the power of place

During our pre-concert dinner Thursday night, my colleagues and I were discussing our time at the University of Minnesota School of Music. Our collective conclusion was this: it is a dark place, cancerous and destructive. As we cataloged the horrors of our experiences, we became tense, closed--all drawing our arms inward, as if to protect ourselves: physical evidence of our mental conditioning.

Now that I am away from this place, I try at all costs to not remind myself of it, lest an idle remembrance become a visceral nightmare. I mention it now, because CMM3 has been marked by the relationships forged as much as the music performed. Reconvening as colleagues (and friends) apart from the S.O.M. we could start anew, unfettered by those loathsome walls and create new, stronger friendships. This experience has been completely heartwarming, thus proving the power of place: where the SOM was malignant, my hope for CMM is that it will continue to foster a physical and mental space filled with joy, camaraderie and mutual respect.

figure camaraderie: smiles all around at Haydn warm-up

listening models, dialectic + dance!

If there are two things that really trip my intellectual trigger they have got to be dance and dialectic--with all their ramifications, alterations and interpretations. I love it.

I am playing Beethoven's unfinished and so-called "Eyeglass" duo tonight with one of my favorite cellists. We are finding the work to be surprisingly difficult, we concluded that it must have been "really easy on the piano." Beethoven himself would have played the viola, and a letter to the intended cellist reveals (according to popular lore) the meaning of the work's unusual title (Beethoven writes that the players would require eyeglasses to read the music as it was freshly composed).

The idea of friendship and dialogue offers a compelling case for a dialectic listening model. What exactly do I mean by a "dialectic listening model" you say? I am talking about the classical argument, classical education and their application to eighteenth century listening practices. Despite their abhorrence for Scholasticism (I'm thinking about John Locke--if I weren't pressed for time I'd haul out the ol' Bertrand Russell History of Western Philosophy and find the exact quotation...), these guys were students of Aristotle and the rest, no doubt allowing this sort of intellectual training to subtly inform their interpretations of art and music. For example, imagine that you know nothing about music theory or form, yet you do have a solid grasp on the classics and you come from the salon culture of the eighteenth century. Given these circumstances you would likely apply two important facets of each of the aforesaid--conversation and the dialectic--to understand "abstract" music, Beethoven's Eyeglass duo for example.

The first movement lends itself splendidly to the dialectic listening model: viola and cello converse back and forth offering contrasting and complementary interpretations of the theme and accompanimental motives. The arguments culminate at the close of the development wherein assertive pizzicati are volleyed between players until a musical consensus is achieved, represented by an ever-so-slightly sentimental adagio. Following the recapitulation, the movement concludes with a coda: the last gasps of an all-in-good-fun argument.

Where dialectic offers a convincing conceptual framework for the first movement, dance and the mind/body duality (a preoccupation of the eighteenth century intelligentsia) allows for a meaningful interpretation of the Minuetto. A traditionally "high" dance, Beethoven's Minuetto becomes an example of the aforementioned duality, featuring moments traditionally refined and radically raucous.

brettl lieder

Soon enough I'll be writing copious notes on Schoenberg and his fin-de-siecle compatriots, but for now here is the great Jessye Norman singing Brettl Lieder.

...and then we lived a viola joke

There we are, the "Duetti" gang, photo by Laura de St. Croix. It turned out to be wonderful concert. A good time was had by all and the playing was very, very fine.

There were, however, some problems.

The day began with my father's unfortunate (losing) battle to yet another household item. Tripping on a broom strewn in the driveway, he went face down, on the pavement. The result was not pretty. Bloodied, bruised and angered to the core, he reneged on his promise to stop taking out his frustration on inanimate objects.

So that happened. Ice was packed, ibuprofen ingested, naps taken. And brooms scorned.

The day progressed, I suffered what the kids might describe as an "epic fail" with respect to the programs, but no more personal injuries.

My mother was not so lucky, she met her fate via a mandolin and a sink of dirty dishwater. I don't really need to go into what came next, only say that post-emergency room her right index finger was adorned with a hilariously (albeit necessary) large dressing. Further adding insult to literal injury, she was instructed to elevate the wound to slow the bleeding. I made the point that if she really wanted to be supportive and make her bandage less conspicuous she ought to purchase a giant foam fan finger, with CMM10! written on it. But I digress.

After dinner, the four violas parked and approached the venue ready for a to warm up and leisurely set up for the concert.

And then. We lived a viola joke. This one:
Q: Why do violists stand for long periods outside people's houses?
A: They can't find the key and they don't know when to come in.

We were locked out. and the septuagenarian who agreed to LET US IN neglected to tell me that HE DIDN'T HAVE THE KEY.

Yes. you heard correctly. Well intentioned though he may have been, he indeed, forgot to tell me this crucial tidbit of information. A half hour later, due to the generosity and graciousness of a community member, our prayers were answered and we gained access.

The rest of the concert was largely uneventful, Kirsti and Valerie played so very well. And indeed, a good time was had by all.

leclair, or, "how i learned to stop worrying and love writing program notes"

Precious few hours separate this moment from the first notes of Chamber Music Midwest.

So. Leclair.

In any exegesis on eighteenth century repertoire the influence of the salon must be considered. More than merely an enlightenment extravaganza cacophonous and "cultured," the salon held tremendous sway for the intelligentsia, composers, and musicians of the day. One such musician was the composer-violinist Jean-Marie Leclair. Likely composed for performance at the French concert-spirituel, his sonata features thematic repetition in predictable (and might I add, repetitive) forms. Indeed, the salon was raucous, abuzz with discourse and dialectic and it was this nascent environment that shaped the aforesaid formal characteristics (repetition--if you wish your music to be heard in a noisy setting, repeat it). Furthermore, the virtuosic writing is a product of Leclair's own facility.

There is quite a bit more to say. If it weren't 2am, I'd discuss the salon, eighteenth century gender roles, and on and on. Another time.

bach and more epistemology

True to my procrastinating nature, I have yet to write program notes for several pieces featured on tomorrow's concert. A friend of mine once said that "working ahead is for sissies who can't stand the pressure." In theory, I try not to agree, but in practice, my adherence to this maxim is unquestioned.

So lets talk about Bach's G major Cello Suite, shall we?

Likely one of the most oft appropriated selections from Bach’s oeuvre, the first cello suite has achieved "pop" status—featured in a myriad of television commercials and films alike. The complete suite is comprised of the oh-so-familiar prelude, followed by a series of dance movements. As it is accessible to the ear, I needn't really go into musical style, harmonic language, etc. Certainly crafted with incredible skill (my God!), the musical forms are not too difficult to grasp. The music is "pretty" and we like that.

Most compelling however, is the use and implications of the dance. I've talked before about the eighteenth century's fascination with the body and in Bach's suites (and the violin Partitas, for that matter) it takes on a new complexity. In conjunction with the deeply religious overtones of the music, Bach's stylization of once lascivious and lewd dance forms contribute to a musical aesthetic elegant, intricate and dense. The result is the interaction of spirituality/learned-ness and physicality coalescing in Hegelian unity.

Bach is of particular interest to me for this reason, especially given my more recent research on changes in acquiring knowledge between the Renaissance and the late nineteenth century. Still lit by the Scientific Revolution's afterglow, the beginning of the eighteenth century (Bach's most prolific period) was enlightened by empirical thought. Particularly pert for our discussion of Bach is the epistemological shift occurring between the onset of the early modern period and the nineteenth century. Where the former looks to break from Scholastic dogma via empiricism, the latter idealizes the mind, perpetually seeking transcendence. Like his classical-era artistic offspring, Bach is partially interested in the physical sensations of living, "practice" (read: empiricism). And it is this context that his use of dance forms becomes truly compelling. Combined with his overt religious affiliations, references to the physical (the "low" dances) become apt descriptors of the dichotomy of the epoch.

duetti

Our first concert is just around the bend (Saturday at 7:30, if you're keeping track), and I couldn't be more excited. The lovely and talented duo of Kirsti Petraborg and Valerie Little will be joining me in a very diverse program--Berio and Bach and Spisak oh my! But seriously, it is going to be fantastic. Now that I am writing about it, I realize that it was Valerie and Kirsti who first planted the idea of a concert of viola duos in my mind. As part of their DMA recital requirements, they performed a concert comprised entirely of viola duets, and let me tell you, it was great. I never knew how good viola duos could sound. Make your jokes if you must (believe me, I've been making them all week), but be prepared to renege.

The duet repertoire has always interested me, likely due to its history in the salon (Mozart, for example), the studio (Bartok and Telemann) and finally the concert hall (more recent contributions by composers like Luigi Nono and James Dillon). The Berio duo Valerie and I are playing (Bruno) could be categorized as a "pedagogical" duet: potentially meant for teacher and student. Musically speaking, it offers a glimpse into Berio's musico-rhetorical language. Brief though it may be (a mere 1’45”), the music betrays both a love of folk idioms and an influence from the twentieth century European modernist milieu from which the composer emerged. This kind of duality is expressed in Berio’s use a nineteenth century form (the waltz) dressed in Darmstadt-ian garb. Further aligning himself with the Second Viennese School (the progenitor of his "European modernist milieu"), Berio’s dance quotations are akin to those of Mahler and Schoenberg. Within these allusions, another hallmark of Berio's aesthetic is evidenced: there is a certain sadness--the ennui associated with nostalgia.

Berio's complete oeuvre is wonderful, he is without a doubt one of my favorite composers. Indeed, I am drawn to the aforesaid duality, but there is something about his music that so perfectly captures the mid-late twentieth century spirit. To me, he expresses the fear, ennui and uncertainty of our epoch with an aesthetic both elegant and sincere.



Cathy Berberian sings Berio, Folksongs

some thoughts on mahler

Again and again, I return to Mahler. Ostensibly enigmatic, his music often seems to me to be a proto-postmodern pastiche; an attempt to express fin-de-siecle anxieties and nineteenth century nostalgia. A certain fascination with the past permeates and I can't help but think of the rampant historicism in Vienna at that time (Gottfried Semper, ahem ahem). What is really intriguing (as if rampant historicism isn't stimulating enough) is the way this historicism interacts with a yearning for progress--a hallmark of the early twentieth century. One need only to look at the work of say, Gerome and Nolde or the aforementioned Semper and his art historical counterpoint, Alois Riegl. In addition to these broad dichotomies, there is a certain duality that plays out in each individual's work. But I digress (and could go on...and on, but I'll spare you). What is great about Mahler, is that in his music this dualism is expressed so damn eloquently (and effectively, I might add). He uses all these archaic dance forms, but sets them in a modern idiom, fragments them, orchestrates them. In this way, his music (like the visual analogues Kirchner or Ensor) can be downright creepy.

We're playing his piano quartet this season. It is just a movement, a fragment from 1876 (that means Ringstrasse-era Vienna, by the way); apparently it was recently used in a Scorsese film and to my ears it sounds like Brahms. But, not just Brahms--more like post-German Requiem Brahms, anxiety-laden tragic Brahms. Take a listen for yourself:

For me, the pulsating quarter-triplets in the piano are most reminiscent of Brahms--the comparison being something like the cello part in the third movement of the C minor string quartet (but I feel like he uses this gesture quite a bit). You must agree that the music is imbued with ennui: the musical sighs, the low register octaves in the piano, and the aforementioned pulsations (that are to me, symbolic of the passage of time and the fear that often accompanies it). Even at seventeen, young Mahler was acutely aware of burgeoning change. And, like the rest of nineteenth century Europe, he was scared.

With all this in mind, I'll tell you that I am really looking forward to learning and performing this piece. In case you couldn't tell, I have a pretty strong affinity for fin-de-siecle Vienna.

the edge of nervous collapse

Can you believe it? Chamber Music Midwest is only a few short weeks away! I'm a little stressed, but I assure you, my mental health is a small price to pay for what is shaping up to be the best season ever. Furthermore, I must say that I am completely overwhelmed by the generosity of all of my colleagues in their donation of both time and resources. Specifically, I want to give a cyberspace shout-out to Joe Peters, Sarah Foster, Luke Foster and Glen Highum. These people are awesome!

There is an updated concert schedule to your left and I can almost assure you that it will be updated again and again in the coming days.

I am also extremely pleased to share with you the talents of Angela Schmitt (soprano) and James Barnett (piano). I have a real soft spot for early twentieth century art songs (go figure) and I couldn't be more pleased to feature some of my favorites at Chamber Music Midwest with such fine performers.

Soon enough I will start posting rough drafts of program notes here--get ready to be educated!

dedication

Dear Friends,

Chamber Music Midwest is something dear to me, this much we know. The festival owes its existence in part to the hard work of the performers (Joe, Sarah, Luke, Scott, the list goes on), however it never would have come to fruition without the support of my family. Indeed, there is one person (herself an embodiment of dignity, integrity, and grace) that I would like to honor with this summer's concerts: my grandmother, Catherine Sunde. Her love, support, kindness, and quiet authenticity will be missed.

tumbleweeds

Did you see the virtual tumbleweeds?

While the CMM façade may appear to be analogous to this: it is, in (virtual) reality more like this (metaphorically speaking of course).

I am completely overwhelmed by the number of performers who have expressed interest in participating in Second Viennese School of Rock! I think it is going to be a great season!

A few highlights:
Scottie Wright joins CMM to perform gems of the classical saxophone repertoire
Joe Peters returns to conduct Barber, Mozart, and Haydn
Kai-Li Cheng returns
Scott Sandersfeld returns to perform in recital and with the School of Rock Chamber Orchestra
Michael Van Ryn, principal bass of Chicago Civic Orchestra, performs
Tim Brock, Valerie Little, Kirsti Petraborg, Laura de St. Croix and Clare Harmon perform Berio, Leclair, Telemann and Bartok
Emily Holum returns to perform Mozart with the School of Rock Chamber Orchestra
Sarah and Luke Foster return
Jeanette Stenson joins the CMM family in performances of Haydn and Beethoven
Roxana Mendoza Guevara performs
Tyler Wottrich joins CMM to perform with the School of Rock Chamber Orchestra

I cannot express how honored I am to present such a wide spectrum of talented musicians. You won’t want to miss these concerts!

season three: second viennese school of rock...

...or pain, if you prefer. I am pleased to announce that planning for Chamber Music Midwest 2010 is well underway. Unlike past seasons, CMM3 concerts will be held exclusively at First Lutheran Church of New Richmond and will take place May 15-June 15 and July 30-August 7. Conductor and oboist Joseph Peters will return to perform (among other things) Jacob ter Veldhuis' Garden of Love for Oboe and "Ghettoblaster."

I don't know about you, but I'm pretty excited to hear this live!

I am also happy to welcome back composer and baritone, Scott Sandersfeld. If you attended his CMM2 concert, you'll most likely recall his music to be both accessible and engaging. If not, go here to sample some of his work.