Showing posts with label Classical music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Classical music. Show all posts

Monday, June 15, 2015

I'd Love to Turn You On #131 - Philip Glass - The Photographer

Philip Glass from a 1983 interview in re: Minimalism: “The trouble with the word is that it no longer accurately describes what you’re gonna hear.”

Repetition is a form of change – statement on a card from Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies deck

There’s a joke that goes like this: “Knock Knock. Who’s there? Knock Knock. Who’s there? Knock Knock. Who’s there? Knock Knock. Who’s there? Philip Glass.”
That’s the edited version that I cut in half from where I found it and it’s funny because it’s (kind of) true. Glass uses repetition in his music sure, but in reality it’s never quite as redundant or as minimal as all that.
But let’s start here – for those unfamiliar with the works of Philip Glass, it’s common to hear his name associated with the minimalist movement in 1960s and 1970s classical music, though he has distanced himself from the term for his work after the mid-70s, preferring to say that he makes “music with repetitive structures.” The difference may sound academic, but it’s crucial in the case of an album like The Photographer. Where minimalism employs fewer instruments and less overall movement, Glass’s music here is decidedly maximal, with the final piece especially an intense, breathtaking climax to the album.
The record began its life as a theatrical piece that premiered in 1982, examining the life of 19th century photographic innovator Eadweard Muybridge who pioneered techniques that would ultimately be used in film. Muybridge shot and killed a man he believed was having an affair with his wife, was acquitted, and ended up raising the child who was a product of his wife’s affair – all the kind of melodrama ripe for an operatic/theatrical work. Glass and co-writer Robert Coe reworked an existing play into a performance piece in three parts, with Part 1 a theater piece, Part 2 a concert, and Part 3 a dance, and perhaps it’s best to look at the album that way.
“Act I: ‘A Gentleman's Honor’” was originally centered around a poem Muybridge had written, but Glass noted that Muybridge was perhaps more influential in the photographic arts than the poetic ones so he asked David Byrne to help out with the words using transcripts of the trial. Byrne obliged and used snippets for the vocalists to sing to create the piece heard here. It’s performed by the ensemble as a short prelude and instrumental reprise around the longer “Act II” – the “concert” portion of the program.
“Act II,” as noted, comes on more like a typical orchestral concert, where in front of a collection of Muybridge’s photographs the full ensemble of 26 credited players (including the Colorado Symphony’s own Marin Alsop) perform Glass’s “repetitive structures” which offer up snippets and ideas and then take them away, only to have them recur at dramatically appropriate moments later in the work. One of the best ideas here is the guest solo violin of Paul Zukofsky, whose sawed motif somehow evokes both a hoedown and classical precision at once and manages to grab my ears each time it comes back into the fold.
            “Act III” is the dance portion, which starts out slow but works up to a head of steam that can drive you nuts if repetition and variation isn’t your thing. But there is definitely variation – while motives are played a few times, dropped, and then come back there are very few (if any) bars of this music that are actually identical. And though it starts mellow, it heats up around the 3 ½ minute mark, kicks it up another notch at about 7 minutes, and from about 8 ½ minutes it’s a full-on boil until the end with nothing other than a momentary breather to relieve the relentless rhythmic drive of the strings, horns, keyboards, and vocalists singing their phonemes.
            For the album, Glass assumed (rightly) that most listeners would not have seen the full work and so scaled down the pieces and cut the theatre portion of the work most significantly. But the concert and dance segments – Acts II and III – are spectacular and the shortened parts of Act I nicely set up the bigger set pieces. There are those who won’t respond to the way it keeps moving and rearranging and repeating pieces to build up to the last few climactic minutes – and you know who you are – but for those whose tastes run toward the build of rhythm that can be found across music as diverse as house music, African music, and for that matter some of the best rock and roll, you should play this as loud as you (or your neighbors) can stand it and drink in the beauty of the quiet parts and the intensity of the rest of it.
            - Patrick Brown

Thursday, December 10, 2009

One Hundred Eleven and Counting

OK, so by now you know that Deutsche Grammophon is 111 years old. That's pretty old, even for a record company. And to help celebrate, the fine folks over at DG have put together a wee 6-CD collection of highlights and gems from the last century.

The earliest recording on this lovely set is a Meyerbeer aria sung by the opera titan Enrico Caruso in 1907. That's a little like having a box set called “45 years of the Rolling Stones” and not including anything until Sticky Fingers, isn't it? Or perhaps I'm the only person who wants to hear tragically Lo-Fi 19th century opera recordings. Or perhaps that's the earliest thing they could find. Still, that's a minor gripe as this set is pretty impressive by any standards.

The tracks are offered up here alphabetically, by performer - from Abbado to Zimerman, taking in legends like Bohm, Domingo, Furtwangler, Heifetz, Karajan, Oistrakh, Rostropovich and Segovia along the way. Because of this there is no flow or theme on the discs but rather a continuously shifting mood that never gets boring.

I recognized much of the music on this set but there were nice surprises also - the wonderful “Boogie Woogie Etude” by Morton Gould sounds exactly like the title, and Golijov's "Ayre," sung by Dawn Upshaw (with the the Andalucian Dogs!) is fabulous too. The fact that such an array of composers is represented here (not just Bach and Beethoven) turns this collection into a treasure trove of discoveries. My only regret is that the pioneering work of Kagel, Stockhausen, Nono and Maderna (which DG thankfully supported in the 60s and 70s) is only marginally represented here. Perhaps we'll get an Avant-garde box set next year, guys?

The appeal of DG goes beyond music. Like the wildly different labels Blue Note and 4AD, the presentation and feel of the records was part of the package. DG is a design icon with an instantly recognizable brand and aesthetic; perhaps the first label to achieve that. So, good on ya, chaps! Thanks for the music and here's to another 111.

- Ben Sumner

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

What's in the Bin? - November 4th, 2008

One of the sheer joys of being in an indie record store is browsing the bins. Just starting somewhere, flipping through things, pulling out items that catch your eye, giving a few of them a test spin. So in the fourth of a hypothetical series, I've browsed the "New Arrivals" bins here at Twist & Shout, picked out a few things, and gave them a listen. The nature of used record stores being what it is, I can't promise these items will still be in the bin by the time you get here. But hey, browse the bin anyway. You might find something else of worth.

CD - Interpol - Antics
It's a bit early in the game to label this their "forgotten" album. But between their stunning, "everybody-come-check-THIS-out" debut Turn on the Bright Lights, and the excellent return-to-form Our Love to Admire...came this. Which I guess would at the very least have to be labeled a disappointment. But upon revisiting it post-buzz, I find that it's really not disappointing at all. It's just not quite as immediate as their debut. The songs range from good to great, but rather than jumping out and grabbing you by the ears, they're more subtle. They lay there, and expect you to actually go listen to them. And oddly, doing so proves quite rewarding. "Next Exit" may be a rather oddball opener, but there's plenty of goodies to be found afterwards - notably "C'mere" and "Evil." This CD probably isn't worth as many cool points as Turn on the Bright Lights would be for your next cocktail party, but then again, maybe it is. If you're ready to do a bit of explaining to your friends, that is. And for some, that's the entire point.

CD - Takacs Quartet - Beethoven: The Early String Quartets
I'm going out on a limb a bit with this one, mainly because my knowledge of classical music isn't very extensive. As such, my discussions about classical music and recordings generally hover around "I prefer this one" rather than any true critique I can offer. But I've got several classical recordings in my CD collection, and I'm always on the prowl for more. So let's bring this one down to my level - is it something I'd get? Well, kinda sorta maybe.

I don't know the Takacs Quartet. Judging by the back cover, they wear dinner jackets, hold their instruments and stand in semi-circles, which means they're similar to 95% of other classically-bent quartets. But this two-CD set was somewhat of a surprise. When I see the words "string quartet," I tend to think "chamber music." Four people playing pleasant music that quite often can sort of drift into the background. There's nothing wrong with that, of course - record labels have been minting "The Most Relaxing Classical Album in the Universe!" CDs for years now. But the music here isn't really well-suited to that. The music makes you notice. The bowing is "sharp" and dramatic throughout much of these two discs, which keeps this front-and-center music rather than "something pleasant to put on in the background." I'm not sure if the pieces are written that way, or the Takacs Quartet just played it that way - there's my classical ignorance coming into play. But the pieces were really nice. I enjoyed listening to them. I'd just have to remember not to put it on when I felt like zoning out.

7" - Jorgen Ingmann - "Desert March/Tovarisch"
It's weird and fun coming across something different by an artist you know precisely one song by. I know "Apache" from its appearances on countless "Instrumentals of the 50s and 60s" collections, and so I was intrigued to see what else Jorgen could do. I was expecting "Desert March" to be a rather slow, mournful, almost oppresive number, which shows I'm a product of my time - they'd never release something like that back then. Instead, think a Cub scout troop marching to a jamboree on a particularly warm day, and you'll be in the ballpark. The rat-a-tat snares in the background give it that fun-patriotic "You're a Grand Old Flag" feel, and the Les Paul-esque "guitar choruses" help make it a cool forgotten early-rock instrumental. B-side "Tovarisch," I guessed, would be about as authentically Russian as "Apache" was Apache, and there, I didn't miss my guess. Or did I? The label claims the song is "Trad Adapated by Jorgen Ingmann," so perhaps in fact it is a Russian folk song. But if so, it's been 50s-rock'd into an even more Les Pauly number than the flip. But that's only problematic if you consider "Les Pauly" to be an insult rather than high praise, and that's certainly not the case with me.

- Mondo Gecko