THE SILENT STEPPE CANTATA

7.1. Premiere performance on March 25, Almaty, Kazakhstan

2011-03-28T12:49:00.000-07:00

Sazgen Sazy with Timur Bekbosunov and Maestro Zhamat Temirgaliyev with the premiere performance of The Silent Steppe Cantata, Philharmonic Hall, Almaty - March 25, 2011

Posted by Anne LeBaron; Photos by Sandra Powers

The March 25, 2011 premiere performance of The Silent Steppe Cantata, along with the introductory documentary by Sandra Powers, The Nomad’s Song, was a resounding success, according to all the reports I’ve received. Timur Bekbosunov wrote:

“The performance was superb, and attracted great praise, specifically from many critics, journalists, musicians, city officials, the U.S. Consulate, all of our partners, sponsors, friends, who just went crazy over it, calling it ‘legendary.’ People kept telling me to please tell the composer that we bow to her talent and ability for making our country proud!”

Many aspects of the Republic of Kazakhstan were inspiring to me as I composed this piece, particularly the tolerance of different faiths. Extending the representation of tolerance to an acceptance of various languages in Kazakhstan, I wanted the cantata to reflect the multiple identities represented in this vast country, and therefore set the words in a combination of Russian, Kazakh, and English. The libretto, compiled by myself and Timur Bekbosunov, is based on writings and works of Albert Fischler, A.I. Orazbaeva, Olzhas Suilemenov, M.X. Abuseitova, Abai, Galimzhan Beghozhin, Isa Daukebaev, and Zhuban Moldagaliev.

As I wasn't able to attend, I’ve yet to hear the performance but anxiously await the moment when the recording is available. Meanwhile, Eugene Moon’s personal experience of the premiere provides a more complete description. He writes:

"The cantata was in three sections. The first one, “Awakening,” introduced the appearance of the Kazakh people on earth, connected to the myth that they originated from the sun. The second section, “Silencing,” dealt with the conquest and oppression of the Kazakh people. The mood of the music was sinister; Timur started singing in a rap style. The energy and passion of the music increased, as it described the oppressive history suffered by Kazakhstan, brought on at various times by Mongols, Jungars, Russians, and Soviets---such as the collectivization and labor camps that took the lives of over a million Kazakhs. The music has this terrifying brooding quality until the mood changed, with the message that this was not the end. In “Roar of the Twenty-first Century,” the third section, the music had a nationalistic feeling, almost patriotic. Timur roared in his tenor voice with the reawakening of the sun and the people as they recovered from so many hardships, ready to face the new age and millennium, ready to expose their country and culture to the world as the "new seventh continent.” The last part of the piece has a more cinematic feel, and was played with passion and vigor. At the end, the audience cheered, jumping up to hand bouquets to Timur for the wonderful performance. I congratulate you, Anne, for creating this wonderful piece and I thank you for all the work and effort that you put into it. It was amazing, stunningly amazing beyond words. I wish it was longer, that's how much I enjoyed your piece. It was epic."

6.1. Press Conference in Almaty

2011-03-25T12:07:00.001-07:00

Sandra Powers, Timur Bekbosunov, official, Daniel Corral, official

Timur Bekbosunov

Post by Anne LeBaron; photos by Sandra Powers

I've been able to skype into rehearsals with the orchestra and singers, 13 hour difference but thrilling to hear parts of the cantata being rehearsed so well, transmitted from Almaty to Valencia, CA. At the press conference on March 25, twenty-three journalists attended and conducted many interviews with our artists; also, four TV stations were represented. The Silent Steppe Cantata premiere is scheduled for the evening of March 25 in Almaty, meaning that it already took place and that everyone is partying after midnight there, as I write this at noon! So I'm anxiously awaiting the final report of how everything turned out.

5.1. Second rehearsal of cantata, with singers

2011-03-24T02:07:00.000-07:00

Timur Bekbosunov and Maestro Zhamagat Temirgaliev

Posted by Eugene Moon; photos by Sandra Powers

The singers came to today's rehearsal, a women's vocal group led by a Russian conductor, Yan Rudkovsky. Dan and I started recording the piece. It began with Timur speaking in Russian, probably a summary of the history of Kazakhstan and its people as an intro. Then the music starts. The music was wonderful and I can remember how it goes from hearing the last rehearsal. It was absolutely wonderful and the good thing about the recording device on the tripod was that I could record the rehearsal with my own camera and capture that music they were playing. The beginning sounded almost Western or cinematic then it mixed with folk tunes and some other Western styles of music. Timur sang very loudly in operatic style, mostly in Russian. He sang a few words in English, like, "I am a Kazakh," and also English in the section that is a bit like rap, where he talks in double speed, compared to the pace of his tenor singing of the music. All I remember from that rap part was something about defending against or being attacked by the Tatar, Russians, Cossacks, and Uzbeks. It has a very interesting rhythm and mood to it, almost like a movie soundtrack where the villain plans a strategy. The ensemble took a break and Delora and I took photos, exploring the instruments in this instrumental wonderland. They were just amazing, especially the Zhetygen, Adyrna, and Kobyz. The musicians returned and played again, this time without interruption from the conductor. I recorded again, but I missed a couple of seconds of the intro where Timur was speaking in the steppe winds (background singers were making the wind sound). It was wonderful to hear it played again.

4.3. Timur and Daniel perform for the camera

2011-03-23T01:48:00.001-07:00

Daniel with uke, and Timur---Dime Museumers on a break
Eugene with his beloved boom

Daniel Corral, representing me in Silent Steppe Cantata rehearsals, reminding me of my dad in this photo

Post by Eugene Moon; photos by Sandra Powers

After the adventures of today, we decided to film Timur's operatic singing for the cantata project. While we were waiting in our rooms to begin filming, I suddenly got nauseous and developed a headache. Lying down to recuperate didn't help, and the room got suddenly hot and stuffy. Next I tried walking around the hotel to get better, but I didn’t expect the hotel to have various smells. Each area has the smell of food and some other strange aromas, but the smell that nearly made me sick was the smell of qurt. I wasn’t sure if the restaurant was making more qurt or if I could just smell it in my head. I decided it was the latter, and assumed that all the kumys I drank earlier, which was enjoyable, was the source of my illness. After a while, I was feeling better and was able to help film Timur and Dan's performance. We used the large and spacious ballroom, and Sandra started filming Timur singing an operatic improvisation about the cantata project, while Dan played the ukulele and I held the boom pole.

Dan and I will have a dombra lesson tomorrow night. This should be exciting. I hope I can buy a dombra before I leave. If I watch any more Sazgen Sazy rehearsals, I might want to learn all the instruments they play. They were just so wonderful and interesting to listen to and play, that it might overwhelm me with the desire to own and play the instruments.

4.2. Recording Sazgen Sazy musicians; Exotic Americans

2011-03-23T01:38:00.001-07:00

musicians from Sazgen Sazy, ethnographic folk orchestra
Guarding the old square
Sandra Powers, rare appearance in front of lens

Post by Eugene Moon; photos by Sandra Powers

Today we will record the musicians who will play a song for us at another hotel, the Intercontinental, subtitled ‘Ankara in Almaty.’ Three of the musicians were in traditional costumes. We set up the video and audio equipment by the back wall of the dining room, which has a maroon color that contrasted with the bright colors of the musicians' costumes, which were very beautiful. The instruments they played were the dombra, kyl kobyz, and Abai dombra, which has a flat body and a more elongated pentagonal shape, with three strings instead of two. We filmed them four times, with Delora (Timur's original host mother in the U.S.) using the slate. I used the boom pole, this time, over my head instead of at mid-level. It was easier to hold this way and less painful than when it was over my head. I managed to keep the mic above my head and not let it get into the shot. That was the hardest six minutes for my arm in my life. At least I was compensated by hearing the wonderful traditional instruments being played while filming. I would like to get a recording of it for casual listening.

After filming, we returned to the old square where the festival was yesterday. Since the square was blocked off until the evening dance festivities, we went to the park behind the square, where there were a lot more people and vendors. Now people started staring at us, but I think mostly at Sandra and Delora. There was a Russian man blatantly taking photos of us and I counter-photoed him. Who's the tourist now? Sandra was the center of attention because of her American looks, with her peach-colored vintage hat which people called her cowboy hat (or cowgirl, to be specific, since she had tied a ribbon on it). I would not be in the center of the circle if it were not for Sandra needing my help. I think I would have blended in with the crowd because my clothes were slightly similar to what the young men were wearing. (I noticed that the younger men all wear the same type of clothes: zipped up jacket, tight designer pants, boot-like shoes, and short hair. The women show more diversity in their fashion choices; some were wearing short skirts even in the snow.) Being encircled by staring strangers felt as if we were a strange attraction in a fair or zoo. It's amusing that tourists who travel to a different country to come see exotic landscapes end up being the exotic ones for the inhabitants.

4.1. Kumys and Shumbat; Koreans in Kazakhstan

2011-03-23T01:29:00.000-07:00

Daniel, Delora, Timur
Almaty snow-scape
Timur in repose

Post by Eugene Moon; photos by Sandra Powers

When I returned to the hotel, it was nearly time for brunch. The food they served was mostly traditional Kazakh food, like pilov (the name of the same rice I had yesterday), bishpermak, shumbat and a type of beef and noodle soup served only during Nauryz. The most intriguing food items are kumys and shumbat. They are both milk-based drinks that came from horse and camel. Shumbat has a cheesy taste and some bits of curd. Kumys has more layers of flavor. After drinking the thin liquid, the aftertaste just charged at me. Mild and sour, kumys resembles a liquid version of qurt. The taste of it lingered and then turned slightly alcoholic at the end. In fact, kumys is fermented horse milk with a 2-3% alcohol content. I enjoyed the drink, served in small bowls holding between ½ - 1 cup. After drinking only two cups, I started to feel slightly dizzy. Timur's dad, Viktor, who joined us, cannot drink due to driving safety concerns. Bishpermak, a kind of Kazakh pasta, consists of sheets of folded pasta (like lasagna), onions, and horse meat---really delicious. Even though it was oily, I would have eaten more of it if my stomach were not full. There was so much good food there, especially non-Kazakh food, like sushi, french fries, and chocolate ice cream.

Speaking of sushi, a waitress thought I was Japanese after I said “thank you” to her in a mixture of Kazakh and Russian and she responded in Japanese. She was the first Kazakh who thought I was Japanese, while everyone else knew I was Korean. There are a lot of Koreans in Kazakhstan. They did not choose to live there but were deported in the 1930s when Stalin labeled them as spies for Japan. Many Koreans living within the Russian borders of Manchuria were deported and most seem to have lost any knowledge of the Korean language (Hangul), and speak Russian instead. Here, they are called Koryo Saram, while we Koreans call them Goryuh-In. However, Koreans I’m encountering during my stay here can speak Korean; they were likely visitors rather than inhabitants of Kazakhstan, as I see them in tourist places and hotels.

3.2. Nauryz festival; meeting Mara; qurt

2011-03-22T00:03:00.000-07:00

Sandra. Camel.
Mara, Sandra, Timur, Daniel, Eugene
Timur looking for extraterrestrial life in a yurt

Post by Eugene Moon; Photos by Sandra Powers and Daniel Corral

After we went to our hotel to change and rest a little, we went to the Old Square, where they were holding festivities for the Nauryz festival. We arrived at the square and crowds of people were in attendance, listening and dancing to Kazakh pop songs, eating free food from the vendor, and riding horses. We met with Mara, director of the festival---a boisterous and friendly woman. She gave us a tour of the festival and told us the origins of Nauryz. The holiday, Nauryz (different from the Persian Nowruz), was created by Turkic people as a new year event to celebrate the arrival of spring. She showed us the inside of a yurt display, demonstrating what Nomadic life was like. It was a very large yurt, and could have been a nobleman's yurt, and there was a lot of fabric, furniture, and belongings. Although the display was not made of felt, we were out of the cold for a while. We kept on walking and saw a falconer with an eagle perched on his arm. It was wearing a helmet that covered its eyes. The helmet, according to Mara, is worn to protect visitors, because the bird is only comfortable with the owner and if it were to see a stranger, it would attack in self defense. It was fascinating to see it flap and spreads its wings while the falconer walked away blending with the crowd, while the wings were visible until it disappeared, as if from some movie or a dream. As we departed, Timur suggested that we try qurt, a type of cheese that contains a lot of calcium. It tasted sour and tangy. I have to say, it is funkier than the taste of dolmas, and I like the flavor of both. Mara kindly bought each of us the qurt balls.

3.1. Almaty National Park Reserve; elusive rural kumys; bird rescue center

2011-03-21T23:50:00.000-07:00

Timur B., Daniel C., Eugene M., imbibing airan

helmeted steppe eagle
high-protein eagle cuisine

Posted by Eugene Moon; photos by Sandra Powers and Daniel Corral

Timur, Sandra, Daniel, and I departed at 11 AM to go to the Almaty Lake and the Observatory Tower in the Almaty National Park Reserve, with our new driver, Ivan, a Russian with a warm disposition who seems to understand a bit of English. Before entering the park, we encountered a fancy looking golden fountain at the center of a roundabout and a large elaborate gate flanked by pillars that looked like something from Caesar's Palace. It was actually the entrance to the First President's Park, built exclusively for the first and current president, Nursultan Nazarbayev. There was a hill in the center of the park with what appeared to be two Acropolis-like buildings, built for the president as a retreat, and a place to write his books and memoirs. There are buildings, restaurants, and cottages lined up along the streets that are built like medieval castles and forts.

After hiking up a small mountain, we decided to go in search of kumys, an alcoholic drink made from fermented mare's milk. The pure kind of kumys is found in rural areas or on ranches, while the factory-made kumys, available in the city, is diluted with water or cow's milk. We headed for a ranch near the entrance of the Reserve. When we got there, we were told that the mares weren’t ready to be milked for kumys for two more weeks. That was disappointing, but they did have airan, a milk drink similar to keffir. It’s not yogurt but it has the texture and taste of sour yogurt.

The ranch also happened to be a bird rescue center, with owls, hawks, falcons, and eagles native to Kazakhstan. The steppe eagles, tethered outside the cages, look amazing and fierce. They make a weird sound similar to a duck. Another striking creature: the Griffin Vulture, a large majestic white vulture. It has a large wingspan and it wasn't happy with its situation, gnawing at its tether. When it tried to fly away, one can see how long its wings are. We were also shown a Bearded Vulture, which looks like an eagle and is known for eating bones and dropping them from high ground. These are the largest birds I have ever seen and their wingspan is 10 ft! Their eyes look menacingly monstrous and frightening, as does their appearance and color. Sandra described them as "hardcore."

The tour guide wanted to show us more animals, and she brought us us to a building that housed rats. She told us they are raised as food for the birds since they have more nutrition than chickens and chicks. Next, she showed us two wolves, who were painted red, and looked like they just killed an animal. I thought they fed them a whole deer before she told us they were painted like that for a film. The last cage held a black wolf, which looked more like a dog than a wolf. In fact, I have heard black wolves are actually part dogs, since pure wolves cannot produce black colored offspring. It must be true, because that wolf really looked and acted like a dog. Daniel and I are grateful for all the work Timur and Sandra have done to bring us to Almaty and to the Reserve and to Almaty, and to give us such a memorable adventure from this unplanned excursion.

2.2. First rehearsal of cantata

2011-03-21T00:59:00.001-07:00

Eugene Moon with boom; kil-kobyz
Daniel Corral, Timur Bekbosunov, Maestro Zhamat Temirgaliyev rehearsing the cantata
Sazgen Sazy rehearsing the cantata

Post by Eugene Moon; photos by Sandra Powers

At the rehearsal hall, we were greeted by the sound of the dombra played by a musician rehearsing her part. As we started recording the rehearsal session, the reality of being a boom pole operator began to hit me---with searing pain in the arm. Despite the ache in my arms and heat in the room, it was countered by the euphonious sound of the cantata. It was phenomenally wonderful. Brilliant and beautiful. It is a wonder how a non-Kazakh can compose a cantata so well that she knew how to put the music, instruments, and folk songs together. I have to say, I congratulate you, Anne. Well done! A round of applause to your virtuosity as a composer. I very much want the soundtrack and DVD of the cantata to turn out well, as it is something worth listening to and watching.

Sandra and I went back to the hotel to do some transcription. The transcription I have to do is to write down all the dialogue and speaking from the intro of Sandra's film, "The Nomad's Song," so that it can be translated into Russian for the audience on the day her film is shown. Later, we interviewed a bayan (similar to accordion) player, and the player of the kyl kobyz, a type of violin played like a rebab with a hollowed-out body and made of horse hair that creates a distinctive sound like the morin khuur (Mongolian cello), but an octave lower.

2.1. Museum of National Instruments, Panfilov Park, Zenkov Cathedral

2011-03-21T00:41:00.000-07:00

Anne LeBaron at the Museum of National Instruments, Almaty (2008)
Panfilov Guardsmen Park
Zenkov Cathedral

Post written by Eugene Moon; photos by Viktor Bekbosunov and Anne LeBaron

Today we visited the Museum of National Instruments, originally an outpost building for 19th century Russian imperialists. What's inside is incredible: all the Kazakh instruments of various shapes, sizes, and ages, like the dombra, kobyz, adyrna, and zhetygen. The museum also displayed other multicultural instruments like Saz, Sitar, Yue Qin, Gadulka, and the smallest Gayageum I have ever seen.

We then left the museum and walked into Panfilov Guardsmen Park, featuring a memorial for the 28 soldiers who died defending Moscow against German tanks in WWII. With its eternal flame and sculptures of soldiers in defense stance, it’s a good depiction of the social realism style. Zenkov Cathedral, a Russian Orthodox church, rises like a fantasy fairy-tale structure near the memorial. It had survived the wars, and was converted into a concert hall during communist rule, before being restored to the control of the Russian Church after the collapse of the USSR.

We kept on walking and got to the old square where they are setting up for Nauryz. (Nauryz is one of the oldest holidays on earth, and is celebrated as the first day of renewed life that comes with spring.) It was quite an interesting sight to watch a woman screaming a slew of directions in Russian from the center stage, over a microphone, to dancers wearing their traditional garb in the freezing wind. I wonder how fast they can learn in such low temperatures.

1.1. Introduction to this series; Arrival in Almaty

2011-03-19T14:22:00.000-07:00

Daniel and Eugene
Timur the young Octoberist

The following posts, for the week leading up to March 25, are being written by Eugene Moon (CalArts, BFA 3, School of Art). Sandra Powers (CalArts alum, Film / Video) took the photographs. They're part of the U.S. delegation to oversee, document, and participate in the March 25 Almaty premiere of my new work, "The Silent Steppe Cantata," along with Timur Bekbosunov, tenor, producer, and administrator, and Daniel Corral, assistant to the composer. Sandra, our filmmaker, is creating an art / documentary, "The Normad's Song," and Eugene Moon serves as production coordinator. They arrived in Kazakhstan yesterday, after their looooonnng flight from Los Angeles.

We were greeted in the morning with a nice breakfast from the Rixos Hotel's restaurant/buffet. The food did not literally greet us but it is one way to put it since we can eat breakfast for free because the sponsor paid for it. They have Western food, like waffles, scrambled eggs, croissants, etc. The best is boiled horse meat. Very delicious! Really good texture. It tastes like Turkey ham but better. After we ate, we all walked to the copy store, which is a few blocks from the hotel. The air was cold and it burned our faces, freezing our noses and ears. It is spring at this time of year around the world but here it seemed to be just past the middle of winter. Snow is still present everywhere. One can see icicles hanging off from roofs. After business at the store, we went to a currency exchange to replace our dollars with Tenge. One dollar is about 146 T.

Our first foray into Kazakhstan was to the Tien Shan (Heaven) mountain range. To see the powdery snow glitter and glisten in the sun was beautiful. The sky was bright and blue, a strong contrast to the sky in Almaty, which was foggy and gray. We went to Medeo first, a skating rink, where we recorded families skating with the children while Kazakh and American pop music blared and music videos were playing on the large mega screen. We left Medeo and headed on up to the peak of the mountain. Because it was foggy in the city, the horizon where the city of Almaty should be was blocked by gray haze and we could hardly see the city at all.

We drove down back to the city, which got brighter and a little warmer. We stopped by to take a look at a conservatory once called Palace of Pioneers, an art and entertainment hall for Soviet youths. (Timur attended as a young Octoberist, a level younger than Pioneer.) We drove on to the circus. The city is filled with many advertisements with local products as well as Western merchandise. So much of the architecture looks simple and Soviet-like while new buildings, like skyscrapers, stand out. The whole environment and mood of the city is simple and humble but at the same time, quite high tech and advanced.

First, there were Horses

2008-11-10T23:42:00.000-08:00

One of the memorable adventures on my first full day in Kazakhstan was a surprise ride on this gentle animal, which at first glance I thought was a life-sized statue, as he stood in utter stillness. To honor him, I begin this tale of an endeavor that has taken me to an exotic land, one of the former Soviet bloc countries that has a bright future.

For two weeks this fall, I lived in the former capital, Almaty, while researching the country's history and environment, meeting musicians, and investigating indigenous instruments. The cantata, planned for performances in late 2009 and 2010, will be written for Otyrar Sazy, the National Folk Orchestra; Koktem, the celebrated Kazakh children's choir; and the soloist Timur Bekbosunov. My collaborator, the writer Beysenbai Suleimenov, will be providing a text in three parts, detailing the rich and complex past of Kazakhstan; the devastating Soviet policy of collectivization, resulting in widespread famine and the virtual disappearance of the nomadic way of life; and the newly independent country that has forged a solid standing in the world --- it will, in fact, assume the Chairmanship of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) in 2010.

In the coming days I'll be sharing images, descriptions, recordings, and videos from this initial visit to Kazakhstan, so stay tuned!

Dogwood Lodge

2008-08-31T11:54:00.001-07:00

My sister Lynn and I drove down to Dogwood Lodge yesterday, and all the memories of living there for a year (1971-72) rushed back as we rumbled across the little bridge and into the heart of of the property, in her tiny 1991 Mazda convertible with the top down. The original Lodge (where Zelda Fitzgerald was known to attend parties, a fact confirmed yesterday by Laura, the great-great granddaughter of the owners) tragically burned to the ground, a victim of wicked Alabama lightning, twenty years ago. The great room was subsequently partially reconstructed around the original walk-in fireplace, where I'm standing with a drawing of the original Lodge (one of a numbered edition of 50, by Sue Blackshear-Bowen). When I lived there, we used all four screened-in porches on the upper level, and I gave piano lessons on my beloved Kawai piano in the huge great room, to pay for my second year at the University of Alabama. We sometimes cowered from seriously large snakes prone to hanging out in the dark bathroom, lounging on one of the enormous logs and peering down. Huge red wasps were also attracted, year-round, to the Lodge---living there was a lot like camping out, but in a spectacular structure. The Lodge was notorious for annual pig roasts that became parties stretching out for days on end, fueled by beer and rock music, and occasional recordings of Stockhausen (Momenté was the one I used), to vary the sonic ambience---always an adventure to see how long that would last. Thankfully there are still gatherings of owners and their friends and family every year in this relatively untouched paradise of forest, creek, and wildlife.

sweet home alabama

2008-08-30T13:27:00.000-07:00

Composers need to maintain healthy family relationships. That's what I'm doing for the next couple of days, and in the Deep South, photo ops abound. Just off Bee Branch Road (near Cottondale and Coaling, between Birmingham and Tuscaloosa), a day-glow (i.e., glows in the daylight) orange yackety-yak shack for sale. Down the road, on the grounds of the legendary Dogwood Lodge, we discovered feet growing in the forest---a cast-off art project, reincarnated as raw material for a campfire horror story. Yvonne and I arrived in Birmingham last night, put up in high style by my sister Lynn at her palatial abode on Wildwood Lake, and are seeing old family, new family, turtles, frogs, fish, ants, and giant dragonflies, More to come on the Lodge!

Julie and Doc

2008-08-29T00:29:00.000-07:00

The knock-em-dead bassoonist with an immense lyrical gift, Julie, holding Doc the cat, in freakout mode thanks to the perpetually anxious white terrier, Ginger (in heat, and not pictured but nearby). We feasted on fresh zucchini, eggplant, cucumbers, and one fig from her expansive garden yesterday, while the koi gorged on their own appetizers, swimming in bright knots.

Off to Alabama today---Cottondale, where I used to live in the legendary Dogwood Lodge, Zelda Fitzgerald's old haunt---to visit family and sink deeper into surrealism and psychogeography during the long flight.

Flowing through Sundrenched Canyons

2008-08-21T00:08:00.000-07:00

With stacks of books, scores, cds, dvds to peruse and organize for my fall courses, I'm often in a pretty stationery position. Composing also being primarily a desk-bound endeavor, getting outdoors for hikes or down on the mat for stretching are great releases. My personal mix tends to center around a core of canyon and paseo walks, supplemented with yoga two or three times a week, alternating and complementing the yoga sessions with a regimen of weight lifting and swimming laps in the backyard pool. In my twenties, I taught yoga to college students when it was practically unheard of in Alabama, having learned from the rare practitioners who traveled through the South and honing my knowledge further when I joined up with the Ananda Marga group. Now, I'm once again a student of yoga, but not quite a beginner, and especially like the down-home "90 Minutes of Yoga with Wade Zinter" podcast...always a challenging workout, vinyasa-style. The twists feel divine when they finally come toward the end of these long sessions.

Tarantula on the Loose

2008-08-16T00:03:00.000-07:00

The last time I saw a tarantula as big as a hand was on a highway in Texas in the 70's. Today in a late afternoon walk in the nearby canyons, like a black mirage, the hairy monster lumbered across our path. Upon close observation, it displayed its large stinger with abandon. EUWWWW.

That was the nature highlight of the week. Fortunately there were cultural highlights as well: the always elegant and versatile Arlene Thomas and Gene Brundage (above), who entertained the members of The Dominant Club at Decanso Gardens on Sunday evening. These are two of my absolute favorite singers living in LA---soprano Arlene sang the part of 'Blue Eyes' in my opera, Wet, and Gene was hilarious as basso beer-swigging Lumberjack.

The other concert of the week attracted the film composer / performer community, packed into the M-Bar. My dear friend, composer and meltingly beautiful singer Kathryn Bostic conducted musicians during a rehearsal and performance of her music for an animated film. She was one of three featured composers; each was allowed a rehearsal without video, then a rehearsal with video but no dialogue or sound effects, and finally the taping with everything included. Kathryn gave a bewitching performance last year in The Hague, singing the part of Marie Laveau in scenes from my opera, Phantasmagoriettas from Crescent City. It was a joy to work with her on that project, and a blast to hear her music for film earlier this week on the BMI-sponsored program, 'Songs, Shorts, and Scores.'

summer saturday in valencia

2008-08-10T00:48:00.000-07:00

Ahhh...the first non-pressure completely free day since returning from Vienna nearly a month ago.
In retrograde:

watched the chinese team excel in men's gymnastics while getting some emails out;
made salad for dinner with the nippy 'joelle' olive oil from the central valley, a market find;
took yvonne shopping at target;
saw film, wall-e, with yvonne and ed, marveled, tried to hear erika's cello in the string section;
popped blue popcorn and smuggled it into theater;
read chapter on wagner in c. abbate's book, In Search of Opera, to consider for my course;
swam some laps and discovered innards (rat? bird?) on the bamboo rug outside, gift from cat;
laundry and more laundry;
booked flight to birmingham AL over Labor Day to visit sister Lynn and her son's new baby;
short hike in Rice canyon, hot at 10 AM (photo is from nearby Ed Teasley canyon) ;
purchased handsome white wicker hamper, to replace one that died after twenty years.

Bus Träume

2008-08-07T20:51:00.000-07:00

Finally a chunk of downtime, starting with seeing the film Dancer in the Dark, lit up by Björk's award-winning, insane performance, as she launches into fantastical Busby-Berkely-inspired numbers driven by the rhythmic / mechanical factory noises. Then early morning hours of nostalgic dreams for the public transportation in Vienna (seeds planted by that Lars von Trier film?). Fortunately I have this photo of bus with soccer ball wheel at the bus stop in Liesing---one of the countless images of soccer balls scattered throughout Vienna (which Yvonne never failed to point out, despite her mild annoyance with the Fussball mania). The city became increasingly obsessed with its hosting of the European Football Championship. Another startling representation (how many people besides us had double takes?): old statues in Vienna with football shoes painted onto their feet.

Back to reality: today started off skyping with Douglas Kearney as we pick up speed with Crescent City, our opera with partial performances on the New York City Opera VOX series (2006), and the Dag in die Branding Festival in The Hague (2007). Yea!!! I've missed living with our characters, especially the divine Madame Marie LaVeau.

After running various errands, and lunch with a friend, today's scorching August afternoon came to a close with a visit to the farmer's market in Newhall for luscious California tomatos and strawberries, as well as freshly baked pita bread, tatziki, and almonds. But the best stand was the goat's milk soap stall with a live baby goat, so adorable with those little yellow slit eyes taking in everything and luring in the customers.

Sucktion DVD and photos

2008-08-05T22:23:00.000-07:00

'Surviving' often means surrounding yourself with competent, visionary, and like-minded creative energies. Obsession also a plus. A shining example: the team that our director Nataki Garrett gathered for the production of Sucktion (Elizabeth Brooks, costume design; Michael Gend, lighting design; Marianne Nedreberg, set design), and our post-production ensemble (Aleigh Lewis, videographer, members of soNu, myself, and Douglas Kearney). We managed to pull a dvd together in the past two days---as shown in one of our sessions at my house, yesterday: Sage Lewis, my assistant, Aleigh Lewis, and Nina Eidsheim; to get a couple of trailers out of it; and to post one on YouTube. Look here for superb photo documentation with clever commentary by Elizabeth Brooks: the silvery vacuum cleaner with the band soNu and Nina in her reflective dress. (I've uploaded one of EB's photos, above left, of soNu: Phil Curtis, Nina Eidsheim, and Gustavo Aguilar.)

SUCKTION (trailer)

2008-08-05T19:01:00.001-07:00

Celebrating in Koreatown

2008-08-05T00:22:00.000-07:00

from left to right: Phil Curtis, Nina Eidsheim, Anne LeBaron, Edward Eadon, and Gustavo Aguilar---musicians, composer, and one member of our 'crew,' celebrating after our final performance of Sucktion. We're hoping that it will be picked up by non-risk-averse presenters so that we can refine the piece and have a chance to share it beyond LA.

The ideas I plan to explore in upcoming posts will mostly relate to the life of a composer in Los Angeles. After spending one-third of 2008 in Vienna, a mecca for composers and musicians, where the stars engraved in the sidewalks, pavements, and U-bahn stations are for composers (and a few conductors)---not for film personalities---I was wondering whether the culture shock of re-entry into a city at the opposite extreme (cars instead of superb public transportation; an hour's drive and parking expense for downtown concerts instead of a five minute walk to the Musikverein; the Danube instead of the desert) would send me right back to Vienna. (Rather impossible, but one can dream on.) My friend Jane Brockman, accomplished LA composer who I spoke with after the performance on Sat. night, remarked that transitioning back here must be less difficult with the all-consuming production of my opera at REDCAT this weekend. She's right, and now that we're in post-production---constructing the requisite video and press kit---all that raw energy invested in seeing the production through will be redirected into other projects---like taking a few minutes tomorrow to bask in the sun!

LA Times Review of SUCKTION

2008-08-02T18:12:00.000-07:00

Link to the review:
Cyber opera with a vacuum: Three women explore their existence in wild performance art pieces for the conclusion of REDCAT's New Original Works Festival. My thanks to Mark Swed for an insightful review of Sucktion in today's LA Times (with my name twice misspelled---evidently a result of all the firings of editors and others): Congratulations to Kristina Wong and to Rosanna Gamson for their excellent works on the program. Tonight's will be the final performance of the festival.

Photos: Nina Eidsheim as "Irona" in Sucktion; soNu backstage: Nina Eidsheim, Phil Curtis, and Gustavo Aguilar; during rehearal, Elizabeth Brooks, our costume designer, introduces the 50's-style girdle to Nina while Nataki Garrett, director, looks on.

SUCKTION opens in Los Angeles

2008-08-01T16:46:00.000-07:00

Last night we had a full house at REDCAT, with the first performance of Sucktion sharing the evening with Kristina Wong's hilarious Cat Lady and Rosanna Gamsons's wrenchingly beautiful Tov. soNu, the band for Sucktion, performed 40 minutes of music with difficult electronic changes and a demanding part for the vibes, with a scant five days of rehearsal. They are a phenomenal ensemble. Look for the review in the Saturday edition of the LA Times!

This note about the first performance of Sucktion is the last entry in the 'Vienna' blog, as I'm transitioning back from the composer's mecca to Los Angeles. A new, more long-term blog will take its place, same URL.

premiere of SUCKTION, a HyperOpera buffa

2008-07-31T09:39:00.000-07:00

Anne LeBaron and Douglas Kearney (American Gothic with vacuum);
Nina Eidsheim

Sucktion, my cyber-erotic 'vacuum cleaner' opera with a libretto by Douglas Kearney, and direction by Nataki Garrett, premieres tonight in Los Angeles at REDCAT with performers from the band soNu: Nina Eidsheim, soprano; Gustavo Aguilar, percussion, and Phil Curtis, laptop / electronics. It all began around ten years ago with an extreme sonic experiment: feeding nails and other objects into half a dozen homeless vacuum cleaners (rescued from the streets of Pittsburgh) during an exploratory recording session, with the soprano (and composer) Alice Shields pushing them around and screaming lines such as ‘Oreck, I knew him well.’ When the ensemble soNu approached me to write a work for their group in 2003, I decided to move ahead with the vacuum cleaner idea, and construct a ‘wordless’ experimental piece. I soon invited Douglas Kearney into this process. We invented an initial version of the work, which I scored in blazing colors, in the Microsoft Word program, Excel (a guided improvisation, allowing the players quite a lot of freedom). A recording session for this first effort ensued. Then, in 2007, Sucktion was one of 40 new works selected for a the Multi-Arts Production Fund (a program of Creative Capital supported by the Rockefeller Foundation), from over 650 submissions.

Sucktion follows a woman’s cyber-erotic transformation from abject housewife into a self-sufficient cyborg via the subversive use of a vacuum cleaner. With elements of satire and science fiction, Sucktion critiques sexism, particularly how socially reinforced female dependence on male economic dominance reduces women to domestics without agency: “clean machines.” Sucktion’s narrative arc progresses through six songs: Soap Aria, Sucktion Remix, Anniversorry, Cleaning House, Rabbitroobabot'rumba, and Cyborgasm.

When we first meet Irona (the housewife), she speaks in a patois of jingles, daytime TV and soft rock. Sucktion’s text enacts her metamorphosis into a cyborg via her adoption of an artificial language imagined as creolized English, German and onomatopoeic approximations of appliance sounds. Sucktion furthers investigations of the intersection of written text and aural performance by fusing a typographically performative libretto with experimental concert theater. The text, with its visual collisions of careening type, is at once lyrics, stage directions and environment, recreating daytime TV’s barrage of housekeeping advertisements, chat shows and melodramas in one song and Irona’s appliance-destroying rampage in another.

There are two additional performances on Friday and Saturday (Aug. 1 and 2).

Jakob Lenz, opera by Wolfgang Rihm

2008-07-18T09:21:00.000-07:00

The Closing Chapter, Part I: Jakob Lenz

In the past few weeks I’ve been fully immersed in completing SUCKTION, a ‘woman meets vacuum cleaner and they merge’ cyborg hyper-operetta, for the upcoming performances at REDCAT in Los Angeles (July 31, August 1 and 2). Consequently I wasn’t able to keep up with daily entries, but there are some remaining highlights of my stay in Vienna that I want to share...and this is one.

Of the four contemporary operas that were part of the Vienna Spring Festival, I found Wolfgang Rihm’s Jakob Lenz (performed on several evenings in May at Hall E in the Museum Quarter) to be the most immediately engaging...in part, I believe, because I had just finished reading Georg Büchner’s only ‘narrative text,’ Lenz (written in 1835), and therefore brought a deeper personal understanding to the production. Yet I’ve delayed writing about it until now, as I wanted to take my time and to absorb the after-effects of an extraordinary production that suffered from one near-fatal flaw.

Lenz, based on extant sources, is a biographical narrative chronicling nineteen days that Jakob Michael Reinhold Lenz (1751-1792) stayed with a pastor, Johann Friedrich Oberlin, in a pastoral mountain setting, hoping to overcome his schizophrenia. As a writer once admired and befriended by Goethe (who later rejected him), Lenz has been critically portrayed as being inhumanely treated by Goethe and his literary circle. During Lenz’s extended visit with the pastor Oberlin, his mental illness led to suicide attempts and to difficulties for Oberlin, resulting in Lenz’s expulsion from the village.

Rihm’s second chamber opera is more than a biographical study about Lenz. He foregrounds the societal abuse inflicted upon those who suffer from schizophrenia, and explores the extreme fluctuations between light and darkness. In the opera, Lenz was brilliantly and fearlessly brought to life by Georg Nigl, who performed in and out of water with such abandon that I feared for his health---as did critics who wrote about this production. (In Büchner’s text, Lenz often immerses himself in a fountain in the village; in the opera, Lenz would hurl himself up the side, over and down into a dumpster / tub of water, sometimes joined by other cast members/villagers.)

The flaw: there were two lengthy spoken sections, accompanied by electric guitar and a kind of bluesy folk song, that were ‘disapproved’ by Rihm in an insert in the program. In fact, these interludes dissapated the compact, focused energy from the opera, making it seem top-heavy in these lengthy interludes. The style of this music was foreign to Rihm’s highly individual writing, itself fresh and playful after thirty years. (The opera was written in 1978.) Although I wasn’t privy to the backstage developments, this usurping of the composer’s intentions by the director seems to be an unfortunate trend. Otherwise, the direction, by Frank Castorf, was terrific, and the Klangforum Wien performed with commitment and stellar artistry under the dynamic, sensitive conductor, Stefan Asbury.

Wolfgang Rihm remarks, in the program notes, that “Chamber opera is not a ‘little opera.’ It is much more, similar to the relationship between chamber music and the symphony...” He goes on to say that complexity, in a chamber context (in this case, comparing chamber opera to grand opera), can be more sharply focused and thus capable of a more intensive ‘provocation.’ Clearly he has mastered the chamber opera form, and like seeing the rare film that does justice to a novel, my memories of Büchner’s quasi-novella will forever be enhanced by this production of Rihm’s opera.

Try Breadcrumbs Next Time

2008-07-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

After an emotional parting with Yvonne's friends Stefan and Julia (that's Yvonne with Stefan, at Schönbrunn) at the Vienna Airport, 4 AM on July 16, we made our way through security, where my Blackberry crawled out of my bag and was left behind. (After frantic phone calls from LA yesterday, it was found---big exhale---and will be sent back by courier.) We flew to Frankfurt with three hours to kill before the flight to L.A. Brilliant, we’ll take the Sky Train from our departure area (A) to the adjacent section (B) where I can turn in my V.A.T. receipts and win back some of our hard-spent Euros. We were so sleep deprived that I thought nothing of leaving Yvonne, with our carry-on luggage, in the corridor where there were chairs for her to rest in. Sailing through passport control, I went in search of the Global Refund counter, officially stamped receipts in hand. The line for the one person manning the counter was too long and bogged down to chance a missed flight, so I gave up after 10 minutes. But finding my way to that little corridor where Yvonne was patiently waiting proved to be a far greater challenge than originally assumed.

After an hour of retracing my steps, I began to feel like Alice in the rabbit hole. Every single official I asked to help me was of no use, they all gave conflicting directions. Finally in a panic I begged the three people at one of the information desks to send someone to accompany me to find Yvonne. So a very nice man with a cheerful disposition (a rare find) joined me on additional retrograde journeys. We descended deeper into the rabbit hole...I went through security and passport controls multiple times in a fruitless search along corridors of all shapes and sizes. Yvonne’s passport and ticket were in my possession, so she couldn’t go anywhere, but I knew she must also be worried at this point. Our Austrian phones were both dead...oh yes, and the Blackberry was still in Vienna. We repeatedly paged her but she couldn’t hear us in the corridor. One of the ‘helpful’ information ladies, a Brit, asked me what Yvonne’s age was. (She’s 16.) “Well, she’s old enough to hear the announcements and respond!” (As it turned out the announcements couldn’t be heard in the corridors.) After repeatedly and persistently describing exactly where I left Yvonne, we found the spot, two hours after beginning my search. By then our flight had departed. We were rebooked on a later flight, but our luggage has been shuttling between San Francisco and Seattle, due to the re-routing of the two humans (originally routed through Seattle, but had to fly through SF). Breadcrumbs are always good to have along in the emergency kit, as those fairy-tale inventors knew all along.

Now that we’re home among the palm trees and oleander, with fresh tomatoes and basil right outside and the pool beckoning, I will attempt a different sort of blog---one that continues in the larger cultural vein, but with more focus on my projects and how they are developing. First, however, a few loose ends to wrap up from the four glorious months in Vienna, to be posted later today.

Three Generations

2008-07-09T16:05:00.000-07:00

Jiseon Yun, my student, joined composer Nancy Van de Vate (an American but also an Austrian citizen), my husband, and myself, for lunch at a Chinese restaurant near Nancy's apartment today. Nancy had kindly loaned me her synthesizer and we were returning it. Here we are, three composers spanning three generations, entertaining one another with stories, having a fine time!

Thanks to a call from my daughter to alert me about a musical event that I would ‘love,’ we made our way later in the afternoon to the Museum Quarter. Yvonne was right, the rehearsal for the opening concert of the 25th Vienna International Dance Festival, taking place tomorrow night, was riveting. Forty Indian musicians, representing three generations (the Manganiyars, of the musicians caste in Rajasthan), sit in individually lit cubicles stacked high above, and backed by a huge red curtain. The intention of the visual setting (recalling Amsterdam’s red light district), in combination with the passionate vocal music enhanced by bowed instruments, drums, and wind instruments all native to this region of India, is to seduce the soul. The Sufi poems, praising Allah, also relate the birth of Krishna. This music held me like a magnet, right at the lip of the stage. Seated above everyone and in the center of the construction (like an enlarged and lit 'Hollywood Squares' set), the animated children were obviously having a fantastic experience, especially when they sang. Vocal and instrumental solos or ensemble configurations were interspersed with sections of the entire orchestra playing. The mouth-harp performer and the circular-breathing wind player were remarkable. I would see the performance tomorrow night but will be in Graz, meeting the Koktem choir from Kazakhstan, as they participate in the World Choir Olympics. More information can be seen here.

Bohemia---Alive, Well, and Resonating

2008-07-05T04:16:00.000-07:00

Trstenice, a small village in the heart of the Czech Republic was the idyllic setting for a yearly gathering of young composers and percussionists, a week-long course known as the Symposium Trstenice 2008. I was invited there by one of the organizers, the composer Ivo Medek, to lecture on the extended techniques I’ve developed for the harp and to perform. My composition student Jiseon Yun came from Seoul, joining the young composers for an intense week of lectures in the morning by seven faculty---composers (Ivo Medek, Martin Smolka, Uros Rojko, Jeff Beer), percussionists (László Hudacsek, Tomáš Ondrůšek, Jeff Beer) and the odd composer/harpist (me). Another gifted composer, Markéta Dvoráková, was present and helpful with many things. Lectures were followed by private lessons in the afternoon, an evening concert, and a late-night round-table discussion centering on specific topics. Training sessions were also held during the day---meaning exercise, ranging from helping Tomas, the owner of the houses, chop up fallen trees on his estate, to yoga, to tai chi-inspired stretching. Hearty meals of authentic, rustic Czech cuisine (the cherry dumplings were simply the best ever, topped with sour cream and cinammon sugar) took place around a long thick wooden table in the upper house, and concerts were performed in a barn on the grounds of the lower house. Jiseon took the two photos of my talk and my concert posted here. I strongly recommend this course to any young composer or percussionist...a high level of instruction in a relaxed atmosphere with many unique possibilities for developing work. Tonight is the final concert of the week, which I will miss but send congratulations to all the students for their performances this evening!

Romeo and Juliet at the Steiner Schule in Mauer

2008-06-25T12:36:00.000-07:00

An ambitious undertaking...scenes from Romeo and Juliet (Stefan with Luise, then Julia with Dominik---the latter a real-life couple as well), followed by scenes from Hamlet, performed by 11th grade students where Yvonne attends school. The kicker: a complex madrigal sung by the entire class with gusto as the farewell event. School’s out in two days for Yvonne and her class...meaning that our return to Los Angeles looms ever closer! Today was a long slog of working on Sucktion in the humid heat (3rd floor, only fans for cool wind), relieved by a late afternoon foray into the nearby Café Konditorei KuK Hofzuckerbäcker L. Heiner. This full service, extravagant yet friendly café delivered a refreshing cappuccino and a sweetly pungent Fruchtorte festooned with Johannesbeeren. Tomorrow I’m treating Yvonne, as a reward for getting through chemistry and math in German, to a recital of Italian arias sung by Cecilia Bartoli at the Musikverein...another method of relieving the heat of the later afternoon.

Relocation to Vienna Suburbs

2008-06-24T02:53:00.000-07:00

During the past two weeks, I’ve been relocating from a beautiful grand old apartment in the center of Vienna to another just over the city border, in the village of Perchtoldsdorf. In a wine-growing region abutting the Vienna Woods, Perchtoldsdorf turns out to be a sublime location to be placed under semi-imposed house arrest. I’m right up against the finish line to complete my one-woman opera, Sucktion, for the group soNu, with performances scheduled this summer in Los Angeles as part of the New Original Works festival (REDCAT, July 31, Aug. 1 and 2).

However, there are occasional forays out of the apartment that I can’t resist, such as hearing the inimitable Steve Beresford, who I’ve known for nearly 30 years but only see once a decade or so, perform at the Viennese club Porgy and Bess with two terrific Austrian players (Nicholas Bussmann: synthcomputer; Dieb 13: turntables). Chock full of electronic wonders, mix of high and low tech, and toy instruments, Steve’s dynamic, charged sessions at the piano injected the contrast of a live acoustic instrument into the evolving electronic soundscape. We caught up after the concert (Steve remembers me, after all these years, as the composer of Concerto for Active Frogs) and discovered that we both have an intense interest in psychogeography. London, where Steve lives, remains central for all things related to this amorphous but intriguing field. I’m incorporating psychogeography into my HyperOpera course this fall at CalArts. It’s an especially relevant topic for me, with the exposure to the two contrasting geographical locations I’ve lived in during my going-on-four months in Austria, and how they’ve affected me physically and psychically.

The photo taken at Schloss Belvedere, a mere five minute walk from the previous apartment and a place that I would return to every few days for the sheer beauty of its gardens, was taken from Oberes Belvedere. (There are two palaces...upper and lower.) Next to it, one of the first photos after the move, taken during a walk in Perchtoldsdorf. I was drawn to this sign in front of a dilapidated house (unusual to see in a resort village), with its color-coded announcement of two of the ubiquitous spring offerings in this part of the world---strawberries, and asparagus. The Viennese, like the Germans, are expert at growing and preparing ‘spargel’ - wild, green, and white – and offer it as a main course during the peak season. It must be the only vegetable that is purposely grown underground to prevent photosynthesis, resulting in a nutty, mild flavor in the white variety. I have to admit that the asparagus I've cooked or had in restaurants here is lush and almost meaty, compared to our American spears. Maybe we should give the Royal Vegetable more attention and respect, taking a cue from the playful and striking wood sculptures of the artist (and a dear friend), Craig Nutt. (Actually, there's a connection between Craig Nutt and Steve Beresford. They may have never met, but Craig was the major moving force behind the 1976 recording of the Raudeluna Pataphysical Revue, which included, along with covers of tunes like Volare, and our noise-driven Captains of Industry, the first recording of Concerto for Active Frogs.)

Meeting Arvo Pärt

2008-06-12T17:22:00.000-07:00

The shimmering gold leaf and lush chandelier-lit Great Hall of the Musikverein was the setting for the world premiere of Arvo Pärt’s Stabat Mater for string orchestra and mixed choir (soprano, alto, tenor), written for the Tonkünstler-Orchester Niederösterreich, performing this evening with the Wiener Singverein. Modeled on a work from 1985 of the same title, for three voices and string trio, this version of Stabat Mater clearly reflects Pärt’s signature ‘tintinnabulation’ technique, with canonic procedures and related structural elements common to music of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. The Latin text, 20 groups of three stanzas (the number three---also evident in the choice of choir voices, omitting the bass---symbolizing the Holy Trinity), has been set by well over a dozen composers. Translated as ‘the mother is standing’, it is a meditation on Mary’s suffering during the crucifixion of her son Jesus Christ.

The composer, Arvo Pärt, was present for this first performance, and received an ecstatic response from the audience. During intermission, I could see from my seat high in the right balcony where he had been cornered---mobbed?---and made my way down to greet him. What a thrill, to meet this man whose music I’ve admired for so many years. He graciously autographed my program, seeming much younger in person than his photos convey. The elegant conductor, Kristjan Järvi, who also leads the Absolute Ensemble in New York, started the program with a sensual rendition of the third and fourth movements from Messiaen’s L’Ascension. Järvi spun ethereal, otherworldly and sensual textures from the orchestra that set the mood for Pärt’s Stabat Mater, which followed.

The second half of the concert, devoted to Prokofiev’s Suite from Romeo and Juliet, showcased the conductor’s affinity for rock, and rock it did. Järvi emphasized the weight and heft implicit in this ballet, investing it with a primitivism that sometimes brought Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring to mind.

Phaedra

2008-06-08T09:44:00.000-07:00

“Henze has forged a dazzling chamber music,” reports Der Standard, in a highly favorable review of the Vienna premiere of Hans Werner Henze's opera Phaedra, which I attended last Sunday evening. (The first performance was less than a year ago in Berlin, at the Staatsoper Unter den Linden.) Devouring most of the seats on the floor of the Theater an der Wien, the 20-piece orchestra (Ensemble Modern), supplanted and surrealistically stretched by occasional electronic intrusions, handled the elegant string writing, the delicate sonorities for piano, celesta, percussion, and harp, and the more stridently written brass with finesse and an extremely wide dynamic palate. The singers, despite the sudden replacement of the singer for Phaedra---Magdalena Anna Hofmann---were all enormously bewitching, especially the phenomenal countertenor and baritone Axel Köhler, who sang the part of Artemis.

Olafur Eliasson, the set designer, stole the show. His catwalk connecting the orchestra to the stage (bringing to mind fashion shows or even beauty pageants) allowed the singers to fan out from the orchestra, and to return to it as a kind of home base. Light was a major component, beginning with the steel ring that reflected beams of light around the space, twirling above, in the middle of the auditorium; expanding to three projections of the ring on the curtain, and then, when the curtain is removed, light is reflected and refracted by not one, but two full length and full width mirrors. Quite difficult to convey in words, but mesmerizing. The audience is reflected back onto itself, but not in the brash ‘in your face’ way of Richard Forman’s plexiglass (I’m thinking of “What to Wear”). Instead, the mirrored images are soft and diffuse, and serve to further break down the barriers between actors/singers and audience. (The image in the photo is taken of the mirror on stage, reflecting everything back to the audience, or in this case, the camera.) Had I attended the previous performance, this was a production to return to the next night, with its diverse layers and gripping Greek myth, retold by Henze and his librettist, Christian Lehnert.

There are two reviews in English with further details and contrasting opinions, including photos, of the Berlin premiere: culturekiosque, and musicweb.

Into the Little Hill

2008-06-05T14:38:00.000-07:00

The one-hour opera that I saw tonight at the Jugendstiltheater, George Benjamin’s Into the Little Hill, was the fourth contemporary opera programmed as part of the Wiener Festwochen. The others were Michaels Reise, by Karlheinz Stockhausen (see earlier post); Jakob Lenz, by Wolfgang Rihm; and Phaedra, by Hans Werner Henze (posts to come for these two).

There are striking parallels among all of these relatively new operas. In each, the audience was subjected to bright light, either blinding, as in Jakob Lenz (where the subtitles couldn’t be read because of the wattage pouring right into the eyes), or intermittent (the circular steel ring floating above the orchestra, in Phaedra, shooting reflected rays of light around the space); or, in the case of the opera seen tonight, two vertical rectangles providing light and design (see photo). Michaels Reise was less aggressive in this respect, yet one major component of the set design was a large circular screen that both emitted visual phenomena, and functioned as a ‘receiver’ (a typical passive flat surface for projection) as well. Another commonality: the orchestras were fully visible in each of these four operas, and sometimes integrated into the stage action. This was most radical in Michaels Reise, with the protagonist (Micheal, the trumpet player) being hurled around in the air in a contraption that seemed like some insane fairground ride, and then landing next to musicians (who were on risers, stage right and left) with whom he performed duets. The orchestra in Jakob Lenz occupied nearly half the stage, and was set apart from the chaos (this was no minimalist production) by an overhanging rectangular umbrella that also served as a receptive screen for live video. The musicians, although occupying the same space as the singers, were clearly separate. Also true of Phaedra, but in this arrangement, the orchestra was situated smack in the middle of the hall, where normally the audience would sit (from about row 10 to the last row). Again, no interaction with the singers, but visually stunning, with the bridge leading from the orchestra past the audience seated on the ground floor (many of us were above, in balconies) to the stage.

The orchestra for Into the Little Hill was planted into piles of sawdust covering the stage, and was as much a part of the staging as the singers were, although the musicians of the Ensemble Modern performed ‘normally’, not engaging in any stage action. The Ensemble Modern, however, has a long history of blurring the boundaries between music and theater, especially in the works of Heiner Goebbels. Into the Little Hill, a lyrical tale, is an updated version of the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Simplistic and clear, the minimalist set, with platforms for the two singers emerging from the two vertical light boxes, not only complemented the sparse libretto, but was a foil for the intricately scored music---always in motion, often delicate but harsh when necessary. Soprano Anu Komsi (on the right in photo) approached her extreme high notes fearlessly and the sound, without vibrato, seemed like an audible manifestation of the blindingly bright light boxes. My eyes are still burning from that light! She was spectacular. The contralto, Hilary Summers, sang the roles of the Minister and the Mother with great command and presence. The 12-piece orchestra, which included banjo and mandolin (played by the string players), was conducted with assurance and flair by Franck Ollu. Directed by Daniel Jeanneteau, and libretto written by Martin Crimp.

Errand Boy for Rhythm

2008-06-02T13:58:00.001-07:00

Saturday night, at the m.o.-x.x. jazz club in Graz, I joined Christine, her children Julia and Maxie, and a host of relatives and friends to hear a trio perform in homage to Nat King Cole. The trio was led by Simon Fanta, a young singer, pianist, and composer of exciting promise (a kind of Austrian Harry Connick Jr.!). Simon is the son of Christine’s childhood friend, Maria Fanta, an architect in Graz. The trio filled out two sets of American standards with virtuosic solos, Thorsten Zimmermann playing a rock-solid bass, and Samuele Vivian zinging thousands of notes out of his electric guitar. Many of the songs were well-known standards (All of Me; Autumn Leaves; Fly Me to the Moon). My favorite: I’m An Errand Boy for Rhythm, by none other than the honoree, Mr. Cole. “If you want to swing and shout, get your kicks and get about, I’m an errand boy for rhythm--send me!”

Birthday in Vienna

2008-05-30T14:17:00.000-07:00

A birthday to remember, celebrated in Vienna! Beginning with being awoken by Christine, Yvonne's host mother, white and orange roses, a tiny little cake, and a lovely morning rendition of Happy Birthday sung by Christine herself. Then, off to solve the problem of where I sleep, as the apartment where I'm staying is in an old building and has disturbing presences at night. But it's great to work there during the day, light and roomy and quiet, full of the most amazing works of art.

The highlight of today was hearing the choir at the Russian Orthodox Church, part of the 'Lange Nacht der Kirchen.' Over 550 churches throughout Austria remain open, many until the following morning, with musical programs, discussions, some celebrate Mass, others rock into the next day with djs. Tomorrow I will travel to Graz with Christine, to visit some friends...shaping up to be a perfect spring weekend in Austria.

Alert---Turtle in the Flakturm!

2008-05-28T18:01:00.000-07:00

An innocent excursion to purchase an adapter at the local store for all things Mac yesterday morning led to several unanticipated discoveries: flakturms, turtles, snakes, amphibians, birds, marmots; then ground-zero for chess; then a gratis massage (just what one needs after contemplating a book touting the merits of the Caro-Kann). My desire to escape the heat, after visiting the Mac store, compelled me to climb aboard the first bus I spotted going in the general direction of the city center. As it trundled down the cobblestone streets, I spotted the great dinosaur-like outlines (actually from some perspectives it looked like a flattened Mickey Mouse head), looming ahead. Jumping off the bus, I headed for:

The ‘Haus der Meers,’ a zoo for aquatic, avian, and reptilian critters housed in a former flakturm, beckoned with its soaring greenhouse façade climbing up one side of this monstrosity, and an actual climbing wall for climbers on the other. A number of former ‘bunkers’ were built from 1942-1944 throughout Austria and Germany (a total of 16 flakturms were built in Vienna, Berlin, and Hamburg). Their history is documented on 22 wall charts occupying three floors. What should be done with them has been a controversial topic and concern for decades. The Haus der Meers must be exemplary in its transformation of one of these mega-structures. The pièce de résistance was the top floor, flung open to the sky and offering a splendid panoramic view of all Vienna.

The rest of the afternoon was spent investigating the treasures of the chess shop on the next block, and indulging in a massage (gratis!) performed with heated jade roller machines from Korea.

Fake Beaches, Brahms in Austria, Penderecki

2008-05-25T17:16:00.000-07:00

Last week I saw Jacob Lenz, an opera by Wolfgang Rihm. This photo of the cast was taken at curtain call. I’m still processing the opera and the book (Lenz, by Georg Büchner), a short but intense read.

After working inside today, I forfeited my last chance to see Lohengrin, opting instead for a long early evening walk by the Danube Canal accompanied by a luscious pastel sunset. Vienna must offer more benches, chairs, lounges, stairs, and fountains---wide expanses of grass, too---to sit on or near than any other city. The river was lined on both sides with informal and inviting pubs, clubs, many nestled into fake beaches, with lounging chairs sinking into the sand, and music often provided by a dj. One pub/club/hangout, a kind of immense houseboat, sported a pool overlooking the river.

Yesterday, part of the afternoon was happily spent hearing the Vienna Philharmonic perform Krzysztof Penderecki’s Adagio – Fourth Symphony for Large Orchestra, followed by Symphony No. 2 in D Major by Johannes Brahms. Penderecki’s symphony began in such a mild-mannered, gently lyrical way that I had to check the program to be sure that I was at the right concert. It evolved quickly, however, into the dissonant, clustered string sonorities indicative of his many of his other works. He requested that three additional trumpets be placed in the hall. In the Musikverein, the players stood in the balcony above and behind the orchestra, dramatically enhancing the antiphonal passages with the seated trumpets below. Lorin Maazel conducted the Paris premiere in 1989 with the National Orchestra of France, and was the conductor in this concert as well. The luminous strings in the Brahms were transcendent, even when they were only playing pizzicato. He wrote the symphony quickly, in one summer, while living in Pörtschach am Wörthersee, a town in southern Austria. Also known as the ‘Nature Symphony’ of Brahms, he invoked the beauty of the region, “the bright blue sky, trickling springs, sunshine and cool, green shade”---a comment attributed to Theodor Billroth, surgeon and friend of the composer, after playing through a piano reduction for four hands with Brahms.

Christine's Classy Celebration

2008-05-23T17:51:00.000-07:00

Gathering friends going back to her childhood, up to the most recent addition (that would be me), my dear friend Christine Schranz (second from left, surrounded by three of her long-time pals) celebrated her birthday tonight with a dinner at the Palmenhaus. Our daughters are in Croatia on a school trip, and that meant a late and laughter-filled evening, topics ranging from hauntings to bikini waxes to the film, 'Caramel.' And that's not all...but on to a brief description of the beautiful Jugenstil greenhouse. Overlooking the Burggarten, the greenhouse was built in 1901 by architect Friedrich Ohman, replacing the earlier one that dated back to 1822. The restaurant is incorporated into the building, with 15-metre high ceilings, conservatory style, festooned with a variety of dramatic plants. At one end of the building is a tropical butterfly house with a film in one room depicting butterflies ghoulishly siphoning their 'nectar' from the bodies of dead birds...and venturing into beehives, thirsting for honey, only to be swiftly dispatched to butterfly heaven by swarms of vigilant bees. Graphic closeups of a praying mantis feasting on one of the Schmetterlingen were sufficiently disturbing to give anyone nightmares. A butterfly documentary...gruesome, macabre, yet fascinating. Only in Vienna.

The Universe, Delivering

2008-05-22T16:31:00.001-07:00

Warning bells rang, doors finally closed. Thwarted again outside the Musikverein, in my last-minute scheme to find a person with an extra ticket for sale to the evening of German lieder sung by mezzo soprano Anne Sophie von Otter in Brahms Hall. Time for an adventure! I spied a few tents across the street, set up in front of the trees leading up to St. Peter's Church. (Brahms himself---his enormous Denkmal, otherwise known as a statue---was facing away from the street festivities, and toward the Musikverein.) Obviously a festival of some sort, with a couple of guys singing and prancing on a small stage (above, right). Why not join them? Walking over, I soon landed in the arms of Su (above left), a Thai masseuse who lavished fifteen minutes of intense Thai massage on my back and shoulders with heated herbal packs. Utter bliss...after missing Erin, my incredible LA masseuse, a little more each day for these past two months. The festival was everything Thai---delicious food (fish balls on a stick, a great street food treat), cheap jewelry, incense, a few dozen smiling people, and massage! After the last fish ball disappeared, I saw that intermission was underway over at the Musikverein, and managed to take in the latter half of von Otter's concert in a pleasantly altered state. All in all, a lovely way to spend a couple of hours on a Thursday evening, just a five-minute walk away from my apartment.

Shakespeare; Gesprächskonzert; Klavierabend

2008-05-21T02:52:00.001-07:00

From left to right: Wolfram Wagner, Martha Schwediauer, Paul Hertel, Thomas Hlawatsch, Ferdinand Weiss, and Nancy Van de Vate (some of the composers performed by pianist Thomas Hlawatsch; see my comments below, last paragraph)

Widely considered to be the greatest medieval romance, the story of Chaucer’s 14th century poem, Troilus and Criseyde, eventually found a new home in another medium---a play by Shakespeare. On Saturday night I took in a performance in German, at the Theater an der Wien. The stylish production, with seemingly extraneous material mixed in with Shakespeare’s script, veered from kitsch and camp to passion and tragedy. Imagine the Wooster Group collaborating with Pina Bausch. The dozens of enamel washbasins strewn across the stage were kicked, thrown, worn as hats, used as potties, held water and fake blood. The basins also formed pathways for the actors to run, slide, stomp, and generally propel their way around the stage. The ‘boos’ from the conservative contingent of the Viennese theater-going public, at the close of the production, were instantly drowned out by shouts of ‘Bravo’ from all quarters, for the stunning athletic performances of the actors and the brilliant direction. Several times during the performance, I found myself expecting song to emerge from the mouths of the actors, not speech. In fact, live music was woven throughout the play, a singer with an acoustic guitar, scatting scruffy German in a bizarre blues style that was perfect for this production. (Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde was the subject of Criseyde, an opera by Alice Shields, composer, and Nancy Dean, librettist. Recently performed twice in New York, it was one of the works featured on the New York City Opera VOX series, and takes a feminist approach to Criseyde. Chaucer’s treatment of Criseyde was far more favorable than either Shakespeare’s or William Walton, composer of the only other opera based on the story.)

My attempt to score a ticket to the Sunday morning concert given by the Vienna Philharmonic was ultimately unsuccessful (I turned down two that were available, too costly; they were quickly snatched up by others) but it led to something that was, for me, just as rewarding if not moreso. As I stood on the steps of the Musikverein, heart sinking lower and lower as the throngs poured through the doors and not even a standing room ticket to be had, I got lucky. Someone rushed outside, moments before the VP concert began, to sell her steeply discounted ticket (she had double-booked) to Stefan Mickisch’s final performance of the cycle “Alles Wagner!”, at the Wiener Konzerthaus several blocks away. Evidently, she preferred Mozart and Barenboim. So off I went to experience my first Gesprächskonzert, featuring Tannhäuser.

To begin to grasp the concept of this genre, think of Victor Borges minus the slapstick, but keep the lightness and witty asides, and add ferocious piano skills coupled with a penetrating intellect, fearlessly shared with the audience. In fact, Mickisch ventured into technical territory, with descriptions for Neapolitan sixth chords and the like, without losing a single audience member from the packed house. While performing excerpts from Tannhäuser, he effortlessly evoked dozens of musical influences and outright borrowings, from Bach and Mozart, to Chopin and Rachmaninoff, and many others. Themes and leitmotifs shared with other Wagner operas, such as Parsifal, were also depicted with utter clarity and, at times, hilarity. Mickisch gives numerous concerts such as this throughout Europe, and is in residence at the Richard Wagner Festival in Bayreuth every summer. If you're curious, order one (or more) of a wide selection of his recordings (but you'll likely need to understand German for the recordings with his commentary).

Last night, a few blocks from where I live, the Austrian Society for Contemporary Music (Österreichische Gesellschaft für Zeitgenössische Musik, otherwise known as ÖGZM) presented an evening of piano music (Klavierabend---a lovely compound word), in cooperation with CCW (CreativesCentrumWien) and INÖK (Interessengemeinschaft Niederösterreichischer Komponisten, or Community of Lower Austrian Composers). Thomas Hlawatsch, the pianist and also one of the composers, played a demanding program with passion and finesse. He might be described as a ‘composer’s performer’ (as in a ‘writer’s writer). His meticulous interpretations extended beyond contemporary composers, as he ended the program with Franz Schubert’s Sonata in A Major. The program featured composers who lived, or have lived, in Austria, and included works by two American women---Von weit, and Mein blaues Klavier, by Martha Schwediauer, and three pieces from the inventive and resourceful Twelve Pieces for Piano on One to Twelve Notes, by Nancy Van de Vate. The setting was an intimate, art-filled space in the ‘House of Composers’ on Ungargasse, near the university. The engaging moderator, Mag. Prof. Werner Hackl (president of the ÖGZM), drew the composers into brief discussions of their works, adding his own witty commentary.

Korngold's Masterpiece / Singing Vacuum Cleaner

2008-05-18T16:08:00.000-07:00

Hans Tschiritsch, with his Zwitscheridu (hybrid cello / dijeridu; two more of his instruments are in the background), and Robert Rønnes, bassoon, performing part of a new work by Werner Schulze

In the course of one weekend: an opera, a sneak preview of a new work based on overtones, a play, and a 'Gesprächskonzert.' I’ll write about the latter two tomorrow, but to begin with, a few words about the Erich Wolfgang Korngold and his greatest work, Die tote Stadt, produced at the Wiener Staatsoper. Korngold was a ‘wunderkind’---Mahler pronounced him a genius, and the critic Eduard Hanslick, ‘a little Mozart.’ He impressed Puccini and Richard Strauss as well. His father, the leading music critic Julius Korngold, stepped in to complete the opera’s libretto after the first librettist jumped ship. (Even Korngold suffered through librettist horrors.) Composed when he was only 23, Die tote Stadt tells the story of a Paul’s intense grief for the young Marie, his dead wife; his attraction to Marietta, a woman who resembles her; and his nightmare, where he is driven to strangle Marietta after she ceaselessly mocks the dead Marie. The origin of the story, Bruges la Morte, by Georges Rodenbach, was a popular novel around the turn of the century. In the novel, the male character eventually murders his lover. Yet in the opera, the murder occurs only during the nightmare, leading to the main character’s liberation from his obsession. (A rarity in opera, to allow the woman to stay alive---although this opera nevertheless orbits around Marie, the dead wife.) This superlative production, my favorite of anything I’ve seen thus far, was conducted by Philippe Auguin, and directed by Willy Decker. Klaus Florian Vogt sang the part of Paul, the main character, and a nimble Angela Denoke, the parts of Marietta / Marie.

The endlessly inventive orchestration balanced the composer's somewhat sentimental style. Heard with astonishing clarity from where I was perched in a box seat the players, Korngold's score would be worth studying for orchestration techniques alone. He often infuses lyrical passages with unannounced clouds of dissonance to convey a sense of foreboding. One of the most obvious places he deploys this technique is toward the end of the well-known “Marietta’s Song.” Korngold must have inspired legions of Hollywood film composers. For instance, one section in the opera, a kind of signature sound for westerns (low open fourths and fifths, punctuated by brass), was completely familiar to me even though I hadn't previously heard this opera. Indeed, Korngold himself ended up in Hollywood, at first temporarily residing there in order to score a film. He then stayed, due to the danger of returning to Austria. Of the several films he scored, two of the most well-known are A Midsummer Night’s Dream (for which he arranged Mendelssohn’s incidental music), and The Adventures of Robin Hood (earning him an Oscar, and also credited with saving his life).

Yesterday afternoon I attended a seminar at the Universität für Musik und darstellende Kunst (University for Music and Performing Arts), thoughtfully pointed out by my friend Nancy Van de Vate, an American composer based in Vienna. The subject of the seminar, new methods of overtone composition, was demonstrated largely by a partial performance of Concerto Roberto (to be premiered in Oslo later this year) written by Werner Schulze for the incredible bassoonist / composer Roberto Rønnes and scored for invented instruments, bassoon, overtone singers, and piano. Prof. Schulze gave a dynamic presentation about the work, his influences and methods, to visiting students who were participating in the International Meeting of Music Therapy Studies. The rich overtone singing of the Austrian musician and inventor, Hans Tschiritch, was surely an inspiration to these students. Hopefully they were inspired to seek out opportunities for exploring overtone singing in greater depth, to use in their healing practices. Do have a look at the site for Tschiritch. It includes photos of his strikingly original chess sets and, more relevant to this post, links to several of his instrument inventions and their sounds. Of particular interest to me, as I'm working on a short opera starring a vacuum cleaner, is the Singenden Sauger (singing vacuum cleaner).

Austrian Premiere of Michaels Reise

2008-05-16T16:40:00.000-07:00

Michaels Reise, the second act of Donnerstag, itself one of seven operas forming the grand cycle Licht by the late Karlheinz Stockhausen, was performed last night at the Jugendstil Theater (about an hour’s bus ride out of the central part of Vienna). With the virtuoso playing, moving, and acting presence of Marco Blaauw (trumpet), in the part of Michael, and Nicola Jürgensen (basset horn), in the part of Eva, this evening of opera needed no singers. In fact, it’s billed as ‘an opera without singers.’ musikFabrik, the adventurous collective based in Köln, was conducted efficiently and smartly by Peter Rundel.

The opera began with a brass band of trumpets, trombones, horns, and tuba playing a kind of overture. Yet the music wasn’t anything like a brass band or an overture. The harmonies and textures were were transporting, evocative of other worlds. This beginning was, musically, one of the strongest parts of the opera, and one of the most memorable.

Then the athletics and mechanical virtuosity took hold. The trumpet player, strapped, standing, into a contraption that allowed him to zoom through the space, at least 12 feet in the air, to swoop down and back up, to be turned upside down and around, all the while performing and inserting different mutes into his instrument, was simply phenomenal. The video, projected on what sometimes appeared to be a three-dimensional large round globe, and also on the scrim, served to clarify some of the ‘stations’ of Michael’s physical and metaphysical travels. It was an artistic work in its own right, with elegant patterns that dissolved and transformed into other patterns, and that explored the gray areas between representational and non-representational depictions.

Yet with all of these wondrous and quite stunning visual events, I found the opera (or, rather, this one act) lacking in a dimension that I’m finding difficult to articulate. Perhaps it was a culmination of small disappointments---the forced nature of the improvisations; the long double trill at the close of the work (signifying the union of Eva and Michael) that lumbered when it could have been a delicate and deliciously strung out gesture; or the absolute refusal of the audience to laugh at any of the lighter places with the two clarinet players mocking and carrying on. At any rate, the evening was definitely worth the investment of time. This was the first of four relatively new operas that are being produced as part of the Wiener Festspielwoche. Next on my agenda: Wolfgang Rihm’s Jacob Lenz, early next week.

Praha, Threshold to . . .

2008-05-15T03:36:00.000-07:00

Around this time of the year, countless cultural festivals are launched throughout Europe. In Dresden, my work Way of Light was programmed on the first full day of the Dresdner Musikfestspiele. The first day (and last) full day we were in Prague was the beginning of the Prague Spring, the 63rd International Music Festival. Tonight I will see Stockhausen’s Michaels Reise, the first of four contemporary operas and one of dozens of productions of theater, music, and film scheduled during the Wiener Festwochen, which was kicked off on May 9.

But now back to Prague, ah, too short a visit! Instead of being frustrated by not having sufficient time to take in the castle or cathedrals, I decided to lose myself on the tram and walking about, stopping into bookshops and perusing Czech literature, making lists of what I’d like to eventually read, and not being able to resist buying four: May, a poem by Karel Hynek Mácha; Too Loud a Solitude by Bohumil Hraba (also his much more widely known and critically acclaimed novel, I Served the King of England); and Severin’s Journey Into the Dark, by Paul Leppin. Twisted Spoon Press has been active in printing a number of recent translations of Czech writers into English, or of German writers such as Paul Leppin, who spent time in the Czech Republic, and whose book is billed as a ‘Prague ghost story.’ As a lover of ghost stories (there’s even a tour of haunted Prague at night, another reason to return), leaving Prague with this one was a must.

Having visited Prague twice before, I wanted to avoid crowds and look at the city from different vistas, such as the Prague Metronome (broken, alas), high above the city. The first photograph is taken from the garden restaurant of Fish, near the Franz Kafka Museum, overlooking the Vltava River in the direction of Charles Bridge. Swans glided past, along with all manner of boats. Above, a balloon with a chair attached, holding a brave person swayed in the wind (to me this is the experience of nightmares). A few hours later, I met with a composer friend, Zbynek Mateju, prolific and gifted composer specializing in works for film, television, and ballet. As I write this I’m listening to his work for ballet, Ibbur, or A Prague Mystery. Its dynamic, rich textures, often shrouded in evocative, haunting harmonies, are enhanced by the use of musical saw and Tibetan bowls. Zbynek and I are discussing a collaboration---the first time I will do this as a composer, although I collaborate all the time with improvisational projects!

In his cd notes, Zbynek includes a quote from D.Z. Bor that I’d like to share with you, as it captures, as much as two sentences can, the essence of this magnificent city. “I do not know any other city like Prague which attracts the people living in it in such a remarkably magical way, spiritually weathers them and offers them so many places of its troubled past to visit. It looks as if the dead are calling us living to a place where they spent their earthly existence at some time, so that they can whisper that Prague does not bear its name “práh” (threshold) for nothing---that in reality it is the threshold between this and the next world, a threshold which is much narrower than anywhere else.”

She's 16!

2008-05-14T03:40:00.000-07:00

Yvonne celebrated her 16th birthday today, first with a few friends (she's hugging her host sister, Julia) at Shalimar, an Indian restaurant in the 6th district of Vienna. After a five hour train journey from Prague, we arrived this evening and raced to the celebration. As I upload these photos from tonight's Shalimar dinner, she’s already at a club where it’s definitely not cool to be anywhere beyond 30 years old, having her first bona fide drink (I'm guessing Sex on the Beach) and being inducted into the nightlife of Vienna.
Happy Birthday, Yvonne!

Syrinx: Camilla's concert in Dresden

2008-05-12T16:47:00.000-07:00

Almut Kühne, Yvonne, and Bryan Wolf; Camilla and me
Two years ago, I was in New York, in the throes of completing Way of Light for the premiere given by Daniel Rosenboom at the International Trumpet Guild Conference, the commissioning party for the work.
Camilla Hoitenga, a virtuoso flutist who has been committed to performing contemporary music for decades, was also in New York (she is based in Köln), for the recording and performance of my work Transfiguration, for soprano, flute, harp, percussion. After hearing some of the electronics and checking out the video Austin Switser created for the piece, she suggested that I consider a version for flute. Voila! She just premiered Way of Light for amplified flute, alto flute, electronics, and video this past weekend, with a spellbinding performance at the Hygiene Museum on May 10, on the second day of the Dresdner Musikfestspiele. In this piece, the player embarks on a journey, accompanied by spirit guides. There are obstacles to confront, to transcend, and to triumphantly conquer. The performer moves through six main ritualistic sections: The Call; Migration; Chaos; Turning Point; Vision; Greeting. Five archetypal emotions are embedded within these sections of the score: fear, compassion, joy, anger, and sadness. The director of the Festival, Harmut Haenchen, thanked me for a ‘great piece’ after the concert---between that compliment and Camilla’s incredible playing, I’m still not quite back to earth.

In fact, nearly all of the works on this superb program became journeys to realms beyond this earthly one. Perhaps the one exception would be the opening piece on the program, Soliloquium Nr. 1, by the Hungarian composer Zoltán Jeney. A lively conversational cornucopia (reminiscent of some of Elliott Carter’s works, especially the string quartets), it remains fresh despite its dated style. Camilla’s vibrant interpretation brought the contrasting ‘characters’ into sharp relief. Our first ‘expedition’ was led by Bryan Wolf’s When the rains have gone---a metaphysical rendering of the voices of the Sirens encountered by Odysseus on his notorious voyage, with live electronics adding dimensionality to the flute, and ambient sounds from various sources providing the backdrop for the bright, lyrical, bewitching flute melodies. Spirits, by Péter Köszeghy (also Hungarian) cast Camilla in the role of a medium. He writes that “music is a phenomenon that is real not only for living human beings, but also for ghosts or spirits. Through music, and the medium of the performer, these two worlds can communicate with one another.” The shadowy sound world he created with electronics, with its recurring rhythmic and exaggerated sound of a dripping faucet, was in stark contrast to the vivid flute writing. The refreshingly simple (yet not simple to play, involving many multiphonics), Chuang Tse’s Dream, by Gergely Ittzés (you guessed it, Hungarian), functioned in this program as a palate cleanser. Following Way of Light, the program closed with a languid, sensual version of Syrinx by Claude Debussy. Evidently, Camilla studied this piece with someone who had learned it from a flute player who actually worked with Debussy.

The composer Bryan Wolf, who spent many years as Karlheinz Stockhausen’s personal assistant for sound design, was essential to this concert in his role as the sound projector. He worked intensely to achieve the best possible balance between the amplified flute and the electronics in several of the works. Thank you, Bryan! Also, a heartfelt thanks to Camilla for being such a consistent and dynamic champion of new works for flute.

Dresden Music Festival

2008-05-11T16:08:00.000-07:00

After rehearsing Way of Light with Camilla Hoitenga on Friday the 9th, in preparation for the premiere of the version for flute that I arranged for her, Yvonne and I attended the opening concert of the Dresdner Musikfestspiele. Almut Kühne, a native of Dresden (now living in Berlin), and a terrific young singer and composer who specializes in improvisation, invited us to stay with her family at their exquisite home overlooking the Elbe River. She’s striding forward to greet us, in front of the Semperoper, where we then heard a dramatic rendition of Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle, followed by the Kodály Te Deum---clearing the air and cleansing the space after Bluebeard’s gloomy presence. The outstanding soloists: Krassimira Stoyanova, soprano; Lioba Braun, mezzo-soprano; Howard Haskin, tenor, and Rudolf Rosen, bass. Harmut Haenchen (left in the photo) was the dynamic conductor, and also directs the Musikfestspiele this year. Setting the disturbing and dark mood for the Bartok just prior to the performance, the actor Eörs Kisfaludy can be seen standing between the bass and alto singer, in one of their many curtain calls. The orchestra and chorus, also first-rate: Radio-Sinfonieorchester Stuttgart des SWR, and the MDR Rundfunkchor. Bartok’s blending of the organ with the strings, using it to shadow the orchestra, contributes to the melancholy infusing his only opera.

This was my first visit to Dresden (from a word meaning ‘people of the riverside forest’) and I was utterly entranced by the beauty and vitality of this city. Hard to believe, with all of the restoration, that Dresden suffered mightily and unnecessarily from bombing attacks carried out by the Royal Air Force and the U.S. Air Force, and was ensconced in the Soviet bloc state of the GDR for the next forty years. The Frauenkirche, where Bach gave a recital on the original Silbermann organ in 1736, underwent extensive rebuilding after the war. A symbol of reconciliation towering over a bustling square, it was completed only as recently as 2005. Cobblestone streets lined with all manner of restaurants radiate out from the church, and the majestic Elbe flows past it all. Who wouldn’t fall in love with Dresden?

The heavenly joy that has no end

2008-05-08T16:25:00.000-07:00

Words from Des Knaben Wunderhorn, sung in Mahler's Third Symphony.

In four hours we depart for Dresden, where the very active American musician living in Köln, Camilla Hoitenga, will perform the flute version of my work, Way of Light, for video and electronics. I’m excited, as this will be the first time it’s performed with flute (it was written for trumpet), and Camilla is a world-class performer. The venue is the Hygiene Museum, and Camilla's concert, called "Syrinx," is one of the opening concerts of the Dresdner Musikfestspiele.

A couple of evenings back I was lucky enough to find someone selling a standing room only ticket to the Vienna Philharmonic’s performance of Mahler’s Third Symphony---his homage, or hymn, to the natural world. Imagine standing for nearly two hours, 10 people deep and 15 or 20 across, with no support. Something akin to a packed subway car stalled for who knows how long...except that Mahler’s music wafting through one of the most divine acoustic and visual concert spaces in the world makes the sardine experience quite something else. As the photo I took right after the concert shows, the large hall of the Musikverein is in fact a remarkably intimate space. The orchestra was crammed into every nook and corner for the performance, with some audience members literally inches away from musicians.

The prolific, feisty, and incredibly energetic composer Nancy Van de Vate, who resides in Austria and who I shared a delightful evening with yesterday, informed me that the the subscription tickets for these concerts are inherited...which explains their scarcity. She also told me that some 1500 people are on a multi-year waiting list for subscriptions to the Vienna Philharmonic concerts.

The first of six movements, alone, is about 35 minutes. The large forces include women’s chorus and boys’ choir, both deployed in the fifth movement, as well as a solo mezzo soprano. The mischievous clarinetist captured the grotesque fantastical qualities that Mahler is so fond of , and the contrabasses, at times, sounded as though they were performing a much more contemporary work, evoking crunchy noise-infused textures. Elĩna Garanča, was the mezzo soprano, and Semyon Bychkov conducted. The famous last long chord blanketed the audience with sheer bliss. After some moments of silence, ferociously appreciative applause poured forth, and rightly so, as the performance was superb.

By the way, Tony Duggan's thorough review of this conductor's recording of Mahler's Third, with the WDR Symphony Orchestra on the Avie label, can be found here (along with his reviews of most if not all of the Mahler symphonies). Scroll down to the very bottom of the page to find it.

Bread and Music

2008-05-07T17:49:00.000-07:00

The Museum of Modern Art, located in the Museum Quarter, held beautiful surprises for Yvonne and I yesterday. She was especially attracted to Daniel Spoerri’s “Hahns Abendmahl" ("Hahn’s Supper"), a ‘trap picture.' A dinner party for 16 people was frozen in time, with remains of cigarettes, coffee residue, stained wine glasses and plates all attached to a black board with artificial resin glue, and hung on the wall...documentation of an event that occurred on May 23, 1964. The photograph in this post, another of the artist’s ‘trap pictures’, was dated three years earlier...a series of petrified hunks of ‘Brot.’ The highlight for me in our tour of the museum was an extensive collection of Fluxus pieces and ephemera. The infamous Symphony No. 461 – A Pastoral Symphony, by Dick Higgins, created by shooting blank score manuscript pages with an air gun - was one of his three symphonies in the exhibit.

The museum was so entrancing, with its current exhibition comparing art and mathematics, that we stayed until closing. I raced to the Konzerthaus, with the intention of attending the concert in the Mozart Hall performed by Klangforum Wien. But my system...to purchase a ticket from one of several people trying to sell their unused tickets near the front entrance...led to an accidental purchase of the concert ticket for the Great Hall, realized as I was heading back into the building. No matter...I heard an utterly intoxicating performance of the Shostakovitch Violin Concerto No.1, played by Julia Fischer, with precision, passion, and great mastery. The conductor was Yakov Kreizberg.

Low strings open the first movement, Notturno, in contrast to the high register dominating the mid-point of the movement, with stratospheric violin enhanced by harp harmonics and celesta, and an eventual descent back to lower strings and timpani. The manic, pesante-like Scherzo even has the celesta player beating a tambourine. The third movement, a Passacalgia, outlines a theme related to Beethoven’s Fifth and to the Seventh Symphony of Shostakovitch. Lumbering through the low brass and pizzicato contrabass, it takes on a strident quality when it cycles around to the solo violin. Seamlessly emerging from the passacaglia, the arpeggios outlined by the violin lead to an electrifying, complex, difficult and long cadenza. To lighten the atmosphere, the Burleske comes right after, with its grotesque character, true to the Shostakovitch style.

At the intermission I was able to hear the last work on the Klangforum Wien program, La harpe de mélodie, by Brice Pauset...an aggressive, yet spacious work played with great commitment and featuring two percussionists.

ensemble on_line in the echoraum

2008-05-06T14:39:00.000-07:00

ensemble on_line: Ivana Pristasova, violin; Petra Ackerman, viola; Krassimir Sterev, accordion; Thomas Wally, Violin, Roland Schueler, cello, on Sunday, May 4, in the concert venue echoraum.

Whether a concert takes place in a tight space no larger than a California McMansion walk-in closet, or the spacious Great Hall of the Vienna Konzerthaus, and whether the style is dominated by electronics and noise or by the most exquisite string sonorities, there’s one aspect that never changes. Viennese audiences are consistently intent, concentrated, and focused. One rarely hears shuffling, coughing, or commentary, and no one arrives late. This observation was further solidified by four concerts I’ve heard thus far this week, in the space of three evenings, all in vastly contrasting venues.

Wolfgang Rihm wrote a series of works, several of which are for strings and accordion, that he calls Fetzen (translated as ‘fragment’). On Sunday evening, the ensemble on_line undertook a scintillating rendition of six of the Fetzen (No. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)---five for string quartet and accordion, and one for viola and accordion. No. 6 was especially striking, with the two violins filtered through metal practice mutes, with a tinny perpetual motion gestures....and viola and cello waiting patiently until the end, when they enter with completely foreign material---a chorale fragment functioning as a coda.

Two works for solo piano were programmed as well, with splendid performances by Mathilde Hoursiangou. Spiel(t)räume, by Simeon Pironkoff (also a well-respected conductor), in two contrasting parts, manipulates the way that memory works by investigating the relationships between materials that have become familiar to the listener through repetition, and material that is new. The composer writes that the gaps that develop in the play of fluctuations between repetition and memory might well be more significant than the actual aspects of repetition and memory. Polyrhythms of layers, frequently defined by dynamics and register characterized the second section of this work.

Alexander Stankovski’s tour de force, Frescobaldi da lontano, a series of twenty variations based upon Girolamo Frescobaldis Capriccio cromatico con ligature al contrario (1626), employs an array of techniques (overlay, filtering, transposition, and anagram) that also capitalize on the Fibonacci sequence (intrinsic to the Frescobaldi work). A few of the variations are mere phrases – like a truncated gesture, often in a jazz idiom that distinctly contrasts with the other material. In fact, four of the twenty variations are completely unrelated to the Frescobaldi. The only variation performed inside the piano (well, mostly inside), elicits a bouquet of consonances by means of stopped string harmonics, plucked strings, and normal key attacks...but takes a brief detour into more dissonant harmonic combinations, leading to the phenomenon of beats, before coming to a sudden end.

Biographies of the composers and further program notes can be found here.

Last night I attended a performance of the Shostakovich Violin Concerto No. 1, followed by the last half of a program given by Klangforum Wien. Tonight, Mahler’s Third Symphony. Accounts of both will follow in the next couple of posts.

The Pink Panther Visits Mauer

2008-05-04T18:03:00.000-07:00

The Pink Panther theme (observe the giant pink paw prints) was the unifying thread running through the 11th grade Singabend, produced on May 2 and 3 at the Rudolf Steiner-Schule Wien-Mauer, where Yvonne attends school this spring. Their ambitious program included several scene changes, ranging from the Pink Panther bar – in full saloon regalia – to a romantic moonlight park, to a tropical island replete with palm trees and grass skirts. Almost all the students sang solos of their own choosing, mostly pop songs in English but also more classically oriented in German, Russian, Swedish, and Hungarian. In fact, there were at least a dozen Hungarian students visiting who performed one of the most interesting works, for me...A ket myarfa, with recorders, flutes, and strings, and in 5/8 at a fast clip. Ein unterhaltener Abend!

Maypole Dance

2008-05-02T16:11:00.000-07:00

Thanks to everyone for writing to me with such encouraging remarks about the descriptions of my life posted every day here, come hell or high water, and that’s really true...read on. Sigh, here I am in the Sofitel Hotel lobby bar, sipping a Bier vom Fass, and charging the laptop for the second time today. The ancient fuses in my apartment went berserk and are now on strike. After the Schönberg House concert yesterday, then a leisurely coffee afterwards with my friend Christine, I returned to find a dark apartment, water covering the kitchen floor (slippery, from the freezer ice melting), and for two days and nights now have gone without power. Try finding an electrician in Vienna on a Friday afternoon. After searching for a couple of hours I did finally locate a live repairman, whose shop was still open, but he couldn’t be bothered to show up and repair whatever has gone wrong until Monday. Let's have a happier ending to the day...I’ll try to find a photo that looks....hopeful, not sad! In fact, here's a glimpse of the May Pole dance that Christine and I lucked into witnessing yesterday in Mödling, a village close enough to Vienna to be a suburb. This was a ribbon dance, where the white and red ribbons (Frauen took the white, Herren the red) were intertwined and plaited into a web. The dancers then retraced their steps exactly to unravel the ribbons---a spatial retrograde event, just down the street from Schönberg's house!

Schönberg's Home in Mödling

2008-05-01T14:23:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I joined a couple of dozen others on a bus chartered to drive us from the Arnold Schönberg Center in Vienna to his former home in Mödling, to partake of a concert and open house. Speeches by Ferdinand Rubel, Vice-Mayor of Mödling; Christian Meyer, Director of the Arnold Schönberg Center; and Nuria Schönberg Nono, President of the Arnold Schönberg Center, were given in the garden, with birds, roosters, childen, and lilacs at their peak contributing to the festive atmosphere. Marion Diederichs-Lafite gave a moving speech explaining the opening of the the “Lafite-Saal” in the Schönberg House, in memory of Prof. Elisabeth Lafite, who rescued the house from immanent destruction. We then were treated to a concert of music by the Chorus Chemie Linz, conducted by Fritz Hinterdorfer...with Hans Eisler’s Lob des Lernens (words by Brecht) and Schönberg’s Herzlieblich Lieb, durch Scheiden as two of the highlights. As I have no electricity tonight, I’m racing to post this before the computer dies, and hope that it conveys how incredibly special it was for me to visit the home of Schönberg, and to meet some of his descendants were were also present for the occasion.

Yvonne Melisande the Model

2008-04-30T13:04:00.000-07:00

Just back from hearing Klangforum Wien perform music by Christian Fennesz to accompany the silent film documenting (and often fictionalizing) the hand-to-mouth yet joyful life of an Inuit family, shot in the 1920's---Nanook of the North. Wailing guitars, 2 violins, cello, contrabass, turntables...an extravagant setup, which mostly served to enhance the film, especially when the music became more transparent. You can find any number of film clips from Nanook on YouTube, but beware, the soundtracks are often deplorable. The striking photos resulting from Yvonne's invitation to model her hairdresser's artistry have nothing to do with the performance but they arrived a few hours ago and I wanted to share them, sofort. Enjoy!

Monumental

2008-04-30T04:00:00.000-07:00

One end of Traungasse, the street I live on, leads to Schwarzenburgplatz, where one of the most dramatic monuments I’ve encountered resides, the Russian Liberation Monument (Befreiungsdenkmal). Erected by the Soviets in 1945, its heroically presented Soviet soldier, with his weapon pointed to the heavens and already practically in the clouds, is counterbalanced by the names of the fallen Soviet soldiers inscribed in the thick ochre marble below. Evidently this unknown soldier is also known locally as ‘the unknown plunderer.' The Austrian writer Rainer Metzger, in his book Der Tod bei der Arbeit (a title not very conducive to translation---Death with the Work doesn't quite convey) writes that the monument represents an 'aesthetic of violence.’ Fresh wreaths often embellish it, their ribbons inscribed in Cryllic. Also in Cryllic, etched into the upper part of the colonnade encircling the soldier: "Eternal mercy for the heros of the Red Army, fallen in the fight against the German fascist bandits, and who fought for the freedom and independence of the peoples of Europe." A few feet away, a refreshing fountain sprays thousands of droplets of water up and out into the atmosphere, a cool embrace, even from afar. At first I assumed the fountain was part of the monument, but learned that the Hochstrahlbrunnen (high jet fountain) was built in 1873 by Anton Gabrielli, in celebration of Vienna’s first long-distance water supply from the Schneeberg. It also serves to soften the harsh effect of its neighbor.

Erinnern / Remembering / Souvenir / Ricordare / ПОМНИТЬ

2008-04-28T16:15:00.000-07:00

To balance work, the most significant event of the day was a foray a few blocks away to the British Bookshop with Yvonne, who commuted an hour back to the apartment to retrieve a fresh book to read...since she devoured The Secret Life of Bees in two days flat. Our haul, several on sale, yea!: Oryx and Crake, by Margaret Atwood; Mansfield Park, by Jane Austen; The Zahir, by Paul Coelho; Medea in Performance 1500-2000, by Edith Hall; Romantic Affinities – Portraits from an Age 1780-1830, by Rupert Christiansen; The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Apt. 3W, by Gabriel Brownstein; and then the ultimate finds priced at 1 Euro: Rain, by Brian Cathcart; Austria Blue Guide; and a long-time interest of mine, Good Vibes – Feng Shui, by Rosalyn Dexter. There are also discoveries to be made in the museum bookstore sale bins, like the large and beautifully printed volume of essays and photographs, a kind of memorial + textbook published ten years ago in commemoration of the 60th anniversary of the Mauthausen concentration camp, available in a Museum Quartier bookstore for 3 Euros. There were at least a dozen of these books marked down to practically nothing. The essays are in five languages, matching those of the book’s title: Erinnern / Remembering / Souvenir / Ricordare / ПОМНИТЬ. Mauthausen, located in Austria, was categorized as a “Level Three Camp”--- the most brutal. Of the 200,000 who were interned in the camp during its seven years, more than half (105,000) died there. In his essay, Hans Marsalek describes how works of art, which were forbidden, strengthened the will of the prisoners to survive. He summarizes: “Art can transfigure truth; it can also rouse, cry out, mobilize and remind.”

Marathon Mann

2008-04-27T17:03:00.001-07:00

Nursing a cold in a nearby restaurant last night after the concert (the Indian proprietor made a luscious chai for me), I picked up Der Standard, the principal newspaper in Vienna, and read that the 25th anniversary of the Vienna Marathon would be held today, roads blocked, buses and trams stopped, city in suspended animation. Anywhere from 30,000 to 70,000 runners were expected, from around 100 nations. The last marathon I participated in (meaning with enthusiasm from the sidelines) was just outside our house in the Shadyside neighborhood of Pittsburgh. I caught the final hour of today's historic event, as the runners circled the Ring to loudspeakers blaring Strauss waltzes, Goethe overseeing the last stretch as he reclined from his first-class seat in the trees.

A Concert of Wunderwerke

2008-04-26T16:41:00.001-07:00

Dr. Christian Meyer, Director of the Arnold Schönberg Center, with his wife, Dr. Susana Zapke, at the post-concert reception.

Tonight the second of two stellar concerts took place in the concert hall of the Arnold Schönberg Center, presented by the Ensemble Wiener Collage. Spanning eight centuries, from Guillaume de Machaut to Sidney Corbett (whose arresting Knochentänze, for viola and accordion, was premiered this evening), nearly half of the pieces were written by composers in their 40's. As befitting the venue, the program began with three of Schönberg’s Five Piano Pieces, and closed with Webern’s Quartet for violin, clarinet, tenor saxophone and piano. Taking a clue from the unusual and compelling instrumentation employed by Webern (whose Quartet was praised by Alban Berg, at the 1931 premiere, as a ‘Wunderwerk,’ and the one composition in the world that was 100% original), the remaining works on the program were largely written for atypical instrumental combinations: Isable Mundry’s Spiegel Bilder for clarinet and accordion; Alexander Stankovski’s Linien for alto flute and trombone; Simeon Pironkoff’s Zyklus Sujets – Epilogue, for clarinet, trombone, cello and piano; Machaut’s Biauté paree de valour, arranged for accordion by Alfred Melichar; Sofia Gubaidulina’s Et Expecto for accordion; and René Starr’s Gemini A1 for violin and flute, and Gemini A7 for violin and saxophone. These latter two works were brief, intense, and rhythmically complex, yet the accelerating ‘spiral structure,’ with the instruments seeming to engage in a drag race, remained transparent. Alfred Melichar, a well-known interpreter of contemporary music written for the accordion, captured the harsh, thick sonorities of Gubaidulina’s solo work with passion and attention to the extreme dynamic contrasts, reflective of her tendency to oppose light and dark. Finally, the fractured components of Pironkoff’s Epilogue from the Zyklus Sujets were infused with a dry humor---one could almost hear the ghost of Erik Satie. Four strands of material unfolded simultaneously---faux Bach, played on a cello tuned in microtones against the piano; muted glissandos sweeping around on the trombone; chords repeated twice on the piano in a wide array of tempi and dymanics and register (these are what brought Satie to mind); and the clarinet, in his own world. I wanted to hear more, and in fact there are three earlier sections, written for trio, of this complex work. This evening's concert was the final event of two days devoted to the topic of music and number, with symposia, lectures, and panel discussions.

Tis the Season for Morchella

2008-04-25T14:20:00.000-07:00

The Arnold Schönberg Center is hosting a symposium today and tomorrow, “Musik und Zahl” (Music and Number), with lectures, panel discussions, and evening concerts. Tonight I had the pleasure of hearing the Ensemble Wiener Collage perform works by Cage, Frescobaldi, Berg, Ligeti, and Zimmermann. Intercommunicazione, for cello and piano, by Bernd Alois Zimmerman, was a tour-de-force of a piece with unrelenting intensity, even when the intensity wasn’t apparent. Roland Schueler, the cellist, played this dark and difficult work with ferocious precision, and the pianist, Johannes Marian, let the crashing chords fly with violent finesse. Zimmermann’s music was like a roomful of Rothko canvases unleashed into space.

So what do morels have to do with numbers and music? A serendipitous confluence: having attended a concert tonight starting off with John Cage’s work, Two, and having had exactly one conversation with Cage in my life that had nothing to do with anything except mushrooms, and having been seduced into buying (instead of finding, much more exciting than hunting for Easter Eggs), sautéing, and consuming a few exquisite Viennese morels, I assume that if you've gotten this far you probably know that John Cage was a mushroom expert and aficionado---and in fact, a founder of the New York Mycological Association. I'd like to share an irresistible anecdote, appearing in an article, "Sounds and Mushrooms," penned by Edward Rothstein in the New York Times, November 22, 1981: "A woman once asked John Cage, ''Have you an explanation of the symbolism involved in the death of the Buddha by eating a mushroom?'' Mr. Cage thought: ''Mushrooms grow most vigorously in the fall, the period of destruction, and the function of many of them is to bring about the final decay of rotting material. In fact, as I read somewhere, the world would be an impassible heap of old rubbish were it not for mushrooms and their capacity to get rid of it. So I wrote to the lady in Philadephia. I said, 'The function of mushrooms is to rid the world of old rubbish. The Buddha died a natural death.' ''

Au Natural in Stadtpark

2008-04-24T15:21:00.000-07:00

Walking through one of the nearby parks earlier this month, I happened upon this clever sculpture of a girl hugging a tree...a playful side of the Viennese not often revealed. The just barely warm sunshine today made it difficult to stay indoors, so I treated myself to a walk past the Lower Belvedere, perusing the volumes on Klimt, Kokoschka, and Schiele in the gift store. I'm saving a visit to the gardens and the grand interiors of Belvedere to share with Yvonne when she's around one weekend. On the way out of the complex, I discovered the Lower Belvedere cafe, sequestered up a flight of concrete stairs...with two English language newspapers, no smoking, and prompt service...oh, joy...and close to our apartment---yet another temptation just down the street.

Dr. Harry Schranz

2008-04-23T15:15:00.000-07:00

Funeral services for Herr Dr. Harry Schranz, beloved father of Yvonne’s friend Julia (from her host family) were held this afternoon. I debated with myself about posting the photo of the flowers and casket in the cemetery chapel. Yet the ceremony was so moving, and it was such a privilege to witness this intimate and powerful tribute, that I wanted those of you reading the posts to see something of the intense outpouring of love, affection, and admiration for this great man. Following the eulogy, we walked to the graveside, where a sudden rain shower obscured the priest’s words. Here, the traditional Austrian ‘ceremonial blessing of the earth,’ was observed. One by one, dozens of friends and family filed past, stopping to pay a last homage, tossing a flower onto the casket, then scattering a spoonful of soil over the flowers. The closing event, a celebration of High Mass, took place in the Kirche “Zur Heiligsten Dreifaltigkei” (Church of the Holiest Trinity, also known as “Wotrubakirche” after the architect, Fritz Wotruba). Harry and Christine, his widow, were married in this same church 17 years ago. Photos of the church, with its most unorthodox, striking architecture, can be viewed here. Photos of Dr. Schranz as founder and director of TrendCom Consulting can be seen here (in the black and white photo, Harry is on the left). May his soul be in peace forevermore.

To the Blue Carp

2008-04-22T10:43:00.001-07:00

On my way to purchase mailing envelopes yesterday morning, the dewy air was freshened by shopkeepers hosing down the pavement in front of their businesses on Annagasse---a narrow lane reminiscent of what Vienna looked like in the 18th Century. Looking up, always a good thing to do in Vienna, I saw Zum Blauen Karpfen, a former hotel, rebuilt in 1814, with striking reliefs by Josef Klieber. A noted architectural sculptor of the first half of the 19th century, he had many commissions from the Austrian, Bohemian and Hungarian aristocracy.

I’ve not written much about the substance of my work in these daily updates, perhaps because the four projects that loom before me are all works-in-progress. But the news of actual performance dates this summer in Los Angeles, for SUCKTION (a theatrical song cycle I’m writing for the group soNu) means that the whip is snapping like crazy now. The other compositions – my opera, CRESCENT CITY (with the writer Douglas Kearney, also true of SUCKTION), BREATHTAILS, for string quartet and shakuhachi, to texts by Charles Bernstein, and THE SILENT STEPPE CANTATA, for orchestra and chorus in Kazakhstan, are simmering along.

Ramping up for Siegfried

2008-04-20T15:03:00.000-07:00

Why not name him Bruno---a Czech gargoyle from the gothic St. James Church of Brno. I’ve always loved these leering, nightmarish creatures of stone---especially the ones perched high in the air, as they’ve seen it all.
Today we had the most exquisitely balmy spring weather in Vienna, but I elected to spend two hours in a concert hall, thinking that I would see a performance of Wagner’s Siegfried at the Staatsoper, advertised as a matinee. Now I know why tickets could be had for as little as 1.5 Euros---this was no ‘performance’ matinee, but an intense and at times jovial panel discussion, with Sven-Eric Bechtolf (director) and Franz Welser-Möst (conductor), focusing on the upcoming production of Siegfried. Their topics ranged from ‘what Hitler could have learned from Wagner’ to the deep and seamless connections between drama, lyrics, and music in this—and indeed all—of Wagner’s operas. The discussion was amplified and embellished by selections from the opera performed by two singers, and with film clips...sadly, none from "What's Opera, Doc?" with Elmer Fudd's Siegfried in hot pursuit of Bugs Bunny, in drag as Brünnhilde.

Schönberg from All Angles

2008-04-19T16:27:00.000-07:00

The Arnold Schönberg Center, situated in the Palais Fanto for just over ten years, is literally a curved ball stone’s throw from where I live. Yesterday I was able to make a first proper visit. Upon entering the Center, one first encounters Schönberg’s actual working studio, replicated behind glass. But not everything is off limits. In another room, a number of his personal items (or facsimiles thereof) are displayed, laid out on tables and available for handling and examining, such as his idiosyncratic chess invention – coalition chess. He had a dry sense of humor that cuts right through the grainy archival recordings, continuously playing next to a comfortable sitting area with books, devoted to his works, readily available for perusal. One of the highlights of the Center is a small screening room with the Staatsoper performance of Schönberg’s opera, Moses und Aron, projected on a large screen. The score, projected as well and adjacent to the performance video, corresponds to the videotaped excerpts, with new pages appearing automatically. The entire Center, devoted to Schönberg's works, is a model of how such a brilliant and historic figure can be presented to the public using an array of media.

St. Wenceslas, a Czech celebrity

2008-04-18T15:25:00.000-07:00

Called back to Vienna unexpectedly on Thursday, I saw little of the sights in Olomouc, a preserved gem in Moravia. Before the train departed, Vit drove me to St. Wenceslas Cathedral, extensively reconstructed in the late 19th century in the neo-Gothic style, but originating in 1107. Named after the martyr Vaclavor (Wenceslas), a saintly monarch from the tenth century, the cathedral sits atop a hill and sports the tallest spire in the Czech Republic. Brno has its own Church of St. Wenceslas, and the St. Vitus Cathedral in Prague houses the St. Wenceslas Chapel.

Gracious Czech Friends

2008-04-17T12:18:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday, I led a practicum for students at Palacky University, concentrating on graphic notation and methods of improvisation. Refreshments were later shared with my energetic and thoughtful hosts---the composer Vit Zouhar, musicologist Gabriela Coufalova, and conductor Jaromir Synek (known as Mirek). They told me that a tank had been housed in the very restaurant (connected to the university) as late as the early 90's. The history of this region is endlessly complex, convoluted, and often tragic. There is a fascinating film festival taking place this week, the Academia Film Olomouc, focusing on documentary and scientific films. The one I saw tonight, “Forgotten Transports to Byelorussia,” packed with an attentive student audience, was a collection of testimonies and footage from survivors of obscure concentration camps in Latvia, Byelorussia, Estonia and Eastern Poland. There are a number of films on this theme throughout the festival.

Palacky University in Olomouc

2008-04-17T12:01:00.000-07:00

Tuesday was filled with lectures---on music and surrealism at Janacek Academy, for the student composers, and, after being driven to Palacky University, the same lecture there, for the musicology students. Swerving from Boulez’s Structures 1a to the Rev. Fred Lane in his rendition of The Man with the Fold-Back Ears, part of my surrealism lecture, I followed up with a third lecture, on my music, for the music education students. Palacky University, located in Olomouc and more than 400 years old, is the second oldest university in the Czech Republic. The Music Education Department, part of the Arts Centre of Palacky University, is housed in a huge, strikingly beautiful Baroque building, along with other arts disciplines. A former Jesuit monastery, it was renovated about five years ago with great attention to detail. The photo was taken in one of the long winding hallways.

Trombones and Translation at the Janacek Academy

2008-04-14T14:01:00.000-07:00

Today began with guest teaching a morning class on the interpretation of notation at the Janacek Academy. Since the first two students came in hauling their trombones, I elected at the last minute to show them slides of Monique Buzzarte's custom-built interface that we used for the piece I wrote for her, The Left Side of Time, and then to demonstrate some of the notational solutions for that piece. Later I gave a seminar for composition faculty and student composers, concerning my attitude toward composition, and then analyzing Transfiguration, my work for soprano, flute, harp, and percussion. My excellent translator, Jareck, even tackled the intertextual commentaries woven into the Djuna Barnes poem that forms the centerpiece of the composition. The reward this evening: frothy glasses of Czech beer shared with Jaroslav Stastny-Pokorny (not in photo), Marketa Dvorakova, and the Dean of the Music School, Ivo Medek. Na zdravi!

Brno or Bust

2008-04-13T13:20:00.000-07:00

Actually it was a mellow train ride of ninety minutes across the border. To offset the McDonalds and KFC infringing on the main square, here is the neo-gothic Petrov Cathedral (Cathedral of St. Peter and Paul), taken from the eleventh floor of my room at the Continental Hotel. Tomorrow I visit classes, lecture, and meet with students at the Janacek Academy...with a well-stocked brain after a genuine Czech meal of the local steamed sand (a fish, just in case you were beginning to wonder).

Scavenging at the Musikverein

2008-04-12T15:20:00.000-07:00

An afternoon of glory, thanks to a last-minute ticket procured for the standing-room only section, in the Great Hall of the most beloved concert hall in the world, Vienna’s Musikverein. With its incomparable acoustics and stunning beauty, this home base for the Vienna Philharmonic was the location of many historic and important events---the world premieres of Brahms’ Second and Third Symphonies, Bruckners’ Second, Sixth, and Ninth Symphonies, Mahler’s Ninth Symphony, and the Violin Concerto by Tchaikovsky. Mahler conducted in this hall, Brahms sat in the left balcony. Today, the Vienna Philharmonic (a controversial orchestra, due to decades of excluding women from being hired full-time; I counted two in the string section today, so things must be improving) performed Béla Bartók’s last composition, Concerto for Viola and Orchestra, op. posth., with Tobias Lea as soloist and Riccardo Muti conducting. Bartok left sketches but died of leukemia before he could complete the work. Reconstructed from his notes, eventually in more than one version, the concerto embodies much of his life’s work as an ethnomusicologist and as a composer. Broad strokes of material related to his Concerto for Orchestra were woven into the orchestra. The strings were sublime; soloist and the winds encountered a few bumps with intonation in the first few minutes, but quickly found their sweet spot.

As I will depart for Brno tomorrow to give a few lectures in the Czech Republic, I left the hall at intermission, foregoing the second work on the program, Bruckner’s Symphony No. 2. But to savor the Bartok was splendid---not sure I'd want to hear Bruckner afterwards anyway.

For anyone coming to Vienna, tickets to concerts such as this one can be extremely difficult to find. The trick: arrive at the hall thirty minutes before the concert begins. You’ll likely see a few people standing outside, holding tickets they’d like to sell that otherwise won’t be used, in this case ranging from 5 Euros for standing room, to 60 Euros or more. The drill is to walk up to the ticket seller and inspect the price and the seat location. Only rarely will the seller accept an offer considerably less than the price on the ticket---that depends on the demand, your timing, and the seller’s mood. If you end up with a SRO ticket, you’re allowed into the hall before anyone else (VIP treatment for the standing room audience!). People make a beeline for the railing, where the best viewing spots are, saving their places by tying a scarf lengthwise on the rail, or draping a coat over it, and then heading to one of the adjoining rooms to partake of refreshments. I lucked out and quickly grabbed a spot near the middle, between two people who had given one another a little breathing space. As they say, name it and claim it.

They're at it AGAIN!

2008-04-11T17:03:00.000-07:00

Tchaikovsky’s Variations on a Rococo-Theme for Violincello and Orchestra, op.33, brims with manic passages that show off his wilder side. Ripping through the fiendish cadenza-like sections and playing the calmer sections with utter lyrical grace, the Argentinian cellist, Sol Gabatta, mesmerized the audience with her transcendent artistry. I had scored a seat in row 7, thanks to someone’s ill wife (and his last name was Mahler, and yes, he's a musician). The other happy occurrence of the concert was to witness conductor Susanna Mälkki’s first appearance in Vienna, leading the Vienna Symphony (Wiener Symphoniker)---first, Symphony No. 3 by Jean Sibelius, followed by the Tchaikovsky. (The theme of the middle movement in the Sibelius is reminiscent of “Dance of the Reed-Flutes" in The Nutcracker---clever programming.) Mälkki has a tight, economical technique, highlighted in the last work on the program, Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms, performed with the Wiener Singakademie. Charles Downey wrote about Mälkki’s 2006 appointment as the new director of the Ensemble Intercontemporain on his blog, Ionarts. Her pristine technique must have appealed to Pierre Boulez, who passed the baton on to her.

The boys wrestling with (attacking?) the mermaid were discovered on a late afternoon exploratory stroll through the Belvedere Gardens...a coil of aggression amid a peaceful, sedate pool with gravel walkways and benches for sunning.

Shimmering Onions

2008-04-10T16:08:00.000-07:00

Starting out on a series of mundane errands late this afternoon (although ‘mundane’ is a misnomer when walking anywhere in Vienna), to purchase blank CDs and covers, and make a couple of phone calls, I simply couldn’t return to the apartment afterwards, with today's deliciously balmy weather. Deciding to explore a part of my neighborhood that I wasn’t familiar with, I discovered a series of embassies (Nigeria, Britain, Ireland), a new park, and, peeking over the rooftops as I rounded one corner, gleaming gold fairytale onion domes. This initially hallucinatory vision beckoned me to come hither. And when I did, encountering its glorious fantastical full façade, it turned out to be THE Russian Orthodox Cathedral of Vienna, the Cathedral of St. Nicholas. I had the even greater fortune to happen upon it while a small and extremely proficient mixed choir was rehearsing in a room in the back of the cathedral, in full frontal eastern-tinged voice, doors open, harmonies wafting out into the street and turning it golden too. Wish I’d had the recorder with me to upload a clip of the singing. Instead, here's a photo of those magnificent magical domes.

Attack of the Recorder

2008-04-09T16:20:00.000-07:00

Is it an organ pipe? A recorder? Angélica Castelló, the performer, tells me its a mixture of both – a super-sub-bass German recorder. She plays this magnificent contraption with focused nuance, and performing on Tuesday evening with the ever delightful guitarist Burkhard Stangl, also with Robert Piotrowicz playing electric guitar / analog electronics and Anna Zaradny playing alto sax. Their collective improvisations were powerfully intense, emotional and dreamy, drone-like but endlessly, kaleidoscopically shifting. The performing space, Amann Studios, run by a really nice guy, Christoph Amann, was an intimate recording booth with three rows of seats, filled with an audience of rapt listeners. Amann Studios is in fact two studios, with state of the art equipment as well as a few antique recording devices still in use. A wonderful discovery, as were the antique stores along the funky Neustiftgasse.

Dreaming of a Yoga Mat

2008-04-08T15:41:00.000-07:00

The intermittent search finally ended. There are no easy ways to find yoga mats to buy in Vienna, and the towel I've been using on the wooden floor was a drastic last measure. An angel led me on a walk to a serendipitous encounter, a sign for the Sivananda Yoga Center, pointing the way through a courtyard, up a funky elevator, and into the friendly shop. Behold, an array of colorful yoga mats, including saffron-colored biologic ones that decompose. Now I have a way to balance indulgences, and will be embellishing my asanas with the powerful, overtone-laden throat singing of my friend Gary Hassay (soon to be released for public consumption). I share with you my new teal-colored mat relaxing and ready for action, on the beautiful wood floors in the apartment here.

Jon Rose as a Drunken Sailor

2008-04-07T12:49:00.000-07:00

For the encore of the assorted musicians assembled to perform with him yesterday evening at Porgy & Bess, the inimitable Jon Rose turned what had been a respectful, ambient-oriented, meditative semi-large group improvisation into a noise fest. Slamming the back of his violin into the monitor to generate feedback (at which point I retreated from the second row to the back row), he launched into a rowdy and spontaneous rendition Ye Olde English Sea Shanty, “What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor,” with gusto and perfect intonation---he was far from drunk!

After many years of corresponding via email and post, I finally met the Slovakian journalist, philosopher of art, sound artist, and producer---might as well say Renaissance Man---Jozef Cseres. We convened for a late morning face-to-face at the Café Prückel, both sleep-deprived, where he he handed me two relatively rare recordings. “The Genetic Tendency in Violin Music,” on his own esoteric label, HEyeRMEarS, has Jon Rose playing the Ten-String Double Violin of Dr. Johannes Rosenberg. This endeavor is one where it’s impossible to ascertain where the truth ends and fantasy begins---a mind game with Siamese twins. The second recording, of works by Evgeny Irshai, a Russian composer now living in the Slovak Republic, is saturated with music that, to my ears, carries the essence of Russia (he trained at the St. Petersburg Conservatory), modified by a wicked sense of humor that transports one to an entirely separate reality.

The Rape of Lucretia

2008-04-05T18:13:00.000-07:00

The renowned contemporary music ensemble based in Vienna, Klangforum Wien, along with eight singers, gave a spectacular concert performance of Benjamin Britten’s first chamber opera at the Wiener Konzerthaus tonight. In The Rape of Lucretia, Britten’s skilled, economical orchestration elicits a vast spectrum of colors, ranging from the most intimate sonorities from the strings and harp, to a full-fledged fusillade when necessary---like the suicide of Lucretia, who is overcome with shame.

The opera functions as a parable, a reflection that mankind invariably destroys virtue and beauty. The opera Britten had a knack for selecting gifted librettists. Ronald Duncan based his libretto, in verse form, on the play, “Le viol de Lucrèce” by André Obey. Here are some quotes of lines that I found especially striking:
“Home is what man leaves to seek. What is home but women?”

“Oh Christ heal our blindness which we mistake for sight,
And show us your day for ours is endless night.”

“So will my pretty vase enclose
The sun’s extravagance
which is the rose.”

Rudolf Steiner / "Die Loa"

2008-04-04T16:40:00.000-07:00

Tonight I had the privilege of hearing the Rudolf Steiner-Schule Wien-Mauer spring concert, with orchestra and enormous chorus, at the school on the outskirts of Vienna that Yvonne attends as an exchange student. An up-and-coming specialist on the altblockflöte (aka recorder), Matthias Knopp, took center stage in Telemann’s Concerto in C Major, for recorder, string quartet, and basso continuo. Joseph Haydn’s Te Deum, written for the first Nicolaus Esterházy, was sung with great spirit by the sonorous choir of students, friends, alums, and teachers.

Yvonne is a tenth-grader at Highland Hall, a Steiner school in Northridge, CA. In America, Steiner schools are more commonly known as Waldorf schools. There are many such schools in the world, principally in Germany, Austria, and the U.S., grounded in the anthroposophic research and beliefs of the Austrian esoteric philosopher, Rudolf Steiner (that's him in the photograph). Todd Oppenheimer wrote about the unique blend of traditional and progressive methods used in these schools in The Atlantic: “Schooling the Imagination.”

Another serendipitous discovery last night, at a gallery featuring the work of the Salzburg-based artist Eva Kaiser, was her intensely energetic painting entitled ‘Die Loa.’ My opera-in-progress, Crescent City, (one of the projects I’m working on while living in Vienna), is populated by several loa (gods of the Voodoo pantheon), who inhabit the bodies of regular folk at the bequest of Marie Laveau. It’s not every day that you run across another artist in another discipline and another country who even knows about the loa. It was my favorite painting in the gallery. Alas, doesn’t exist on the artist's website.

Pink Hydrangeas on the Ring

2008-04-03T17:06:00.000-07:00

Nothing like hydrangeas to make a slightly homesick Southerner pause during an energy walk along the Ringstrasse, to admire the clarity of the reflected light from the more unusual pink variety, just after the sudden afternoon shower (escaped by ducking into the mom and pop-style Café Sinfonia to partake of their luscious warm apfelstrudel). Luigi Nono's introspective string quartet, "Fragmente---Stille, An Diotima," has been my exquisite musical treat today, on a newly acquired WDR recording, performed by the Arditti String Quartet. There are some fifty fragments of Friedrich Hölderlin's poems festooning the notes of his score, meant for the performers only - a technique I first encountered with Erik Satie's piano works, and later observed in original manuscripts of Charles Mingus at theLibrary of Congress, where the inscriptions were personal messages to his players.

Laundromats and Schönberg

2008-04-02T16:59:00.000-07:00

My thoughtful artist-landlord installed a washing machine in the apartment prior to our arrival. However, due to various complications I wasn’t able to use it until now, three weeks after moving in. I’ve been searching everywhere for a Waschsalon (laundromat), on the internet, in the streets, in the yellow pages; imploring people if they knew of one. Evidently even the good citizens of Vienna find it difficult to locate laundromats. Low and behold, on a stroll last night, in perfectly delicious cool weather, I decided not to return to my apartment after sampling the galleries in the inner city, but to walk right past it in a quest to discover what the opposite direction might turn up. (I’m usually headed toward the alte Stadt (the old inner city). Lo and behold, practically around the corner, a veritable army of washing machines, a dry cleaning operation, and an offer to do it all for you if you can’t be bothered to do it yourself. But the little home washing machine makes all manner of rough, gruff sounds, with the clothes magically emerging in a nearly dry state. So I asked myself, what would John Cage do? (My guess: his own).

In the same way, before locating it on the map, I unexpectedly encountered the Arnold Schönberg Center---one of the top ten places on my list. Lisztstraße (sorry, couldn't resist) intersects with my street, Traungasse. Out for a walk last week, I simply had to walk on this street named after Liszt, and suddenly there was the striking building, the Palais Fanto (housing the Schönberg Center), a disorienting reminder of New York's Flatiron Building. In her immensely engaging book, The Vienna Paradox: A Memoir, Marjorie Perloff writes about the Palais Fanto in Vienna, with gripping stories detailing its history---and her own, originating in Vienna and later in the U.S.

Banned in Vienna

2008-04-01T16:50:00.000-07:00

As if there weren’t enough delectable distractions everywhere, The Metrokino, a few minutes from my apartment, has been screening historic Austrian films. I’ve seen two rarities that were shown in English: Dishonored, with Marlene Dietrich (I’ll return to this one in a subsequent post), and Jew Süss, banned in Vienna when it was released in 1934. Based on the novel of the same name, by Lion Feuchtwanger, it stars the actor Conrad Veidt (in photo; also find him fifteen years earlier in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) in the part of Joseph Süß Oppenheimer, the Finance Minister serving the Catholic Duke, Karl Alexander von Wüttemberg---a despotic drunkard. When the Duke meets Naomi, the beloved fifteen-year old daughter of Süß, he attempts to molest her. She escapes momentarily, only to plunge to her death from the rooftop in her haste to get away. Süß, now a broken man, schemes to cause the downfall of his former sponsor. He betrays the Duke’s planned coup d'etat, but before the Duke could have him arrested, the Duke dies of a sudden fit---a stroke or heart attack. Although Süß discovered that he was an illegitimate child and was not Jewish after all, he was noble-minded and responsible to his people. In the end, he was hung (for 'carnal relations' with a non-Jewish woman), and went to his death as a hero and a martyr.

I had read that this film was intended as a satire of the Nazis and their racism. In fact it gives the unsettling appearance, especially in the first thirty minutes, of an early Mel Brooks film, with the stark lighting (a la Young Frankenstein), the silences between the spoken lines, and various eccentricities of the characters. Both the book and the film were condemnations of anti-Semitism. As for the ban, some Viennese periodicals wrote of the film’s “offense to the entire Christian faith” as well as “blasphemy,” and requested the authorities to forbid the screening of the film. In response, the Vice-Chancellor, Starhemberg, actually issued a prohibition. The British, who made the film, were unable to convince the Austrians to abolish this resolution. The Germans considered the Austrian reaction to be exemplary.

Yvonne the Model

2008-03-31T11:16:00.001-07:00

Yvonne’s hairdresser invited her to model for a photo shoot yesterday. She’s been advised to find an agent in LA…so we had to come all the way to Vienna to launch her modeling career. Of course, she thinks it’s a brainless profession and has no interest, but we’ll see if she changes her mind…

The formidable weather suddenly turned gorgeous. One doesn’t take the sun for granted here as we do in California. On Sunday, there were all manner of children, dogs, lovers, elderly couples, strolling, basking on benches, and picnicking in the Stadtpark---a kind of miniature Central Park, with a Biergarten, a pond with ducks, songbirds, and statues of Schiller and Schubert watching it all. Flanked on one end by a Hilton Hotel and the other by the Intercontinental, it’s a lovely refuge, with the Vienna River---a tributary of the Danube Canal---running through the center.

"nô pintcha - don't stop"

2008-03-29T15:15:00.001-07:00

Last night the club Porgy & Bess hosted a stream of performers from England, Germany, Australia, Chicago and elsewhere in one of several "Solidarity" events around Europe this spring. Known as "nô pintcha - don't stop", the concerts form a collective effort to keep the Konfrontationen annual summer festival in Nickelsdorf---a mainstay event of the free jazz world, since 1976---alive. The man in the white shirt in the photo, the phenomenal vocalist Phil Minton, flew from London to contribute. He is leading (cajoling, scaring, seducing, etc.) a 40-voice pick-up choir in a 35-minute directed improvisation---invigorating, electric, and full of unexpected detours. (I was invited to join the choir but offered instead, with Phil's blessing, to document, so segments of this choir extravaganza, with sound, should eventually find their way to YouTube.) The spontaneous collective decision by all the vocalists to surround Phil in a kind of ritual 40-person mega-hug, after the performance ended, was beautiful to witness, and a kind of metaphor for the activism that has energized musicians and audiences to find a way to keep this festival going. Hans Falb, the host with the most (owner of the extensive facilities in Nickelsdorf providing food, drink, picnic tables, rehearsal spaces, art and sculptures, concession stands with hard-to-find recordings and books), is the animated guy in the upper right corner of the photo (back row). You can read an interview with him, giving some history of the festival, and explaining the current situation, here.

The other stellar performers, appearing in various configurations, included the indefatigable and enormously gifted Georg Graewe, playing three different sets; the inventive young singer, Almut Kühne; my favorite drummer always and forever, Paul Lovens; the astonishing Australian bass player Clayton Thomas, who lives in Berlin; and the magnificent cut-throat Ken Vandermark. Having performed in Nickelsdorf myself a couple of summers ago, it is one marathon experience and serious hang, not to be missed, a place where practically every free jazz improvising musician has performed. The full house last night at Porgy & Bess was a testament to the enthusiastic reception for this music---may it find a stable and generous new home and continue its vibrant, collaborative avenues in the coming years.

Red and White (not the Austrian Flag)

2008-03-28T08:59:00.000-07:00

Yvonne with red umbrella, on a snowy day heading back to the apartment. Today I skyped with Douglas and Yuval---my esteemed collaborators for Crescent City---unpacked the keyboard controller, and enjoyed the slightly warmer (more like, less cold) weather. Much of the afternoon devoted to internet complications. Since there is no internet service provided in this apartment (although its prime location, spaciousness, and stunning art make up for that), I had to purchase a Vodafone system, and now pay for all the data that I use. One gig costs 20 Euros. But hey, you can connect anywhere…including the trains. Like everything else, we are being more conservative, not staying online unless we have to, and avoiding mega downloads – like the one TV show Yvonne downloaded, wolfing down around 500 meg and suddenly, poof, we're offline.

A Sublime PARSIFAL

2008-03-26T16:41:00.000-07:00

An unforgettable evening, five hours and fifteen minutes, with intermissions, seeing one of the epitomes of opera at the Wiener Staatsoper tonight. Superb singing of all the major roles in Wagner's Parsifal, especially the strong and passionate rendition of Amfortas, sung by Falk Struckmann. But the conductor, Christian Thielemann, drew the loudest roar from the audience at the end, with many curtain calls and a bouquet tossed onstage for him. He elicited consistent clarity and warmth from the orchestra, with elegant effortlessness and economy, almost never even cuing the singers. The set and staging were consistenly inventive and hovered at times on the verge of kitsch, which was very cool. In Act II, where Parsifal encounters and ultimately resists the seductions of the flower girls, a disco ball twirls overhead. The spear that will ultimately heal Amfortas, a glowing Star Wars - like object in this production, could have been an unfortunate cliché, but the direction was sensitive and convincing enough to steer clear of such an obvious association.

Afterwards, walking through the underground to the U-Bahn line going to my apartment, I encountered one of the stars scattered throughout inner Vienna, set in concrete, like the ones in Hollywood---but the Vienna stars are for composers, like this one commemorating Alfred Schnittke. Surely there's one somewhere for György Ligeti...when I find it I'll post the photo of that star as well. Schnittke took over the professorship at the Hamburg Hochschule für Musik when Ligeti retired. They are two of my favorite composers.

Thundering in the Spring Snow

2008-03-25T10:43:00.000-07:00

After much agonizing over the ticket price, reasonable if the dollar wasn't limping along, I decided to forfeit the survival tactics of frugality and surrender to the immersive bliss of Parsifal at the Staatsoper tomorrow. So I'm gearing up for a five hour marathon. Meanwhile, Yvonne was invited by her new hairdresser to model for a competition this weekend. She'll have professionally designed hair, makeup, the works, and maybe end up in a glossy European publication.

A surreal weather event most of this afternoon - hard driving snow, sometimes blowing horizontally, then thunder, sunshine for a few moments, and the gray wintery calm of Central Europe returns.

Tristan und Isolde at Wiener Staatsoper

2008-03-24T17:31:00.000-07:00

How to gain admittance to the seemingly perpetually-sold-out Wiener Staatsoper? I hadn't planned on the effort today, but walking past the opera house this afternoon, I was approached by a guy, a scam artist, with tickets to sell. When the ticket-seller's partner in crime tried to pull a bait-and-switch (one offering inexpensive tickets to the sold-out opera, and his cohort interrupting to say that those tickets had just been sold and all they had to offer were the ones for twice as much), I made it clear that I wasn't interested...and suddenly the cheap 20-Euro tickets appeared again, this time with decent seats in a loge toward the stage. Voila, coveted seats in one of the grandest opera houses in the world.

At intermission, several people were capturing the lush neo-Romantic interior, built in the 1860's, with their cameras, and I joined in the fun with my cell phone camera, aimed toward the ceiling.

Since I was able to hear Act I only (hoping to go back for another performance to see it all), I'll save detailed comments for later. The strings were in top form, but the brass suffered from chronic intonation problems. The set was remarkable, a fusion of minimalist black and white punctuated with bleeding orange and red when T&I drank the love potion. The enormous sliding and interlocking panels, vaguely reminiscent of Japanese architecture and alluding to video screens, with a surface skin that was simultaneously scrim-like and shiny like the newer Macs (if you opt for the glossy appearance on the screen), was utterly beguiling. The stark black and white design of the lighting, set, and clothing, echoing that of the set, completed the terrific visual contrast to the ultra-romanticism of the music. Costumes were somewhat clichéd---a kind of busty black hoop-skirt for Brangäne, trench coat for Tristan, long bushy train of black gauzy fabric for Isolde to manipulate. Expertly conducted by Leif Segerstam.

Easter Sunday in Vienna

2008-03-24T17:11:00.000-07:00

Where else in the world but Vienna could the musical day of Easter begin with a charming rendition of a Haydn Mass, and end with a roiling quartet featuring Peter Brötzmann and Ken Vandermark at the jazz club Porgy and Bess? Easter in Vienna, with its gem-like shop-window eggs, rabbits of chocolate or straw with the requisite carrot, and celebrated from Friday through Monday with church concerts --- some as parts of services, some not --- ruled by Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and Franz Schubert. This morning Yvonne and I attended High Mass at the Augustinerkirche at 11:00 AM, with Haydn’s timpani-infused Paukenmesse wafting through the arches, the buttery washes of strings and voices warming the chilly stones. Gratifying to actually comprehend the story of Christ’s resurrection as told in amplified Austrian-inflected German. My favorite moments: precisely at noon and 1:00 PM, when the church bells blasted their inharmonic tones into the air outside, colliding with Haydn’s music inside. Leading me to ponder why an Austrian (or European) Charles Ives never emerged, after centuries of similar ‘accidental’ dissonances.

Two useful bits: a Gothic church dating from the early 14th century, St. Augustine’s Loreto Chapel houses the preserved hearts of the imperial family, the Habsburgs. Anton Brückner, arriving in Vienna in 1868, composed his Third Mass on the rococo organ of this church.

Why we're living in Vienna: Yvonne as an exchange student attending the Rudolf Steiner-Schule Wien-Mauer, and I'm on sabbatical from CalArts, to write music, and play, and explore.