Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

An Extraordinary Musical Pilgrimage

Thursday, April 17th, 2014

By: Edna Landau

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

House concerts are a wonderful way to discover new talent. My friend Michael Reingold, who is the founder and Artistic Director of New York House Concerts, recently invited me to hear a young American cellist by the name of Dane Johansen in a concert consisting of two Bach solo suites and a solo suite by Gaspar Cassadó. I knew very little about Mr. Johansen upon arriving at the concert but quickly ascertained that Michael Reingold’s advance words of praise were well-deserved. What really captured my attention, apart from the very fine playing, was the following note in the program:

Dane’s Walk to Fisterra: In May 2014, Dane Johansen will travel to Spain and walk close to 600 miles – with his cello – along the Camino de Santiago and record Bach’s Six Suites for Solo Cello in ancient historic sites along the route. To learn more about Dane’s journey to Spain and to help him with a contribution, please visit WalkToFisterra.com.

As someone who rarely walks more than two miles a day (without a cello), you can imagine my fascination with the prospect of Dane’s journey. Was this a stunt designed to attract media attention? I introduced myself to him after the concert and had an opportunity to meet with him over coffee a few weeks later.

Dane explained to me that El Camino de Santiago is a famous pilgrimage route dating back to medieval times, which culminates in Santiago de Compostela and Fisterra in northwestern Spain. It attracts thousands of walkers a year, some of whom are ardent hikers and others who welcome the spiritual reflection that the historic route inspires. For Dane, the idea of undertaking this journey dates back to 2008 when he was talking to a friend at the Marlboro Music Festival who had just walked 2000 miles along the Appalachian Trail and whose next adventure was to be the Camino de Santiago. A native of Alaska, Dane’s passion for the outdoors has always taken a close second to his passion for the cello. He had been studying the Bach suites for many years and was seeking a way to experience them, and eventually record them, in a new and meaningful way. The historic spirituality of the route seemed to be a perfect match for the spirituality he has always derived from his daily commitment to music and the cello, as well as these suites in particular. He writes on his website:

Generations of cellists have considered mastery of the Suites a pinnacle of artistic achievement and a rite of passage. A life spent in pursuit of such a singular goal is like a pilgrimage; it is endless and requires extreme effort, daily commitment, and absolute resolve.

Realizing that there are hundreds of churches along the route, Dane began to envision a project that would not only allow him to perform and deepen his mastery of this music but to meet young musicians in Spain and offer them master classes along the way.

Dane’s plans have now blossomed into a six-week journey that will see him traveling with an eight-member team including audio engineers, award-winning filmmakers and a three-time Grammy Award winning music producer, perorming in 36 churches along the way and teaching at regional conservatories. Their goal will be to merge the narrative of Bach’s cello suites, the Camino de Santiago, and memorable moments of human interaction into what should be a visually stunning and compelling documentary film. They will be equipped with state of the art equipment that will enable them to capture the particular acoustic of each venue and recreate it in the film, allowing the viewer to be sonically transported to the original locations while watching footage that will accompany Dane in live recitals upon his return.

The beauty of Dane’s Walk to Fisterra is that it incorporates every aspect of what is important to him as a musician and a person. He will be traveling on foot to new locations every day where he can share his fascination and passion for Bach’s music with other people.  A dedicated teacher, both privately and at the Juilliard School, he has reached out to cellists in Spain via colleagues at various conservatories to help him organize master classes and mentoring sessions with young cellists along the way. He told me the poignant story of his special relationship with cellist Bernard Greenhouse, a treasured mentor with whom he spent considerable amounts of time during the last five years of his life. Dane had asked himself, “if you could study with anyone in the world, who would it be?”  The answer was clear – Bernard Greenhouse – but he had no idea how to get to him. Menahem Pressler kindly provided Mr. Greenhouse’s address after a coaching of Schubert’s E-flat Major Piano Trio at the Steans Institute in Chicago.  Dane wrote to him – one letter every month for ten months! One day, as Dane was mowing the lawn at his parents’ house, he received a call from Mr. Greenhouse who said he’d love to hear him play. He mentioned that he was giving a master class in Frankfurt and Dane jumped at the chance to participate. He subsequently played for him on a regular basis and spent several weeks at a time with him at his home in Cape Cod.  Greenhouse, who himself felt privileged to count the great cellist Pablo Casals as his mentor, seemed to welcome the chance to continue the tradition with the young Dane Johansen.

As I write this article, Dane is launching a Kickstarter campaign through his fiscal sponsor, Fractured Atlas, to raise the money he needs to bring his team to Spain. I have no doubt that he will be successful in this endeavor, just as I have no reservations about his ability to walk 100 miles a week. (He has been training for a while by walking the length of Manhattan  with his cello.) This project could be described as “long distance” in more than one way. Dane conceived of it six years ago and it was part of his proposal to the Artist Diploma Committee at Juilliard, in which he described what he hoped to accomplish during his time in the program. It could have been derailed at various times along the way and he hopes that the realization of this odyssey will encourage others not to give up on their dreams. He is grateful for the support of many, including his colleagues in the Escher String Quartet, who gave their blessing to this project two years ago.

I look forward to following Dane on his journey through a blog he will be posting on www.walktofisterra.com.  I also fervently hope that the excellent team that will accompany him will create such an exemplary film that it will be singled out as “Best Documentary Film” at a future Academy Awards ceremony. That would be a thrilling culmination to this musical pilgrimage, bringing honor to its visionary creator and the incomparably profound and beautiful six cello suites of Johann Sebastian Bach.

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

© Edna Landau 2014

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

 

Valery the Variable

Thursday, October 24th, 2013

By Sedgwick Clark

“He’s so variable.” That’s the first thing critics say about Valery Gergiev. He conducted his Mariinsky Orchestra three times at Carnegie Hall in an eight-day period early this month, interrupted by four Met performances (two on Saturday) and runouts to Newark and Washington, D.C. Even when he was busy at the Met, the orchestra was moonlighting under the leadership of Ignat Solzhenitsyn. Evidently, the man and his musicians never rest, to wit this link listing his next month and a half of concerts:

    http://mariinsky.us/performances/valery-gergiev-performance-schedule/

Stravinsky
Each of the three Carnegie concerts was devoted to a single composer: Stravinsky (10/10), Shostakovich (10/11), and Rachmaninoff (10/15). Gergiev seems to me most unpredictable with his own orchestra, the Mariinsky, which by all reports is subject to his rehearsal and programming whims. His performing of Stravinsky’s first three ballets in order of composition was a great idea but in practice overly ambitious. The Firebird (complete) was best, right up with Boulez/New York Philharmonic (1975) and Dutoit/Montreal (1986) as the best I’ve heard in concert—dramatic, dynamic, gorgeously played, with a sparkling color palette. But Pétrouchka (1911 orchestration) was thickly textured, monochromatic, often too loud in quiet passages, and, most alarming, humorless. The Rite of Spring’s huge dynamic range was squashed, with the fat forte of the opening winds—Stravinsky’s “awakening of nature, the scratching, gnawing, wiggling of birds and beasts”—totally without mystery. The Mariinsky players were exhausted, and it showed in their spotty ensemble. When Gergiev returned to the stage for his second bow he turned to the audience, announced that it was Verdi’s 200th birthday, and proceeded to conduct an electrically charged overture to La Forza del destino! Who says they were tired?

Shostakovich
Gergiev’s shattering performance of Shostakovich’s wartime Eighth Symphony left me shell shocked. Only four times before have I been so emotionally wrung out in a concert hall: a Bernstein/NYPhil Mahler Ninth in September 1970, Colin Davis’s Beethoven Missa solemnis with the London Symphony two years ago this week, and Rostropovich’s Britten War Requiem in January 1979 and Shostakovich Eighth in April 1986, both with the Washington National Symphony.

It took me a couple of movements to get into Gergiev’s interpretation. It’s dicey to impose extra-musical interpretations onto symphonic works, but the confluence of Shostakovich’s life and the often pictorial episodes in his music are difficult to ignore. Whichever stance one takes—music as pure expression or a reflection of the composer’s experiences—Gergiev struck me as understated in the first movement climax. I fancifully imagine the Nazis marching into Russia at this point, which will seem overly literal to some. Rostropovich’s players peeled the paint off Carnegie’s walls with their fortississimos, and the sudden, gut-clutching plunge of tremolando strings from fff to sfpp, after 34 pages of ear-splitting onslaught, induced audible gasps from Rostropovich’s audience. (Perhaps Gergiev’s cozying up to Putin is a liability when measured against the sensibility of a man who grew up during the Stalin purges.) Gergiev’s brisk tempo in the second-movement Allegretto skated over its Mahlerian grotesquerie, but the mechanized power of the third movement had its full effect, climaxing with brutal timpani and the grinding dissonance of the first movement. Throughout Gergiev’s fourth-movement Largo, one could hear the proverbial pin drop. Woodwinds strike up a perky tune in the last movement, but optimism is short-lived and the violent attacks from the first movement return. The coda—a vision of the abyss—is one of most unsettling passages in all of music.

An interview with Shostakovich about his Eighth Symphony, quoted in Laurel E. Fay’s biography, Shostakovich: A Life (Oxford), was published a month before its premiere: “I can sum up the philosophical conception of my new work in three words: life is beautiful. Everything that is dark and gloomy will rot away, vanish, and the beautiful will triumph.” Huh? I doubt that anyone in Carnegie Hall’s audience would agree, for they sat through the work with uncommon attention. Gergiev stood still for half a minute after the final double bass pizzicatos had died away, and I felt as if everyone—performers and audience alike—had communed in the infinite.

Rachmaninoff
The 1954 edition of Grove prophesied that the music of Rachmaninoff would be forgotten. Not if performances like Gergiev’s are around. The knife-edged drama of the old Kondrashin recording remains my touchstone in the Symphonic Dances (1942), but Gergiev may have surpassed his fellow Russian in the nostalgic Lento assai in the third dance, luxuriating in Rachmaninoff’s luscious melodies to a degree that makes me glad he’s away from home so often.

Russian Rambo
Gergiev’s taste in pianists is not mine. Where once he trotted out the frenzied Russian-American Alexander Toradze, on this tour he brought the muscle-bound Russian Rambo Denis Matsuev to pummel Shostakovich’s early, delightful Concerto No. 1 for Piano, Trumpet, and Strings. Loud and fast are the primary weapons in his arsenal. Oblivious to this work’s nose-thumbing Rossinian wit, this 1998 Tchaikovsky Competition winner plowed through the last-movement’s parodistic cadenza of beer hall songs and folk tunes with harried determination. Rarely have I felt myself at such odds with a soloist.

His take-no-prisoners view of Rachmaninoff’s Third Concerto eschewed lyricism, poetry, and tonal beauty, qualities well apparent in the composer’s own ancient recording. Matsuev doesn’t bang, really, he’s just repellently forceful, even when playing pianissimo, and he only plays notes instead of phrases. To no surprise, he opted for the heavy chordal cadenza in the first movement. The small cut in the finale (the Meno mosso two bars after 52 to the a tempo at 54) is often made and does no harm. Gergiev’s accompaniments were strong and supportive—some of his most reliable conducting in these three concerts. In December he performs the Shostakovich concerto in Paris with Daniil Trifonov, an impressive young competition winner with a notably colorful tonal palette; now that’s a performance I’d love to hear.

Gergiev at the Met
A final word on the two operas Gergiev conducted at the Met: Shostakovich’s The Nose and Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin. It’s always best to attend Gergiev performances toward the end of a run, whether at the Met or the Philharmonic. Nearly all the reviewers complained about slow tempos at the opening of Onegin; I caught his final performance (10/12) and couldn’t imagine more effective, naturally flowing tempos. The Nose (10/8) was even more fun than in its first go-around, two seasons ago. There aren’t any big tunes to whistle on the way home, but the production is a hoot. One wonders how Shostakovich’s political satire got through the censors.

Looking Forward
My week’s scheduled concerts (8:00 p.m. unless otherwise noted):
10/24 Zankel Hall at 7:00. Tetzlaff Quartet. Haydn: Quartet in C major, Op. 20, No. 2. Bartók: Quartet No. 4. Beethoven: Quartet in A minor, Op. 132.
10/26 Metropolitan Opera. Britten: Midsummer Night’s Dream. James Conlon (cond.); Kim, Wall, DeShong, Davies, Kaiser, Simpson, M. Rose, Costello.

A Master Concertmaster

Thursday, October 24th, 2013

By: Edna Landau

Dear Edna:

I am a violinist with a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree from a major American conservatory. I have won top prizes in some competitions and have always expected that I would be able to attract management and enjoy a solo career. As of late, I have begun to have my doubts about that as it seems that managements are only interested in signing immediate moneymakers. I have been told that I stand a reasonable chance of winning a concertmaster position with a good level orchestra. I did serve as concertmaster in my conservatory orchestra but I am not sure that experience would suffice to qualify me for a professional concertmaster position. I have also regularly played chamber music but I am not sure how relevant that is. In addition, I am hesitant about going the concertmaster route for fear I would have very few solo opportunities in the future. What advice can you offer me? – H.P.

Dear H.P.:

Thank you for your fine question which gave me the opportunity to speak to two wonderful concertmasters: the eminent and greatly respected leader of the New York Philharmonic,  Glenn Dicterow, now in his 34th and final year with the orchestra (after the longest tenure of a concertmaster in the orchestra’s history), and the 29-year-old very well-liked concertmaster of the Pittsburgh Symphony, Noah Bendix-Balgley, who joined the orchestra in 2011 with many solo accolades, including his title of Laureate from the 2009 Queen Elisabeth Competition. Both assured me that serving as concertmaster with an orchestra does not mean bidding farewell to solo and chamber music performances. A concertmaster is in the best position among orchestral players to negotiate for free time beyond what might be included in the general master contract. Furthermore, many orchestras, such as Pittsburgh, have relatively light summer seasons, thereby affording their players the opportunity to participate in summer festivals.

Glenn Dicterow reminisced with me about his young years as associate concertmaster, and then concertmaster of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, with whom he had made his solo debut at age 11 in the Tchaikovsky Concerto. Prior to assuming those positions, he had no experience playing in an orchestra — only chamber music. He had won numerous awards and competitions, and the assumption was that he would go the soloist route. However, he realized that he was not the type to thrive on living out of a suitcase and moving from city to city, never knowing what his concert schedule might look like from season to season. He was attracted to the stability that came with a secure orchestra job. He was also well aware that such great musicians as Gregor Piatigorsky, Alfred Wallenstein and Leonard Rose had all occupied first chair positions in orchestras. Once he became concertmaster in Los Angeles, he felt comfortable leading because of his frequent and regular chamber music activities. Noah Bendix-Balgley elaborated on this point with me. He explained that his experience playing first violin in quartets contributed greatly to his comfort level within the orchestra. He cited the visual cues, regular eye contact, having ears constantly tuned to what others are doing, and having the confidence and flexibility to adapt to them. He further explained that “playing chamber music makes you think for yourself, come up with a musical opinion and be able to defend it. These abilities are essential to a concertmaster as well. It’s just a different scale.”

I asked both gentlemen how much time they were able to devote to solo and chamber music repertoire and neither of them felt shortchanged. There are, of course, regular opportunities to play solo with their orchestras. In addition, they have had guest appearances with other orchestras and opportunities to participate in summer festivals. Mr. Dicterow has performed with his own string trio and piano trio over the years but he did admit to me that it can sometimes be challenging to match up dates offered by presenters with the open times in his New York Philharmonic schedule. Mr. Bendix-Balgley said that this drawback was more than compensated for by the many new connections he has made in the music world since joining the Pittsburgh Symphony as concertmaster and touring with them internationally. He has been introduced to institutions where he may someday want to teach or perform more actively, and he will explore those possibilities further when the time seems right.

I also asked both musicians about the qualities that characterize a successful concertmaster. Mr. Dicterow spoke of humility, the importance of positive thinking and respect for others, and the ability to play and think as a member of a team. He mentioned the public relations aspect of being able to convince others of the right way to do things and the esprit de corps to be a conduit between orchestra and conductor in a way that leads to unity. He added that solo moments should be so well prepared that they compare in quality to any guest artist visiting town. Mr. Bendix-Balgley also said that always being prepared and always sounding good are the first steps toward true leadership (advice he received from Alexander Kerr, former concertmaster of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra). He added that he thinks of himself as a leader among equals. “There are 100 or so amazing musicians in the Pittsburgh Symphony and each has a different role. I try to appreciate that role and treat them all with respect.”

Last night, in the course of a public interview entitled “The Quintessential Concertmaster”, which was part of the Insights Series jointly presented by the New York Philharmonic and Lincoln Center, Mr. Dicterow spoke about the rich life he has enjoyed with the orchestra under the batons of four music directors:  Zubin Mehta, Kurt Masur, Lorin Maazel and Alan Gilbert. His insight, humanity, sensitivity and sense of humor which contributed to making him a great leader on a personal level were all very much on display.  He knows that he will greatly miss his friends and colleagues when he moves to California at the end of this season to more fully assume the position of Robert Mann Chair in Strings and Chamber Music, at USC’s Thornton School of Music, but the chapter he is closing is a brilliant one indeed. He is truly leaving the New York Philharmonic at the top of his game and he will be very much missed. I hope that if you decide to pursue a position as concertmaster,  you will experience some of the same joy and fulfillment that have characterized his journey to becoming one of the world’s most pre-eminent concertmasters.

© Edna Landau 2013

Le Sacre du printemps at 100

Wednesday, May 29th, 2013

by Sedgwick Clark

At the very moment I post this blog, 100 years ago in Paris there was a riot going on in the newly opened Théâtre des Champs-Élysées. Even those who have never heard Igor Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps know about the uproar that ensued moments into its first performance. I’ve probably heard this work in concert and on recordings more than any other. And now I’ve heard it even more, thanks to omnibus “cap” box sets released by Decca and Sony to commemorate the occasion.

The Decca “100th Anniversary Collectors Edition” is amazing, incorporating every recording made on the British Decca, German Deutsche Grammophon, Dutch Philips, and American Mercury labels, as well as a couple of stray recordings owned by the umbrella company, Universal Classics. Spanning 1946 (Eduard van Beinum leading Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw Orchestra) to 2010 (Gustavo Dudamel leading the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela), these 35 recordings of the full-orchestra version present as vivid a history of the European style of recorded sound in the post-War era as we are likely to find in a single release.

Fleshing out this 20-CD Sacre set are three recordings for piano duet and Stravinsky’s 1935 recording of his Violin Concerto with Samuel Dushkin, the work’s first performer. The 21-minute concerto stands alone on the final CD; presumably the compilation producer, Tony Shaw, thought the performance too important historically to omit, even if his company lacked further appropriate material to fill out the disc. Kudos, Mr. Shaw! Too bad there wasn’t a recording horn around on June 9, 1912, for the first performance of the not-quite-complete duet version. The pianists were Stravinsky and Claude Debussy.

Only five recordings of Le Sacre preceded the van Beinum/Concertgebouw one:

(1) Orchestre symphonique du Gramophone/Pierre Monteux, 1929 (Pearl)

(2) Orchestre symphonique/Igor Stravinsky, 1929 (Pearl)

(3) Philadelphia Orchestra/Leopold Stokowski, 1929-30

(4) Philharmonic-Symphony Orchestra of New York/Igor Stravinsky, 1940

(5) San Francisco Symphony/Pierre Monteux, 1945

The new Sony “100th Anniversary Collection,” one of the label’s three releases this month in homage to Le Sacre du printemps, includes the 1929 Stokowski and 1940 Stravinsky. Unlike Decca’s “Sacre-Geek” Edition, this 10-CD set doesn’t collect all the Sacres in its catalogue. Missing are the 1945 RCA San Francisco/Monteux, the 1958 Columbia New York Philharmonic/Leonard Bernstein (see below), and the 1978 Columbia New York Philharmonic/Zubin Mehta versions. My completist tendencies would prefer to have them all in one set, like the Decca. But Sony does include Monteux’s 1951 Boston Symphony recording—easily the best of the four by the man who conducted the world premiere—and Mehta is represented by his 1969 Los Angeles recording in the Decca box. I am happy to have this set—even if I had already heard all the recordings except the never-reissued 1955 Philadelphia/Ormandy. However, I must protest the absurdly trying space-saving solution to the listing of track timings, printed in small type on a grey background. WHAT ARE DESIGNERS THINKING? For a sensible, well-organized, readable layout, look to the Decca booklet.

A hardbound two-CD set couples the composer’s 1960s stereo and 1940s mono recordings of Le Sacre and the revised 1945 Firebird Ballet Suite. This release is evidently aimed at those who only want Stravinsky’s own Sacre recordings since those are in the 10-CD set as well. But what about those collectors who want the “bonus” Firebirds too? In the great Columbia Records tradition of “screw the customer,” they have to purchase both sets.

I’m not quite sure when Bernstein’s 1958 New York Philharmonic recording of Le Sacre became “legendary,” but it’s an exciting, expressive performance that reportedly wowed the composer. A handsomely designed double-gatefold package was released singly earlier this month. The sound is more open than on earlier CD incarnations and strikes me as being from the master tapes, but why didn’t Sony say so? What does “original analogue sources” in the booklet credits mean? Or “a new audio transfer from the original reels” in the press release accompanying the CD? More troublesome are the English horn’s flubbed 32nd notes in the Ritual Action of the Ancestors section [track 13, 19 seconds], which were correct on the label’s Royal Edition CD over 20 years ago. I’m sorry to say, the new disc should be withdrawn and corrected, including typos of Bernstein on the spine, and Nijinsky and Roerich on captions.

Catching up on the opera scene…

Tuesday, May 7th, 2013

By Rebecca Schmid

The Deutsche Oper’s Tischlerei, a new wing for alternative music theater, hosted the results of Neue Szenen—a competition for composition launched by the Hans Eisler Conservatory—on April 8. Three young composers, Evan Gardner, Stefan Johannes Hanke and Leah Muir, emerged from a pool of 52 applicants with their musical settings of a monologue about the Russian journalist Anna Politkowskaja, who was held hostage in 2002 while reporting about the war in Chechnya and murdered outside her Moscow apartment four years later. The topic seems slightly less hackneyed following the bombings in Boston (maybe Sarah Palin should have to sit through all three versions so that she doesn’t confuse the republic with former Czechoslovakia). Each composer was allotted five voices, a maximum of 18 instruments, and their own stage director—yielding scene changes that lasted as long as 20 minutes. It might have made sense to limit directors to a single, mutable set design; surely it wasn’t necessary to dismantle a proscenium that in fact masked acoustics in the first scene (Gardner’s Die Unterhändlerin ‘The Negotiator’) to set up a mess of chairs for Hanke’s It will be rain tonight.

Gardner took the most literal approach with a text that included three other contributors (not including the monologue’s author Christoph Nußbaumeder). A black-masked terrorist (countertenor Georg Bochow) patronized Politkowskaja (mezzo Zoe Kissa), who declared at gunpoint that she “belongs on the side of the oppressed.” The eerie textures of Gardner, an American composer who has lived in Berlin since 2006, underscored the ominous drama but threatened to grow static. It didn’t help that the Echo Ensemble, resident at the Hans Eisler Conservatory, struggled to cleanly execute advanced string techniques under the baton of Manuel Nawri. One of the most effective moments emerged when a frightened character named Masha (Katharina Thomas) panted through a megaphone against ricocheting motives. Gardner’s ensemble writing also revealed great potential.

Hanke took a more poetic approach, with atmospheric winds and more conventional but sophisticated orchestration that illustrated the emotional world of Politkowskaja. The music might have been even more moving without the pseudo-Brechtian staging (Tamara Heimbrock). Muir, another American native, working with highly subtle textures such as wilting slides and sustained, post-Feldman dissonances, suffered most from the Regie (Michael Höppner), set in a dystopically bureaucratic office (presumably that of a newspaper) where an actor, at a climactic moment with fake blood dripping down his legs, reminisces about a lost cat. All considerations aside, Neue Szenen deserves credit for affording emerging composers the opportunity to stage their works at a major venue.

Le Grand Macabre

The Komische Oper has revived Intendant Barrie Kosky’s 2003 staging of Ligeti’s Le Grand Macabre, referenced earlier this season by Robert Carsen with an apocalyptic toilet bowl in Prokofiev’s Love for Three Oranges at the Deutsche Oper. To be sure, the gesture is distasteful in both instances. Kosky uses the porcelain bowl as a throne for Nekrotzar (the Grand Macabre, or a personification of death), which overflows with excrement when he declares the end of the world; Carsen, with his tongue in cheek, has the cook of Creonte’s palace retrieve the magic oranges from his own latrine. But Kosky redeems moments of senseless vulgarity by recreating the opera’s surreal reflection upon life and death with the right blend of dark humor, eroticism and biting social criticism (as seen May 5). The sight of Nekrotzar (Claudio Otelli) chewing on organs in the opening cemetery tableau, his face smeared in fake blood, might have been too much for this viewer, but Ligeti’s musical landscape pulses with death and violence. Kosky brings the characters to life with great dramatic clarity—the gravedigger Piet (Chris Meritt) bumbles around and laughs with morbid naivety; Prince Go-Go (Andrew Watts) is a sex-obsessed, spoiled brat. The director even manages to pull off a threesome with the two ministers (Tansel Akzeybek and Carsten Sabrowski) without it seeming purely for the sake of provocation.

In an amusing touch, the police chief Gepopo (Eir Inderhaug) sticks her head out from the hot pink bed of the prince (sets and costumes by Peter Corrigan) to announce the impending arrival of Nekrotzar, armless beneath her blazer as she bounces up and down in a state of orgiastic mania. The final tableau, in which the characters are trapped somewhere between life and death, evoked so vividly with Ligeti’s shimmering, microtonal textures, emerged in mesmerizing strokes as mermen slithered onstage beneath a heavenly city that descended on a self-consciously artificial cloud. It was certainly over-the-top—and disruptive to the opera’s dramatic flow—when the prince suddenly belted out the 1980s hit The Loco-Motion from his porcelain throne after the departure of the ruffians (here a priest, a rabbi and an Imam), but with the return of the lovers Amando and Amanda (Annelie Sophie Müller, Julia Giebel), and their sensuous, interlocking intervals, Ligeti’s score came to an absorbing close. Despite intermittent gimmicks, the cast was strong throughout, both musically and dramatically, and the house orchestra delivered a fine performance under Baldur Brönimann.

rebeccaschmid.info

Vanitas Vanitatum, Omnia Vanitas

Friday, March 22nd, 2013

By Rebecca Schmid

Experimental Regie, free from the scrutiny of finicky patrons on the German opera scene, can in the best case scenario serve to illuminate hidden meanings of a score. In the worst case, it can drown out or obscure musical considerations. The Staatsoper Berlin’s Werkstatt (‘workshop’), a wing of the company’s temporary residence in the Schiller Theater dedicated to new music theater (the literal translation of Musiktheater, which in effect places music and theater on equal turf), is currently showing Salvatore Sciarrino’s Vanitas (1981), designated by the composer as a ‘still life in one act.’ A trio for soprano, cello and piano, the work—seen at its second run on March 19—comes closest to a mini cantata with its intricate exchanges. A winding, descending melody provides a Leitmotif of angst and emptiness for the soprano, echoed by the ghostly cello, while the piano interjects with a bed of shifting harmonies. The text, woven together from fragments by German, Italian and other poets, lingers existentially over a wilting rose—an image hovering on the boundary between life and death.

In a new staging by Götz Friedrich protégé Beate Baron, the notion of a still life is taken literally when an elderly couple (Hans Hirschmüller and Friederike Frerichs) stands motionless before the audience, the sequins on their aristocratic clothes sparkling as they exude an admonishing stare. The soprano (Rowan Hellier) is trapped in her own surreal world—hair pinned up above doll-like make-up when she emerges from a corridor drowned in white light. As the drama escalates with frenetic passages in the piano (Jenny Kim), scrims descend to provide close-ups of the elderly couple—larger than life yet a bold distraction from the searching emptiness of the music. The actors, still onstage, resemble negligent, upper crust parents as they observe Hellier writhe on the floor in a moment of insanity. Her agility was impressive, but certain positions naturally compromised vocal production. I found myself drawn to the skilful playing of cellist Gregor Fuhrmann as his bow hovered with eerie tones above the bridge. Grating and creaking accompanied Hellier’s silent scream as the lights faded to darkness—a moment which allowed for full immersion in the music.

Ultimately, one was left wanting more. Perhaps it would have made sense to juxtapose the work with another one-acter—maybe even a world premiere culled from the extensive pool of Berlin-based composers—and pare back the staging? Two seasons ago, the company mounted Sciarrino’s Infinito Nero (1998) alongside Peter Maxwell Davies’ Miss Donnithorne’s Maggot (1974). Davies received an installation with live video that culminated in attempted suicide and a still birth, but in this case the protagonist is an abandoned bride who, according to the 19th-century story, actually does go insane. For Sciarrino’s ‘ecstasy in one act’ evoking the mystical experiences of Maria Maddalena de’Pazzi, the soprano Sarah Maria Sun was duct-taped to a cross that was hung from the ceiling. The concept was at first captivating—not to mention a technical feat—but quickly lost traction when extras crawled around with dildos stuck in their flies and splattered Sun with blue paint. The score’s hollow, breathing winds and haunted outbursts were reduced to spiritual relics—which is ironic given the Werkstatt’s focus on new music. The institution deserves credit for its sense of adventure, but the future of Musiktheater may depend on an awareness that theater must serve the interests of music—not the other way around.

rebeccaschmid.info

The Artist-Manager Relationship

Thursday, February 28th, 2013

By: Edna Landau

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

When I opened the Arts section of The New York Times three weeks ago, I saw an interesting article about a singer who was new to me, the South African soprano Pretty Yende. The first name certainly called attention to itself, as did the large picture of Ms. Yende, taken from her debut in Le Comte Ory at the Metropolitan Opera in January. The New York Times reported that “since Ms. Yende’s debut, her phone has been ringing with offers from agents. So far, she said, she has turned them all down.” This statement got me thinking. My first reaction was one of admiration and respect for an artist who felt she needed more time to complete every aspect of her training. (She apparently said: “This is my year to study.”) I felt it would take real courage to turn down management offers, especially if they were from well-established, reputable agencies. However, after a bit more reflection regarding this particular artist, who is already very much in the public eye and who had time to hone her craft during multiple years in the Academy at La Scala, I wondered whether she was wise to turn away management offers. The decision would seem predicated on the fear that a manager would push her too hard, too soon, but that is not what a good manager would do. A young, immensely gifted artist whose career is about to shift into high gear needs an insightful, skilled and sensitive manager at such a juncture, more than perhaps at any other time in their career.

Many people think that a manager’s role is simply to help an artist get engagements (and in a few rare cases, endorsements). That is certainly part of the picture, but an excellent manager will also do the following

1)  Consult with the artist (and possibly their teacher or mentor) about suitable repertoire at any given time. For a singer, this can be particularly critical. The manager may help the artist to resist the temptation to accept an opera role for which they are not yet ready. In the case of an instrumentalist, conductor or ensemble, the manager may have ideas about repertoire that is infrequently performed which, if it suits the artist, may help them gain attention. In all cases, the manager will attempt to find opportunities for the artist to perform new repertoire in smaller cities and venues before taking it to larger markets.

2)  Make introductions for the artist to major conductors and presenters and help them establish relationships that will become important and meaningful throughout their career. They may also have the ability to set up auditions for the artist with conductors who they think might be nurturing to them.

3)  Negotiate appropriately on behalf of the artist, based on their considerable knowledge of fees commanded by artists in different stages of their careers – something that is awkward and difficult for the artist on their own. They may also have some influence on finalizing a rehearsal schedule if it seems less than optimal for the artist.

4)  Act as an intermediary with presenters who may request additional activities beyond the performance which could place undue stress on the artist. Their objectivity can help artist and presenter arrive at a schedule that works well for both.

5)  In this time of increasingly complex media contracts and the potential for unauthorized use of an artist’s performance, steer their artist through these waters (perhaps with the help of an attorney), unless the artist prefers to totally delegate this responsibility to an attorney.

6)  Introduce the artist to public relations experts who can get the word out about important debuts and special projects, and who can help in pacing exposure for the artist, commensurate with the level and number of their engagements.

If an artist has achieved a modest amount of success but feels that they want to continue their studies or professional development for a few more years, that is not in itself a reason to turn down management. The right manager will be sympathetic to the artist’s wishes but will begin to create a buzz about them, while temporarily putting some seemingly premature high exposure dates on the back burner. If an artist is successful in building a relationship with this type of individual, it may develop into a successful partnership that could endure throughout their career.

Note: While writing this column, I learned that Pretty Yende is represented by Zemsky Green Artists Management. Nevertheless, I proceeded to post it because I felt that the topic merited attention.

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

© Edna Landau 2013

Where does the Concertgebouw Stand?

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

by Sedgwick Clark

 

NOTE: BEGINNING THIS WEEK, I’LL BE POSTING MY BLOG ON THURSDAYS AT NOON RATHER THAN WEDNESDAYS.

 

Amsterdam’s Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra and its current music director, Mariss Jansons, stopped by Carnegie Hall last week (2/13 and 14) for a pair of concerts to celebrate the ensemble’s 125th anniversary. They were a great success, as always, with everyone on my aisle burbling over its glorious sound and virtuosity.

No doubt whatsoever, it is a great orchestra, and for many of my over-40 years of hearing it in concert it was my favorite European orchestra. But the dark, burnished sonority of yore, cultivated to such full-toned splendor during Bernard Haitink’s tenure (1963-1988), was eviscerated by Riccardo Chailly’s superficial musicianship (1988-2004). And the turnover of orchestral musicians that occurred internationally in the last two decades of the 20th century brought forth a new generation of players who pride clarity over rich, bass-oriented textures. The only orchestra I know that has managed to retain its early-1970s persona resides in Philadelphia, and it remains to be seen what effect its new music director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, will have.

So what effect has Jansons had on the RCO? While one can’t deny his expertise on the podium, I don’t find much personality in his conducting—of the Austro-German repertoire anyway. He was at his best in the first concert, in his accompaniment to Leonidas Kavakos’s kaleidoscopic brilliance in Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 2. Still, it was little more than an expert rendering of the score. Listen to soloist Zoltán Székely and the Concertgebouw in the live world premiere recording under Willem Mengelberg in 1939 for those little nudges of temperament I missed with Jansons or the 1958 Stern/Bernstein/New York Philharmonic studio recording (in its judiciously remixed Prince Charles Edition reissue) for no-holds-barred emotional drama.

Recalling Jansons’ devastating Mahler Sixth Symphony a few years ago on LSO LIVE, I looked forward to the Mahler First, which followed intermission. But despite the orchestra’s powerful, pinpoint playing, the Wayfarer themes didn’t sing, the third movement’s Parodie sections were poker-faced, and in general the slow music was impatient and tempo changes were exaggerated. A disappointment.

Little need be said about the next evening’s Strauss Death and Transfiguration and Bruckner Seventh. Over the weekend I pulled out my recordings of Strauss’s own 1926 Staatskapelle Berlin recording, the 1942 Philadelphia and 1952 NBC Toscaninis, 1960 Monteux/San Francisco, and 1983 Haitink/Concertgebouw of the former, and the 1951 Furtwängler and 1974 Karajan, both with Berlin, of the latter. All were different, all sublime in their individual ways. Jansons sped up where Strauss marks Sehr breit (“Very broad”) for the transfiguration theme and sailed through the Wagner tuba threnody after the Bruckner’s second-movement climax. Inexplicable.

David Hamilton (1935-2013)

Another of my heroes is gone. David Hamilton, 78, died at home on February 20 after a long illness. He reviewed records and wrote occasional features for High Fidelity when I began building my record collection in college, and I relied on his insights into 20th-century music, especially that of Stravinsky. His initials at the end of a review meant “must read,” even if I had never heard of the composer.

David was a Princeton grad (A.B., 1956; M.F.A., music history, 1960), where he was the music and recording librarian, 1961-65. He was assistant music editor and then music editor at W.W. Norton, 1965-74, then became music critic of the Nation in 1968 and wrote for many publications during his lifetime. I had the pleasure of editing (if that’s the word, for his copy was immaculate) articles of his at Keynote and Musical America. His Metropolitan Opera Encyclopedia (1987) is one of my most frequently used reference books. For many years, he was producer of historical Met Opera broadcasts and wrote notes for the company’s program booklet.

One of the benefits of working in the classical division of Philips and Mercury Records in the early 1970s was that I got to know many writers who were formative in my musical taste. It’s easy to remember my first lunch with David: We were each going to hear Boulez conduct the Philharmonic that evening in what turned out to be one of the great Mahler Sixths I ever heard, and with a grin he pulled out the Mahler Critical Edition score from his briefcase.

We often saw each other at Boulez concerts. The conductor’s Rug Concerts were nearly always sold out, and long lines of the converted would form to get the best seats on the floor. I always arrived early and when the doors opened would storm up the escalator as the ushers shouted, “No running allowed.” (Shades of elementary school!) When David was there, I would save him room. But one night, an all-Schoenberg Rug Concert was only about half full. I remarked after a striking performance of Pierrot Lunaire that it was too bad it hadn’t sold out. “Well, look at it this way,” he replied. “Have you ever seen so many people at a Schoenberg concert?”

David succumbed to Alzheimer’s disease, one of those ironies that we who remain find so baffling in those of such extraordinary intellects. His long-time friend Sheila Porter was with him the afternoon before he died and told me that she and his nurse chose James Levine’s Met recording of Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro for him to hear.

Looking Forward

My week’s scheduled concerts (8:00 p.m. unless otherwise noted):

2/21 at 6:00. Metropolitan Opera. Wagner: Parsifal. Daniele Gatti (cond.). Jonas Kaufmann (Parsifal), Katarina Dalayman (Kundry), Peter Mattei (Amfortas), René Pape (Gurnemanz), Evgeny Nikitin (Kingsor), Rúni Brattaberg (Titurel).

2/22 at 11:00 a.m. Avery Fisher Hall. New York Philharmonic/Alan Gilbert; Jan Vogler, cello. Rouse: Phantasmata. Bloch: Schelomo. Brahms: Symphony No. 1.

2/22 Carnegie Hall. Philadelphia Orchestra/Yannick Nézet-Séguin; Jean-Yves Thibaudet, piano. Gabriela Lena Frank: Concertino Cusqueño. Ravel: Concerto in G. Stravinsky: The Rite of Spring.

2/23 Weill Hall at 1:00. Discovery Day: The Rite of Spring. Richard Taruskin, keynote speaker. Lynn Garafola, David Lang, Osvaldo Golijov, Jeremy Geffen (moderator).

2/24 Juilliard School. Peter J. Sharp Theater at 2-4:00. Leon Fleisher master class: Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 1. Performance at 5:00.

Remembering Ralph

Thursday, February 14th, 2013

By: Edna Landau

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

In my first column of this year, I listed among my New Year’s resolutions “try to go to at least one concert a month that offers music unfamiliar to me, preferably new music.” Little did I know then how rewarding that would prove to be. On January 10, I received a press release announcing “A Contemporary Evening for Ralph”at Merkin Concert Hall in New York on February 4. I learned that some of the finest new music groups to be heard anywhere were joining together to pay tribute to Ralph Kaminsky, who died at the age of 85 one year ago and who was perhaps one of the greatest advocates of new music that the contemporary music world has ever known. Those groups included the JACK Quartet, Either/Or, Talea Ensemble, International Contemporary Ensemble (ICE), and members of Alarm Will Sound. It promised to be an extraordinary evening and indeed it was. The groups, all of whom donated their services, seemed to be as delighted to all be performing in the same concert as the audience was to hear them. The hall was full and many people were seen embracing one another. Who was this man, I wondered, who brought all of these new music performers and aficionados together?

Ralph Kaminsky was a native of western Canada whose studies were in economics and who subsequently taught at the University of Manitoba and at Yale. After a time, he ventured into urban planning, which took him to various countries around the world. He returned to academia as professor of economics and public administration, and later associate dean, at New York University’s Graduate School of Public Administration, a tenure which lasted 23 years. After his retirement, he devoted the last 20 years of his life to his great passion for contemporary music. Together with his wife Hester Diamond, an authority in visual art and design, he hosted monthly listening sessions in a large music room in their beautiful home, where the guests (many of whom were from outside the music world) were introduced to Ralph’s latest discoveries – young composers and contemporary works that particularly excited him. The sound system was state of the art and all who attended received meticulously prepared programs, complete with notes about the (often cutting-edge) pieces. A lively discussion always followed the concerts. With the exception of some special marathons that were devoted to Wagner’s “Ring”, it was a rare occurrence if any of the music heard at the sessions was written before 1980. As Bruce Hodges, a writer and close friend of Ralph’s, wrote in a beautiful tribute on his blog, Ralph was often heard saying, “I listen to music by composers who are composing, not decomposing.” Sometimes the programs involved live performance, featuring familiar faces from the new music scene. But Ralph didn’t just enjoy new music at home. He regularly went to concerts and supported both the performers and the institutions who presented them. He had no hesitation in writing to major concert presenters in New York City to question why new music didn’t constitute a larger percentage of their concert offerings. At various times he sat on the boards of the American Composers Orchestra, Talea Ensemble, Sospeso Ensemble and eighth blackbird. The Merkin Hall concert program included the following tribute from eighth blackbird: “He was part of our organization before we even had a career, when he graciously opened up his home to us to rehearse for the Young Concert Artists competition. He of course showed us his amazingly ridiculous sound system and his exhaustive music library, but what we remember most is that he sat down and talked with us at length, discussed the New York music scene and new music in great detail, and showed a genuine interest in what we were doing. In short, he cared, at a time when we were unsure of ourselves and what we were doing. It meant a lot.”

It is unlikely that the contemporary music world will ever encounter another individual as single-mindedly dedicated to introducing laymen and music lovers alike to the great composers and new music ensembles of our time, and giving them the tools to personally relate to their music. Alex Lipowski, a close friend of Ralph’s and percussionist with the Talea Ensemble, called him a “trendsetter”. Rather than just lament this great loss, he and other close friends of Ralph’s conceived of the idea of organizing a concert to celebrate his life and jointly planned the event. The production costs were covered by members of the Contemporary Listening Group, many of whom saw one another at the concert for the first time since the last listening session, one and a half years ago. The brilliantly performed program consisted of works that were particularly meaningful to Ralph, including Marc-André Dalbavie’s Fantaisies, which his wife had commissioned for his 80th birthday. Happily, the concert coincided with the announcement of the Ralph Kaminsky Fund for New Music, “which aims to carry on his legacy by encouraging curiosity, exploration and passion for cutting-edge contemporary music through commissioning new works and ensuring their performance.” Ralph Kaminsky never sought the spotlight, but there is no question that he would have heartily endorsed this project and been touched by the superb and loving tribute concert in which so many of his close friends participated. I came to Merkin Hall just to hear a concert, but I left feeling deeply inspired by how much one person’s passion and intense dedication can lastingly affect an entire music community.

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

© Edna Landau 2013