Jim Lange, Author at West Virginia Public Broadcasting

Icy Music

Percussionists- let’s tip our hats to them.

Drummers, per se, have been the butt of many a joke over the years, but the percussionist, a slightly more subtle animal, has to be given kudos. They have been a major force in moving music forward since the early part of the 20th century.

SIDEBAR: A drummer, in the most confined definition, is someone who plays a kit, a drum set. A percussionist, by my own definition, is someone who plays a wide variety of percussion instruments. That's the distinction for me. No emails, thanks.

You see, no matter how beautiful and convincing a musical construct is, say baroque music, there always lies ahead an era which contains rebellion against or a deconstruction of that style. Each successive musical era turns its back on the previous, in other words.

Once tonality had been stretched by Ravel and then further by Wagner, and then eventually broken by Schoenberg, what was there left to do? As John Cage said in his magnificently prophetic book, Silence, composers were going to move away from keyboard-based composing and towards percussion. Rhythm was now going to be front and center and indeed it has been.

Here we are, almost 14 years into the new millennium and music is alive and well. Watch these young percussionists make music with lake ice.

Or this piece by Steve Reich which uses repetition as a propulsion forward, as harmonic stasis, and as a way for canonic (echoing) melodies to float above. Brilliant!

How about John Cage’s use of natural objects to create an aquatic sound world?

Shedding Light Into the Dark

When we are first exposed to educational topics that excite and stimulate our minds, the manner with which the information is delivered becomes the…

When we are first exposed to educational topics that excite and stimulate our minds, the manner with which the information is delivered becomes the template for future learning.

What do I mean? My preference is British.

But, more than British, it must have a glorious British narrator who has gravitas-a certain weight and authority to their delivery and personality. For example, James Galway’s marvelous music history series, Music in Time, had the sparkling Irish charm, but the narrator was a British historian whose voice spoke of deep authority. That’s my quirk and I have to live with it.

Host Waldemar Januszczak’s down-to-earth, almost satiric style takes a bit of an adjustment. From the pointed hair to the use of contemporary slang, Januszczak (a Brit by way of Poland) can come off as trying too hard to reach a younger audience. For example, describing the barbarians’ jewelry as “bling.”

Still, this is a wonderful exploration of an age that has a terrible moniker that implies it was an age of ignorance. I recall trying to research this era’s art and being told by a librarian that there were “many books on Renaissance art.” This is a real attitude embraced by even the most educated among us. Truly sad.

The so-called Dark Ages is a lively age of art that speaks of a vitality, an exquisite artistic capability and has a way of getting communicating its mystic message across the ages.

Delightful bits that we learn:

the rotas square
the secret signs of Christianity
the sources of the many images of Christ
the humble beginnings of the Christian church
barbarian is a misleading term and their culture/art is exquisite

Your light-hearted host, Waldemar Januszczak, dispelling that stupid Viking myth.

We learn that the horned Viking helmet was a 19th century opera costume invention and had nothing to do with the real Vikings.

This set had two discs and has four episodes. I liked them all, although I did not really care about episode three which presented Islamic architecture (although the intricate decorations are incredible).

Overall, we learn quite a bit about this mysterious age and the host is very engaging.

Buy it at Amazon.

Mind Your Pleas and Cues

How should you act at a classical concert? Are there rules you should follow? Is everyone around you asleep or lost in reverential contemplation?

My colleague, Matthew Jackfert, send me this link– an article by Richard Dare, CEO and Managing Director, Brooklyn Philharmonic and Entrepreneur, about the perceived restrictions of a live classical music concert.

At first, I thought this post, considering the source, was playful jest. Perhaps a small poke at those who believe classical concerts are more akin to funerals than exciting live music, but I think the author is sincere:

"But this was classical music. And there are a great many "clap here, not there" cloak-and-dagger protocols to abide by. I found myself a bit preoccupied — as I believe are many classical concert goers — by the imposing restrictions of ritual behavior on offer: all the shushing and silence and stony faced non-expression of the audience around me, presumably enraptured, certainly deferential, possibly catatonic; a thousand dead looking eyes, flickering silently in the darkness, as if a star field were about to be swallowed by a black hole. I don't think classical music was intended to be listened to in this way. And I don't think it honors the art form for us to maintain such a cadaverous body of rules."

This fanciful depiction of a classical concert might be an observation by an unruly teenager, but for a 49-year-old globetrotter cum managing director of a symphony orchestra, this observation seems immature and awkward. That aside, let’s address what’s being put forth.

What’s the sound of one idiot clapping?

Mr. Dare and maybe some concert goers seem a bit mystified at the appropriate time for clapping. Here’s a handy rule: Applause is reserved for the end of the piece and not between movements. I think we’ve all been at concerts where a sudden smattering erupts after a vigorous allegro and is quickly extinguished. Nothing wrong with that, but to yell out when something excites you or to clap whenever you feel the urge is to disrespect the music, the space, audience and performers. Save your rhapsodic enthusiasm for the end of the piece. The performers will appreciate it more.

What is appropriate to one concert is not to another.

Mindfulness is something that carries us through many situations. There is a definite lack of mindfulness of concert goers in general and this clueless behavior can nearly ruin a performance. When at the Peter Gabriel concert last year, audience participation was encouraged by the artist, but I doubt anyone really treasured the loud, disruptive person who had, shall we say, “high spirits” during quieter moments of the show. At a classical concert, he might have been forced to leave. Probably he wouldn’t have been there in the first place.

Lifting the “rules” of a classical concert are not going to increase ticket sales or transform a financially strapped organization (many symphony orchestras have hit the rocks) into a shiny, popular money machine. Mr. Globe-trotter should know that.

The good old days weren’t all that good.

Dare writes: Joseph Horowitz in his wonderful new book, Moral Fire, describes audiences "screaming" and "standing on chairs" during classical concerts in the 1890s. The New York Times records an audience that "wept and shouted, strung banners across the orchestra pit over the heads of the audience and flapped unrestrainedly" when listening to their favorite opera singer at the Met in the 1920s.

In the same section, Dare tells us that Beethoven would have approved and expected shouts and cheers during his music and then tells us that Beethoven was a revolutionary; although his music was not received without harsh criticism. Then we learn that Beethoven today would have hated the reverential, pre-packaged greatness masquerading as exciting live concert programming.

My guess would be that the old boy might be shocked that his music was still being performed, let alone remembered.

Back then or here now, nothing’s really changed in my opinion. When composers come up with really new ideas, they are set upon by those who believe they are protecting the hallowed canon of classical works. That never lasts long either. If the music has some value, it will start a slow climb of 50 years or so until finally it becomes “accepted.”

Classical audiences are glacial in accepting new music.

In 1973, composer Steve Reich caused a near riot when debuting “Four Organs” in New York. Philip Glass has been the object of scathing hatred by critics and audiences alike. Both composers are now accepted into the classical canon.

I am all in for living composers to get a piece performed by a symphony orchestra, but I don’t have to answer to board members or other monetary concerns. Maybe Mr. Dare can start a trend of performing nothing but music from the 20th century as well as contemporary composers. Will audiences go for it?

Making it more “fun” isn’t going to work either.

Dare is suggesting that the perceived awful way classical audiences listen, sitting silently, is one reason why classical music is seen as taking a downturn in ticket sales, attendance, etc. He also states that orchestras play the same works over and over.

Not being responsible for a season of concerts that results in making profit for a symphonic orchestra precludes for me making any suggestions in this area, but I would say that the audiences, mostly of a mature age, expect music that they have heard before. If they are buying the season passes, it’s a losing proposition to do otherwise.

Getting young people interested in classical music and concerts.

With music education and arts and culture practically nil in the school systems (at least that’s what I’ve been told), how are future generations going to discern between music of the formulaic variety and that which is ultimately worth the concert hall?

All I can say is that I try to do my part on public radio to introduce music which is more harmonically and rhythmically relevant to younger ears. Do I get blasted for it? Yes, on occasion. Will I stop? No, because it is serving a higher purpose than just to please by playing by the rules.

In conclusion, I would be surprised if this Richard Dare is still managing director of the Brooklyn Philharmonic or any other musical organization because he’s going to realize (maybe) that making music isn’t the same as making money; although we all wish it was.

Scared to Write a Note

Thumbing through a copy of Opera News, an article on opera composer Ricky Ian Gordon revealed some very provocative words:

“The twentieth century is littered with a lot of composers who were terrorized out of writing what they heard-out of writing in …their authentic voice. There was such a critical backlash against…tonal music. I mean you could write…you were just laughed off the map.”

What is music? Such a simple question. Such complication behind the answers.

The early 2oth century composers were in a real bind. Were they going to be followers of Serialism, Indeterminacy or Neoclassicism? Tonality, for all intents and purposes, was an anachronism-something so quaint that only the inferior or less serious composers would chose as a musical language.

(Think this attitude is gone? A few years ago, one of my colleagues made an off-hand remark about the 12 Tone System and a listener wrote that anyone with any knowledge knew that the last serious (read important) works were written in this style. So, we must remain in a prison based on a system that began in the 1920’s?)

Or worst choice of all: write the music they heard in their own minds?

We all talk about the arts in terms of freedom, but there’s always a quid pro quo. The questions become: why are we writing? Who are we writing for?

If there’s a shadow hanging over your shoulder of what you “should” be writing or a host of critical voices in your mind, you’re never going to write the music that is your true voice.

Mr. Gordon is writing no less than three operas.

I doubt he has much time to listen to the voice of doubt or to the ghosts of musical eras past.

Sting Goes Broadway

Sting is a musical icon of mine. That being stated, it pains me to recognize that his solo work is a largely uneven affair ranging from the sublime to the outright dreadful. The first couple of albums were full of fire and conviction. Listen to those albums and Sting sounds like he’s singing for his life.

Soul Cages (studio album number 3) brought gems like “All This Time” and “Why Should I Cry for You?” and others, but overall it was a mess. Something was amiss. Ten Summoner’s Tales followed and with it redemption. The old Sting, the one who write such gorgeous, heart-felt songs, was back from his slumber.

What followed was, as they say on VH1, “Then it all went horribly wrong.”

The muse seemed to have walked out the door with the next three albums. Mercury Falling fell,Brand New Day scraped the bottom and Sacred Love finally came to a complete rest. After this, Sting had a long bout with writer’s block. Coincidence or was his muse trying to tell him something?

Sting, a very educated and often articulate man, often spouts nonsense a la Nigel Tufnel. When the reviews for Soul Cages came out, he said, “This latest album has got the best reviews I’ve ever had – and the worst. There’s a polarity about them which is quite extraordinary and, I suppose, in a way, confirming.”

Perhaps others were sensing that the music being served up was “less than” and the muse finally gave up on Sting.

Now he is taking his music to Broadway.

Regarding the musical, only Sting could say something like this: “I was writing songs for other characters than me, other sensibilities than mine, a different viewpoint,” he continued. “And so all of that pent-up stuff, all of those crafts I’d developed as a songwriter, I was suddenly free to explore without much thinking, actually. It just kind of came out as a kind of Tourette’s, a kind of projectile vomiting. It just came out, very quickly.”

I just bet it’s like that. We’ll see.