Music in Trains

Last night the Ying Quartet played the opening concert of the 2009–2010 Season of Chamber Music Columbus. If you live in central Ohio and have not availed yourself of the opportunity to go to one of these performances, I highly suggest that you make efforts to get to one (I will hopefully be at many, if not all).

Before the performance began, Emily and I were looking over the schedule for the season and in particular discussing one of the upcoming CMC concerts featuring John O’Conor on piano (3/6/10). One of the potential difficulties of listening to an evening of piano music is that it can become tiresome with the lack of variety in terms of timbre and dynamic envelope available to the pianist. Whereas many other instruments and the voice can vary these parameters in a variety of different ways, the pianist makes musical gestures out of a different set that, for example, includes intensity of attack, but not dynamic envelope.

This is worth mentioning as these thoughts were fresh in my mind as the Ying Quartet began Schumann’s Quartet in A Major, op. 41, no. 3. I was amazed at the unity of interpretation and technique with which the ensemble played that might only be expected by a solo pianist—only now, with a wide range of expressive timbres and dynamic possibilities. Granted, it might have something to do with the fact that the ensemble only recently added Frank Huang (violin) into what has been an all-sibling quartet since 1992. That said, it is hard to imagine such a unified sense of time, as is necessary for a movement such as the delightful variations in the Assai agitato second movement. [As a side note: I was particularly drawn to this movement and recognized some familiar metric displacements that were similar to those used in my own quartet writing last year. I figured that I must have studied it around that time, but as I look at the score today, I do not think that I have ever seen it before. Perhaps I had heard it somewhere? Either way, I must say that I enjoy the scherzando-like way in which each figure reaches across the barline and never literally articulate the meter.]

The ensemble also played a recently commissioned piece, Next Atlantis, by Sebastian Currier involving electronics that for the most part depicted water sounds of various sorts. Phillip Ying, the violist, took the opportunity to explain the piece ahead of time, which initially suggested to me that they figured it might be a hard sell to an audience that is not only unfamiliar with electroacoustic music, but also predominantly interested in the classics of the Western repertoire. He also noted that it was a first for the ensemble, as they had never worked with prerecorded material before. In the end, I suspect the announcement might have been more related to the latter as I consistently felt slightly on edge as I attempted to discern the relationship between the live and prerecorded materials. It was only by the end that I really felt like the two were dove-tailing, as I suspect was intended throughout. It was hard to tell what was at the root of the slight delays and awkward silences that were making me uneasy. I did not necessarily hear a great number of audible cues in the prerecorded materials, yet the ensemble seemed to be locking in with certain acoustical events that were surprisingly aligned. On the other hand, it was hard to imagine that the incredibly unified voice that played the Schumann would now seem somewhat misaligned as it worked together with the tape.

My initial impressions of the ensemble as an incredibly unified voice were reconfirmed by the performance of Beethoven’s Quartet in C major, op. 59, no. 3 to end the concert. They launched into the fastest rendition I had ever heard of the final Allegro molto while maintaining an utter clarity and preciseness that was remarkable. As scalar fragments passed from one player to another, I could hardly believe that I entirely missed the switch-off—every single time. Also notable was the ensemble’s great sense of what might be termed by some the grande ligne or by others the Urlinie: while each note was precisely in its proper place, they all signaled the overall directionality that pointed to the final cadence. This was perhaps most noticable in the final moments of this piece as Beethoven delays the cadence through one false ending after another until you lose any surety of when the cadence might actually arrive.

The Ying Quartet definitely lived up (and perhaps even surpassed) the high expectations I have for the artists that Chamber Music Columbus hosts each year. Even as think about how much I enjoyed watching them live at the Southern Theatre, I am already looking forward to seeing the Jupiter Quartet on November 7. I hope to see you there!

As I read through various reports on Arts this morning, I found a common thread through three articles:

“Love the Art; Hate the Artist?” by John Schaefer

In Israel you still won’t hear the music of Richard Wagner in concert. The music sounds just as glorious there as it does anywhere else, but the Nazi’s appropriation of his music and of some of his anti-Semitic writings make it a painful listening experience for many Israelis who survived the Holocaust and settled there.…

If we remove all the art by artists of bad character from our lives, who are we hurting? Not a long dead composer… We’re just denying ourselves the good—in some cases, perhaps the only good—that these people did.

“Blackface, Reconsidered” by Jody Rosen

What really troubles me… is this question of whether Sophie Tucker is “worthy of consideration.” Are we to conclude that had Tucker not stopped performing coon songs, she would be unworthy of consideration? What about an entertainer like Al Jolson, one of the greatest and most influential singers of the 20th century, whose landmark performances took place behind the blackface mask? What, for that matter, about Bert Williams, the first African-American pop star, who smeared burnt cork on his own brown skin? Are they beyond the bounds of acceptability?…

Yes, blackface comedy was racist and appalling, and people should never stop saying so. It is also a key to cracking the code of American culture.

It’s especially important to understanding popular music, whose history—from Stephen Foster to Tucker to Bing Crosby to Janis Joplin to Mick Jagger to Eminem and on and on ad infinitum—is enmeshed with blackface tradition. For years, minstrelsy was such a hot-button topic that scholars dared not touch it. This is one reason why important musicians like Tucker have received little serious attention in the last many decades.

“‘I am a pianist, not a spokesperson’” by Arminta Wallace

In a way, [Palestinian-Israeli pianist Saleem Abboud Ashkar] has become a spokesperson for Palestinian artists in the wider world, certainly in Europe. As a pianist, does he feel this is a role which has been thrust upon him? “Yes and no,” he says. “The role of a spokesperson is inevitable. I always stress the fact that I am a pianist and not a spokesperson—but the more I stress that, the more my role as a spokesperson becomes even stronger. But I don’t want to put on any uniform. If anything, what I speak for is our wish to develop our lives and to live in a way that is with dignity. To express our potential as individuals. The more I do what I do, the more that becomes clear by itself.”

What all of these articles have in common is some attribute placed on the music or musician that is derived from something extra-musical regarding the nature or character of the artist. I think they all pose good questions:

• If we remove all the art by artists of bad character from our lives, who are we hurting?
• Are such artists unworthy of consideration?
• To what extent do artists become spokespersons for all people like them in any particular way (race, creed, gender)?

From the flip side, is it ethical for a composer to set a text which reflects an attitude with which they do not agree? Or can we permit a composer to distance themselves from the texts which they set (or titles used)?

Perhaps the easiest response was given by John Schaefer, the Wagner commenter:

This is why I prefer to read the book or hear the music before I go and learn about the person who made it. I think I’d find it hard to be objective looking at a painting with young Adolf Hitler’s signature in the corner. Of course, if I liked it, and then saw that signature in the corner, I might feel like losing my lunch, but then no one ever said that art was supposed to be easy.

While rather convenient, I am sure that such an approach would not satisfy many audience members. Perhaps, however, it is the audience member who must in the end take responsibility for the cognitive dissonance as they place a meaning on the music beyond that which can be known from the music itself (i.e., not knowing its author). Of course, this would assume that we understand what meaning can be conveyed through music. I am pretty sure, however, that an innocent listening to Wagner’s Wedding Marchwould never reveal its sometimes-despised author; why else would I still be asked to play it at so many weddings?

Don Aucoin of The Boston Globe recently wrote an article in which he explains “How parents can fill the void when schools cut arts and music programs.” In summary:

“The first art to develop is the art of looking.…

The next step is to take them to a museum, so they can see how the pros do it…”

Or, in the case of music specifically:

“The next step is to take the children to a ‘starter show’ like ‘Shear Madness,’ then graduate to ‘Blue Man Group,’ and then on to more challenging fare.”

Where’s the next step? Where does the student actually learn the basics of creating art? For musicians, when do they learn to read music, sing or play an instrument?

It seems to me that the critical component that is missing when relying on parents to teach the arts is anything that actually has to do with being either an actual artist or even, for that matter, an informed audience.

I really do not see this as a sustainable model. Not even today’s parents have the cultural awareness that generations in the past would have had; how can we expect the next generation to have anything at all worthwhile to pass on? While it may be somewhat useful to “look” or “listen” we can not possibly expect that this constitutes the intellectual engagement that is required for art.

If we actually do value art (which I would venture to say is more a case of lip-service these days) then we need to invest in actual art education by which students gain knowledge and skills with at least the basic materials of arts such that they can minimally engage intellectually with what practicing artists produce. Only then can we fairly say that we are helping develop our students’ lives through art.

I’m always fascinated by reports of current trends in music consumption. An article in The Atlantic, “Why Aren’t Kids These Days Downloading Music?” by Derek Thompson was cited by Frank J. Oteri in “You Can’t Take That Away From Me” remarking on the latest trend: moving away from downloading and keeping tracks toward visiting streaming sites such as Pandora and YouTube where you listen in a less committal way.

This new structure is changing the economy of music as noted by Alexandra Topping:

Even though users of streaming services are not necessarily buying more music, the industry benefits by learning more about fans’ tastes. Steve Purdham, CEO and founder of We7, a music streaming service and download store, said: “They may not buy an album, though they have that opportunity, but you can sell them tour tickets and a T-shirt of their favourite band.”

A similar trend in literature is discussed by Motoko Rich and Brad Stone in the NY Times (“A New World: Scheduling E-Books“):

No topic is more hotly debated in book circles at the moment than the timing, pricing and ultimate impact of e-books on the financial health of publishers and retailers. Publishers are grappling with e-book release dates partly because they are trying to understand how digital editions affect demand for hardcover books. A hardcover typically sells for anywhere from $25 to $35, while the most common price for an e-book has quickly become $9.99.

Amazon.com, which sells electronic editions for its Kindle device, has effectively made $9.99 the de facto price for most best sellers, a price that publishers believe will reduce their profit margins over time. Barnes & Noble, through its Fictionwise arm, also sells best sellers in e-book form, for $9.95.

This is not all bad news, as publisher margins are higher on e-books because Amazon currently takes losses. Again, the game is to discover the best way to make a profit in a changing market.

There’s recognition all around that this trend is just beginning and that there is still a strong demand for physical CDs and Books. Right now, the only question concerns where this is all headed.

I still am curious as to what is driving this change. Is it the obvious answer that consumers are not willing to pay the prices? If that is the case, does that mean that these artistic products are no longer valued? I’m not entirely sold on that as consumption overall is not decreasing, merely changing. Is it perhaps a result of competition both in terms of distribution and production, i.e. more sale points with vast amounts of new products. That seems somewhat more likely to me at the moment. However, if that is the case, that would suggest that the market is hurting itself (which seems plausible).

This trend is particularly fascinating for me because I find myself affected at both ends of the spectrum. On the one hand, as a composer, I would want the market for music sales to remain strong so that the production of new music may be compensated in a way that makes its creation reasonable. On the other hand, I consume music in much the same way as the first article suggests; I don’t purchase many CDs any more (possibly due to current financial conditions), but instead peruse music in the non-commital ways provided by such services as YouTube and online streaming radio. That said, I would hate to see the demise of the album!

Update: More predictions on the future of e-art ask the question “Does the Book Industry Want To Get Napstered?”