So i'm watching the men's 5000M relay. That is a crazy sport. I especially like that instead of a baton, you push your teammate's butt to get them going. It's just one big melee of men in foam helmets and unitards and butt-shoving. In High School I struggled with the inherent contradiction of being a musician and a quasi-jock. My music friends thought sports and my jock friends were stupid, and my jock friends thought that music was dumb and my music friends were nerdy. In a way, everyone was right, and I was always wrong.
I was thinking about this this afternoon as I stopped practicing to watch the USA/Finland hockey game (which was, praise Jesus, on television). Now as i'm watching speed skating, another thought came to me: what if, instead of Apolo Ohno and J. R. Celski, we had Luigi Nono and Giacinto Scelsi? I bet they would have a hard time going around in a circle 43 times. On the other hand, I bet their version of Summon the Heroes would be AWESOME.
Yep, that's all. Another failed reconciliation of sports and music.
Friends, commence eye rolling.
David Soyer, former cellist of the Guarneri String Quartet, passed away yesterday. He was 87. In 2001 he left the Guarneris after 37 years, and, as the group's only personnel change, was replaced by his protege Peter Wiley. It is hard to describe the impact that Mr. Soyer had on the music world as it is today; not only do cellists mourn, but all lovers of classical music share in the void left by his passing. As a teacher, he left an indelible impression on 45 years' worth of cellists at The Curtis Institute in Philadelphia and virtually all of the successful string quartets in existence today through his long association with the Marlboro Music Festival of Marlboro, VT. Follow the link to hear a 2009 performance at Marlboro of Schubert's Piano Trio No. 2, given by pianist Mitsuko Uchida, violinist Soovin Kim and Soyer. He was one of the last remaining direct links to the great cellists Emmanuel Feuermann and Pablo Casals.
His mark was different than that left by the late Rostropovich, and perhaps it was more important, more organic. Rostropovich inspired young cellists to stick out their chest, hold their head high, and play with the confidence that only he could muster. Mr. Soyer's influence came on a deeper level. There comes a point in every musician's life when they discover chamber music. It's less of a discovery than a revelation that the apex of our craft is the ability to communicate with other musicians, and the formation of a singular musical idea, when executed, is transcendent. This is what Mr. Soyer taught, showed, and lived. As young cellists makes this discovery, they eventually come upon Beethoven's sixteen String Quartets, and, thirty years later, the Guarneri's recording is still the gold standard. The powerful, deep sound of the quartet was built on Soyer's bass, and that sound influenced generations of quartets to come. There isn't a single cellist who has stepped onstage to play Op. 59 No. 1 that hasn't heard or emulated, consciously or not, Soyer's sound.
The only performance of his that I was lucky enough to attend was one of his last. Late in May 2009 he joined the Quartet for a performance of Schubert's String Quintet in C Major at the Met Museum, as the Quartet's last public performance in New York. I have seen the Guarneris before, and their Op. 127 was no different: powerful, communicative and sincere. But as the five of them took the stage for the second half, I knew something was different. I was one of one hundred or so extra patrons who were seated on the stage, and you could feel the energy, the assurance of the group as they sat down. I have never felt in a performance so strongly of the conviction and, above all, the communication of the five. As they finished and took their bows (of which there were many) you could sense from both the audience and the quartet that nobody wanted to leave; you missed them, and him, before the applause even stopped.
It's snowing hard here in Brooklyn. I like that.
I spent the last week in Miami Beach, playing with the New World Symphony, America's Orchestral Academy. It was sunny and 80 degrees just about every day, and I even went to the beach (more than once!). Also in Miami last week was the Super Bowl. Hard to say which had a greater impact on the economy of Miami Beach: me, eating out 3 meals a day, or the Super Bowl, hosting thousands of obnoxious Saints fans screaming "WHO DAT?!?!" every five minutes. I don't know who "dat" is, but I guess they didn't find out either, since they never stopped yelling.
The NWS program was Berlioz Op. 3 Overture to "les Franc-juges," John Adams Violin Concerto, and Stravinsky's ballet Petroushka. Conducting was Ludovic Morlot, a young little frenchman who reveled in the overt frenchiness of the program: bustling Petrouchka, and an entirely forgettable Berlioz Overture. Oh yeah, and that violin concerto.
The overture was at least fun to play; what it lacks in melodic content and his later feats of clever instrumentation it makes up for in it's honesty. Even though it's bad Berlioz, it's still Berlioz. Energetic, bouncy and full of life. One week was enough of that piece. Glad i'm not part of the unfortunate Opera Company who will undoubtedly uncover the manuscript and decide to stage the opera, realizing after the fact that some things are best left unsaid.
I'm not always a fan of John Adams' music, i'll freely admit. But the Violin Concerto wasn't so bad, and Jennifer Koh played the hell out of this piece. I enjoy Adams' forays into sliding harmonies and chromaticism much more than his rhythmic variation on one chord, and the concerto featured more of the former, much to my delight. It was nothing less than virtuosic, and I was very impressed with the orchestra's technical command and assurance (reduced strings gave me the luxury of listening, not playing, and spending a bit more time on the beach).
Petrouchka is one of my favorite pieces, and during rehearsals, it was hard not to draw parallels with Stravinsky's St. Petersburg and Miami Beach during super bowl week. Every morning when I left the hotel I thought I was stepping out into the shrovetide fair...Miami had everything. The charlatan, the coachmen, the gypsies and rake vendor, a ballerina, the moor, and my favorite, the peasant with bear. You can read it first here: my debut as a director will be to assemble characters straight from Miami Beach and stage an updated version of Petrouchka, with Kim Kardashian as the Ballerina, Reggie Bush as Petrouchka, and a special guest appearance of Sean Combs/Puff Daddy/P-Diddy/Diddy as the Moor.
Peter Gelb, if you're reading this, i'm available.
I had a great time visiting some old friends and making some new ones. It's no secret that NWS is so successful, and I was grateful to get a little taste of that. I don't think I could stomach an entire year down there with the endless summer, but it's great for a week. And it'll be even better with a new hall, courtesy of Frank Gehry and, to a lesser degree, my big brother, acoustical consultant of the STAR(chitect)s.
Here's a few highlights from my week down there.
I looked long and hard for Chris Berman, but all I found was Scott VanPelt and Warren Sapp. Oh well.
