DIGITAL TO ANALOG CONVERSION, getting the bits to my speakers
Banner

Archive for May, 2010

Day 100. Kagel, Liszt and Aretha Franklin.

Sunday, May 30th, 2010

Today marks the 100th day (though not quite the 100th consecutive day) of working on DAC. Since nice round numbers tend to give us pause and time to reflect (10th anniversaries, the millennium, your car hitting 100k miles, etc.), I spent part of today thinking that I should rip something special today. What should be the 100th days music selections? Well – by the time Celia was getting ready for bed, I still hadn’t thought of anything in particular to grab, so we ran downstairs as usual. And now that I think about it, I’m glad that is how it worked out. One of my favorite parts of this whole project has been involving my girls with it, and seeing what they are drawn to. It keeps things unexpected for me as well.

Celia keeping with her visual magnetism to all things pink, went for the Kagel discs I have on Montaigne (nice, bright cardboard packaging) as well as a Rhino collection of Aretha Franklin (because she liked the picture of Aretha on the cover). And next to that was a Vox Box set of Liszt’s ‘Years of Pilgrimage’ with Jerome Rose, so I grabbed that too.

Over the past 100 days, I have pulled quite a few discs onto the drives downstairs, and while not every disc has found me with something to say, I knew the music on those discs pretty well. And so, with Celia grabbing the ‘Sankt-Bach-Passion’ by Kagel tonight, we do have a special first. I have never listened to this CD. I know the story behind the piece, and have been curious to hear it (curious enough to buy the disc!), but have never listened to it. So I thought – ‘well! I’ll listen to it after I throw it on!’ and I still might, but in the mean time I am streaming a Quicksliver Messenger Service disc from my friend Daniel. Daniel has access to my server of music, and thought it was so cool that tonight he set up a Subsonic server for his music, and while I was browsing around on his I saw Quicksilver (an old face from growing up… as I type, ‘Mona’ is chugging away over the speakers. Man – what a great song, and I would be really surprised if the Kagel could top it, so I’m not going to mess with it).

The Liszt though is another one of those discs that Tamiko and I used to play in her apartment in Berkeley. Haven’t listened to it in some time, but I’m looking forward to hearing it. The recording in particular is, well, pretty bad. VERY resonant and blurry. But it is an excellent example of liking the first version you hear of something. I have another excellent recording of these pieces (the Bolet recordings I believe) and they are crisp and clean, and very well played. The Jerome Rose recordings are played well also, though I think there is a lot of pedal, and a lot of reverb (probably from the space). Tamiko and I would put these discs on as background quite a bit, sometimes for when we were eating, and the sound quality of them was perfect. At times, the piano sounds almost bell-like, almost like you are hearing it from across the street. We were also able to hear the bells of the Campanile from where she lived in Berkeley, with a similar sound quality. So even though I have better recordings of these pieces now, this would still be the ones I would put on. And will put on… because the notes might be the same, but it is this music that I remember when I think about Tamiko and I cooking together in her apartment on Arch St.

This project, and this blog, was supposed to be part escapism for me. And it has served its purpose well. It was given me great distraction at times over these past few months when things have been less then great. It has also given me a new faith in nostalgia, and brought back many happy memories. What has surprised me a little is how intense some of those memories have been. The smell of the air from 20 years ago creeps into this musical moments sometimes. Goosebumps sometimes appear on my arms as I hear something the way I did the first time I heard it.

But another aspect that was important to me with this project was listening again to music that had, for some time, just sat on a shelf. It has given me a chance to remember how much music is out there on the one hand, as well as how much I have to get to know again. And to share. Mira this morning asked to hear the ‘Bunny Music’ (the Barber of Seville overture), and tonight when Celia was getting ready for story time, she asked me to put on Bach (we listened to the lute suites). And in a couple minutes, I bet I can put on the Liszt that I am ripping right now, go sit next to Tamiko, and she will pause her typing for a minute, look at me, and smile. I’m so lucky to have all this in my life, and while I started to realize this early in this project, at 100 days, it is amazing that the coincidence of a number, and the events of the day, shows me how important it is for me to get all this music playing again in my house.

Day 99. Mahler, Mozart, Berlioz and Stravinsky.

Saturday, May 29th, 2010

I’ve been a little slow to get to CDs this past couple of days, so I took the chance to throw some recent purchases from eMusic onto the computer. After a couple of playlists of orchestral music, I realized that I had so far been pulling off music that I had played while in the orchestra at UC Berkeley under Prof. David Milnes. I got to play in the orchestra for three years. Unfortunately, this was the bulk of my orchestral playing experience. I have subbed a couple of times for orchestras here in Seattle, but these are VERY few and VERY far between. And I think it was playing orchestral repertoire that did more for my playing then just about anything else I ever did. My first concert had Berlioz’s ‘Symphonie Fantastique’ on it, and there are some seriously difficult bass parts in that piece. Or – at least they were for someone who wasn’t really that experience playing double bass. That first concert was one of the best studies in rhythm and intonation that I ever had.

So – the pieces I went ahead and transferred over tonight were the Berlioz, the SF Symphony recording of Mahler 1, the Scottish Chamber Orchestra recordings of the last four Mozart symphonies and Bernstein’s recording of ‘The Rite of Spring’. I played quite a bit more in orchestra, but these pieces were a few turning points for me. Obviously, the Berlioz being my first orchestral piece is pretty significant, but even then, while it was amazing to be part of a group so big, I still saw the orchestra as a requirement. Later that year though, we did an all Stravinsky concert that included the ‘Rite of Spring’ and the ‘Symphony of Psalms’. This was the concert that got me hooked. First – it was amazing music to play, and difficult. I hadn’t practiced so hard on a piece before ‘Rite of Spring’, and felt like I got back WAY more then I put into it. It was an amazing experience. The best part though was on the second night. The performance was as tight as I could imagine any performance could be. And with the last chord, the most beautiful sound happened. There was nothing, absolutely nothing for about 3 seconds. Then the sold-out crowd went crazy. It was the best feeling in a performance I’ve ever had, and I have wanted to create a piece of my own that could create that kind of silence after the piece was over. I’ve cheated… but I haven’t done it yet.

My second year of orchestra, I felt like I knew what I was doing and had more confidence in general. We read through Mozart #41 for an upcoming concert, and it was a blast. VERY hard, but very fun to play. i felt like it was going pretty well when one of my biggest lessons was taught to me. Two weeks before the concert, we learned that a reduced orchestra was going to be playing the Mozart, and I didn’t make the cut. I was crushed. I really wanted to play this piece, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was playing pretty sloppy. It was a good lesson (and one I got many times at Berkeley). Mostly – it didn’t matter in music how hard you tried. If someone was doing it better then you were, they were going to get the gig. There were no A’s for effort. You had to perform to perform.

So – by the time we got around to Mahler’s 1st, I was taking my chair (near the end of the row) in the double bass section very seriously. I rehearsed and practiced when I could, and was much more disciplined about it. By the time I left Berkeley, I was still no where near where I needed to be to focus on performance on the bass. But, I was much more serious about how to prepare for pieces then I ever would have been without that education. Thanks Prof. Milnes – I learned a lot.

Day 98. Rossini, Paganini.

Thursday, May 27th, 2010

How did you first hear opera? If you are like just about anyone in my generation that would actually admit to listening to opera, my guess is ‘What’s Opera Doc’ or ‘Rabbit of Seville’ is somewhere in your personal viewing history. And I would also assume this is the case for people in my parent’s generation as well. Here’s a test, throw on ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ and see if ‘KILL THE WABBIT!’ gets stuck in your head.

And of course I am passing this fine introduction to opera on to my girls. Mira asks to ‘see bunny!’ and Celia has had a couple years now of occasional Bugs Bunny / Elmer Fudd opera viewings. So when I guided Mira’s box-set grabbing hands towards Rossini today, and she just HAPPENED to grab ‘Barber of Seville’, and then I just happened to put on the overture, I could tell both girls recognized it. They laughed and giggled. As well they should. Rossini is funny. And when Celia is sad at the end of ‘What’s Opera Doc?’, well, she should be, because Wagner’s ‘Ring’ is a tragedy.

Probably my favorite part of the old Looney Tunes and other cartoons that use just about any form of classical music (whether it is opera, or Liszt or Schroeder playing Beethoven) is that in those older cartoons, they are actually performances – recordings of real people playing the music, and often quite well. And, they find ways to make the music humorous (and if you can hear the humor, that also shows you know your music). Humor in music is hard, and the visual cues in Bugs Bunny certainly help, but these are cartoons that can be appreciated. They aren’t childish adult voices singing ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ is a half yelling annoying voice like so many kids toys today. They aren’t synthesized. They are arranged by real arrangers, played by real musicians, and the cartoons often focus on the music and the virtuosity it takes to perform some of it. Of course Bugs Bunny needs his ears to help out with playing Liszt – anyone who has actually tried to perform his works knows that a few extra appendages wouldn’t hurt. I have heard a couple people say that being introduced to classical music in cartoons is actually bad for kids – it makes them think that the visuals are necessary, or that it has to be funny. I don’t really buy that though.

First of all, music, as something that is performed, is VERY visual. Not enough musicians realize how important appearance and performance are, but when you ask most people what the hard part about a computer music concert is, it is the fact that ‘there is nothing to look at’. And as far as opera goes, while I do love listening to opera, it is as much a visual art as it is a dramatic and musical one. And there are a number of performers who take advantage of the visual element. Paganini used to up light his performances to make his appearance more ‘devil-ish’. Liszt faced the piano so the audience could see his fingers. The Who smashed their guitars. Music is meant to be performed and experienced, and I think way to many people think this ISN’T the case because we can buy it on sound only recordings or listen to it on the radio.

Which brings up the other part of tonight’s additions… a set of twelve, two movement pieces for guitar and violin by Paganini. These are wonderful little pieces… sweet, melodic with occasional moments of violin virtuosity thrown in.

Day 97. Grisey, Scelsi, Hosokawa, Ligeti.

Tuesday, May 25th, 2010

So – no choices from the girls tonight, but I decided to rip a stack of discs that my friend Gwynne brought back. Most of the music is from the ‘spectral’ school… some Grisey, Hosokawa and some Scelsi. Then there is also the 4-CD box set of DG recordings of Ligeti’s music that the label put out after he passed away. So filling in some good late-20th century music onto the server.

I’ve learned quite a bit from this music, especially from Grisey and Scelsi. And regarding Scelsi, I also have a new feeling for what is and what isn’t dissonant. About 10 years ago, when I first heard his works (many of which consist of movements with a single pitch as a focus, and the instruments meandering around that pitch in microtonal inflections), I was stunned at how much SPACE there is between the notes of the piano. After hearing a couple of his quartets, seconds felt so consonant! Then, with Grisey, I would up going the other direction. I’m not at the point where pretty much anything other the octaves feels dissonant to me… even a perfect fifth creates some tension. But it also places dissonance, and the musical spectrum itself, into a broader context. How does a composer set up what is a feeling of stasis? Then how do they set up a way to move away from it?

Another thing that has happened in my mind as a result of that my definition of dissonance, and the negative connotations of dissonance, has itself changed considerably for me. I realized after teaching music theory for a couple of years, that we tend to pass value judgement onto dissonant intervals. They are almost seen as ‘bad’, they ‘need resolution’, you have to ‘prepare’ for them. And I think this terminology was stuck into my head as a thing to avoid. But there is so much color, rhythm and richness that can be explored in sounds with that have traditional dissonant relationships. Dissonance can be very beautiful.

I’m surprised it took the music of Grisey and Scelsi to show me this since I feel like there was a part of me that always knew this. In Ravel’s ‘Le Tombeau de Couperin’, the ‘Forlane’ has some of the most wonderful uses of minor and major seconds. They cause these sharp, little, brilliant pinpoints of light almost. They never resolve, and certainly don’t need to. I remember trying to copy these highlights of melodic sound in a set of piano pieces I wrote just after finishing up at Berkeley, but I was never able to get them to sound just right. Part of the problem was that I felt like these notes had to ‘lead’ somewhere. I wasn’t comfortable just letting a dissonant note hang there. But the real problem is that I wasn’t Ravel, writing piano music in the 1920s. Nor am I Grisey or Scelsi. But I am lucky enough to start to feel confident enough in what I do write so that, now, the notes I put down have intention. That I have an idea about what I want to achieve. I’m lucky to have started that process. Hopefully it is one that I keep working on as keep composing.

Day 96. Tim Buckley, Steve Reich, Schubert, Brahms, Billy Bragg and Wilco.

Monday, May 24th, 2010

Been a busy night working on some recordings for school, but I also managed to rip quite a bit. In the stack was a Schubert symphony box-set (Mira’s pick) with Harnoncourt conducting, some Brahms chamber music, early Steve Reich works, the first Billy Bragg and Wilco album and Tim Buckley’s ‘Happy  Sad’.

So – very little here that is not noteworthy, but the Tim Buckley album is particularily special. It is one of the albums I remember from growing up (and definitely mellower music), but it is also an album I kept listening to as my musical tastes started to drift more and more from my parents’ musical tastes (and I probably kept listening to it as their drifted from mine!). In high school, it was a quiet favorite of mine, and tracks from it wound up on many mix tapes. During my freshman year, as Tamiko and I (still friends) were coming back from a band trip to San Luis Obisopo (with a long bus ride), she and her boyfriend Matt were breaking up, and my girlfriend and I weren’t in the best of places either. As we were passing north on 101 up towards San Jose (through the area I grew up in), we were getting a sunset, and I remember telling Tamiko a few things about what I missed about living there (mostly, the fog rolling in over the hills). After a bit of time, I gave her my headphones to listen to and on the tape at the time was ‘Buzzin’ Fly’ by Tim Buckley. She cuddled up with me on my lap and listened to it. It was probably one of the most intimate moments I had ever had with anyone up to this point in my life, and it was with my best friend.

I love this song, and Tamiko and I now associate it with this moment. We were both breaking / about to be breaking up with people, and within a few weeks we ourselves would start dating. It wasn’t a great time for either of us… teenage break-ups just suck. But at this moment, we were really good friends, and we were the two that we went to for comfort. And when it comes down to it, it is that comfort and security in each other that is one of the strongest part of our relationship. The music on ‘Happy Sad’ is happy, and sad, but also lush, warm, comforting and sometimes tense. It is probably one of my favorite albums (and is also one of the more ‘out there’ Tim Buckley discs… complete with vibraphones and double bass in a quasi-jazz like setting). Pretty complex emotionally in many ways. Perhaps this is the disc all adolescents should have while they go through that confusing period of life where everything feels like so many emotions can be happening at the same time.

Day 95. Haydn.

Saturday, May 22nd, 2010

I thought I’d be able to finish the string quartet discs tonight. I was wrong. There are just so many of them…

Day 94. Fred Astaire.

Friday, May 21st, 2010

How many performers are as classy as Fred Astaire? And while his name rightfully conjures up images of dancing with Ginger Rogers or mirror images of himself, the tracks he recorded with Verve in the 50s. The recordings are a different kind of classy though… not the top hat and white tails kind, but the calm, confident and stylized kind of classy. The way he sings is relaxed, and it sounds like he is having lots of fun. He isn’t the greatest singer, or the greatest interpreter, but when you listen to him sing on these discs it is like having Fred Astaire and Oscar Peterson hanging out in your living room.

Day 93. Haydn and Duke Ellington.

Thursday, May 20th, 2010

I’m continuing work on the stack of Haydn string quartets tonight (only got through a few last night) as well as a few Duke Ellington discs. The Haydn discs, by the way, are from the Naxos set recorded by the Kodaly Quartet. As with most things Haydn, I tend not to think about listening to something by him until I do, and once I do I am almost always struck by how good his music is. And I wonder why he doesn’t get the same amount of attention as Mozart or Beethoven. While he is often given credit as the inventor (or standardizer) of classical form and style, the virtuosic lyricism of Mozart and the dramatic pre-romanticism of Beethoven is the music that is used to complete the music history story of the classical period. Part of it, I am sure, is because it wraps up into a neater package that way. Haydn had these ideas, and Mozart, Beethoven (and Schubert, etc. etc.) expanded them, then etc. etc… But I imagine another big part is the sheer volume of work. I can literally spend two days listening to all of his symphonies without repeating a single one. The five hours it takes to listen to all the Beethoven symphonies lends itself much more to repeated listening of the whole body of work. So of course I know it much better. But with Haydn, even if I chose the top 20 and got to know them as well as I know the Beethoven 9, I would still have 4/5 of his symphonies to be surprised by! So, for now I think I will let myself enjoy the surprises when I get to them. And I will also let myself remember that if I am looking for some good music that I haven’t heard yet, I can dig into my Haydn collection and probably be pleased.

The Duke Ellington tonight is a nice cross-section of his work. There is a collection drawn from a PBS documentary about him that covers a VERY wide range of his work. Basically, it is like taking a survey course on Duke Ellington. With that disc, you get an excellent sense of who Ellington was as a songwriter / composer. Then there is the mostly amazing ‘Ellington at Newport’ from 1956 which shows Ellington the band leader, and finally ‘Money Jungle’, a trio disc from ’62 with Max Roach and Charles Mingus which shows us Ellington the phenomenal pianist.

‘Money Jungle’ is every bit as amazing as you would expect an album by Ellington, Roach and Mingus to be. The playing, all around, is superb. And in the smaller setting, you hear Ellington’s playing in sparser surroundings. This also means that you hear him filling in more space with his playing, and at times his left hand sounds like McCoy Tyner is sitting in. At times, his playing is HEAVY. And I have heard him voice certain chords like this in other contexts (most notably, in the Ella Fitzgerald ‘Ellington Songbook’ recordings), but in a smaller setting with less players, it sounds like he is giving Mingus a run for his money at times. It sounds like he is giving Max Roach a run for his money… and on top of that, he is giving his right hand a run for its money. The playing is just amazing.

But it is the playing of Paul Gonsalves on the Newport disc that is the standout. After a rough start to the festival, the band sounds a bit warn out at times in the first half or so. But by the time Gonsalves starts his solo during ‘Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue’ you think something amazing has to start happening sometime soon. And it does. The 27 chorus solo that follows is one of the most amazing 6 minutes or so ever captured live on tape. And not to diminish the amazing playing of Gonsalves, but it is also what is going on around him that adds to the moment. Duke egging him on to keep going early in the solo break. Duke and the rest of the band pushing him even further. Then the crowd gets into it. You can literall feel the excitement rise with this recording, and then it ends. Literally, it sounds like Gonsalves has possibly collapsed and is out of breath. It is one of the least graceful endings to a solo you will ever hear, but it is perfect. Gonsalves has given it everything he has got, and when the tune ends, the roar from the crowd (and the time it takes Duke to calm everyone back down to get the concert moving again) shows how just about everyone there realizes how luck they were to hear what they just heard. I’m lucky to hear it. The history of music is lucky that it was caught on tape. I still get chills when I hear this track.

Day 92. Webern and the Friends of Dean Martinez.

Wednesday, May 19th, 2010

Tonight’s rips are the complete Webern with Pierre Boulez directing on Sony, and a couple of albums by ‘The Friends Of Dean Martinez’. I also grabbed the Naxos discs of the Haydn String Quartets to start ripping those. They will probably take some time.

The Friends of Dean Martinez are a quirky little group. Their first albums showed up  on Sub Pop in the 90s (if I remember correctly) in the middle of the Seattle grunge craze. But (again, if I remember correctly) this was a band from Tuscon that sounded like it stepped out of Esquivel’s world, and on the way to our CD players, picked up some surf guitars. The music is almost exclusively instrumental, and has that 1960s bachelor pad feel. Very melodic and usually mellow, mostly originals, but a few covers thrown in for nostalgic purposes. They have a great version of ‘The Shadow of Your Smile’ on their first album that fits into this nostalgia category, complete with LP surface noise, appearing as sound from the distant past. Violins playing along with the melody slowly in the beginning (with an eBow?) until the drummer counts the group in. Here, a nice latin beat complete with claves and shakers takes over, and a wonderfully rich guitar sound. One of the things that I appreciate the most about popular instrumental music is how much the sound of the music seems to be paid attention to. When vocals are in the mix the subtleties of the instrumental playing and sound too often take a back seat. The Friends of Dean Martinez had a meticulous to attention to sound and at a time when a lot of music was about volume and noise, and while the lack of vocals usually spells doom on the pop charts, I’m thankful to Sub Pop for taking risks like these when the temptation would have been, for many labels, to just find more and more Nirvana’s to record and release as quickly as possible.

The Webern Sony set was the first complete set of Webern’s works, and it is quite fitting that PIerre Boulez is directing it. Boulez was one of the strongest proponents of Webern’s work after WW II (Webern was killed by a U.S. soldier shortly after the war in what seems to have been a misunderstanding of curfew rules). While I rarely listen to Webern for enjoyment, his work was a great resource for me as a younger composer, and I use his work when I talk about timbre and texture to composition and computer music students. His attention to sound and color is perhaps unmatched in early 20th century music, and unlike his second Viennese school contemporaries, the brevity of his works shows an understanding of atonal and twelve tone techniques that others missed.

Of course, Webern is often all the craze in music theory classes. People love to count the notes, find the rows and how Webern manipulated the contours. What is surprising to me is that all the other aspects of the music are often overlooked: his attention to bow placement to vary the color of notes, the careful choice of dynamics. What surprised me most about most analyses of Webern’s work is the careful attention to the notes. Pitches and rhythm are the most precise parts of western music notation, but it seems to me that because they can be notated so precisely they have become the overarching concern for most music theorists. They are the part of the music that they can most easily re-create in their head in the absence of performance. In the op. 9 string quartet pieces for instance, we can see notes as they are written, but when the bowing and possibly even the fingering are taken into account, the resulting sound may bear little resemblance to the indicated pitch. It may be a shimmer of glassy sound filled with bow noise rather then a focused pitch. Certainly, the pitch that is written is the one that has to be played to get that sound, but how does such a note figure into the coherence of an atonal pitch set or serial row? Chances are someone may find something interesting about the notated pitch, but in performance the result may remove any sense of pitch entirely.

And while what I am about to say is an oversimplification, I have found that the idea behind it has been one of the most important ideas about composition that I have gotten from Webern: It isn’t all about the pitches. Now I say this with the realization that pitch is one of the most important parts of musical information we hear, and it is one that needs careful attention. Musicians are trained in a very pitch-centric way. But as a composer that explores new territory, I feel like this aspect is something to play with rather then something to be a slave to. I have also discovered that ideas like tonality or any sort of pitch organization has more to do with musical context then it does with what scale or pattern of pitches someone is using. I can create a sense of confusion and wandering just as easily with a major scale or a serial row, and Berg certainly showed that you can use a serial row and still have a sense of tonality and romanticism. So in my own work, I have started to figure out where I need to really care about melodic material, and what I have to do if I want a listener’s focus to be elsewhere. Like I said – I think this is oversimplification. It would probably take a whole book to really explain it in words. Or – a piece or two of music.

Day 91. A plethora of music.

Sunday, May 16th, 2010

Some pretty random selections tonight… a couple of Dufay discs, Zero 7, Kodaly, a Bobby Darin collection, Carmaig De Forrest’s ‘Death Groove Love Party’, the Rushmore soundtrack, Patsy Cline with the Jordanaires and Public Enemy. I’m glad to know that if anyone does a good search for Patsy Cline and Public Enemy from this day forward, my blog will be found.

These were all stacked together in a ‘to be filed’ stack that, well, has never been filed. Being a good white liberal, I of course have a Public Enemy CD. But how many good white liberals have Public Enemy sitting next to Dufay?