Violin memories

This morning's email from The New Yorker advises me that "the superstar violinist Leila Josefowicz" will be performing this week.

"Leila Josefowicz?" I asked myself, "I heard her perform at the Kennedy Center half a dozen years ago, didn't I?  Isn't she the pretty blonde who annoyed the devil out of me with all her twisting and squirming and fidgeting all the way through a not-very-interesting NSO performance of -- what was it -- a Mozart concerto?" 

She's a superstar?  Or, in the words of The Telegraph, "one of the leading American violinists of her generation"?

"I'll have to look back in EineKleineBlog to see if she really is who I think she is."

No luck.  I can't find a mention of her anywhere in the blog.  Maybe I misspelled Josefowicz? Nope.  Even a search for "violinist" fails to turn her up.

No matter;  I'm sure she's the woman I think she is.  And I'm sure that my opinion of her (or of "superstar") is quite different from that of the rest of the world.

But the search for "violinist" does turn up something interesting, my rave review of a Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg performance:

Standing ovations should be reserved for performances that are in some way life changing -- or at the very least eye-opening . . . We absolutely should not stand and clap for everybody who manages to wangle a gig at the concert hall.

That said, last night I jumped to my feet and clapped.

And shouted.

Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg's performance of Shostakovich's violin concerto with the NSO at the Kennedy Center was astounding! 

What's interesting -- and disheartening -- about this is that I have virtually no memory of the event. This "astounding" "eye opening," "life changing" performance that got me out of my seat shouting (and believe me, I'm definitely not a shouter) is lost in the mists of memory.  Just as lost as if it had never occurred.  How depressing.

Brahms-Schoenberg !

Last Thursday I had the great good fortune to escort two lovely ladies to a terrific NSO performance of Schoenberg's orchestrated version of Brahms's Piano Quartet.  Fun and exciting!  When it was finished, my cheeks were sore from smiling so broadly for so long!  (You can get a glimmer of the fun in this snippet by the Berlin Philharmonic.)

The experience was all the more enjoyable for being so unexpected.  In the past, I'd found a lot of Brahms to be "nice," but not much more than that.  As for Schoenberg, I knew him only by his twelve-tone work, which, with a single exception, I'd always found to be unlistenable.*  The two of them together, however, were wonderful!

The Brahms/Schoenberg was also the more enjoyable because the two pieces that preceded it on the program were such disappointments:

• Haydn's Symphony 72 was pleasant, and it spotlighted half a dozen excellent soloists (which surprised me because I didn't realize Haydn -- or, indeed, any of the classical composers -- used soloists in symphonic pieces).  But really, now, we expect a lot more than "pleasant" from Haydn, don't we?
• Schumann's cello concerto was positively unpleasant. Much as I love the sound of a cello, and much as I enjoy virtually everything else I ever heard by Schumann, this piece just seemed to ramble on and on and never get anywhere -- rather like Sibelius (whom I can't stand).  And the soloist was fabulously annoying with his over-the-top dramatics: hand over heart, eyes to the heavens, tossing his long hair this way and that in time to the music, et cetera. Ugh!

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* My spell checker objects to "unlistenable."  Too bad.  If it's not a word, it should be. [Update: I guess it is a word.]

Mandela and me

We weren't exactly close.  Still, . . .

Back when I was still working, the carpool dropped me off in front of the office around 7:00 one morning in 1994(?) and who should I see striding quickly down 14th Street for his daily constitutional with a contingent of security officers all around him but Nelson Mandela!  Well, I was tempted to kneel down and hope for his blessing, but instead I started applauding and I was immediately joined by others nearby.  The great man turned, smiled, and waved!

Katka and I were at the Kennedy Center last night.  When the conductor -- my very unfavorite Christoph Eschenbach -- took the podium, he turned to the audience and said (or words to this effect) "Today one of the very greatest of world leaders passed away.  Nelson Mandela died this afternoon. [The audience gasped audibly.]  We will play "Air on the G String" by J.S. Bach.  When we finish, please do not applaud.  Spend a minute in silence."  That minute of silence was deafening!  It was all very moving.

I have to admit I was wondering how Eschenbach would segue from that to "Overture to the Magic Flute."  Simple.  And fabulously effective.  After the moment of silence, he simply left the stage.  He returned a minute or two later to begin the concert normally.

Not such a bargain

Early last month, Katka and I* each bought an "NSO flexpass," entitling us to 3 concerts this fall for less than half price. At the time, I guess I didn't read the fine print on the deal:

Show this card in person at the Kennedy Center Box Office to redeem (not redeemable by phone or online). . . . Seating is not guaranteed at every concert and is subject to the availability of seats remaining...

Bummer!

• Either we go to the box office half an hour before the performance and risk being told that there aren't any seats left,
• Or one makes a special trip to the box office days (weeks?) before the performance to pick up the tickets.

And on closer inspection, the concerts being offered are not even very appealing:

October 10	WAGNER, Parsifal, Act III in concert
October 31	ENESCU, Rumanian Rhapsody No. 1
	BARBER Violin Concerto, Op. 14
	RACHMANINOFF Symphonic Dances, Op. 45
November 7	BRITTEN Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge
	SHOSTAKOVICH Cello Concerto No. 1 in E-flat major, Op. 107
	SCHUMANN Symphony No. 1 in B-flat major, Op. 38, "Spring"
November 14	KODÁLY Suite from Háry János
	LISZT Piano Concerto No. 2 in A major
	PROKOFIEV Excerpts from Romeo and Juliet
December 5	MOZART Die Zauberflöte - Overture
	MOZART Violin Concerto No. 4, K. 218
	BRAHMS Symphony No. 1 in C minor, Op. 68

I suppose I'll opt for Shostakovich and Schumann on November 7 (though the prospect of being subjected to Brittens "Variations" is likely to give me bad dreams for the next month) and Mozart and Brahms on December 5.  Goodness only knows what I'll do with the third ticket.

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* "Katka and I"?  Yep.  The wonderful wife, perhaps more perceptive than we were, passed on the deal.

Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring

And the winner is . . .

I arrived at the concert

• Mozart, Sympony #25
• Dvořák, Violin Concerto
• Prokofiev, Alexander Nevsky

expecting Mozart and Dvořák to duke it out for first place and expecting Prokofiev, while possibly interesting, to come in a distant third.  Knock me over with a feather! Prokofiev won in a walk.

The NSO last performed the Prokofiev work 20 years ago under Rostropovich.  The Post's critic wrote

I didn’t hear Rostropovich perform it, but some of the musicians in the orchestra played it under him, and it was possible to convince yourself that you were hearing both vestiges of his involvement with this work and, in the hands of the capable young conductor Jakub Hrusa, a slightly paler performance. 

Shorter version:

I heard Hrusa.  I didn't hear Rostropovich.  Rostropovich was better.

Sigh.

She was close to right, however, in commenting that the Dvořák concerto calls the orchestra into a partnership with the soloist rather than just an accompanying role [which your blogger, unfamiliar with the work, found off-putting at first] and that this was "a partnership that Hrusa took so much to heart that the soloist was sometimes at risk of being drowned out. "  And "the surging orchestra at times made [the soloist] sound a little small." (Actually, he sounded small throughout, not just "at times," but why quibble?) 

Anyway, . . . Nevsky is terrific.  Go hear it if you get a chance.  But don't — I repeat don't — watch it on Youtube.  Those tiny speakers in your computer can't come close to handling that enormous sound.  (Enormous?  Yep, isn't that what you'd call 100+ singers plus an equal number of musicians, including a percussion section — gong, cymbals, bass drum, snare drum, timpani, and goodness knows what all else — of at least six?)

Divertimento in D for horns, bassoons, and strings

I've been sitting here listening to K. 205 for a couple hours. That Mr. Mozart -- he sure could write some good music.

And by "good," of course, I mean "breathtakingly beautiful."

Brava!

You can't attend a performance at the Kennedy Center without seeing the audience rise to its feet at the end to give the artists a standing ovation.

Which drives me nuts!

Standing ovations should be reserved for performances that are in some way life changing -- or at the very least eye-opening -- like, say, Kathleen Battle's performance of chansons and lieder 20 years ago at George Mason or Andras Schiff's performance of Scarlatti sonatas at the same venue 10 years ago. We absolutely should not stand and clap for everybody who manages to wangle a gig at the concert hall.

That said, last night I jumped to my feet and clapped.

And shouted.

Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg's performance of Shostakovich's violin concerto with the NSO at the Kennedy Center was astounding!

Trust me on this one, you don't want to miss it. If you're in the area, beg, borrow or steal a ticket to tomorrow's performance. You can thank me later.

Mozart, Beethoven, etc.

A couple weeks ago we all headed into the Kennedy Center to hear the NSO play Mozart's Jupiter" and last Thursday Katka and I returned to hear them do Beethoven's "Eroica." Two great symphonies!

And the orchestra did a fine job with both (though better with the Beethoven than with the Mozart). The violin section usually needs the first 10 minutes of a piece before it gets in sync -- until then, they're all playing the right notes but unfortunately they're all playing them at almost the right time. (I blogged about this sort of thing once before. This kind of playing is what some people describe as "lush"; it strikes me as fuzzy and muddy and annoying.) Anyway, I didn't hear any of it in the "Eroica" performance. It was lovely from beginning to end.

A performance of Schumann's first piano concerto, performed by Ingrid Fliter, was on the same bill with Mozart. Lovely music, very well played, though I remember that at the time it seemed to me that the conductor and the soloist had different notions about the tempi. When soloist and orchestra played together, they accommodated each other, but when the soloist um, er, soloed the pace seemed to change -- and for the better, I might add.

On the same bill with Beethoven was Richard Strauss's "Metamorphosen." I'd never heard it before; I thought it was very good.

We're all going back in next week to hear Shostakovich and Bruckner.

So, all this concert going must mean that we've got money to burn, right? Well, no. What we've got is a way to get half-price tickets (through goldstar.com). To make an outing even less expensive, there's meter parking for $2 on E Street, a 5 minute walk from the concert hall, so we don't have to pay the outrageous $20 that the Kennedy Center charges.

And the half-price tickets usually get us pretty good seats. Last thursday, for example, Katka and I were on the "orchestra" level, in row Z -- maybe two-thirds of the way back, and off to the side -- the red dot in the picture:

As I say, pretty good seats. But while we were waiting for the performance to begin, I noticed a lot of empty seats in front of us, so we approached the head usher: "Hi, we're in row Z and we notice there are a lot of empty seats up closer, . . . " And the head usher replied: "This is you're lucky night" and he wrote us new tickets on the spot, so we were able to enjoy the concert from M!

(When we moved, Katka said to her new neighbor, "Wow, these are wonderful seats!" and he replied, "Well, you get what you pay for." Little did he know, that sometimes you get way more than you pay for.)

BWV 867

A day or two ago I got around to copying Gould's recording of "The Well-tempered Klavier" to my i-Phone. And a few minutes ago I listened to his fabulously wonderful performance of the Prelude and Fugue in b-flat minor from Book 1 (play it at my funeral, please). I decided I would share it with the world, so I went to YouTube. I found this instead:

You're welcome.

PS: I did eventually find the fabulously wonderful piece I was looking for:

Another R.I.P.

A lovely obituary of Jo Stafford (whom I've been listening to more and more and trying to figure out why I like her singing so much): http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/2419478/Jo-Stafford.html.

You're welcome.

Brava!

Wow! I never heard Montserrat Caballé until tonight. Is she great or what? How in the world does she sing this whole thing without taking a breath?

And maybe even more remarkable,

I don't know about you, but I ain't making no more "ain't over 'til the fat lady sings" comments anymore.

Catching up on music, part 4

It snowed on the last Saturday of October, the first October snow in more than 30 years. Naturally, I had picked that night to go out to Catholic University to see "On the Town."

Fortunately, the snow didn't amount to anything.

Equally fortunate, "On the Town" did.

I've seen the old movie version once or twice and, with one brief notable exception, I thought the whole thing stunk.

Stunk?! Music by Bernstein? Singing and dancing by Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra? And it stunk? How could that be? I don't know, but as Elaine Benes said in a different context, "Ohhh, it be!"

So why buy tickets to see the show at CU? Two reasons, I guess.

First, I wondered if maybe a more mature Dan would be able to appreciate something that my younger self had not. After all, music by Bernstein! "Chichester Psalms" aside, Bernstein is pretty good.

Second, I had seen an opera at CU a couple years ago and it was fabulous. Now Mr. Mozart had a lot to do with that fabulousness, but the performers too were . . . fabulous. Excellent singers, excellent musicians, excellent actors. I wanted to see what they could do with a Broadway musical.

And hey, tickets are only $15. What have I got to lose?

Anyway, . . .

The show was a lot of fun. Both the material and the performances (if you don't count the dancing) were excellent.

And I guess that's all I have to say about it.

Catching up on music, part 3

Last night Katka and I met up at the Freer Gallery for a performance by Musicians from Marlboro

• Mozart - String Quintet in C Minor, K. 406
• Bridge - String Quartet in E Minor (I never heard of Bridge before)
• Mendelssohn - String Quintet No. 2 in B-flat Major, Op. 87

An enjoyable evening. The big surprise was that Mozart was far the least interesting of the three. Mendelssohn was excellent.

Catching up on music, part 2

I don't know anything about Béla Bartók beside the fact that he is highly thought of. Also, that I didn't like his music when we heard some of it in Budapest a few years ago.

A few weeks ago, however, I got a shot at some half-price tickets for a performance of his music (and a Schubert symphony) by the Budapest Festival Orchestra with the astonishing pianist Andras Schiff so I thought I'd give Mr. Bartók another chance. If anybody can do his music justice, I would think his countrymen are the ones to do it. Besides, what did I have to lose? Even if it turned out I disliked his music, I'd get to hear Schubert's 9th (which is called "The Great C-Major" to distinguish from his other, much shorter, C-Major symphony, but which deserves to be called great also because it is, um, er, ah, . . . great!)

The upshot?

• Bartók's peasant songs were as bad as I remembered.
• I was able to enjoy Bartók's piano concerto somewhat by marveling at Schiff's brilliance and imagining the music as accompaniment to a Kandinsky painting.
• And Schubert's great Great C-Major? Terrible. It dragged on and on and on, and the orchestra presented it with the bounciness of an oompah band; all that was missing was the tuba.

Catching up on music, part 1

When we were in Manhattan last month, we weren't able to get to any plays (for a variety of reasons that aren't worth describing). I did hear some music, however.

Around 4:30 or 5:00 p.m. on our second afternoon there, I called Carnegie Hall.

"You don't have any tickets still available for the Mariinsky [mar-IN-ski] Orchestra this evening, do you?"

"Well, yes, we do have a few tickets for the Mariinsky [MAR-ee-IN-ski] Orchestra. I can give you something in row F for $165. Or 10 rows farther back for $145. And I have an obstructed view seat in the Dress Circle for $35."

Would that all decisions were so easy!

Turns out "Dress Circle" means "Nosebleed Territory," but my seat was fabulous! It was on the aisle, a little left of center and the "obstruction" was a narrow column 10 feet ahead of me and off to the right. It blocked my view of 2 cellos and 2 double basses. That's it. I had a perfect view of the other 65 performers.

The program was a couple Tchaikovsky symphonies, and I thought they were both fine but not spectacular. What was spectacular, however, was the performance. I don't know whether to credit the orchestra or the acoustics or my mood or what, but that was the clearest, sharpest, most beautiful sound I've ever heard in any concert hall anywhere.

To sum up:

• A bargain ticket
• An evening stroll through Manhattan
• A wonderful seat in Carnegie Hall!
• A fabulous performance
• A nighttime stroll back to the hotel,

Not too shabby!

Vera Lynn

What'd you do this evening?

I went to the Gabriel Metsu exhibition at the National Gallery, then off to the Kennedy Center for the free performance by NSO Youth Fellows. Before, between, and after these events, I read a wonderful little New Yorker short story.

Metsu was a contemporary of Rembrandt and Vermeer. I like some of Rembrandt's stuff but unfortunately I don't get most of Vermeer's. Anyway, Metsu, IMHO, isn't a rival to either. By far, my favorite painting was "Mother and sick child":
Very Madonna and child, don't you think?

The Kennedy Center performance showcased five high school kids:

• A "percussionist" playing snare drum and marimba was my favorite. You know what a marimba is, right? Something like a tambourine, right? Wrong. But don't feel bad. That's what I thought too.
• A flutist playing some atonal piece by a 20th century composer. The composition was not at all interesting, but her breath control was astounding.
• A violist hacking and sawing away at a Hindemith composition, reinforcing all my prejudices against Hindemith (and Schoenberg).
• A bass player performing three short pieces by Koussevitsky -- about whom I knew nothing except that he had some relationship with Bernstein (maybe he was Bernstein's predecessor at the NY Philharmonic? maybe Bernstein's mentor?) Anyway, I liked the music.
• A trumpeter playing another 20th century piece. I didn't pay much attention.

I enjoyed the percussionist and I enjoyed -- and was glad to learn a little about -- Koussevitsky. And I was glad to have my Hindemith prejudices confirmed. And I was impressed by the flutist.

And the New Yorker story? "Asleep in the Lord," by Jeffry Eugenides. In the 19080s Mitchell is on a spiritual journey, and he goes to Calcutta to work as a volunteer in one of Mother Teresa's hospitals. A very funny line:

[His breakfast companion is Herb.] "Herb clearly considered himself a spiritual person. The way he held your gaze let this be known." Mitchell realizes that if he "was ever going to become a good Christian, he would have to stop disliking people so intensely. But it was maybe asking too much to begin with Herb."

And then there was this, also at breakfast; it made me laugh out loud:

At a long table directly beneath the mural, a large group was gathered. The men in this group kept their hair short. The women favored long skirts, bib-collared blouses, and sandals with socks. They were sitting up straight, their napkins in their laps, conversing in low serious tones.

These were the other volunteers for Mother Teresa.

What if you had faith and performed good works, what if you died and went to Heaven, and what if all the people you met there were people you didn't like?

Footnote: Tonight's violist, who has been studying with an NSO musician for three years, also happens to be "a National Merit Scholarship Semi-Finalist, an AP Scholar with Distinction, and a National AP Scholar. She is captain of her high school debate team . . . " Think this kid's got a future?

Great performances

I watch reruns of The Office (before Pam and Jim got married) and Seinfeld. That's pretty much it. I rarely watch much of anything else on TV and I never listen to music on television.

Until last night when I stumbled across "Great Performaces" on Public Television. If this is the sort of stuff Public TV puts on, I say "The deficit be damned -- Give-em more money!"

Great performances indeed! How about the New York Philharmonic performing:

• Dvorak, "Carnival Overture"
• Beethoven, "Triple concerto" (Gil Shaham, Yo-Yo Ma, and Emanuel Ax)
• Ellington ("Sophisticated lady," "In my solitude," "It don't mean a thing" sung by Audra Macdonald)
• Gershwin, "An American in Paris"

Pretty good, huh?

It's next to impossible to find two composers as good as Dvorak and Beethoven (if you leave Bach and Mozart off the list, that is), but Gershwin stands up surprisingly well.

Footnote: It seemed to me that Mr. Ma was not at the top of his game, but he was still great. I last saw him on TV probably 15 or 20 years playing the Rococo Variations (this was long before all his "Silk Road" silliness) -- his long hair flying this way and that. I like him better now that he looks like Senator Inouye.

Footnote 2: Ma's old recording of Bach's "Suites for Unaccompanied Cello" should be on your Desert Island list.

Dopey Dan

I listened to the Blue Album yesterday for the first time in probably 6 months.

I repeat: It's been 6 months since I listened to the Blue Album!

Talk about stupid . . .!