The Three year Shostakovitch journey from Jerusalem to Portland

Over 3 years ago Friends of Chamber Music in Portland Oregon was presented with an opportunity. Before going any further, full disclosure: I am a member of the Friends of Chamber Music board of directors so treat everything I say as biased in favor of the organization. Anyway… we had an opportunity.

The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln………. Um….HALL

An Israeli ensemble that had rarely come to the US, and never to Portland, had a mission. You see, Alexander Pavlovsky, Sergei Bresler, Ori Kam, and Kyril Zlotnikov and formulated a plan to come to the US with a 4-day cycle of every one of Demitri Shostakovitch’s 15 string quartets. These 4 guys, together, since 1993, known as the Jerusalem String Quartet agreed to bring their cycle to the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center in New York. They scheduled their epic performance for 2013.

So why should Portland care? Well, after the Lincoln Center performances were locked and loaded, The Quartet thought it might be a good idea to have one more American “run through” of the complete cycle. Voila! Our opportunity appeared! Friends of Chamber Music was offered the chance to bring the whole event to Oregon.

The Blessing that is Pat and Lori

This opportunity could have simply slipped on by were it not for our visionary executive director, Pat Zagelow and her FOCM partner Lori Fitch. They might have simple taken a pass on it; they might have deemed it to expensive or too risky; they might have made an executive decision that Portland was too small a city for a concert series of this magnitude; they might have looked at our audience demographics and just not believed that the data supported getting people to come to hear 15 20th century chamber works with identical instrumentation; they might have made innumerable decisions that would have stopped the idea before it was ever presented to our artistic committee. But they didn’t. Instead Pat and Lori came to the Artistic Committee with the idea, the estimated financial impact, a clear understanding of the risk, and the preparedness to jump on the offer quickly, should we choose to take it to the full board.

The Three Pillars of Artistic Decision

It’s important to notice that I have twice now used the words “Artistic Committee”. This is a relatively unique concept. Unlike organizations with larger budgets and/or less active boards, we don’t have an Artistic Director. We have an astonishingly well versed ED but artistic decisions are made my a committee of volunteers. There are 3 things that are necessary to make this work. First, you need board members who so deeply love the music that they stay educated and mindful of what makes great performance. Second, you have to have a board that wants to WORK HARD. Third, you need a staff that trusts these volunteers to make practical decisions. Those are the 3 pillars of success if you are going to choose not to have a paid Artistic Director. I’m the first person to admit I’m biased. But to my mind those are also the 3 pillars that fundamentally support our whole organization: Staff/Board teamwork, willingness to engage actively, and TRUST. I think we are unique in having all of those; and, I think that’s why we are going stronger than ever as we enter our SEVENTY-FIFTH YEAR.

Deciding to Say “Yes”

Now, if you have never been part of a performing arts organization, you may not know just how expensive it is to bring a chamber ensemble to town. You may also not know how utterly unpredictable the process of ticket sales can be. It is possible, for example, to pay several tens of thousands of dollars to bring a famous vocalist to town while still having difficulty selling seats at 30 to 50 bucks a pop. Why? Well, if I knew the answer I probably would be consulting for the music world instead of building TV stations. Bottom line, nobody really knows. My point is that, even with perfect execution, perfect advertising, and a perfect performance, you don’t always make lots of money. I don’t think that even Nassim Taleb could tell you how to manage the risk of a big black swan stomping on a perfectly planned concert. So, everything artsy is risky.

This means that, saying “yes”, even when you think you are saying yes to a “slam dunk”, is risky. And, when your ticket sales can’t pay all your expenses, and you rely on donors, that risk transfers to your biggest supporters before anything else. Not only do you need to think of the risk relative to your own finances and your own reputation, but you are putting your best friends’ money at risk too. (By the way, it’s only because some of those “best friends” jumped in and committed financial assistance early that we could do this: THANK YOU).

In our particular case, we have an innovative, forward-looking board (note bias!) who decided to take the risk and do something really BIG. Strategically, it was a fit with our mission statement. We hoped the risk would be manageable And, tactically, we thought our bast chance of success was to turn the 4 concerts into a “festival”; not just performances, but lectures, education, and receptions too. The game was on. The clock was ticking. We formed a committee.

Engaged Leadership

I want to take a second to thank this committee. Under the leadership of board member Alice Hardesty we were able to spend a year-and-a-half planning, fostering a free flow of ideas, selecting participants, building partnerships with other organizations, supporting each other when our grand ideas were not always executable, and generally becoming greater and greater Shostakovitch lovers. Thanks to the Alice we have a pretty fun ride!

T-MINUS 18 Months!

Ideas came and ideas went. Personally, I had a vision of making a big splash in the Jewish community with an Israeli ensemble that had never been to Portland. I don’t want to feel like I failed; let’s just say I couldn’t pull off the reception I’d envisioned. Other ideas had to go too – I REALLY wanted that Vodka tasting party. Ah well… I had to settle for simply doing a couple of shots with my friend Lori. The point is that some things couldn’t happen. But what did happen was still far more wonderful than we could even have anticipated.

“A Shostakovitch Festival” Makes it From Jerusalem to Portland

This event was one of the greatest events in my 24 years watching the Portland classical music scene. This was not one of those things where the ensemble just played a bunch of pieces chronologically. An enormous amount of thought, dare I say emotional-engineering, went into the programming. Here is how it ended up (and, I believe, how New York will also get to experience these quartets):

Concert #1

Quartet No. 1 in C Major, Op. 49 (1938)

Quartet No. 5 in B-flat Major, Op. 92 (1952)

Quartet No. 6 in G Major, Op. 101 (1956)

Quartet No. 12 in D-flat Major, Op. 133 (1968)

Concert #2

Quartet No. 4 in D Major, Op. 83 (1949)

Quartet No. 8 in C minor, Op. 110 (1960

Quartet No. 10 in A-flat Major, Op. 118 (1964)

Quartet No. 11 in F minor, Op. 122 (1966)

Concert #3

Quartet No. 3 in F Major, Op. 73 (1946)

Quartet No. 7 in F-sharp minor, Op. 108 (1960)

Quartet No. 13 in B-flat minor, Op. 138 (1970)

Quartet No. 14 in F-sharp Major, Op. 142 (1973)

Concert #4

Quartet No. 2 in A Major, Op. 68 (1944)

Quartet No. 9 in E-flat Major, Op. 117 (1964)

Quartet No. 15 in E-flat minor, Op. 144 (1974)

I can’t explain how all the choices were made. What I can, and will say is that after each of the 4 performances the audience members left both overwhelming excited and emotionally exhausted. My wife tells me that in all her years she’s never hears so much excited chatter in the ladies room after the shows (I’ll take her word for it, thank you very much). Each concert on it’s own, and all the concerts together, were stunning. The Oregonian said it better than I could when they stated: “They’re a resounding triumph, easily among the most memorable musical performances in Portland in recent memory.” And, just to give you a feel for the unprecedented skill of the musicians, here’s another àpropos Oregonian quote: “Individually, they were distinctive and supremely flexible. Few quartets achieve the balance they did, each member rising up and falling back within the ensemble to give a natural sense of fluidity and depth.” Thank you James McQuillen – your Oregonian article NAILED IT!

When a Concert Series Becomes a Festival

I want you to remember what I said earlier about the choice to make this a festival. Not only did the quartet play as well as any I have EVER heard, but the week-long event also included these ancillary events: Lectures by Evgenii V. Bershtein and Peter Kupfer, a round-table discussion with the players, and a really amazing educational outreach event where 4 young musicians were privileged to rehearse sections of the very rarely heard Shostakovitch OCTET. I admit that I had to miss the last 2 events I mentioned because I had an insanely busy work week and simply couldn’t do everything. But rumor has it, they rocked as much as everything else.

Coda

To sum it up I need to simply say that the past week was among the most fulfilling weeks in my music-following life. I have to admit I’ve had a few other peak music experiences: Meeting Messiaen, watching Berio and Boulez conduct, having Earle Brown come to my graduation recital and tell me he liked my music, drinking beer at Mel Powell’s piano with Morty Feldman, hanging out at IRCAM, and being at Dawn Upshaw’s first performance after her breast cancer treatments were all peak experiences in my life. But, this week I added a new peak experience to the list because, this week, I was blessed to spend 4 incredible days with 4 amazing young musicians, listening to 15 astonishing pieces of music, and riding the emotional bullet train that is Demitri Shostakovitch.

I am always proud to have been given the chance to serve Friends of Chamber Music. But, this week I am extra proud to have the blessing of being part of an organization which has, arguably I suppose, created the finest music event in the 24 years I’ve been in Portland; and, I’ll be so bold as to propose the possibility that it’s the most significant event in our 74+ year history.

Why I think Ken’s Artisan Bakery makes the best baguettes I’ve had anywhere outside of France

I admit it. I am a foodie. I am a wine snob. And…. I am a baguette fanatic.

In 1986 I made my first trip to France. My friend Robin and I went to Paris and spent 3 wonderful weeks with our friend Paul. I came to love Paris and I came to love French food. Three years later, my wife and I spent our own 2 amazing weeks in Paris – visiting a friend at IRCAM, MEETING Olivier Messiaen, visiting every possible museum… and EATING. Almost 2 decades elapsed before I again found cause to  return to France; this time, on several occasions, to Albi – birthplace of Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, home to the tallest brick cathedral in the world, appellation of a wide array of un-exported wines, and the city that introduced me to Cassoulet (which, given 2 or 3 days of preparation and someone willing to bring be sausages from Toulouse, I have been known to make as well as a Southern Frenchman). Over all the years between my Paris of the 80′s and my Albi of the 21st century, I have searched for good baguettes. They were there in Paris. They were there in Albi. They were everywhere I went in France. They were NOWHERE ELSE.

Then, one day, I was wondering around Northwest Portland and I decided to stop in at a place that I had heard about for a few years but had never visited. The pastries were amazing, but I love the pastries at La Provence and at St. Honore in Lake Oswego just as well. Ken Forkish has mastered every possible French baked good. Others have too. But Ken Forkish has also mastered something that it seems almost no other Americans have mastered – PERFECT, TRADITIONAL, French breads; especially the baguette.

All of this is just my opinion but here is what I think:

Here is a photo of the top of 2 baguettes. The upper one is from a bakery I like a lot. The lower one is from Ken’s.

The 2 breads are both baked to a relatively dark brown. Ken’s has much higher contrast between the valleys of the crust and it’s peaks. This is because of the high temperature at which he bakes and the care with which he allows his loves to proof. The color difference indicates that the crust is lighter and flakier that the more evenly colored crust. In fact, Ken’s crust is the lightest, crispest crust I’ve had. Just like it is in France.

A cross-sectional view of the loaves is even more telling. Look at the height of the loaves and look, particularly, at the size and relative density of the air pockets. Ken’s baguette is on the right.

These bigger air pockets, and this greater height is, again, due to care and control. I’m honestly not sure whether it’s his long bulk fermentation times, his proofing time, the temperature, or what. If I knew, I’d make my baguettes like he does. All I know is that when you look at these cross sections you  see that Ken’s crust is thinner and his center is lighter, airier, and softer. Um… Just like it is in… you guessed it… FRANCE.

What you can’t tell from these photos, even if you believe me when I say that they indicate crisp crusts and soft centers is this. Because this bread is probably bulk fermented for a longer period of time that most other bakers, it has a richer, more complex flavor. This is where being a wine snob comes in handy. You can taste the complexity. Now, I’m sure that Ken has little tricks he plays with his levains. But, I know (from reading his book not because I know how to bake), that complexity come from the time it takes for a full bulk fermentation. If you don’t believe me, visit the bakery and try for yourself.

Now, here’s the big question of the day. What the heck is so important about finding the perfect baguette, anyway? Well, easy. Crappy bread is cheap. Good bread is expensive. If I’m going to spend $3.00 for a baguette, I want a great one. That’s it. Nothing more. I don’t expect a lot from an inexpensive wine; though I find many of them quite acceptable. But, when I spend good money on a Bordeaux, or a California Cab, or a Oregon Pinot Noir, I want my money’s worth. This may sound like I’m cheap and it may sound like I’m snooty. Maybe there is some of both in me. But here is how I feel.

Good food is an aesthetic experience as much as a well-played string quartet or a great painting. Either it edifies you, or it doesn’t. In my case, much of my enjoyment in life comes from a great cigar, a great bottle of wine, a great string quartet, a great Rothko exhibit, a great Opera, a great sculpture, a great film; in short from sensory mindfulness. Mindful eating is an equally enjoyable experience.

So why a baguette? That too is easy. If a great steak is like a Beethoven Symphony and a great cassoulet can be as epic as Wagner’s “Ring”, then a perfect, simple baguette with an underlying hidden complexity is a Bach cello suite. Sometimes I’m up for an epic but almost nothing is more enjoyable to me, after a long day at work, than a single malt scotch and a Bach cello suite. In that context, I’ll savor a Ken’s Artisan baguette, any day.

Bravissimo Ken Forkish!

Light and Death: Reflecting on the 7th night of Hanukkah in light of Newtown Connecticut’s Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre

I’m sorry about this, but you need to bear with me if I am having difficulty seeing the light this Hanukkah. So far this season, Ravi Shankar died, the 51-year-old wife of one of my oldest Oregon acquaintances died, a 51-year old college schoolmate of mine died, and now a massacre of primary school children. So, put up with my little rant, if for no other reason than out of respect for all the beautiful souls that we’ve been loosing recently.

Every one of these recent deaths makes me sad. But, of the 4 I mentioned, 3 were just a function of the risks associated with living in a human body. Ravi died at the ripe old age of 92. Christy died of heart failure. Rusty died of cancer. None of those were really preventable. Interestingly, though, it’s the 4th of these that saddens me the most.

I suppose that, since I don’t know any of the people involved, I’m disproportionately anguished by the tragic murders in Connecticut. But, today, I’m truly distraught by the senseless killing of 20 children and 6 adults (as it stands now) at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown Connecticut. I’m an empathetic and compassionate guy. That’s why my heart weeps for all these people who I don’t know. But I’m also struggling with compassion because I’m at a point where I now feel like compassion has limits. You see, I have no compassion for the murderer at all.

I’m distraught that this guy killed himself,but it’s not out of compassion, it’s out of anger. I wish he did not kill himself because I’d like to see him tried and executed. To be honest, I’d like to see him handed over to the parents of the children he murdered; but vigilante justice is still too slippery a slope for me to condone even with someone like this, who I so despise.  Still, killing yourself is the most cowardly path after you take the lives of others. I did not always feel this way, but I’m no longer against the death penalty and I no longer have compassion for such a deranged embodiment of evil.  Perhaps one day I’ll return to my old self. But today, I say: enough is enough.

So here’s what I predict will happen next. The super-powerful NRA is going to use this to their ADVANTAGE. It won’t be long before the gun lobby uses the fact that Connecticut has among the most stringent firearms laws in the nation as a “proof point” that firearms regulation doesn’t solve the problem. Then they are going to support the argument by saying that the murderer was using legally licensed guns. Somehow, to the gun lobby, this will just be more proof that “guns don’t kill people, people kill people”.

But there is another way to view this. That is to say that, perhaps, even the strictest, most highly regulated, state laws are still NOT REGULATED ENOUGH. That will piss off my Libertarian friends no end. And, if you interpret the 2nd amendment their way, they have the right to be pissed at me. In that interpretation, we do indeed have the right to bear arms. An alternate view (one which I hold – but that does not matter for the sake of discussion) is that every word in the US Constitution is there for a reason; and that little clause about “A well-regulated militia” in not superfluous.

The extreme on one end is to say we have the right to own any weapon; the extreme on the other is to say that we only have that right in the instance when we need to build a well-regulated military who’s soldiers must bring their own weapons! I’m personally closer to the latter belief in terms of original intent. But I don’t think that’s a viable place to start if we want a “middle way” solution. So, somewhere between the extremes is the right to own weapons for you and your families defense, for hunting, and for target shooting as sport. I’m quite fine with that. The only remaining dispute is where you put the dividing line.

My gun-toting friends (of which I have many) will not agree with me. But, in my opinion, the place to draw the line is at the dividing line between manual and semi-automatic. You don’t need a semi-automatic or automatic weapon for hunting and I’m quite sure that a 9mm, a .44, or a .357 with a manual load chamber is quite enough firepower defend the family. So, if we were to prohibit everything but manually loaded firearms from private owners then the only people who are really hurt will be the collectors, hobbyists, and psycho-killers. Now, I happen to love knives and I know that it’s a bummer that I can’t bring my switchblades into California. So, I know why this would bother these people. But, it seems like a pretty small price to pay to keep assault weapons out of murders hands.

One thing I will stand by the Libertarians on is the right for people to, basically, do what they want as long as it does not hurt others. The problem with gun ownership, though, is that even an owner who takes fully competent personal responsibility can’t always control what happens. Newtown is a perfect example. Mom and 26 others were killed with mom’s properly licensed guns. I would not be surprised if mom was a very responsible gun owner. Well, mom had her face blown off by her nutcase son, who went on to kill 20 children. If mom did not have the right to own her guns, maybe things would have been better.

Now, people try to make themselves feel better by looking to their spiritual paths in times like these. We could say that all these kids had bad karma and their next lives will be full of joy. We could say, as I’ve heard already today, that these 20 children are now with Jesus. People, I’m glad this makes you feel better. If these beliefs are the tools for your healing, I want you to use them to the fullest extent. I sometimes wish I shared these beliefs. But here’s my way of thinking.

We live in an amazingly beautiful world where every human soul is born with the potential for greatness and, at least, the opportunity to thrive. I look out the window on a beautiful morning and I feel blessed to be alive. I go to my Synagogue’s Hanukkah party and see children singing and dancing and I feel my own joy in seeing their joyful spirits. I don’t ask myself where they’ll be if there’s a Messiah and he comes tomorrow. I don’t ask myself if it’s God making them joyful. All I do is to look around and see potential.

Then I consider Newtown. I see 20 children, any one of whom could have been the researcher who cures cancer, any one of whom could have been the President who brings American’s together, any one of whom who could have been the Supreme Court justice who removes the last remnant of racism in American jurisprudence,  EVERY ONE of whom deserved to experience joy and to reach their personal potential, EVERY ONE of whom has now lost that chance. And, you know what? I FUCKING WEEP, because someone took it all away with a device that is illegal in most every other civilized society.

So, tonight, as I think of the hope that the Hanukkah candles represent, I think also of the darkness that they try so hard to dispel. I think of murder. But, I can’t ever give up hope. So, with these candles, I send all the light and all the  loving energy I can muster across the continent in the hope of bringing light to a very dark place at a very dark time.

And I hope for a day when all there is is light.

On Gratitude (Godhead or not) – A Thanksgiving Essay

By tradition a Jew begins every day with the two words “modeh ani“. Basically  this means “I acknowledge and thank God for giving me the gift of life once again today”. Fundamentally, the Jewish notion of gratitude; even in the midst of obstacles, problems, and difficulties; is intended to make life more bearable in the face of so much we don’t understand. Gratitude breeds optimism. Optimism (which I am well known to often lack myself – but not for lack of trying) makes life easier. The question is to whom we should be grateful and the most obvious answer may well be “God”. This would lead to the conclusion that, without God, there can be no gratitude. But wait…

Does Judaism really teach that you can only be grateful to God? If we consider the possibility that everything is part of God, sure. But, that’s a recursive argument because if God is everything, then being grateful to God is just being grateful to everything. Where’s the incremental value to God in that proposition? So let’s set that argument aside and look at another Jewish idea. The great Mussar Rabbi, Eliyahu Lopian (1872 – 1970), is said to have once been chatting with a student after prayers. Simultaneously, he was folding his tallit. The tallit was one of those big Orthodox ones so R. Elyah had to set it on a table to fold it. After he had folded up his tallit. the Rabbi noticed that the table was dirty so he went out to get a towel to clean it off. The student noticed what Reb Elyah was doing and started to go get him the towel. Reb Elyah stopped him. “No! No! No! Wait, please!, he said, I must clean it myself. I must show my gratitude to the table for being here for me.” In other words, we can be grateful just because; we should show gratitude to everything from which we benefit. Not gratitude to God; just gratitude… period.

So what would happen if we just set God aside for a moment? Well, let’s see what some well known atheists have to say. First, I LOVE this quote from Richard Dawkins:

“After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color, bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again. Isn’t it a noble, an enlightened way of spending our brief time in the sun, to work at understanding the universe and how we have come to wake up in it? This is how I answer when I am asked — as I am surprisingly often — why I bother to get up in the mornings.”

That is an interesting take on living, but only partially on gratitude. In a quote that I’m not as enamored with, but which makes my point, Dawkins speaks directly to the issue. He says this:

“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die, because they are never going to be born. The number of people who could be here in my place outnumbers the sand grains of Sahara. If you think about all the different ways our genes could be permuted, you and I are quite grotesquely lucky to be here: the number of events that had to happen in order for you to exist, in order for me to exist. We are privileged to be alive and we should make the most of our time on this world.”

Essentially, Dawkins is saying that even in a Godless, atheistic, worldview there is room for gratitude. Why? Because in a universe of randomness there is much more of a chance that any one of us as an individual would never have existed at all. Why should we be grateful? Because we EXIST! And to whom? Well…. I don’t know…. maybe Brownian motion, maybe 1/f randomness, maybe white noise. But that random nothingness is not necessarily depressing or nihilistic  It can be wonderful… because out of random variation came ME! What kind of wonderful chance was there of THAT!

I’m not saying that I side with Dawkins. What I am saying is that you don’t need a Christ, or a Muhammad, or a Buddha, or a Shiva, or an Adonai, or any particular Godhead to feel grateful. Gratitude is a wonderful thing for everyone. Gratitude breeds optimism, which breeds happiness, no matter what religion you have or don’t have.

In my particular case, there are lots of things for which I’m thankful today. Number one is my unconditionally loving and supportive wife, Patt. This is a great example of how gratitude can come from any worldview. If I am with Patt because God brought us together, cool! I’m a happy guy. But… If it just happened by randomness, I’m cool with that too because, in that case, out of random variation came US! What kind of wonderful chance was there of THAT!

Another cause for gratitude this Thanksgiving is that I’ve been given the chance to go back to work for Grass Valley, a company I really love. God? Maybe. Seems like Brownian motion to me. But, I’ll chose to just think it was a perfect fit and those guys are lucky as hell to have me back I could go on, and there are many more things I could think of from this past year. But since this is my year of reading Proust, and since those other things generally involve the people in my life, I’ll take a moment to share what Proust has to say about gratitude:

“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” 

That is a beautiful way to express gratitude for friends. But, I’ll end with something I’ve said before because this is an àpropos way to close. Whether or not you believe in God, take to heart what one of my guru’s, Bob Nozick, has said – because this is a perfect expression of why one’s heart may feel gratitude, with or without a religious receiver. Take this into your heart and soul:

“It is a privilege to be part of the ongoing realm of existing things and processes… we identify with the totality and, in the calmness this brings, feel solidarity with all of our comrades in existing” — Robert Nozick (1989) 

Happy Thanksgiving!

On Composing, Shedding Tears, and The Emotion of Music – Contributed by Peter Grenader

The words below are not mine. They come from a friend that I’ve known for over 35 years. A man who made possible my first ever public performance of electronic music, who shared in the friendship of my most influential high school teacher, John Waddell, and who has remained a friend for all these three and a half decades. It is a very beautiful post, originating on Facebook, by my old Encino neighbor, mentor, and friend Peter Grenader. Here it is, verbatim. Thanks Peter…. We can dedicate this one to the “Great Harmonic Set”.

—————————————

To all of my friends you successfully and sometimes painfully survive the process of composing music of any ilk:

If, when in the throws of writing, we cannot experience moments when other composers contributions to our art moves us to tears, then it’s time to pack it up and move on.

I’ve asked myself a thousand times why I do this. When I do – often I begin the process by listening to the second movement of Beethoven’s 5th, the Andante. The intention being a benchmark of what should be, yet it often only reminds me of that which I am incapable of creating… so why do it? Why make another film after Cinima Paradiso, or sculpt another portrait after the The Virgin and Child with St. Anne? It seems the answer comes from the very emotion stirred by the works which effect us, that once one stops trying to impress their audience by a flexing of creative muscles and instead relies on that fundamental emotion as the transmitter – then and only then can we consider what we’ve created art. At that point it has the same right to be as any other and fit to be seen, or heard or most importantly – felt by others.

When this milestone occurs is often times evasive. For me personally it was when I realized that listening to works by other composers could predictably move me to tears. That’s when I knew I got it. The free reception of their emotion afforded me the conduit in which to transmit my own. I’m not talking perfect fifths here, or the ‘love chord’. I’m talking about representation of many emotions – love, anger, pride even sexual angst through an equally varied pallet of sonic possibilities: pitch, amplitude timbre or rhythm. Many parts of Le Sacre du Printemps and almost none of Subotnick’s Until Spring could be called pretty – but they are both highly emotional works. Masterpieces in that regard.

Something to think about as we struggle….

An informal review of Third Angle’s “Reich-analia” and the crispest “18″ I’ve heard.

I’ll say this unequivocally: I just came back from the most enjoyable performance of Steve Reich’s “Music for 18 Musicians” that I’ve ever attended. It was part of the “Reich-analia” presented by Portland’s stellar Third Angle new music ensemble. It was breathtaking.

I have to admit that I’m sort of “past my minimalism phase”. There was a time when I’d go to every Philip Glass performance and every Steve Reich concert; I’d seek out other minimalists like John Adams and even the coolest, but less well know, LeMonte Young. I used to make a pretty long trip to Mills College to see Ingram Marshall, too. But, honestly, even though I’d never miss seeing these guys if they came to town, I just don’t dig incessant pulses and arpeggios like I used to.

Tonight was different though. Tonight I was enthralled. This is partly because of the acoustics in the performance space. It was not held in a theater but, rather, in the atrium of the Montgomery Park building in Portland. I expected it to sound odd. After all, the space was designed to be an atrium, not a theater. But, I have to tell you, the clarity blew me away. This is certainly partly attributable to the transient response of the room and the location of the ensemble. But it’s also largely attributable to the crystal clear articulation of each one of the eighteen. Simply put, it was a crisp performance in a surprisingly perfect space.

“Music for 18 Musicians” is a special piece to me. It is arguably the clearest example of Reich’s aesthetic. It’s hundreds of time more complex than early work like “It’s Gonna Rain” or “Come Out”. Yet, it does not stray far from the pulses, mallet instrument cues, instrumentation, and sectionalism that characterizes much of Steve’s music. But that does not explain why it is special to me. It’s “special-ness” comes from the great memories it brings me of my youth spent running around Telegraph Avenue record stores on my frequent visits to Berkeley. You see, I bought my first copy of “18″ at Moe’s Records as a used vinyl album. I remember bringing it home to my Cousin Mark’s house and listening to it immediately so as to check for scratches. That way I could make sure I was able to return it if necessary, before heading home to LA. It brings back great images. But, it was also the day that I decided that, for myself, Reich was the greatest minimalist. Sorry Phil, but pulses beat arpeggios and marimbas trump Farfisa Organs any day, in my book.

As it happens, ”Music for 18 Musicians” is a special piece to Third Angle as well. They are the first ensemble, aside from “Steve Reich and Musicians“, to be allowed to perform the piece. They worked on it with Steve himself and they have obviously mastered it. So, Bravissimo to 3A!

Two other pieces were part of the program. One was “Electric Counterpoint” for guitar and tape. The second was “Vermont Counterpoint” for 11 flutes. I won’t address the guitar piece because this is the first time I’ve heard it. But I do want to mention the “Vermont Counterpoint” performance. You might not know this, but the flute is about as close to a sine wave as an instrument can get. It’s a very pure timbre with very limited harmonics. It can be either a gorgeous solo instrument or a overtone-free complement to more timbre-rich woodwinds. But, take 11 of them and put them all together and, unless they are really good flutists, you can end up with a big puddle of sine wave mud. Well, that is NOT what happened here. The “Vermont Counterpoint” performance was well-defined and articulate; and, surprisingly, the space contributed to the clarity rather than muddying the instruments. Surprisingly lovely. This demonstrates something I love about Portland. For a city this size we are unquestionably blessed with great musicians. How else could one find 11 flutists, all of whom can play Reich in a buildings atrium, without becoming muddy. Again, Bravissimo.

So, was there a downside to the show tonight. Well… yes. I’m not sure whether there were too many audio cables running parallel to each other, an issue with lighting, or what. But, I have only one little tiny complaint. What the hell was that buzzing in the background?

Aside from that, a fabulous night!

The Proust Parallels Project – Part 2 – The Vertical Novel (P3-2)

Sleeping problems, mother reading, the surprise compassion of father, the aunt who never leaves her bed, the servant, the church as the center of Combray, flowering trees in great detail, the first reaction to beautiful freckles,  the twin steeples of Martinville, the steeple of Vieuxvicq, Madame Guermantes, Monsieur Swann, Baudelaire’s “delicious” trumpet…

These are just some of the images that are juxtaposed in Swann’s Way. But, as I complete the chapter “Combray” I must ask myself “what happened?”. “What is the book about?” As yet there is no plot!

My first reaction to this is to think of my time, back in the day, when I regularly read Soseki, Kawabata, and Tanizaki. I used to say that the difference between western novels and Japanese novels was that the Japanese novels I love are all about “character” and very little about “plot”. So, I thought, “perhaps Proust is writing about character and the plot is really secondary”.  But it’s not so simple.

This is not a book, like Soseki’s Kokoro“, with a simple plot but in-depth character analysis. So far, it’s a book with NO plot but an in-depth memory analysis. If you asked me, in advance, whether I would like such a book, I’d quickly answer “no”. But, just as I came to love the detailed character studies of 19th and 20th century Japanese novels I’m, surprisingly, coming to love Proust’s memories. So far, they take you nowhere along a plot line. And, I’ll admit that I do find the page-long sentences annoying.  Still, these myriad images are BEAUTIFUL. I would not have expected it to be enough. But, perhaps I was wrong and it is.

I’m beginning to think of “Remembrances of Things Past” as a novel unlike anything, except perhaps Joyce’s “Ulysses“, I have read before. We tend to think of music, dance, film, and stories as being temporal – as moving forward through time. We expect a novel to be some kind of linear-kinetic series of events. But what if a novel were like a painting; like a cubist painting. What if the novel did not move forward in time but were, rather, stagnant. What, exactly, would it be doing as we turn the pages?

Perhaps the answer is this: Just as a cubist painting views an object from many angles. Maybe a novel can do the same thing. Maybe, as we read through Proust, we are not reading a time based event sequence. What if we were moving up and down a series of images and memories and feelings so as to see a life from a variety of angles; just like Picasso did visually. The events would not move horizontally through time. The result would not be a horizontal novel. So what, then?

I’m still very near the beginning of this great series of books. So, I’ll probably change my views 100 times. But, right now, I’m tending to feel like Proust has created a completely new genre:

The vertical novel!

Collectors' Pics of Pastel Female Nudes in Bilow Home

Reblogged from Michael Newberry:

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Here are a couple of snapshots from the home of Patt and Steven Bilow.

Pastel is my favorite medium, my hand just flies across the paper documenting color and light energy.

Read more… 19 more words

Here are a couple photos of some of the Newberry pastels and drawings in our home. This is a re-blog from Michael's blog.

On Being a Positive Influence Even if You Don’t Have Your Own Kids (A sentiment).

This is another one of those posts which is more for me that for anyone else. But, I hope that you can learn something from it as well.

If you know me then you know that Patt and I are often disappointed that we did not have kids. Lots of people point to time that we spend with their kids and tell us that we would have been great parents. Sometimes, I try to convince myself that there is some secret divine plan to allow us to be the ones who benefit from having the time to help others with their children. Other times, I joke that there is a secret divine plan where a great higher power knew that maybe I couldn’t handle it. But, if you read this blog then you know that I don’t really believe either of those things. Basically, I believe that you are dealt a hand and you play it as well as you possibly can. Who really knows?

That said, I have tried my best to find ways to leave a little legacy. Patt is the one who is renowned for doing everything for everyone. I get dragged along on those coattails sometimes as well. But, to me, everyone needs to individually strive to achieve their personal best and to leave a personal legacy. I want that for myself. I also want it to be something of more universal significance than to have people say “Boy! He built some kick-ass TV stations!”  That’s nice, but I want something more human.

My wife and her siblings grew up in a very religious Christian family. That may not be the right environment for me personally. But, other people make other choices. So, I respect her families religiosity. One thing I often worry about with people of any religion is closed mindedness. I tend to stereotype people that way and it’s a bad self-closed-minded habit of my own. And, I’ve been proven wrong more than once. Despite religious differences, I have been close to Patt’s family ever since I met them. I love them all deeply. Because of that, I have been very blessed to count my nieces and nephews as among my greatest treasures. They have visited us and I have tried to do what I can for them over the past 23 years. I never knew whether I was having an effect or doing any good. But, I did what I thought would help them to mature into people-loving, open-minded, ecumenical, loving, compassionate, accepting adults. The 2 girls are now married to guys I think are totally awesome. One just this past weekend. One, married for nearly 5 years. Well… I was at the wedding of the newly married niece and was speaking with the older; and, I came to realize that I have actually been a success! That’s why I want to tell you about what was said to me to prove it.

The wedding was in Austin on a cool 93 degree afternoon. It was a lovely event. Denise, the older of my 2 nieces – now the mother of 3 amazingly wonderful kids – and I were reminiscing about the days when she was a child and I was her (hopefully) fun-loving uncle. I reminded her of the time when I took her 12-year-old self to the Portland Japanese Garden and explained the Tea Ceremony and the basic concepts of Shinto and Buddhism that play into the design of a Japanese garden. Upon returning home, she told her grandmother that she had learned about the Buddha and that he “seemed very Christlike” to her. That was not grandmother’s favorite saying but it showed quite amazing insight for a 12 year old. Especially because I never said anything like that to her. She reasoned it for herself. Well, many years have passed since then. I still think it’s a cool story but I never know if any experience like that had a lasting effect. But Denise and I were talking and, to me, she said this:

“I’m really interested in world history and international events, I always have been. I’m not sure exactly where that comes from. But I think the seeds it sprouted from were planted by you.”

I’ve smiled about that single comment ever since. It’s not because I think I’m such a cool dude, or that my secret inter-religious  plot for world domination has worked It is because it’s such a wonderful thing to know that you have had some effect on the next generation. I won’t get a chance, at my age, to raise a family of children and grandchildren. But I’m overjoyed to know that I can still be a positive influence. So, the lesson I want to leave you with is this:

Never give up on the next generation. Never stop believing that you can have a positive influence. Never stop striving to make those young people  think broadly, openly, and critically. They may never believe what you believe. That’s not the point. The point is simply that if you can get a 12-year-old to consider a universe of possibilities than you can do your little part to create an adult with the capacity to give love, joy, compassion, and wisdom of their own when they take the helm. If each generation does that then humanity will survive.

Thank you Jennifer, Dustin, Bob, Matt, Jessica, and Denise, for being awesome nieces and nephews. And an extra thanks, Denise, for another divine spark of satisfaction.

There is no Country but childhood’s (Yes, I stole that from Barthes)

Recently, after being reminded about how much I like Roland Barthes book “A Lovers Discourse” (See my post on “The Marriage Plot“) I was re-reading another of Barthes’ little gems, “Incidents“. The beauty of one particular statement blew me away. In the essay called “The Light of the Sud-Ouest” Barthes says: “For to read a country is first of all to perceive it in terms of the body and of memory, in terms of the body’s memory”… “That is why childhood is the royal road by which we know a country best. Ultimately, there is no Country but childhood’s“. It reminded me of how much I disliked Los Angeles when I lived there but how, now that I’m older, I seem to have so many good memories of it. More than the concept, though, is how much I liked (man… I’m going to regret saying this) the pleasure of the text; just the sheer beauty of the words. For some reason, those few words struck me as almost unbearably beautiful. Each of the 4 essays in this tiny volume has at least one or 2 such beautiful tidbits. Unlike much of the convolution in Barthes other works, this book is easy to read, easy to understand, and simply lovely prose. Since I’ve had a lot of hits on my other posts about writers, I just thought I should share that.

While I’m thinking about childhood and beautiful prose, it’s time to settle in and read the newly released Kindle edition of the original French edition of “Le Petit Prince”. Can’t read Barthes in French; but a nice kids book on ‘Matters of Consequence”, along with a tasty single malt sounds like a reasonable alternate plan!