Outside Perspective

conductor - Elizabeth Perry

Brought out-of-town family to the Friday night performance.  Mozart was Mozart, and Strauss was Strauss several times over. The orchestra seemed to be enjoying the jokes in the second half, and the audience responded with energy.  I certainly had a great time.

From Clapping to Selling Out? - Jennifer Pizzuto

When Music Director Manfred Honeck took the stage Friday night, I nudged my friend and said proudly, “there’s my boy Honeck.”

 

“Do you know him?” She was slightly stunned by my apparent familiarity. 

 

“Well, no…not personally,” I admitted.  But then again, maybe I do know Honeck.  (And no, I am not referring to our crazy hood rat days, which is a different story entirely—stay focused.)  I feel as if I know him and I hope that other PSO concert-goers would echo this sentiment.  Seeing Honeck conduct our fabulous orchestra has become a familiar, comfortable sight, a fundamental part of the symphonic experience.  It is such a marvel to watch him work his magic.  His love for the orchestra and the music is beyond obvious.  He conducts the orchestra as a parent would care for his child—at times gentle and caring, at other times demanding, but always loving.

 

Garrick Ohlsson played the piano with a flourish of sparkle that was brilliant and moving.  Hearing Beethoven’s Concerto No. 4 was an experience for which I was not prepared.  After being unable to connect with Mozart, I was worried that Beethoven would spark that same inexplicable ambivalence.  It was not to be so.  I loved Beethoven.  The musicians who expertly brought his masterpieces to life are absolute geniuses…and I clap for them every time, after every movement.  I know I’m breeching symphony etiquette, which begs the question: what is the clapping rule?

 

I am aware that this discussion surfaced among the other bloggers about a month ago.  I am, as usual, behind the times.  (That girl wearing the yellow eighties scrunchie on Friday night—that was me.)   When is it improper to clap?  I’m a newbie to the symphony, so I truly don’t know, though to be honest, no one else seems to have any idea, either.  I try to abide by standard “when in Rome…” rule, but it’s not applicable when the Romans are not consistent.  I am throwing this question out there, with the hope  that someone will help a girl out.  Clapping guidelines, anyone?

 

While we’re on the subject of numero quattro (sort of, but not really), let’s chat about Bruckner for a moment.  The music was wonderful and I truly enjoyed Symphony No. 4…having said that, and being the perpetual drama queen that I am, I was intrigued by the back story.  Bruckner allowed two of his pupils to “revise” his score to a such a degree that it was completely unrecognizable.   The original version was discovered years later.  It is speculated that this was Bruckner’s intention—that the public was not yet ready to experience, nor could they understand, the scores as they were originally written.  Another possible explanation is that Bruckner permitted these modifications for the sole purpose of having his work performed.   I am appalled that his work was modified in any capacity, as it compromises the artistic integrity and intention of the work. 

 

Here’s the question: is it acceptable for an artist (musician, writer, painter, etc.) to alter her/his work so drastically from its original form that it is almost completely unrecognizable, even for the sake of public approval?  I understand that this may have been the only way that Symphony No. 4 would have been played, but I still cannot condone such distortion of one’s art. 

Beethoven Piano Co. No. 4 - Doug Bauman

My impressions of the Beethoven Piano Co. No. 4, performed last weekend by Garrick Ohlsson and the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Manfred Honeck:  I was pleased with the performance, by Ohlsson and all of the members of the PSO. I was impressed by Honeck's mannerisms. I can't quite describe them yet, but they have a certain style, and I will try to put my finger on it in later, but to note: when he stands straight and tall with baton held high, expect the orchestra to respond in kind with a wonderfully explosive musical expression. Honeck comes across as humble in person when speaking, but his real expressions come when he is conducting.

The first movement seemed to contain some parts or additional phrases I've not heard before in the many times I've listened to prerecorded versions of this concerto. Is this my imagination?

The second movement was very moving. The fullness of the strings and the orchestra immediately brought the kind of force to my ears which never fails to impress. Often, the soft piano was interleaving with the orchestra like a gentle stream flowing through a mountain pass.

In the program notes, I read that this particular concerto was full of surprises for its time. Beethoven was a creative individualist -- just the quality I like; an artist that is anxious to "break the mold at every opportunity," how refreshing!. The beginning of the concerto forged a change in style. One thing mentioned was that our beloved composer changed the 'key' from the first few beginning phrases of the piano, to the entry of the orchestra, and that that represented the kind of change that was readily noticed by the first to listen to this concerto, Beethoven's early audience.

Here is my dilemma. I have very little training in music theory. I do know where each note is on a keyboard, and can readily play compositions with my right hand only, but the notion of a 'key' has somehow escaped my understanding for quite a long time. For a music lover like myself, it wasn't necessary for my enjoyment. Out of curiosity, I picked up a 'dummies' guide to music theory. I read through the entire description of keys and notions of major and minor. My first thought was that perhaps this is a notion which makes it easier for musicians to play their instruments. Just like computer can interpret instructions, the musician can interpret the notes, with the context being the 'key'. Context is a useful thing for any profession.

Key seemed to also denote the actual sets of tones of the set of notes being described. I must hand it to musicians, I find the whole notation and concepts quite difficult to grasp. Being originally an electrical engineer, I do know a little about frequencies and harmonics. I think the notions represented by 'key' could just as easily been represented by mathematical concepts related to the frequency of each note, and the relationships they all hold with respect to each other.

My contention is that I don't necessarily need to know much about 'keys' to understand and enjoy music. None of us in the audience need to know these concepts. I am sure there are quite a few out there that are conversant in this music theory, but I am not addressing them, there are likely more who do not. I am not turned off when I read the kind of description related in the program notes, I accept them as an 'extra' bit of biographical context to the music we are about to hear. But my take on the music is going to always be how it relates to my ears and mind. And of course being a live performance I get to see the performance as well.

So when I read that the 'key' change was interpreted by early listeners as 'really wrong' I am curious. Why? -- because I didn't detect a 'key' change at all. I went back to a recording I have on CD and listened again to the opening over and over. I tried to direct my mind to detect this key change that was described. But I cannot. I don't hear it. I think it is because the change in 'key' is an absolute change in the base frequency. Yet my mind is tuned to relative notes. I hear the exact sequence of notes being played because, relative to each other, they are equal algebraic multiples away from each other -- sort of my own musical theory of relativity. I don't necessarily hear the absolute frequencies, but the relationships of the sets of notes to one another in a particular phrase. If the same phrase is repeated in different key, then to me, it was the same phrase, sounding just a good as the original.

I wonder if these 'original' listeners to Beethoven, especially those who were critics or music reviewers some 200 years ago, are perhaps a minority. I wonder if perhaps there were many others, who like me, simply sat back and enjoyed the music. But when they read the press, unlike me, they were told that the aforementioned 'key' change was 'really wrong' or 'simply wrong' and did not conform to the typical opening of a concerto. So, like people of today, perhaps they let that information bias or distort their view. And forever more, we will believe that the 'consensus' of that time was that Beethoven was different, and therefore a bit 'mad'.

That's the kind of madness I call genius, I wish I had a bit of it myself.

John Adams Audio Interview - Doug Bauman

John Adams talks about the PSO, Pittsburgh, his compositions and some upcoming performances (Jan 16-17), including...

Doctor Atomic Symphony, based on Oppenheimer, director of the Manhattan Project

Nixon in China (1985–87)

On the Transmigration of Souls (2002)

Listen here

doorway - Elizabeth Perry

When I was little, we had a recording of Van Cliburn playing Beethoven's Fourth Piano Concerto, and one of my sisters liked to hear it every night as she was falling asleep. My parents would play the record in the living room, and I could have my door open to listen to the music and their voices, talking quietly. I still associate those first piano notes with that triangle of light from the hall, spilling onto my bedroom floor.

Today I heard the work differently - I'd never seen it performed until now - but the memories added an extraordinary layer to the experience.

Impressions of the Bruckner Symphony No. 4 - Doug Bauman

The second movement of the Bruckner was my favorite. You hear the raw power of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra strings, each member acting in unison, pushing the romantic uplifting theme, reverberating deep into my body and soul. In person it is worlds apart from a recording. The violas get to shine. As they play with alacrity and potency, their theme is counter-posed by the rest of the strings preforming pizzicato. Interesting how only 12 viola players can put forth so much volume, when compared to perhaps 26 violins and the rest of the strings, not to mention the obvious fact that violas are facing away from the audience, yet it sounded wonderful, even to my ears, being seated in the very last row of the gallery, a testament to the acoustics at Heinz Hall.

Take a look at another performance of the same movement:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=leKZUAMVwfY

The third movement is more famous, it's been played countless times on WQED, I recognized it right away. It is one of those pieces of music that literally send goose bumps along one's body. The dynamic range of this symphony is amazing (as is the duration).

Lang Lang - Bethany Hensel

He played during the opening cermony of the 2008 Olympics.
He carried the Olympic torch.
He is one of the most visible musicians in the world.

Coming to Pittsburgh November 18, 2008

Lang Lang

Rock Me, Amadeus! - Jennifer Pizzuto

I would like to express my gratitude to the PSO this week.  Obama and McCain couldn’t follow me as I embarked upon my Alpine journey, nor could they interrupt my Mozart experience.  For this rejuvenating (albeit brief) respite, I was sincerely thankful.

That having been said, let me be honest: I did not have high expectations for the piano concerto.  This was not attributable in any part to the symphony, which consistently produces breathtaking interpretations of everything it performs.  For some reason, I am unable to connect with Mozart.  I did not love the Mozart piece of the preview concert in September, though I have always maintained a vague reverence for his music.  To that end, I have gained an appreciation for the eccentric quirks of his personality, thanks to Amadeus.    Many concert-goers would surely classify his music as “timeless” and it earns the title.   It’s difficult, it’s challenging, it’s dramatic… very similar to the composer himself.  There’s no question about the complexity and craftsmanship of the music; the fact that I have difficulty engaging with Mozart has been a life long puzzle for me.

I did enjoy Jonathan Biss’ interpretation of Concerto No. 22.  Biss’ talent and skill, coupled with the magic and grandeur of the symphony, presented an exciting performance, of which Mozart himself would have been most pleased.  Jonathan Biss was brilliant and attacked the piano concerto like a ravenous lion with a fresh kill.  He was intense and focused while performing.  His demeanor in person, however, was entirely different.  I have to say that I consider myself to be fairly level-headed, but upon meeting Biss in person, I turned into a repulsive pile of mush.

“I think you’re fabulous,” I gushed nauseatingly.  I actually gushed.   He graciously signed my program and humbly told me that I was “too kind.”  

I was dying to discover what makes Biss so talented, to learn about his muses.  The piano is an extremely difficult instrument to master, especially for those of us who may have had delusions of one day performing a piano duet with Elton John.   Not that I know any such person.  I was, however, highly impressed by Biss.

After the fast pace of Biss and Mozart, I was ready to settle in for some relaxation, Alpine-style.  Richard Strauss’ Eine Alpensinfonie delivered that and more.  Since it was being recorded, the audience was again asked (in vain) not to cough and to silence their cell phones.  I always become edgy when I am required to stay quiet, but tonight, I was so entranced by the music, silence became intuitive.  I made a game of trying to guess which of the 22 movements the symphony was performing and allowed myself to take a momentary mental vacation.  The musical imagery was vibrant and striking, and that vision from atop the summit was magnificent.  I was able to leave Pittsburgh, politics and my arch-enemy, the nefarious Route 28, for an evening of Bambi-esque serenity.  Such is the magic of the PSO…

oh, Mozart. how I love thee. - Laura Miller

I’m so sorry I’ve been out of the loop for the past few weeks, dear readers.  I was unable to attend one of the weekend concerts a few weeks ago, and then the most recent concert I attended (Oct. 17) had me writing for the PSO’s newsletter.  And with work and graduate school (and an upcoming conference this week in Georgia, at which I’m presenting some of my scholarly work), I’ve been swamped.  Luckily, my head came above water this past weekend, and I was able to immerse myself in the beautiful music of the PSO instead of books on theatre in 18^th-century Britain.  Change is good every once in a while, right?  *wink*

Saturday night’s concert was extra special for me: I’ve been an avid Mozart fan for, oh, what seems like ages.  I wrote a 40-page research paper about him when I was a sophomore in high school, and I fell in love with the movie Amadeus the first time I saw it fifteen years ago.  Having studied piano since I was six years old, Mozart has been a significant part of my musical education and musical life.  His birthday falls one day before mine, too.  Needless to say, I love him.

 

So to be able to hear his work performed by a soloist was a thrill.  It always is.  I’ve heard many soloists perform Mozart before, and each time I feel as though I’m surrounded by the warmth of an old friend.  That’s Mozart to me: that comforting presence that has never failed me, always lifted me up, inspired me, challenged me.  And Jonathan Biss?  He channeled that presence beautifully.

 

I always enjoy watching professional pianists perform.  There was a point in my life when I thought I might be one of those pianists.  I studied piano very seriously until I was about 17, visiting Juilliard and dreaming of practicing on a Steinway every single day within its walls.  But fear got the best of me, and I chickened out.  I realized that kind of life just wasn’t for me.  So when I saw Jonathan Biss and heard him play Mozart so beautifully, I decided to live vicariously through him in those moments.  He was fantastic.  So elegant in his playing, so smooth.  At one point when he had a break from the piece and the orchestra was featured during a particular passage, he lightly ran his hand across the keys, as if he was reminding his 88 friends that he was still there and would intimately return to them soon.  It was such a beautiful moment, and I was reminded just how powerful the connection to music and an instrument can be.  I know.  I’ve felt it.

 

And Strauss?  Holy moly.  Alpine Symphony has to be one of the most magnificent works I’ve ever heard.  And Saturday night was my first exposure to it.  The way Strauss tells the story of hiking through the glorious mountains, experiencing nature, and enduring struggle—incredible.  I was transfixed.  I shut my eyes and felt myself swept away with the music.  And when I opened my eyes the pure visual rush I experienced in seeing the entire stage packed with musicians and instruments—including a tremendous wind machine and thunder clap contraption hanging from the ceiling—made the piece all the more powerful.  I wish I could find words to do it justice, but I’m failing miserably at this point. 

 

Saturday night was an amazing concert.  I realize that’s kind of a blanket statement, but it’s the truth.  And it’s my hope that you’ve been to hear the PSO at some point this season.  Really.  You won’t be disappointed. 

Mozart and Strauss - Bethany Hensel

Just a little heads up: the "J" in Marek Janowski's last name isn't pronounced like the standard "J"; rather, it is given a "Y" pronunciation.  Marek Yanowski.

I didn't know that, so I figured maybe someone else didn't know it either. :)

Anyway, yesterday's program lasted almost 2 hours, though it went by incredibly quickly. The first portion of the program, Mozart's famed Piano Concerto No. 22 (which you might recognize as being the music during the scene in the movie Amadeus when Mozart is riding in a carriage to an outdoor performance with his piano literally strapped to the back of the vehicle) was like truffles: light and sweet.  The piece certainly was pleasant, though because it was a piece written by Mozart, was nothing less than virtuosic.  In other words, very pretty package, but man, it packed a punch!

Complex and intricate, pianist Jonathan Biss didn't shy away from the challange.  He made the notes his own and added his own personality.  I very much enjoyed his bravery with the piece...and I wasn't the only one.  He recieved three curtain calls and half the audience was on their feet in ovation. 

The second half of the program was Strauss' Alpine Symphony.  The most obvious obvservation: it was loud!!!  Actually, I amend that statement: most of the time, it was loud, but there were a few very beautiful quiet moments in the 22 movement piece. 

Now, I know 22 movements sounds like a lot, and it is, but some movements were only a minute long and it moved at such a rapid pace that it was diffcult to tell when one began and one ended.  It was definitely an epic piece of music.

It's almost mind-boggling to understannd how on earth one person could juggle so many instruments and compose such a broad piece.  I highly suggest listening to this work sooner rather than later.  It's definitely something to hear before you die.  And, as luck would have it, the Pittsburgh Symphony actually recorded the Alpine Symphony for CD release.  I'm not sure when it will be released, but if it's anything like their last recording, which got amazing AMAZING reviews, then you are in for a very nice treat.