Outside Perspective

Maybe I Like Mozart - Jennifer Pizzuto

My gripe with the music world at large is this: why is Mozart’s Symphony No. 30 so infrequently performed?  It is amazing, and I have a whole new appreciation for his music (though I still think Mozart was creepy).  I was re-reading my blog posts from last season, in which I had incessantly complained about my inability to “connect” with Mozart’s music—even going so far as to say that I wanted to “duke it out” with him.  (And since he has been gone for a very long time, I needn’t worry about any annoying restraining orders.)  It feels like the kind of music that one is supposed to enjoy, though I’ve had difficulty…but perhaps that’s just in regard to his “serious” compositions.  Symphony No. 30 is a fun piece of work that, in my own mind, had little or no expectation for anything more. 

Maybe I’ll never actually say that I *heart* Mozart, but I think I can relate to him, or at least to his early works.  I can imagine Mozart living in Salzburg, among his many friends and admirers, experimenting and writing brilliant works like this one, striving to find his musical niche.  Trying to find oneself is something to which we all can relate.  I can see Mozart having the time of his life while writing this, and loving it. 

And then there’s Ms. Chee-Yun, who ripped out my heart and tossed it onto Penn Avenue.  Her wailing violin evoked emotions that made me want to either spiral into despair, or soar to the heights of unequivocal bliss.  Mendelssohn’s Concerto in E minor is a brilliant piece of work.  It has been a very long time since I’ve been as engaged with a performance as I was with this one.  There were moments when I wanted to weep (and, I assure you, I am far from being the weepy type).  Cheen-Yun was absolutely dazzling.  I wish that I’d gotten her autograph.

As a side note, I was pleased to see that Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 5 will be performed this weekend at the PSO.  The subtitle for the performance is “Zoroastrian Riddles.”  It was derived from a story about Mozart, in which he dressed up as the Persian philosopher, Zoroaster, and handed out pamphlets with riddles and proverbs.  Tell me that’s not completely creepy…but at least the music will be entertaining.

Cautionary Tale (A rant) - Bethany Hensel

Saturday's performance was beautiful, hypnotic, and perfectly executed.  At least, according to my friend.

I cannot say the same thing. 

Want to know why????  Well, it wasn't because I wasn't there.  Oh no.  I was there.  Orchestra Left, Row L.  Seat 5.  I love the Orchestra Left.  Not extreme left, mind you.  Left Center.  

I digress.

Going back to the show, I was there, I was present, and I was very excited to see the performance.  I am a big fan of Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto, ever since I first heard Joshua Bell play it on his Mendelssohn Violin Concerto/Beethoven Symphony cd.  I couldn't wait to hear what the formidable Chee-Yun could do with it.  

And Dvorak and Mozart are two of my favorite composers.  To say I was excited about hearing a NEVER BEFORE PERFORMED symphony by Mozart was like saying World War Two was just a little "skirmish."

So what happened?  Why could I not enjoy the show, like my date did?  Very simply, it was the lady next to me. 

OH MY GOD.  Never before had I been so bombarded by a perfume.  It was so stunningly strong that I couldn't even tell if it smelled good or bad.  It permeated the air.  My eyes started watering, my nose started running.  The top of my mouth got very, very itchy. 

What's a girl to do but start sniffling.  Well, you'd think I had took out a sawed off shot gun and shot someone for all the STARES and DEATH GLARES I was getting, the most severe of which came from Perfume Lady herself!  She fidgeted in her seat, inching away from me as if I had the plague.  She tapped who I can only assume was her husband on the arm and whispered in his ear.  And yes, I knew they were talking about me.  

I got up to grab some toilet paper to use as a tissue.  I came back to my seat moments later and, eyes still watering, nose still running, I blow my nose.  

Well, I might as well have run naked through the Vatican.  

Embarrassment colored me red.  The show started minutes later, so I tried to coordinate my sniffing as best as I could with the music.  Basically, when it got loud, so did I.  Still, people heard me. I was so uncomfortable knowing that I was causing a scene and sitting so close to the stage that I couldn't even concentrate on what I was hearing.  The opening number was totally lost on me. 

Major La Poo, considering the opening number was the Mozart piece I really wanted to hear. 

Darn you lady with your perfume!  Darn you to heck!

Intermission finally comes.  Thinking I'm oh so clever, I suggest to my friend we move seats.  He agrees, bless his heart.  

And guess what?  It was like moving from the pan to the fire.  

People, please!  I know that you're going to the Symphony and I know that the Symphony is a very nice place that deserves your respect.  I wrote a rather large post on it several months ago, in fact.  One day, perhaps I'll post it.  Anyway, please remember though, that you are in an auditorium.  A beautifully decorated auditorium that still does not have any open windows or air vents.  (At least, none that I can see.)  Please remember that the quarters are close; you are sitting elbow to elbow with a row of strangers. 

And please, I beg of you, remember that a little bit of perfume goes a very long way.  And a lot of perfume just makes people sick.  

 

  

Chee-Yun at Heinz Hall - Doug Bauman

 

Such an effusive smile, much like the way she plays the violin, pouring out such vivid passages of stylistic soul, overflowing with spirit, sparkle and pizazz! After the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto she signed autographs. For once I decided to get an autograph as well, I was taken by her charm.

A Sound, Perfectly Balanced - Doug Bauman

Words cannot fully say, but notes can -- notes beautifully transcribed by conductor and musician into music played on the finest of instruments, and music transduced into space and time which circles and surrounds throughout the atmosphere of the concert hall with its final destination: my ears, my heart and my soul. Those lovely sounds written hundreds of years ago by composers such as Saint-Saëns with his Piano Concerto No. 2 and Hector Berlioz, with his Symphonie fantastique.

And what a sound, perfectly balanced and matched for each section of the orchestra with power to reverberate down to the very core. This particular selection, this piano concert by Saint-Saëns, I had not heard before this last weekend's performance. What a flavorful mix of piano and orchestra. As it said in the program notes:

"Acclaimed French pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet makes a rare PSO appearance in Saint-Saens Piano Concerto No.2, a concerto the composer remarked was a reflection of a sea voyage."

And a voyage it was, especially with the acoustics of Heinz Hall. Watching the hands of Mr. Thibaudet was fascinating, and amazing; his ability took us all on a journey through breezes and storms and smooth sailing beyond what my imagination could conceive, without the inspiration of notes provided by Saint-Saëns.

After intermission, Conductor Marek Janowski took us on another form of journey, this time one that was strictly fashioned from words to a story, a story outlined by the composer Hector Berlioz himself. The Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra followed the direction and put forth an overwhelmingly robust performance, but as an individual in the audience, I was not required to interpret the score strictly as portrayed. Instead, I listened hoping to feel an abstract flavor, but it was too late, my mind kept running back to the words I'd previously read in the program, and it somehow fit too well, very well, and marvelously well. So I accepted it in turn and went with the flow.

I want to make a special note that the Tubas and Harps were my favorite aspects of this piece. The harps, in that there were 4 of them, and they were easy to hear and accented several of the movements. It was fun to watch these four musicians perform with such synchronization. The tubas were fabulous, and stole the the last movement because they drove the special melody which so fantastically forms the foundation of this music. A melody that many would instantly recognize.

Afterwards, a friend commented amidst the loud applause: "Now that would overpower any stereo system, no matter how big." 

Symphonie Fantastique - an abstract flavor, by me...

Hello, hurrah, herald garish hooray,
Heed Halloween with Hector Berlioz;

Heard hectic haunting ghoulish dismay,
amidst half notes wholly grandiose

Hell hath no fury, quotations oft do say,
Quell quaff nor stray, elation cannot bray.

Delinquent syncopation inverted contra-play,
rhythm under reason, sanctioned as ballet.

The lone individual in the crowd - Louis Luangkesorn

On my way to the concert, I was informed by one of the two piano professors I was attending the concert with about the story of the Symphonie fantastique, including the fact that this is the extreme example of programmatic music, to the point of including the interpretation of the music in the score.  And while I tend to favor programmatic music, I think actually telling me what it meant slightly oversimplifies things for my taste.  And (as my wife would tell you) I have no memory, so actually telling me what something means is slightly wasted.  (At my high school, all the smart kids took art appreciation.  I would have done very badly in such a class.) 

What I did hear was the tension between the individual and the crowd.  As the movements went on there were periods of the individual voice (the idee fix that popped up throughout the piece in different parts of the orchestra). Sometimes the individual voice was enthralled, sometimes depressed, sometimes light hearted, sometimes heavy.  And there was the crowd.  Sometimes detached.  Sometimes driving its own way.  And in the march, overwhelming.  LIstening to this, I wondered at the tension.  The tension of those who would wish to find their own path, who may start off as being treated with benign neglect by the crowd, but then can find themselves in direct conflict with an unforgiving multitude/mob.  With a chaotic end.

Of course, re-reading the program notes, I see that what I heard was similar and different then what was intended.  But if you make the claim that music and art are forms of communication, and the idea that interpreting a musical work is a collaboration between composer, performer and audience, then this was a delightful example.  Even if the attempts of two music professors was somewhat wasted on this leaky memory.

Symphonie Fantastique preview - Doug Bauman

I'm intrigued by this is an amazing description of a revolutionary piece of music I've heard many times before, and I never quite envisioned it quite this way.  This preview is taken from the program notes on the PSO web page:

I.  Dreams, Passions. “The young musician sees for the first time a woman who embodies all the charms of the ideal being of whom he has dreamed, and he falls helplessly in love with her . . . he thinks of his almost insane anxiety of mind, of his raging jealousy, of his reawakening love, of his religious consolation.” 

II.  A Ball. “In a ballroom, amidst the confusion of a brilliant festival, he finds the Beloved One again.” 

III. Scene in the Fields. “Finding himself in the country at evening, he hears in the distance two shepherds piping the call to their flocks. He reflects on his isolation; he hopes that soon he will no longer be alone. His heart stops beating: what if she were deceiving him? At the end, one of the shepherds resumes his melody, but the other no longer replies . . . the distant sound of thunder . . . solitude . . . silence.” 

IV.  March to the Scaffold. “He dreams he has murdered his Beloved, has been condemned to death, and is being led to his execution. At last, the idée fixe returns, and for a moment a last thought of love is revived—only to be cut short by the deathblow.” We hear the chop of the guillotine, the plop of the head into the basket, and the cheer of the crowd. 

V. Dream of a Witches’ Sabbath. “He dreams that he is present at a witches’ revel, surrounded by horrible spirits, amidst sorcerers and monsters in many fearful forms, who have come together for his funeral. The Beloved melody is heard again, but it has lost its shy and noble character; it has become a vulgar, trivial, grotesque dance tune.” A bell tolls for the dead and the witches’ round dance combines with the dies irae in the movement’s blazing rush to the end.

The Joy of Sextet - Bethany Hensel

Friday night was a night of six. But before I get to that, I must ask, Are there some instruments that are just more “attractive” than others? Instruments that just speak to you more than others? Now, I firmly believe the violin is the most sensuous of all the instruments.  The shape itself is a sensual one.  The curves, the dips, the valleys.  Feminine and beguiling, it's no wonder that some people consider it the "devil's instrument".  It's an instrument made for seduction.  

The flute, while lacking sexiness and sultriness, is an attractive, coquettish instrument.  (Or, to put it in US Weekly speak, the violin is the Angelina Jolie of instruments while the flute is the Jennifer Aniston.) There's something utterly charming about the flute.  It reminds me of fawns and meadows and spring time. 

The trumpet is all about dignity.  I don't know about you, but when I hear the trumpet, I think of Taps.  I think of military.  I think of America and the flag.  And I like that.   

The piano, just for the sheer fact of how fast and deft and coordinated a person must be to play the instrument, in and of itself is sexy.  All girls love fast fingers.  

As for the oboe, I know that it's not the first instrument that might come to mind when talking about sexy instruments, but it certainly speaks to me. It says, serpents and magic and hot streets and bold colors? Don't you think of places like Bangladesh and Sri Lanka and Morocco?  I do. So, the oboe holds a very special place in my heart.  

Lastly, and most surprisingly - especially to me, considering I never considered this instrument very sexy before or all that communicative - is the French horn.  I always liked the shape of it.  It's so intricate and elegant.  Admittedly, however, I never really noticed its sound.  Until last night.   

Ah, last night. Composer John William's was right.  The French horn “stirs memories of fearful things, of powerful things, of noble and beautiful things.” The French horn “stirs the blood.” It's an extremely wondrous instrument, and in the hands (and uh, mouth) of Principal Horn William Caballero, it almost is beyond description. He played the incredible Concerto for Horns and Orchestra by famed composer John Williams. Thomas Hong, the PSO Assistant Conductor was right. Said during the pre-concert talk, Hong warned the audience that while there doesn't seem to be much “finger movement” to play the piece, there is a whole lot of range. I can concur with that. There was a TON of it! Like I said, it was almost unbelievable how good the Concerto was without engaging in all sorts of hyperbole. Just...trust me. It is a shame that the Concerto has not been recorded. I feel bad for anyone who missed it. Then again, maybe the PSO will take the HUGE OVATION as a HUGE HINT and record it themselves!

Moving on...Six pieces were performed on Friday, all of them from famous American composers. The program opened with Aaron Copland's El Salon Mexico. Now, I don't like Mexican food, I don't like Mexican movies, I was completely prepared not to like Salon Mexico. I settled in my seat and was prepared to begin looping an episode of Friends in my head to pass the time when suddenly... Amazing. Amazing. I enjoyed every single beat and syllable of this number. Approximately eleven minutes long, it NEEDED to last an hour. It was festive and fun and so great I'm smiling as I type this, just remembering the darn piece. 

The second Copland piece, (the last song of the night) was Four Dance Episodes from Rodeo. I won't dwell too much on this piece because, well, frankly, it would be hard to boil down the 17 minute piece without including tons of adjectives that you might not believe. Oh okay, I'll throw out a few: spiraling, giddy, joyous. 

Finally, though I so enjoyed the Horn Concerto and the El Salon Mexico, the real pinnacle of the night for me was the ode to Samuel Barber. Three pieces performed consecutively – Overture to the School for Scandal; Adagio for Strings; and Madea's Meditation and Dance of Vengeance - I need to make a special point of giving a shout out to the Adagio for Strings. DOWNLOAD THIS. Download it immediately. If you like your songs bittersweet, full of longing, full of tragic love, then this song is for you. It began nice and slow, moved steadily along to a full, fantastic swell, then ebbed away, leaving the listener completely satisfied. 

Like I said....the joy of a good sextet.

usher - Elizabeth Perry

As the concert began, I enjoyed watching the usher as she listened to Aaron Copland. Later on, she sat in one of the chairs, but for the first piece she stood, and looked out over the audience.

Dulcet Euphoria - Doug Bauman

I'm fascinated by the art of classical composition, even though I don't know much about the true aspects beyond mere development. I'm often in awe of composers for their ability to hear in their mind's ear what the composition would be without actually hearing, this is such a unique ability.

American music composed by American composers, that is the theme this weekend at the PSO. The quintessential of those composers is Copland. The PSO performed the two selections by Copland beautifully! Additionally, John William's horn concerto with soloist William Caballero was a great new piece for me to hear. The French Horn is such a mellow and pleasing instrument, and this was an inspiring composition to highlight the horn as well as the percussion (see photo). These elements all brought a smile to my face.

I'd say the penultimate of the very best compositions by an American composer must be the Adagio by Barber, in that you would present this last in the credits, as if making a special guest appearance of an important piece, but not to imply that this piece comes last or even next to last, but that it is indeed special. I place it high above most compositions because of its romantic and stirring emotional flavor. It is classical in nature, and for me has the classical European feel to it; and it is quite simple in form, yet stirring and powerful. This all-strings piece completely filled Heinz Hall with such verve and strident harmonious ardor, it's eagerness and enthusiasm completely overwhelmed my sense of dulcet euphoria, and this only begins to describe the elation of a sound that transcends hearing.

Maya Angelou's Dining Room Table - Jennifer Pizzuto

This is how I’ve pictured it: composer Richard Danielpour, having asked Maya Angelou to create a cycle of poems that depict the course of a woman’s life, sits at her ornate and beautiful dining room table.  While holding her guests’ hands, Dr. Angelou softly and eloquently reads her works of art and nourishes the hungry souls before her.  The powerful echo of a soprano lingers in the room, as all who are present imagine Angela Brown’s voice singing these works for audiences as delicately as a mother blows bubbles for her children.

Since it would be extremely inconvenient for Dr. Angelou to entertain large audiences in her dining room, hearing Angela Brown relay Danielpour’s interpretation is the next best option.  Knowing that Dr. Angelou’s poems always stand well on their own, adding music and a soprano was a risky move.  Overall, I think that it worked.  Brown’s mighty voice guided us through the progression of a woman’s emotional and spiritual life, from the ignorance of a young girl, blissfully and arrogantly unafraid of life, to the wisdom of a mature lady, who finally understands true love.  The only moment that seemed awkward to me was during the first poem, “Little Girl Speakings.”  The music was very somber and did not quite fit the chirpy and precocious narrator.  Bottom line: I love Maya Angelou and I love the symphony, so I was a very pleased little lady during this performance.

And speaking of Maya Angelou, she has quite the affinity for the classics.  (I don’t really know that—I’m just grasping for an easy transition.)  Assuming that she enjoys them, Dr. Angelou probably has Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick sitting somewhere in her library.  And she probably liked the book more than I did.  Though I respect the allegorical themes in the novel (man v. nature, man v. God, man v. self, etc.), I hated the belabored descriptions of the boat and the whaling industry.  Much to my surprise and relief, I loved Peter Mennin’s Concertato for Orchestra.  Menin said that it “depicts the emotional impact of the novel as a whole rather than musically describing isolated incidents occurring in the novel.”  And it did.  The music was extremely emotional, taking the listener to new heights at every turn.  It maintained the allegorical effect without the copious details.

It almost inspired me to read Moby Dick again.  Almost.

Words about music, Music about words - Doug Bauman

Last Saturday's PSO concert at Heinz Hall began with Leonard Slatkin conducting Peter Mennin's Concertato for Orchestra, titled Moby Dick. The forces of the sea were fabulously brought out in this movement. Yet for me, it was like the beginning of a great symphony, only to end too soon, without the rest of the movements, and that left me hanging for more. 

But I was not disappointed, because the next piece was the world premier of Richard Danielpour's A Woman's Life. Soprano Angela Brown had such a beautiful voice singing the words of the poetry of Maya Angelou, the 7 texts which make up the cycles of a woman's life. It fittingly ended with the mention that what she really needed was a friend, no more, no less. 

Now back to my thoughts of a metaphor. The first work, Moby Dick, seemed to be the stereotypical 'Man's Life'. So what would be more fitting than to combine that work with this premier of a Woman's Life. And indeed they did seem to fit together quite well, musically. 

During the performance I must admit that I couldn't understand the words, but the voice was beautiful, and I rarely can understand the words in operatic music. Consider that Beethoven's ninth symphony, the choral parts are in German, and although I know a bit of German language, I don't understand the words, when it is performed, and that too is beautiful music. 

After intermission came the beautiful and masterful Jean Sibelius Symphony No. 2. This was a perfect finale for the evening, a broadly sweeping symphony that indeed had moments that could have been set at sea, and others perhaps on land. The proverbial stormy sea being a setting fit for a man, and perhaps the gentle heartwarming homecoming of a land setting being the woman's home and life. Now if those two were combined, the man and the woman would unite and be as one, and somehow the fourth movement suggested this to me, in no uncertain terms -- several dramatic themes came together and formed a singular motif that provided a thoroughly enjoyable ending.

 

Mixing the media - Louis Luangkesorn

I've told my students that they need to learn how to ask questions about other people's work, because if they stay in our field, they will always be entering someone else's territory.  For all their skills and all they bring, they will always be entering someone else's environment, someone else's situation, someone else's world.  And when that is the case, the first steps are to prove to the other person that you are paying attention to them.  While you can ignore the guy on the ground if you happen to have authority behind you, you can get a lot further if the guy on the ground is convinced you are working for his interests.

I enjoy classical music because of its abstractions.  And that so many have chosen to take the challenge of actually communicating something within the abstractions and creating works with such range.  So I look upon pieces like Danielpour's collaboration with Maya Angelou with a somewhat skeptical eye.  Is it forcing something that does not need to be forced?  Or is it that the music could not stand on its own, and needed to vocals to give focus that could not be done otherwise?  (we already know that Angelou's poetry can stand on its own)

In the event, I confess I was barely listening to the words.  I was listening to music of orchestra and voice.  And hearing the hope of youth to the melancholy of age.  To a combination of music and words, that seemed to do all right even without the words.

One Person's Misfortune... - Bethany Hensel and Luther Shalk

is another person's gain.  Right?  Is that the expression?  Something like that.

Anyway, I have been sick on and off for the past MONTH.  I just can't shake whatever germs are festering inside me.  I'm a walking petri dish.  Stay away!!  (As an aside: I'm not dying or anything.  I don't have swine flu, thank God.  But I do have a nagging cough.  It's frustrating and annoying.  I'm sure it's even more frustrating and annoying to those within a five foot radious of me.)

I thought I'd be better by Saturday night's performance.  I was not.  Every three seconds...cough cough cough.  I wanted to go.  Trust me.  But...I just couldn't justify ruining everyone's night - and risk getting people sick.  A little bit of cold to me could spell pneumonia to someone else!  Plus, going to the symphony, of all places, when you're hacking a lung out is really just rude.  To the performers, the conductor, and the patrons.  I couldn't do it.  I couldn't go. 

BUT....my friend could!  I asked him nicely if he could tell me about his experience and what he thought of the show.  He did.  He actually went a step beyond, and took the time to write a pretty nice review himself!  So, without any more delay - cause really, how long can one person talk about petri dishes and coughing - I present Luther Shalk's review of Composing with Words!

******

The first piece, Moby Dick, by Peter Mennin, was a very enjoyable ten minutes of music. I don't think I've ever heard so much action or variety in mood, intensity, and sounds in such a short interval of time. The PSO's performance was crisp and intense, and the brass and percussion sections ably anchored the critical points of climax. Leonard Slatkin, the conductor, hardly glanced at his sheet music, but seemed rather to take his cue from the music, fluctuating in activity and emotion with the music. It was masterfully performed.
 
The second piece, A Woman's Life, was not as impressive to me. I hope I don't come across as narrow-minded, but the superposition of Maya Angelou's very informal poetry over symphonic music and operatic voice seemed artificial, incongruous, and even a little ridiculous. Granted, the music and the singing were impeccably performed, and the poetry itself is admirable, but they didn't mix well together, and my overall opinion of the piece was low.
 
The final piece was Sibelius' second symphony. The first thing I noticed was that Slatkin did not use music at all, an impressive feat considering the length of the symphony. Again, he didn't miss a beat, and he seemed to live with the music. The orchestra performed very well, as always. I loved the chord progressions and harmonies of the symphony, characteristics that have always set apart Sibelius' music in my mind. Some other notable features were some call-and-response measures in the strings early in the symphony and a very powerful ending to the fourth movement. I did find the middle of the symphony to be a little too quiet and slow, with whole minutes of not much going on. I got a little sleepy. Otherwise, I was very pleased with the piece.

And there you have it!  A bit technical, I admit.  It certainly lacks my flair and personality. But hey, nice effort.  The Russian judge gave it a seven! 

A Return to Music - Jennifer McGuiggan

My relationship with music began in the fourth grade when I chose the flute for the school band. I stuck with it all the way until high school graduation. Along the way I dabbled with the piano and even had a brief stint with the trumpet in the middle school jazz band. (The latter was particularly interesting since I had braces at the time. Even if you've never pressed your lips against a brass instrument's mouthpiece with metal grommets attached to the front of your teeth, you can imagine the challenges.) Singing was my real musical love, and I sang in choirs into college. By then I'd set aside the flute and trumpet, but continued to flirt with the piano and picked up that staple of college campuses everywhere: the acoustic guitar.

Today, I still sing, but mostly in the car. It's been years since I've really played an instrument. The piano sits untuned and silent at my parents' house; the flute needs some serious TLC; the guitar has a broken bridge and needs new strings; and the trumpet was a rental. But there is an antique horn in the closet and a brand new violin sitting in its case in my spare bedroom just waiting for someone to learn it and love it. I used to attend concerts all the time. Lately it's been more of an annual event. Over the last year I've realized that I really miss the beauty of live music in my life -- hearing it, as well as making it.

I'm not sure what the future holds for my own music making, but I'm looking forward to reconnecting with music through the performances of the PSO. Stay tuned to see how the adventure unfolds.

Marvin Hamlisch & The Informant! - Doug Bauman

Last Saturday, October 10 at 2 pm at the Waterworks Cinema, Marvin Hamlisch and the PSO hosted a special screening of "The Informant!", for which Marvin wrote the original score. Prior to the screening Marvin discussed many aspects of his composition and lead a Q&A with the audience who were there to see this special screening.

I took this photo while he autographed a poster of the movie "The Informant."

For me, he opened up a world of introspection into the aspects of the film score that accompanies movies; ideas I had never really thought of before. First, he discussed the notion of the two different kinds of film score, underscore, and open air. Underscore is written to be played at a slightly lower volume played while the actors are talking; the other being music played out in the open.

Apparently this movie had 53 separate 'cues' or separate pieces of music which are played throughout the movie. He indicated that at first, it took him a few weeks of thinking about how he would start, especially considering the movie is a comedy, and the music would be a key aspect in that role.

Mr. Hamlisch indicated that he hadn't written a score for 10 years before this, but now he might consider doing more.

One person asked if he uses modern computers to compose: He indicated that he doesn't even read email. He said there is nothing wrong with that technique for composing, but that he does it the old fashioned way: pen and paper, pen so that he can scratch out sections that don't work out.

Someone asked if he had seen the movie (perhaps meaning the movie WITH the music), but he immediately exclaimed, humorously, that he'd seen it 1000 times. He basically plays the movie before him, just like a DVD, so that he can think of ideas to compose the music, and ways to make sure that the scene, and the music are the correct length. For him, composing film score was sort of like that saying, purportedly of Michelangelo, that goes: well, to make an elephant, I take away from the stone, and what remains, that's the elephant.

After his talk, we all saw the movie. What an enhanced experience to know the kinds of things to listen to after hearing his talk. Indeed the music really did make the movie!