Watch What You Wish For
Don't get me wrong: I'm excited to be flying down to Austin next week to attend the Austin City Limits Music Festival for the fifth time. And, I'm sincerely grateful to festival organizers, who've gifted me with a press pass to the whole shebang, along with a list of PR contacts for all the participating musicians. Apparently, though, it's a two-way street, as my Gmail has been flooded this week with interview offers I don't want, party invites I can't accept, and other desiderata that would try the patience of a librarian. Still, if I get that interview with Fogerty, I suppose it'll be worth it.
One of my primary joys - usually indulged while traveling, or on occasional free weekends here - is to put on headphones and walk around some quiet area, preferably near some water, maybe a few trees. Everything takes on an added resonance, amplified by the music.
Composer Betsey Biggs has developed that ambulatory pastime with her new piece, "Eleven Dreams In Red Hook." On any given Saturday this month, you can find Biggs sitting at a folding table outside the new Brooklyn Ikea, filled with CDs, tapes and a Mac ProBook. You give her your license, and she hands you an iPod shuffle and a map to the eleven neighborhood locations that inspired her soundscapes. She overlays audio samples with digital effects that are occasionally soothing, often stark and jarring. The net effect is a heart-heavy journey through a neighborhood in transition, but one where ghosts lurk around every corner.
I'm usually drawn to Red Hook by the eerie quiet of its remote confines. Biggs gives us a reason to visit that is anything but quiet but nothing short of enticing. Stop by one of these Saturdays and see/hear for yourself.
Over the past year-and-a-half, I've had the good fortune to meet - and become friendly with - a fair number of musicians in and around New York. Some of these musicians you've probably heard of; others may be more obscure. All are contributing invaluable threads to the fabric of what is becoming known as 21st century music.
Many of them, I've discovered, also like to drink. As do I.
So, today begins a new feature where I invite one of these musical acquaintances to sit and chat over a cocktail or two. For my first C.C., I caught up with composer Nico Muhly last night in the back room of Temple Bar on Lafayette, near the studio where he works. Nico was in between trips to Paris, where his ballet Triade is receiving it's world premiere performances at the Palais Garnier. Just last week, he was at Le Poisson Rouge, supporting singer-songwriter Ólöf Arnalds on piano. And, over the summer, he completed his 802 Tour with fellow Vermont-natives (and frequent co-conspirators) Sam Amidon and Tom "Doveman" Bartlett.
Following is some of what transpired. (I'm doing this from memory, so much of this is paraphrased. Next time, I'll try to remember the recorder):
On Food: "I'm of French heritage, so I was brought up to take cooking very seriously. The French are meticulous in how they prepare food: everything is arranged on the plate is a very precise way, in specific portions. In other words: their food is composed."
On Money: "My only source of income is writing and performing music. I never had any desire to get my D.Mus. and teach. That model never made sense to me."
On Musicians: "You can usually tell from someone's personality what instrument they play. The only ones I can never tell are straight male violinists."
On Musician Friends: "Nadia (Sirota) knows exactly how I'd want something to be played, without me having to tell her. That sort of knowledge makes such a difference. She's developed a certain way of playing, which she now uses to play other people's music. That just blows my mind."
On Travel: "I think it's important to be there in person when someone's playing my piece, especially as a young composer, since there's this perception that I'm of the MySpace generation that never does anything face-to-face. Even if I just say one or two things, I think it makes a differnce."
On Classical Music: "People have this perception that classical music institutions are like Mordor. When you get right down to it, the Chicago Symphony is, like 2 women. The Met is, like, 20 people, but it's really just Peter Gelb. All that history is important, but it only means something to a relatively select number of people. It's actually tiny compared to popular music."
On the New York Philharmonic: "I can't even remember the last time I was there. Would I accept a commission from them? Of course!"
On Indie Rock: "Sure, I go to shows all the time. Usually I go to Bowery, since it's, like, five minutes from my house. I'll go see anything. If someone recommends something to me, I'll go."
On Iceland: "I was playing with Björk when I met her engineer, Valgeir (Sigurðsson.) He listened to some of the demos I put out when I was at Juilliard and told me, 'These sound like total shit! You need to come to Iceland right now so I can record you.' And I said: 'Ok!' And I've been going back four or five times a year ever since...The musicians there are amazing. They play everything: classical, jazz, folk, indie rock. To them, it's all the same thing. I think they've become such great musicians because noone there is afraid to fail. There's no stigma about failure there the way there is in this country."
On Text Messages: "Good Lord. I can't even tell you how many I get each day."
Many of them, I've discovered, also like to drink. As do I.
So, today begins a new feature where I invite one of these musical acquaintances to sit and chat over a cocktail or two. For my first C.C., I caught up with composer Nico Muhly last night in the back room of Temple Bar on Lafayette, near the studio where he works. Nico was in between trips to Paris, where his ballet Triade is receiving it's world premiere performances at the Palais Garnier. Just last week, he was at Le Poisson Rouge, supporting singer-songwriter Ólöf Arnalds on piano. And, over the summer, he completed his 802 Tour with fellow Vermont-natives (and frequent co-conspirators) Sam Amidon and Tom "Doveman" Bartlett.
Following is some of what transpired. (I'm doing this from memory, so much of this is paraphrased. Next time, I'll try to remember the recorder):
On Food: "I'm of French heritage, so I was brought up to take cooking very seriously. The French are meticulous in how they prepare food: everything is arranged on the plate is a very precise way, in specific portions. In other words: their food is composed."
On Money: "My only source of income is writing and performing music. I never had any desire to get my D.Mus. and teach. That model never made sense to me."
On Musicians: "You can usually tell from someone's personality what instrument they play. The only ones I can never tell are straight male violinists."
On Musician Friends: "Nadia (Sirota) knows exactly how I'd want something to be played, without me having to tell her. That sort of knowledge makes such a difference. She's developed a certain way of playing, which she now uses to play other people's music. That just blows my mind."
On Travel: "I think it's important to be there in person when someone's playing my piece, especially as a young composer, since there's this perception that I'm of the MySpace generation that never does anything face-to-face. Even if I just say one or two things, I think it makes a differnce."
On Classical Music: "People have this perception that classical music institutions are like Mordor. When you get right down to it, the Chicago Symphony is, like 2 women. The Met is, like, 20 people, but it's really just Peter Gelb. All that history is important, but it only means something to a relatively select number of people. It's actually tiny compared to popular music."
On the New York Philharmonic: "I can't even remember the last time I was there. Would I accept a commission from them? Of course!"
On Indie Rock: "Sure, I go to shows all the time. Usually I go to Bowery, since it's, like, five minutes from my house. I'll go see anything. If someone recommends something to me, I'll go."
On Iceland: "I was playing with Björk when I met her engineer, Valgeir (Sigurðsson.) He listened to some of the demos I put out when I was at Juilliard and told me, 'These sound like total shit! You need to come to Iceland right now so I can record you.' And I said: 'Ok!' And I've been going back four or five times a year ever since...The musicians there are amazing. They play everything: classical, jazz, folk, indie rock. To them, it's all the same thing. I think they've become such great musicians because noone there is afraid to fail. There's no stigma about failure there the way there is in this country."
On Text Messages: "Good Lord. I can't even tell you how many I get each day."
I caught the U.S. premiere of Iannis Xenakis' Oresteia last night up at the Miller Theatre, in a performance by the International Contemporary Ensemble and a mixed chorus of men and women and children. A group of six dancers provided visual stimuli, as did a slowly morphing projection of a bloodshot eye.
The Oresteia - a trilogy of plays written by Aeschylus in the Fifth century B.C. - is the archetypal Greek drama, a bloody mixture of adultery, murder and vengeance. Xenakis' dissonant, disturbing score is dominated by heavy percussion (supplied here by David Schotzko) and a bass singing falsetto (Wilbur Pauley), mirroring the horror of the story. The final scene, in the Temple at Delphi, had the cast singing and blowing whistles that rose to a piercing, shrieking climax unlike anything I've ever heard.
I can't say I exactly enjoyed Oresteia, but I'm glad I heard it with my own ears.
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