s Fifth Symphony brought it to a roaring close.

I heard the final concert of the series, and my reaction contradicts nearly everything they wrote about the Ravel and Sibelius works. We were much closer in our perceptions of the second work performed—of Salonen’s Violin Concerto (2009) with a fiery Leila Josefowicz as soloist, which evidently received the most rehearsal (and Tommasini’s consideration in his review). The concerto is very easy on the ears, as his music increasingly became while discovering the basic repertoire on the Los Angeles Philharmonic podium over 17 years. Brilliant moments abound, but I miss a sense of structure, a feeling that the piece is going somewhere. (No difficulty in this regard with the Sibelius Fifth, that’s for sure.) So I look forward to auditioning these artists’ L.A. recording on DG and seeing what I think after repeated hearings.

It’s no surprise that I sense a lack of direction in Salonen’s compositions because I often find little detours in his conducting of other composers’ works. Take Ravel, for instance: In the third movement Salonen adopted a slower tempo for a ten-bar transition between numbers 6 and 7, and then again for a similar transition between 16 and 17, which only served to break the music’s stride. And talk about breaking stride, he slowed markedly for the majestic horn theme (deciso) in the finale of the Sibelius, sapping its inherent energy.

Perhaps due to exhaustion—rehearsal of a new program in the morning and the previous program for the fifth time in the evening—the Phil’s playing in the Sibelius was surprisingly lacking in transparency on Tuesday. Jay wrote of the first note of the Sibelius being “absolutely together” and the horns playing in “flabbergastingly fine shape.” On Tuesday, the first note was ragged and the horn fished the opening solo. Moreover, pianissimo playing was never quiet enough, most distressingly in the ppp Misterioso section in the finale. I wonder what it was like on opening night.

Some FAQs About Artist Management

Thursday, November 7th, 2013

By: Edna Landau

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

One of the seminars I have led most often in recent years is entitled “A Backstage View of Artist Management”.  Here are some of the questions I am most frequently asked:

How will I know when I am ready for management?

The hardest thing about this question is that in order for an artist to accept the answer, they must be able to view themselves as a “commodity”. Artist managements are businesses and they must believe that the artists they add to their rosters are marketable. There must be enough things going on for an artist to help them craft a convincing sales pitch about them. Their talent and ability are fundamental, but they are hard to quantify to others without some public manifestation of the artist’s potential success with audiences, as well as at the box office. This might consist of a collection of impressive reviews, significant awards or competition wins, one or more distinctive recordings, a concert series or festival created by the artist, or programming that is compelling and perhaps coordinated with presentations in unusual venues. If an artist can’t make a convincing case for why they might be an advantageous addition to a management’s roster, they really can’t expect a management to be receptive to a direct approach or one made on their behalf.

If a management is interested in me, should I grant them worldwide representation?

Most managements will try to obtain worldwide representation of a client if they can. In my opinion, an artist just starting out in their career should be cautious about granting a manager worldwide representation, unless the manager has demonstrated success in dealing directly with presenters in significant markets other than the one in which they are based. If a young artist based in North America wins a competition in Germany and is offered good representation there, chances are that the German manager will be able to better capitalize on the artist’s success through their well- established contacts than the artist’s manager in North America. For this reason, I recommend that a young artist carefully research the scope of a management’s influence. They might want to only agree to exclusivity in the home territory, while allowing for the manager to bring offers to them outside the home territory as they may arise. It would be wise for there to be a provision in the contract that would allow for the artist to be represented in the future by other managers in other territories, with the initial manager playing a worldwide coordination role (general management) and earning extra commission for their services.

How often should I be in touch with my manager?

The answer to this will depend on how far along you are in your career. A well-established artist may be in touch with their manager multiple times in a single day. A young artist who is beginning a managerial relationship should spend a great deal of time at the outset providing the manager with all the promotional material, past performance history, repertoire and programs that they might need to aid in their sales efforts. If the manager is open to it (and they should be), it is worthwhile to create a list of presenters that might reasonably be targeted in the first year or two, especially presenters for whom the artist has successfully performed in the past. That could form the basis for future strategy discussions and evaluations of progress. Calls from an artist to a manager should be for a purpose, not to in effect ask “what have you done for me lately?”. That should be reserved for in person meetings, perhaps three or four times a year. Artists should always be in touch with their managers to share any new developments or potential booking leads, based on people they have met. They should be aware that managers are often reluctant to share information about potential engagements until they are totally confirmed. The absence of regular calls from a manager should not necessarily be an indication that they aren’t working on the artist’s behalf.

Is it better to be with a bigger or a smaller management?

This is a very tough question to answer in the abstract. A bigger management may have greater resources to apply towards managing your career, such as traveling for sales purposes or attending some of your performances. (A smaller management might bill these expenses, or a portion of them, back to you.) A bigger management may have a greater number of established contacts with presenters and a higher level of influence with those presenters if they have a roster of artists who are greatly in demand. They might also be more likely to hear of cancellations than some of the smaller agencies. At the same time, unless they are adequately staffed, it may be challenging for them to give you the level of attention you might get at a smaller agency. What is fundamental in making a management decision is the quality of the relationship that you hope to achieve. A manager with a small agency who “gets” what you’re about and seems passionate about working with you may achieve greater success than someone from a larger company. Before making any decision, examine the schedules of some artists who are represented by the particular agency and try to speak to a few of them, if at all possible. It might be equally enlightening to ask any presenters who you know if they have had experience dealing with the particular manager and whether they like doing business with them. So much of what happens in an artist’s career is based on the relationships that they and their representatives build with others.

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

©Edna Landau 2013

 

Spam Spam Spam Spam Spam….

Wednesday, November 6th, 2013

By Brian Taylor Goldstein, Esq.

Dear Law and Disorder:

If I am doing a fee split, am I entitled to the emails of the people who purchase tickets? Our group booked a show at a venue where we are supposed to be getting a portion of the ticket sales. We have asked for the names and email addresses of everyone who purchases a ticket, but the presenter says that this is against the law because it’s the presenter’s confidential, proprietary information. But if people are buying tickets to our shows, why aren’t we entitled to their names and contact info?  

Always start with the contract. What does it say? Do you even have one? If the engagement contract states that you are entitled to receive the names and contact information of everyone who purchases a ticket to your performance, then the presenter is contractually required to give it to you. Case closed.

However, assuming that your contract is silent on the subject, then the presenter may be giving you the correct answer, but for the wrong reason. A lot of people toss around the words “confidential” and “proprietary” without really having any idea what they mean. If your interest in having the names and emails is so that you can send out announcements of your future shows (ie: spam), the presenter has a legitimate concern that this may violate the CAN-SPAM Act–which has nothing to do with confidential or proprietary information.

The CAN-SPAM Act is a federal law that governs the sending of unsolicited commercial emails. This law states that anyone who receives an unsolicited commercial email has the right to request that he or she be removed from future mailings and places a number specific requirements on those who send such emails, including requiring the sender to provide an opt-out mechanism, a physical address, and to remove anyone who requests to be removed from the mailing list. It covers all commercial messages, which the law defines as “any electronic mail message the primary purpose of which is the commercial advertisement or promotion of a commercial product or service.” Under the CAN-SPAM Act, anytime you ask someone to “buy” something or spend money, its considered “commercial.” Sending emails to promote an artist or an ensemble is just as “commercial” as sending emails soliciting donations or promoting a concert, a fundraising event, or any program where tickets are sold. (The law makes no exceptions for tax-exempt 501(c)(3) organizations.) As a result, any individual or organization that sends a commercial email to someone who has specifically asked not to be contacted, or sends such emails and fails to provide an opt-out mechanism and/or to remove someone from its email list upon request, can be prosecuted for violating CAN-SPAM.

Individuals and organizations can also violate the CAN-SPAM Act by providing email addresses and contact information to third parties. Very often presenters and venues collect email information for purposes of contacting patrons to verify ticket purchases or to inform them of cancellations, but these same patrons may “opt-out” of receiving solicitations or commercial emails. If the presenter were to disclose such email addresses to a third party knowing that the third party intends to send unsolicited commercial emails, then the presenter would itself be liable for violating the CAN-SPAM Act.

In this case, if the presenter were to give you the data you want, and you violate the CAN-SPAM act, then the presenter could be liable. However, given their inarticulate basis for refusing your request, I don’t believe for a minute that your presenter is actually even aware of the CAN-SPAM act. More likely than not, your presenter simply doesn’t want you to have the ticket list because the presenter wants the names and emails all to itself to promote its own future seasons, subscriptions, donations, etc. Regardless, the bottom line remains the same: without a contract entitling you to this information, you’re at the mercy of the presenter. When performing at a venue, there is neither an inherent nor implicit right to patron names and addresses just because you are the performer and people purchases tickets to your show.

__________________________________________________________________

For additional information and resources on this and other GG_logo_for-facebooklegal and business issues for the performing arts, visit ggartslaw.com

To ask your own question, write to lawanddisorder@musicalamerica.org.

All questions on any topic related to legal and business issues will be welcome. However, please post only general questions or hypotheticals. GG Arts Law reserves the right to alter, edit or, amend questions to focus on specific issues or to avoid names, circumstances, or any information that could be used to identify or embarrass a specific individual or organization. All questions will be posted anonymously.

__________________________________________________________________

THE OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER:

THIS IS NOT LEGAL ADVICE!

The purpose of this blog is to provide general advice and guidance, not legal advice. Please consult with an attorney familiar with your specific circumstances, facts, challenges, medications, psychiatric disorders, past-lives, karmic debt, and anything else that may impact your situation before drawing any conclusions, deciding upon a course of action, sending a nasty email, filing a lawsuit, or doing anything rash!

 

ON UNSELFCONSCIOUS STUPIDITY, LOVING MUSIC BY HATING IT

Tuesday, November 5th, 2013

by Albert Innaurato

On Saturday evening, YannickNezet-Seguin conducted The Philadelphia Orchestra in a stunning, almost unbelievably thrilling account of Rachmaninoff’s Symphonic Dances, written for the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1941. It seemed the most modern and challenging work on a program containing two world premieres.  Yannick (as he introduces himself to audiences) had an amazing grasp of this piece — surprising phrases, agogic mastery, finding the sting in no longer familiar modulations, all floating along on a magic carpet of inevitability.  It was feverish, reckless, and the orchestra responded with astounding virtuosity.

I was not raised to value composer Rachmaninoff; at a master class, my heart bleeding into  Busoni, the “master” hit me on the back of the head and screamed, “raus, du… du… Rachmaninoff spieler!”, words to wound a young man’s soul. But I was astounded by the piece, thanks to Yannick’s insight and fire.

After this concert there was a round table with Yannick and the two composers the orchestra had commissioned to write virtuoso concerti for principles. These were Behzad Ranjbaran, whose Flute Concerto, spectacularly played by Jeffrey Khaner; and David Ludwig, whose Bassoon Concerto was gorgeously sung by Daniel Matsukawa (Ludwig described himself as a “lover of Italian opera”). This concerto has a title, Pictures From the Floating World, and many quotes from Debussy piano pieces.

An older man put up his hand and effusively congratulated both composers for not being “navel gazers” but for “communicating with the audience”. “None of this atonal stuff“, he said. 

Yannick,  with great charm, said “but atonal music, you know, can communicate, and can be quite beautiful”, and quickly changed the subject.

I thought the questioner was a bigoted idiot and I see the same mentality on the ‘Net all the time. Mr. Ranjbaran’s work alternated lush orchestration with “Persian” effects for harp (imitating running water), the flute circling ’round (I’d have been more impressed had I not heard these effects and others he used in Ethnomusicology 101 45 years ago). Built on the alteration of augmented seconds and perfect fifths, the harmonic language as opposed to cultural allusion seemed thin for a thirty minute piece, and for once the complaint that it sounded like movie music seemed justified (did our questioner day dream or even nod off during, thrilled not to be rudely awakened by a surprise?). Mr. Ludwig’s work was shorter and modestly tuneful (thank you, Claude) but there was a lovely movement that for all the world sounded like Sam Barber’s quietly melancholy meditations leading to a long scale that was a recurring motive in the piece but in that section provided an effective punctuation. Mr. Ludwig is the grandson of Rudolf Serkin and teaches at Curtis. I suspect he knows his Barber.

Having heard these sort of discussions in Europe, the man’s question struck me as profoundly yet proudly ignorant. Does he know what “atonal” means? What works exactly did he have in mind? If one removed the name Schoenberg or Carter or Boulez or Berg from a piece would he actually enjoy it? Would he hear surprising tunes, interesting harmonies, arresting sounds and a distinctiveness these new pieces seemed to lack, and want to listen again immediately? Now, I don’t want to be unfair to the commissions, they should be heard again, with different conductors and soloists; secrets may open up. They got big applause, but was that relief that they weren’t “worse”, or enthusiasm for local soloists and not that the pieces themselves had got the audience thinking, their minds racing, their emotions fully involved?

American “serious music” culture is very stupid. It’s all TV now; we look to be palliated and reassured not stimulated, profoundly moved, disturbed. There’s nothing wrong with being enraged or puzzled by an art work. But I think there’s a great deal wrong with wanting it to be essentially a warm bath to which one plans tomorrow’s brunch.

Well, I’m a snob and hadn’t paid for my ticket; these good people should be allowed their soul deafness. But I’m glad I’ve seen works that were hated, that inspired heated discussion, that were booed, that divided an audience. I disliked some of them too, but I left the hall feeling I had had a unique experience, an evening different from all other evenings, an escape from Law and Order reruns or yet another proficient but standard go through of a war horse. One should go to art to have one’s life changed, if only a bit, to be forced to see the dark streets and one fellow human beings a little differently afterwards, to have one’s brain buzzing. I am afraid we’ve lost that desire in “fecund America today”, and with it, the determination to fight for the survival of those endangered arts we think we love.

BR Chor’s Humorless Rossini

Saturday, November 2nd, 2013

Chor des Bayerischen Rundfunks

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: November 2, 2013

MUNICH — Can music be sincere and ironic at the same time? Ask Peter Dijkstra, the artistic leader of the BR Chor who last weekend (Oct. 26) led Rossini’s Petite messe solennelle as billed. Solemnly. The result sounded not much like Rossini. Nobody smiled, and the musicians looked tense on the stage of the Prinz-Regenten-Theater, even as they sang and played expertly.

But perhaps the composer was smiling, wherever he is. The famously social 71-year-old used the tuneful giddy Mass — his only complete setting of the Ordinary — to demand admission to Paradise, describing for God its ingredients: “[un] peu de science, un peu de coeur.” The year was 1863 and Paris was digesting Darwin’s De l’origine des espèces, ou Des lois du progrès chez les êtres organizés, in its first French edition. Rossini may have viewed his demand as only natural. Ditto his casting stipulation: “chanteurs des trois sexes – hommes, femmes et castrats.”

If Dijkstra’s straight face precluded irony, and with it a few musical plaisanteries, at least he secured a tidy performance. His choristers, forty strong, mustered volume sparingly, reveling most of the time in transparent textures, soft floated tones and expressive accents. The evening burst into life in their spry counterpoint for Cum Sancto Spiritu, but choral virtuosity was just as apparent in Rossini’s contrasted, wistful Sanctus.

BR Chor members could have been assigned as quartet soloists, as the composer planned. Instead, BR (Bayerischer Rundfunk) hired glamorous outsiders. Regula Mühlemann and (mezzo-soprano) Anke Vondung paired exquisitely in the soprano and alto duet Qui tollis peccata mundi. Mühlemann’s sweet, light sound and the charm of her phrasing added luster to the Thomas Aquinas hymn, O salutaris hostia, interpolated after the Sanctus by Rossini (in 1867) to press musically his case for an agreeable afterlife. Vondung attuned herself to all colleagues, singing with dynamic sensitivity and great poise. She even adjusted neatly to the sudden weight of the Agnus Dei, pleading earnestly for mercy and peace against the score’s quirky aura of melodrama.

Eric Cutler and (baritone) Michael Volle made heavy work of the tenor and bass solo parts. Cutler, alarmingly, bellowed through the Domine Deus, but he brought finesse to the ensembles. Performing on a break from a run of Les vêpres siciliennes in London, Volle brightly characterized his words.

Mordant musical wit in the Petite messe solennelle mirrors Rossini’s droll remarks in its dédicace to God and on the manuscript’s flyleaf. In a skillful reading, particularly one using the original scoring for two pianos and harmonium, as on this occasion, a thread of humor helps link the incongruous styles and moods of the individual sections, ranging as they do from jaunty to buffo to melodramatic to properly solemn.

Dijkstra erred anyway on the side of objectivity, also slowness, and passive accompaniment from the duo pianists belabored his approach. Andreas Groethuysen (principal) and Yaara Tal (second piano) hovered below the music’s surface much of the time. The bubbly rhythmic figurations in the Kyrie passed by unremarkably. The instrumental Offertorio, waggishly labeled Prélude religieux lest anyone find it misplaced, lacked shape and in fact dragged. Groethuysen faltered technically now and then as well.

In a nod to the Verdi bicentennial, Dijkstra began the concert with the unaccompanied, seldom-heard Pater noster (O Padre nostro che ne’ cieli stai) of 1878, sung mellifluously in clear Italian with restrained power. Here his straightforwardness paid off. (Mariss Jansons is chief conductor of the BR Chor.)

Photo © Johannes Rodach

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BR Chor’s St Matthew Passion
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Benjamin and Aimard

Saturday, November 2nd, 2013

George Benjamin

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: November 2, 2013

MUNICH — George Benjamin programmed strongly around his own Duet in a welcome conducting engagement Oct. 21 with the Bavarian State Orchestra. Alas, doing so overshadowed the subtle 2008 composition in its local premiere, even with dedicatee Pierre-Laurent Aimard as persuasive soloist.

One of only three works published by Benjamin since 2007, Duet in the composer’s words is “an encounter between two equal partners,” piano and orchestra. Call it not a concerto. Now gently, now forcefully, the 14-minute piece pits harmonic qualities of the solo instrument against “legato capacities” of the strings and winds. In a kind of dare, the composer has fashioned music for “compatible areas,” dividing “the piano into … registers with timbral equivalents in the orchestra.” The harp is prominent. There are no violins. Written with scrupulous attention to dynamics, Duet emerges as an eloquent, mostly restrained, balancing act in myriad sonorities gleaned from austere material. It received a careful performance.

The National Theater Akademiekonzert opened with Ravel’s Rapsodie espagnole, written exactly a hundred years earlier. This, it turned out, supplied a related palette of tints and surface effects, and the conductor’s bare, crystalline, somewhat dawdling traversal — almost a dissection — made it seem like his property. Fascinating! Next came a clangorous, iridescent reading of Messiaen’s Oiseaux exotiques (1956), again with Aimard, supported by tight, bright woodwinds and driven by gleeful interaction between Benjamin and the fluent, unflappable pianist from Lyon.

Duet followed after the break, and then came Janáček’s festive Sinfonietta (1926). Here the orchestra’s brass section took the chance to sing its own praises, and Benjamin dutifully pointed the various Moravian dance rhythms. The conductor’s meticulous manner seemed to rub off in excellent playing on this night. Aimard himself was on confident, animated form.

Photo © Matthew Lloyd

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