baudrillard everywhere

I am not ashamed to admit that I am completely obsessed with The Transparency of Evil. You know that feeling when you read something and it articulates so perfectly all that you think about a particular topic, or your own personal circumstances? It is officially joining the ranks of books-that-changed-my-life, right next to The History of Western Philosophy, Peace is Every Step (a lovely antidote to ToE, actually) The History of Sexuality, Aristotle's Poetics, Feminine Endings, Discipline and Punish, and Siddhartha (yes, yes, make your jokes if you must).

Baudrillard writes with impressive elan: passionate and sobering but always beautiful. To me, his book is incredibly inspiring. An expression of our deeply troubled historical moment, The Transparency of Evil embodies the arguably bifurcated post-modern spirit. Indeed, the intoxication of immediacy and virtual equality fosters both bacchanalian ecstasy and profound despair--the result, an orgy of aporetic emptiness. But despite such a distressing message, Baudrillard's text contains within its elegantly crafted words an intrinsically hopeful--if subtle--message. The experience of reading ToE is deeply satisfying, comforting, and for lack of a better word, beautiful. That this type of response is still possible in the epoch of Transaesthetics and the Telecomputer Man, speaks to human nature: our instinct for edification, survival and yes, beauty (what can I say, I'm an eternal optimist).

I bring it up again, because this (in response to this [in response to this]) came across my Google Reader recently.  Both Bergman's and Kuchar's posts are diversions (George Crumb is a total hipster, by the way),  however reading Davidson's review, I couldn't help but think about Baudrillard (because, as I just said, I am completely obsessed with the Transparency of Evil).

Admittedly, I am not so familiar with the so-called new New York School. I went through a "phase" some years back, but nothing that would really qualify me to make any sort of meaningful aesthetic value judgments. My personal taste notwithstanding, what interests me more is Davidson's critique in all its Baudrillardian overtones. I've excerpted the review below, with added emphasis for passages that I found particularly resonant in the context of ToE.

This cornucopia of new music seems perpetually promising. It bristles with allusions and brims with ambition—yet it somehow feels stifled by all that freedom.
[...]
Today’s styles need not be born of deep experience; they form out of collisions that bypass history and geography.
[...]
These well-crafted but oddly familiar works display the virtues of facility, versatility, and curiosity, but they also showcase a group that seems disoriented by its own open-mindedness. Composers who could do anything somehow don’t.
[...]
Despite their gifts and alertness to the moment, [the new New York] composers seem muffled, bereft of zeal. What they badly need is a machine to rage against and a set of bracing creative constraints.

Davidson seems to be articulating that orgy of aporetic emptiness: compositions teem with Schnabel-esque excess thus they result in something that registers as "tame" or lacking "angst." Judgments like good and bad are hollow; reductionist at best. However, whether or not these composers are aware of it, their music--according to Davidson--seems to be articulating Baudrillard's description of our historical moment: an epoch of saturation, immediacy, and apathy induced by hyper-stimulation.

As far as any musical criticisms are concerned, I'm going to do some listening and get back to you.

the love songs of j. alfred prufrock by larkin sanders

Last night, I had the pleasure (and indeed, the honor) to perform a new work by a dear, dear friend. The music itself is quite good--in the Love Songs of J. Alfred Prufrock, Larkin has shown her keen instincts for organicism, appropriation, and tunefulness divorced from the saccharine and the tired. More than the music itself, the experience of premiering a new work is always a thrill, especially when it is the work of a close friend performed in the company of close friends. I look forward to sharing the Love Songs with CMM audiences in June of 2011.

generation - reproduction - proliferation

Recently, I revisited Thomas Laqueur's comprehensive text, Making Sex, to refresh my knowledge of eighteenth century gender constructions. In discussing the dramatic epistemological changes occuring during the "age of enlightenment" Laqueur points out an ostensibly trivial change in nomenclature noting the change from "generation" to "reproduction" in the eighteenth century. [1] Laqueur further elucidates this change, and its accompanying relationship to the body-as-machine ideology, quoting Fontanelle: "...put the Machine called a Dog, and the Machine called a Bitch to one another for some time, and there may result another little Machine." [2]

I've written before about this concept of bio-power--that, in the eighteenth century, we start to see the institutionalization of the body. Effectively, reproduction becomes a concern of the state due to--among and in conjuction with other things--a burgeoning global economy. Creepy, no? When we consider the word "reproduction" in this context, it takes on the added connotation of mechanized reproduction. Furthermore, if one examines the prevalance and popularity of the body explained as a great machine (a microcosm of the universe as a watch, with God the divine engineer), such imagery can only be linked to industrialization.

Today, we find ourselves approaching a kind of "zero hour." Pessimistic though it may be, I would argue (and yes, Baudrillard would likely back me up) that we cannot remain in the purgatory of fractal expansion we have created. Words like "advance" "develop" "create" no longer accurately express the twenty-first centruy condition of production. Rather, we find ourselves in a paradoxically static dimension of proliferation: reproduction without conciousness, expansion lacking telos. Inundated by imagery, information and material we are entrapped by the unreal. Dissociated from experience we find ourselves espoused to that which is external and fundamentally alien. Adrift in an ocean of excess, the terrific and the grotesque commune with one another in post-modern bacchanalian revelry.

Where "generation" implies something sacred and singular, "reproduction" participates in rhetoric of multiplicity, duplication, and interchangeability. Upping the proverbial ante, "proliferation" culls images of crass overpopulation, a planet teeming with perverse, meaningless life.

[1] Laqueur, Thomas Walter. Making Sex: Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1990.

[2] Ibid.

wink wink nudge nudge

Be advised! We're moving! I'm domain name shopping at this very moment...with this in mind, I've preemptively changed the name to the CMM blog. Eccolo Thirty Second Notes.

wednesday miscellany

At long last, I have returned! As always there are numerous pieces of blog worthy flotsam floating about my brain, but for now I'll leave you with the following bits and bobs:

This interview with performance artist Marina Abramovic certainly helped me to better understand her oeuvre, but also a more recent work The Artist is Present. I also appreciate her philosophy on performance art, that is to say that it is not merely a singular event.

CMM All Stars Sarah Foster, Luke Foster and Solvay Peterson will present a free concert on Sunday, October 17 at 2:00 at First Lutheran Church of New Richmond. Music by Schubert and Prokofiev.

Recently, CMM Resident Conductor and Artistic Adviser, Joe Peters, sent me the video below. Don't be surprised if you see it on a CMM4 program...


Iannis Xenakis: Plekto (1993)

Finally, our little blog is moving. I have begun sketches for a CMM website within which a new blog, Thirty Second Notes (wink wink nudge nudge), will feature the content you've come to expect from this site.

I know nothing about everything

I posted a link to SEP's updated entry on the Enlightenment on Monday. I'll be honest, I skimmed the entry, although even with careful reading I wouldn't have picked up on 90% of the reasons for this criticism. I consider it a wonderful example of why I need to get an(other) academic degree to supplement my various musical credentials. Three cheers for discourse!

nel futuro, saremo...

...non-profit! Clearly, I am bouncing off the walls with excitement regarding such a development. We have hashed and rehashed this possibility in the past, but it never seemed feasible; I can't really say why. Honestly, with the help of my dear father, close family friends adept in navigating the murky waters of charitable organizations, and a manageable measure of clerical elbow grease, I don't think it will be that bad. Famous last words.

My future as a grant-writing violist begins now. As I've said to many over the past couple of days, "I am going to spend my whole life asking institutions for money, I might as well start immediately." So true. However, I am looking forward to giving CMM a little more legitimacy. As a non-profit, we could receive any number of grants--translating in funds to not only cover the cost of hosting the concerts but also to bring in my new colleagues from MI, or old colleagues now relocated. Many options.

Furthermore, In writing the new mission statement (soon to be seen here!) I have had to look closely at that which I want CMM to truly address. We all know that it is not just an ordinary music festival, but specifically, how and why does it differ? For one thing, there is no admission and no one gets paid. Anything. I hope that by exchanging no funds in payment of services rendered, the festival participants feel more like friends and family than the employed. Additionally, the concerts themselves, logistically speaking, are extremely informal. We perform here, there is no stage, and the performers sit in the pews with the audience until their "time." We are all hanging out in the space before the concert and after, and I like to think that the audience members feel comfortable talking to us. Certainly, I don't believe I am going to deconstruct decades upon decades of concert culture and audience/performer power structures, but. Just the idea that the space itself does not support power relationships (that is to say, there is no stage), is an important step.

I think often of new places, new venues to help promote such a deconstruction. Next season is the first step!

the annihilation of passive voices

Confused by the title? Indeed. Recently, I became painfully aware of my overuse of the passive voice. Generally, I consider myself an adept writer, however late-nights, metaphorically full-plates, and slap-dash efforts to finish lingering academic commitments have facilitated my grammatical back-slide. I read something recently that proclaimed something to the effect of "your verbs should attack your nouns." I take it as a declaration of action, of rhetorical combat: fight the good fight against filler words; meaningless (poorly constructed) text. I cannot wait, a new project!

Not totally unrelated, I am presently resurrecting my Italian. As my studies progress, I find that my knowledge of English grammar (re)gains lucidity: the components of language vivify and solidify. Even as I write this little flurry, my mind fills with thoughts of tenses, subjects, verbs, direct objects...exhilarating! Don't be surprised if, nel futuro, you see alcune parole in italiano.

So how does all this relate to Chamber Music Midwest? On the most basic level: program notes. Better. Program. Notes. Excited? On a less literal level, I'd suggest that "annihilating passive voices" is central to Chamber Music Midwest's mission. I strive to make the festival about active participation (dare I say "voices") for both audience and performer--a goal I intend to further realize next season with performances from Grapefruit and pre- and post-concert activities. Sarà meravigloso!

yoko, oh no!

The great thing about having your own music festival is that you can entertain ideas like programming Ono's Cut Piece. For our immediate future, this is completely not feasible. Let us all take a moment to imagine what it would be like if I performed Cut Piece--wherein the audience cuts off the performer's clothing until she/he is naked (or nearly so)--at First Lutheran Church of New Richmond. Right. It basically goes without saying that this would not be an option. However, I like the idea of programming some of Ono's works (how very conceptual of me!). Until recently, I'd been largely (though admittedly unjustifiably) an Ono naysayer, but taking an open and unbiased look at Cut Piece and the rest of her Fluxus-era oeuvre has completely turned me around. There are a few common themes running through much of her work that fit neatly with our mission statement, the most pertinent being the concept of the gift and the idea of audience participation. There is quite a bit more to say about Cut Piece and the rest of Ono's continually expanding oeuvre, for now I'll just include a video of the 1965 Carnegie Hall performance...

Notice the disturbing pace at which the piece progresses; the carelessness of the audience. There is something deeply unsettling about the performer/participant dynamic: something violent, disrespectful, and crass. Indeed, much more to say...

off season

Having come to a successful conclusion, CMM3 is slowly moving to the recesses of my little mind. I have, however, received numerous requests for the food [1] served at the pre- and post-concert parties. From this point onward, I intend to honor the epicurean aspect of CMM by posting various recipes here. Think of it as a balance for all the sloppy scholarship and philosophical half-truths presented on this blog. ha!

Figure pre-concert party: delicious challah was had by all

[1] CMM is all about musicians volunteering their time for the sake of performing with friends, etc etc. BUT. Food and wine are a very important part of the festival. We all look like we're having a great time because everyone has 1. just had a big (and dare I say it, delicious) meal and 2. is looking forward to eating cake and drinking wine at the after party.

a successful conclusion + an exciting future

I've said before that this season was "the best ever" and in its already fading wake, I can say that indeed it was. The performances were polished and captivating, and our audience base has grown considerably. Seeing children and young families at our last concert, I realized that slowly but surely, we are beginning to achieve the goals set out in our mission statement. And, we received a standing ovation on Saturday! How cool is that?!

So. On to season four: Poetics(!). The subtitle has several layers of meaning, one of which is a reference to Aristotle's Poetics. I've been looking quite a bit at the text recently and the way diverse artistic movements interact with it over time. Of course it is referenced in the Enlightenment, but I was reading Greenberg's mid 20th century essay, Art and Kitsch, today and there was a reference to imitation "in the Aristotelian sense." Aristotle, in response to Plato, is primarily concerned with the problem of mimesis in art. Is imitation good? Is it bad? How does it operate within an artwork, and what does that mean for the artist? In addition to these basic questions, there are innumerable issues that arise from the discussion. I find myself drawn to the problematic relationship of Poetics with a contemporary society that no longer reads the classics: on the whole, the citizens of the world are unaware of the text, yet its prevalence in Western culture until this moment subtly shapes our own concept of what is "good" and "bad" in the arts. Mimesis is easy; abstraction is not. My current contention is that this attitude has been a part of our historical conditioning and thus results in a phenomenon I like to think of as "pre-conditioned taste." I have a lot more books to read and ideas to explore over the next year (obviously), but I'd like this discussion to be a part of CMM4. From the start, CMM has championed music that is perhaps more challenging to the ear than Mozart, Bach, et al. and I think the above discussion is REALLY helpful for looking at this stuff: if we are cognizant of our historical conditioning (ie preconditioned taste), we can understand it and eventually move beyond it. That is to say, things like Mark Rothko won't seem so "meaningless" (the old, "my kid could do that!" argument); Schoenberg's imitation will gain clarity.

The above is just one facet of next season, the more obvious one is music and text. We're talkin' song cycles people. I'm completely nuts for the art song, and if we're going to discuss mimesis, there is not a better place to start than so-called "word painting." We're looking at Schoenberg's Book of the Hanging Gardens (!!!!!), any number of cycles/songs by Schubert, Schumann, Debussy, Ravel...the list goes on. It would fulfill a dream of mine to program and perform Pierrot Lunaire, but we'll see.

Lastly, I'll mention that we're hoping to program some Helmut Lachenmann. From what I've listened to, his music is not at all mimetic, in that it is like nothing I have ever heard before. The Kinderspiel, for example, explore sonic possibilities of the piano in the same way that Pollock explores the possibilities of raw materials (house paint, for example). I could certainly see where Lachenmann's music would be threatening to the American musical avant-garde (such as it is); I'm recalling something James Dillon (an advocate of Lachenmann, and another excellent composer) once said to me about Lachenmann's reception in the US. If I am remembering correctly, Dillon implied that Lachenmann was perceived by the US as a "de-composer" in that by redefining the means by which classical instruments were to be used, he was writing "anti-music." The pejorative connotation of these statements ought not to be ignored; it is a real shame, actually, as I think the music is quite good. Below is a video of Kinderspiel as played by pianist Seda Roeder. When you listen, try to notice all the sounds--in these pieces the residual is just as important (if not more so) as the initial sound. Though I must say, as wonderful as YouTube is for this sort of thing, to fully appreciate these pieces, you really have to hear them live (enter CMM4....).

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

and speaking of mahler...

All this Mahler talk made me think about one of my favorite things ever.

This is Berio, another Chamber Music Midwest featured composer. So rest assured, at some point I will discussing this and other gems of his output. And some day, the School of Rock Chamber Orchestra will play the Berio Sinfonia.

Does anyone else feel like they are inside George Harrison's head?