Not Quite an Hobson's Choice, but Close

For the past few years, I’ve deliberately avoided discussing politics in my column, or social media generally, simply because it’s usually a waste of time and energy (as will be this rant).  But, sometimes the need for one to express one’s thoughts (and yes, feelings) about such matters becomes overwhelming.  I’d be curious as to how many folks here think about what’s going on, particularly as pertains to the presidential (and in many ways least important) race.

For me, I have to say this has to be the single most disappointing presidential race I have ever experienced in my, perhaps too many, years on this planet. Never, have I disliked, even been repulsed by, both candidates.  Usually one is relatively acceptable.  For me it’s usually been the Democratic candidate because I am generally of a more progressive persuasion.  Notwithstanding, that hasn’t precluded the positive aspects of the candidates from the other side.  Even Nixon was responsible for the establishment of the (now virtually moribund) National Endowment for the Arts.  At least Reagan, Ford, G.H.W. and G.W. Bush were not openly malicious, notwithstanding my disagreements with most of what they brought to the White House.  Anyway, you get my drift here.

However, this time around I have to say I am in a serious quandary.  Back in 2008 I was very much in favour of Hillary Clinton; Let’s face it Barack Obama was simply not ready for the office; and he has (very much to my regret) proved it (the reasons for this would be for another discussion).  At that time Hillary Clinton was still a very credible candidate for the office; she had not been corrupted by the secretive machinations as Secretary of State for the Obama administration.  Her credibility has been seriously undermined by her inscrutable determination to not be forthcoming on not just her incessant e-mail revelations, but her whole circumspect approach to dealings with the Foundation and in what other cryptic endeavours she and Bill have been engaged.  I’m not generally one to pay attention what the American public as a whole thinks (since I for the most part have a pretty low opinion of the American public’s irrational, emotional and largely ill-informed “thinking”), but this time around I have to concur, I find her to be vexingly disingenuous.

That being said, I then think, how can anybody in their right mind even remotely consider Donald Trump a serious contender for president?  To those of you who support his candidacy… What is wrong with you?  I know that people don’t like to be told that they are stupid, but… YOU’RE STUPID!  There is, and can be, no other explanation as to why anybody with anything other than the I.Q. of a radish, and the emotional development of a four year old, would even remotely consider this man for the office.  There simply is no excuse.

I guess what bothers me the most is that the Democratic Party had a bona fide alternative, a chance to win not only the presidency, but actually precipitate a major sea change in Washington beyond the presidential level, which I mentioned is actually less important that what is commonly referred to the “down ballot” part of this election.  Nothing could reflect more clearly the distinction between the two major parties than what happened prior to and during the conventions:

The Republicans went with the “outsider” candidate who reflected precisely all the worst qualities of the so-called base of the party:  xenophobia, racism, religious fanaticism and the worst form of jingoism, economic inequality, global warming denial, you-name-it, all packaged in the fear of anything remotely associated the government.  The result is a candidate who the majority of Americans find repulsive.  A person whose unfavourable ratings are close to 60 per cent of the public.

The Democrats on the other hand through their blatantly corrupt determination to assure their predetermined (thank you Debbie Wassermann Shultz) machine candidate of choice was the chosen one despite all data that evidenced over and over again that THEIR outside candidate Bernie Sanders would have beaten Donald Trump by as much as two-to-one margins.  Why?  Because people knew Bernie Sanders was authentic.  He didn’t have innumerable skeletons in the closet, and always stayed on message — a message, by the way, to which the folks at “Black Lives Matter” blinded themselves because of their tunnel visioned approach to the political situation.

Anyway, for me the political process in this country has not only hit an all time low, it doesn’t look to improve anytime soon.  In fact, with the mass media frenzy feeding on Clintons e-mail and foundation bungling and the latest Trump crazy man faux pas on virtually anything, I don’t expect the American public to become intelligent soon — if ever.

So, I’m confronted with the “lesser of two evils” syndrome — again.  Do I vote for a big mouthed blowhard, narcissist who cannot make a decision in which he feels does not benefit him personally, or do I vote for a completely compromised, surreptitious person whose credibility ever since becoming an high profile ill-prepared member of an high-profile ill-prepared president’s cabinet?  I afraid I’m going to have to hold my nose and divine into the quagmire with the latter, for two reasons:

1) At one time she was an idealist with progressive ideas, and maybe, just maybe, if she’s elected with at least a Democratic majority in the senate she can retrieve a little of her old self

2) She’s not Donald Trump.

I really can’t stand this

So Where Have I Been?

Being away from Facebook and Linkedin, even my blogs has been good for me to a certain extent.  Which is why I'm writing on this one, my "personal" blog. so to speak.  I think we all know that Facebook (I never opened a Twitter account) is one huge waste of time for someone like me.  All it has done is make me feel even more removed from society — humanity — more than ever.  Ironically, I'm normally a pretty gregarious guy.  When my wife are out and about, I'm almost invariably the one who will strike up a conversation with strangers if I happen to see something about them or what they are doing that's interesting.  People like to talk, even shy people, when they see that you are interested in them and what they are doing.  But, that's face-to-face, person-to-person.  What makes it special is that the exchange is limited to just the people at that moment.  You're not jumping from page to page making comments or "liking" some posting and then moving on to the posting from some one, who in many cases, is some one you've never physically met.  

The other depressing aspect of Facebook is this "post or die" mentality associated with it.  A lot of that has to do with this compulsion to acquire as many "friends" as possible.  I mean, honestly, can a person have 4,000 friends... 1,000, 500, 350?  How many friends can a person have and actually be friends?  With how many of these "friends" can you actually maintain some type of meaningful relationship?

Now, I've reconnected with a substantial number of people from my college years.  Many of whom I like very much and could even consider as friends.  But, trying to keep up with everything they say or do with all of their posts and comments is, for me, quite literally impossible.  Moreover, I'm not big on people asking me for my "concern" or sympathy or (worse yet) my prayers because somebody's aunt, uncle, cousin, brother, sister, or some other relative or the relative of some one's friend is ill or passed away.  These are people with whom I have or had no acquaintance, or even previous knowledge.  I find such eliciting as gratuitous and self-indulgent; and the responses, at best disingenuous, not withstanding best intentions.  It's simply not the same as a friend, or even close acquaintance, calling (NOT texting) you or contacting you directly to tell you the news.  At least at that point there's at least some chance of true empathy.  But this Facebook thing?  "I just found out I have pancreatic cancer" or, "Fred had a nervous breakdown and has had to go on disability" or, "my Aunt Mary just passed away. Please pray for her...." is the kind of news I would normally go around spreading to the world on social media; yet, I see it all the time.  And I for one, find it distasteful.                                                                  

But I digress.  I would love to promote my work on Facebook and Linkedin.  And Lord knows I've tried.  Unfortunately, sites like Facebook give one the comfortable ability to lie.  "Oh sure, send me your work and guarantee a performance."  "I love this piece!"  and then you never hear from that person again.  Now I'm one of those people that after I send somebody something the work should speak for itself.  So, if I don't hear from them again, at least after one or two inquiries as to how "it's" coming along and I never get a response... well you can only imagine how I feel.

And that's the problem of places like FB; they give you the ability to be, at best, disingenuous and more likely just simple outright liars.

American Music on the Radio on an American Holiday

Being the curmudgeon that I am, modern technology doesn't generally impress me; and on those occasions where it has, such as Facebook, I have ultimately found it wanting (more about that some other time).  Nevertheless, there are those instances in which technological advancements have not only impressed me, but have actually proven to be most useful.  A case in point: internet radio.  Through the glories of digital technology I now can listen to virtually any broadcast radio station, plus any station which is solely designed to be heard on the internet through streaming, much of it via iTunes.  On any Wednesday I could be listening to a Choral Evensong on BBC Radio 3, or  All Night Classics on the ABC (Australia), or L'Air du Temps on RTBF (Belgium), or something on WFMT, VPR, WRTI, WGBH, WQXR, MPR, or any of the exclusive online services such as Organlive, Connoisseur Classics, or RadioIO Classical, or any of countless live streams available.  That doesn't include podcasts of programmes I may have missed but can listen to at a later date.

I realise this all sounds terribly prosaic, but there is a point to this:  being able to listen to so many radio stations, especially American broadcast stations, I've managed to get a sense of overview as to their idiosyncrasies and programming styles.  American classical music stations are now almost exclusively within the purview of Public Radio.  The result being a certain blandness and predictability.  I have found that, just like pop music today, there is almost nothing which distinguishes one broadcast classical music station from another.  It's all very generic with a heavy emphasis on Baroque music, shorter works from other periods and (UGH!) the excerpting of single movements from larger works (a mortal sin in my book), and of course, the avoidance of most 20th and 21st Century music (the exceptions I need not mention here).  Baroque is big because (like it or not), with a tiny number of notable exceptions, it has a certain sameness to it; for the other stuff it's the usual top 40 Classics.

Then there are the announcers who, are either so musically illiterate they can't even read the liner notes properly including the persistent mispronouncing of names or musical terms.  Then there are the "scholars" who blather on about how extraordinary a piece is, or what a simply marvellous performance we had just heard.  I've become exasperated by the "commentaries" by these morons. I really don't need to have Jill Pasternak of WRTI tell me how beautifully Lang Lang played a Chopin prelude, since I happen to think that Lang Lang is a charlatan; or, Alan McLellan of WGBH telling me what a great interpreter of Aaron Copland Leonard Bernstein was.  Thank you, I already knew that.

Nevertheless, there is one broadcast station that stands out on uniquely American holidays.  On those days — Memorial Day, July 4th and Thanksgiving — to their abiding credit WRTI in Philadelphia (90.9 FM) devotes practically their entire classical broadcast day (6:00 a.m. — 6:00 p.m.) to American composers in a comprehensive way that others don't.  Of the eight broadcast stations to which I have traditionally listened: MPR (Minnesota Public Radio), WGBH (Boston), VPO (Vermont Public Radio), WFMT (Chicago), WQXR (New York), WETA (D. C.), WWFM (Central N.J.), WRTI (Philadelphia) only the last one devotes its time almost exclusively to American music on these uniquely American holidays.  

So, why am I making such a fuss over what might seem to some as borderline musical jingoism?  Because, when it comes to American classical music I guess I do have an almost fanatical zeal.  America musically came of age in the 20th Century.  Having been spared the exorbitant loss of life and destruction by entering World War I late in the game and not experiencing either World Wars on home soil, and with stern shepherding during the 20's (and later) of Nadia Boulanger,  America was blessed with two generations of  stunning talent (a list of which would far exceed the scope of this article), most of whom we never get to hear in the concert hall and rarely on the radio or computer during the rest of the year.  So, I say kudos to WRTI during these distinctive holidays —  Jill Pasternak's sycophantish blather and the unremitting "non-ads" (under the guise of "support" announcements) notwithstanding — Dave Conant and Jack Moore are to be applauded  for their promotion of what is probably America's greatest yet least appreciated contribution to cultural enrichment of humankind.

How did This Happen?

Did you ever have one of those days later in life in which you came to the realisation that, quite literally, everything — and I mean everything — for which you strove, to which you aspired, to which you devoted essentially your entire life, gave you definition as an individual had not even remotely been fulfilled?  Somehow I doubt it.  So far, everyone I know, whether it’s from my childhood, college, to later in life (including Facebook and other social media) has to some extent achieved a level of success in life.  It may not be exactly that for which one originally strove, but it may have been close; or, at least, a not unreasonable approximation.  Then there are those who found a level of success in a completely different field altogether.  You may have started out wanting to be a musician, but somewhere along the line, whether for personal, philosophical or simply practical (i. e., financial) reasons you ventured into a completely different line of work.  Or, as in the case with many, perhaps most, artistic people, you found a way to do both and still manage to attain some satisfaction in your artistic endeavours. 

I, on the other hand, have failed abysmally.  Mind you, I really don't blame anyone but myself; and perhaps, the occasional uncontrollable circumstance.  Nevertheless, I fully realise that, as the cliché goes, since I made my bed I must sleep in it.  That doesn't palliate the remorse or regret, much less the pain.  In fact, it only militates against any assuagement of my despondency.  All it does is remind me of the sequence of bad decisions I have made throughout most of my life, the first and worst of which was wanting to be a musician — an organist in particular.  But, that was only the first of many, many unfortunate, notwithstanding good intentioned, decisions:  most of which were what I had considered at the time to be pragmatic or realistic junctures in light of my relative youth and aspirations, but were actually more survival expediencies than goal directed stratagems.  Some decisions turned out to be just plain stupid; but, stupidity is the special preserve for the young — I guess.  Eventually we’re supposed to grow out of the stupid phase; you know, the “with age comes wisdom” thing.  Unfortunately, wisdom comes a little (or a lot) too late.   

You see, there is this really noisome trait I have — rationalisation.  I can’t tell you the number of times I left a situation — either personally or professionally — and learned very soon how bad a mistake it was.  Now, almost everybody has done this sort of thing at one time or another.  But, it seems there are those of us who have made a career of making decisions later to be regretted.  Not occasionally, not seldom, or sporadically, but steadily, constantly, habitually.  Everyone of these decisions were attempts to get myself into a situation in which I could finally find the time and space to consistently practise my craft and get my musical career back on track (operating under the delusion that it actually was at one time).  Unfortunately, to list these unfortunate decisions is not within the purview of this rant and would be far too numerous much less humiliating.  I have to live with these incomprehensibly obtuse decisions.

And now?  Now I have pretty much abandoned the art form to which I had devoted my life.  The three aspects of music in which I had hoped in some fashion to succeed — conducting, composition, the organ (not necessarily in that order), I now know will never happen.  Conducting I gave up long ago, even though I am an innate conductor: vastly superior, even now at this unpractised stage in my life, to 99% of the boneheads out there;. 

As to the organ, since moving to Boston and receiving the decided cold shoulder from “my guild,”  I have pretty much bid my adieus.  This explains my not adding any further installations to my commentary in the “Choral #3 in a” by César Franck.  What the hell good is it to express ideas about how to perform a piece of music if you can’t actually demonstrate those ideas?  At this point I don’t even have the confidence to apply for a church job simply because I don’t feel I could execute a decent audition anymore.  Ultimately, I guess, it’s a good thing.  At least I’ve come to acknowledge the reality of my pathetic station as an erstwhile organist.  Oh, but there’s an additional sad irony:  I masochistically signed up as a volunteer for a number of activities for the AGO convention when it was here in Boston.  How’s that for pathetic?

Composing?  The last and most hurtful failure of all.  As a composer one always has in the back of his/her head the hope that, no matter how remote, someone will eventually perform your music.  Little disgusts me more than the successful composer — or even the “unsuccessful” one who has only had a few pieces performed — who, in responding to the lamentations of his/her completely unperformed brother or sister, pontificates about how one should be doing it only for itself; that composing is an end in and of itself; you do it for the sake of the art, not for the glory, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah.  That’s easy for them to say.  They’ve been performed, no matter how infrequently.  They’ve heard their music performed by someone other than themselves in their studio or living room.  Every composer, I don’t care how artistically virtuous, composes with idea that he or she has something to share with the world, that each and every creation is meant to be heard; i. e., performed.  When that hope, even in the most perfunctory or trifling manner miscarries, that desire, that compulsion to create eventually disintegrates and eventually atrophies.  Why bother?  I don’t expect my “colleagues,” “brother or sister” composers (much less performers) to sympathise, empathise or even remotely understand.  At this point I rightly don’t care. 

You see, there’s huge frustration here.  I listen works by people who have absolutely no business calling themselves composers — but, then again considering our current environment —  and yet, their music gets performed.   Even worse, they get paid to write their drivel and even win prizes for it (case in point Libby Larsen’s little ditty she composed for the 2014 AGO Convention in Boston). I don’t need to go into why, We all pretty much know that talent has little to do with winning competitions or receiving commissions.  

All of us have experienced failure and disappointment at various times in our lives, some of us more than others, some of us more than most.  And then there are those of us who, in spite of our best efforts to the contrary, persist upon bungling it.  I guess some of us are born to screw up; which brings me back to the rationalisation factor.  Long after it had become clear that I was not going to achieve anything near, or even remote, to my musical aspirations I somehow convinced myself that there was still hope.

Anyway, it’s taken a long time, but I think I may have come to terms with my life of “should-haves”  and failures — noble and ignoble. I realise at this late date that whatever I do from here on out just becomes another facet of the survival mode into which I have fallen.  Oh, there are plenty of excuses, some of them plausible, even valid; but, at this point it really doesn’t make any difference. I just have to content myself with knowing that my knowledge, skill, talent and innate musical acumen notwithstanding, I  will live out my years as the organist without an organ, the conductor without ensemble (vocal or instrumental), the accompanist without partner, the teacher without a student, the writer without a reader, the composer without a performer, the performer without an audience.  

Ain’t life grand?

Mahler 8 in Phila.

It’s always a special occasion when Gustav Mahler’s Symphony #8 in Eb, also known as the “Symphony of a Thousand,” is performed.  However, this series of performances in March of 2016 has even greater significance since it was one hundred years ago that the then 28 year old new Director of the Philadelphia Orchestra Leopold Stokowski gave the American premier, using literally over a thousand performers (including choruses).  It was the performance that put Philadelphia in the map and, as WRTI announcer Greg Whiteside said “it hasn’t wavered since.”   Maestro Yannick Nézet-Séguin commanded forces not only of a greatly expanded orchestra (including 8 French Horns, a mandolin, harmonium and full organ, plus an addition off stage brass band of 4 trumpets and 3 trombones, but also 8 soloists, two large choirs and a boys choir.  It’s pretty big, and Maestro Nézet-Séguin held the reins very firmly.  It was most fitting I suppose that not only was this performance celebrating the 100th anniversary of the Mahler 8th in America, but only a few days earlier Maestro Nézet-Séguin had celebrated his own 41st birthday.  Nice.

Unfortunately, I think partly because of the problematic acoustics of Verizon Hall the sound was not very good.  Mike placement was almost entirely focused on the strings and the chorus and soloists were very much in the background.  As a result, it was difficult to get a good sense of how the choirs really sounded.  Overall, from what I could determine from the sound it was quite satisfactory.  With that caveat out of the way I thought  Maestro Nézet-Séguin's interpretation was right on spot.  The dynamics were faithfully followed, for the most part, and the tempi were absolutely perfect! 

Yet, for some reason getting good soloists for this piece has always been a problem.  And this was no exception.  The main difficulty is finding a lyric soprano capable of singing the Mater Gloriosa part, who also is usually the soprano (unnamed) solo during the beginning of the final chorus (Das Ewige-Weibliche — The Eternal-Feminine).  This section requires the soprano to unobtrusively approach and then effortlessly pick out (or “float” to) a pianissimo high C.  I’ve never understood why conductors over and over again: Bernstein, Solti, Haitink, etc. almost invariably choose the wrong soprano to do this.  Of the dozen or more recordings and performances I’ve heard of this piece only two have had a soprano who actually gets it right: 1) Donald Runnicles 2010 performance with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, which in this case Erin Wall (Una Poenitentium here in Phila.) was Magna Peccatrix, but also did the high C and did it beautifully; and 2) a 1960 outdoor festival performance in Vienna with Dimitri Mitropoulos, with all of its shortcomings, was more than compensated with Mimi Coertse’s Mater Gloriosa and her absolutely impeccable, astonishing pianississimo C from which she grows the most delicate crescendo.  I can only assume that this singing was precisely what Mahler imagined.  I have never heard ANYBODY, no matter how famous, do this so perfectly.  Of course, as you can imagine, unfortunately Angela Meade* fell a little short.  She was an unfortunate choice, she had a total lack of control, resulting in the kind of straight tone one experiences from strain, albeit fairly quiet (about mp), but strain just the same.  It wouldn’t mean so much if this wasn’t such crucial point the score; which is why it baffles me so much that conductors treat this moment so cavalierly that one would think that they’re just thinking: “Oh, she’s a lyric we’ll have her sing the C,”  without hearing it first.

OK, enough of the “high C.”  Among the other soloists interestingly enough two others who have recently sung this work together stood out as exceptional:  the previously mentioned Erin Wall and bass John Reylea who sang Pater Profundis with Ms. Wall in 2010.  Among the other soloists special maention needs to be made for mezzo-soprano Elisabeth Bishop who was called in at the last minute to replace Stephanie Blythe as Mulier samaritana and did it with aplomb.  Also Mihoko Fujimura (Mater Ægyptiaca) had a rich almost velvety sound closer to a contralto.  Baritone Markus Werba did quite nicely in his short Pater Esctaticus solo, although he had to belt out his high G contrary to Mahler's p indication; but, then again, I have yet to hear a baritone hit an high G softly then crescendo as the score indicates; methinks Gus was asking just a little too much.  I mean, seriously folks, if Hermann Prey couldn't do who can? The tenor,  Anthony Dean Griffey (Doctor Marianus) seemed adequate to the task it was, again difficult to discern, as in case of all the singers, because of the less than satisfactory sound.   Nevertheless, Lisette Oropesa sang Mater Gloriosa most delicately and serenely.  Her pianissimo high B was sublime and gave me hope that she would be the one to sing the "zieht uns hinan" C. I should have realised that would have been impossible since she would have had to hightail down from one of the upper tiers of the auditorium down to the stage.  It might have been possible; but, it would have asked too much for her to give that note what she more than likely normally would have given it.  That was very unfortunate indeed.

What I really liked about this performance was that Maestro Nézet-Séguin was not afraid of letting the organ be heard.  More than the 2nd Symphony, this one has a substantial organ part, pedal runs included.  I could kiss Michael Stairs for giving that part everything it is suppose to have without exceeding the composer’s wishes. MWAH!  Again, I can only imagine how much better everything just have been live.  Unfortunately, now that I’m in Boston I couldn’t get to hear it in person and had to settle for the broadcast; I couldn’t hear the mandolin and could only barely hear the harmonium. Moreover, as I mentioned earlier, the singing, it seemed to me, was treated very much as secondary by the engineers and the strings over emphasised.

So, what about the choirs?  As if I’m not in enough trouble already, let me say this:  since it was not made clear to those not present I couldn’t tell who was Choir I or Choir II.  I think overall (again compensating for the crappy sound) Choir I had a fuller, dare I say richer, sound than Choir II.  Now this difference is slight.  Both choirs sounded quite well, but, the sopranos and tenors in Choir II, in the softer sections, lacked warmth and richness of tone, i.e., no vibrato (the kind of English sound that Simon Rattle likes).  As I said, I don’t know who was whom, I just hope Westminster was Choir I.  In any event all I can is that a John Finley Williamson, Warren Martin, Elaine Brown, or George Lynn choir wouldn’t have needed any help.  I know, because they didn’t.  Notwithstanding, it's always great to hear this piece performed, especially, as in this case, in a most satisfactory performance indeed.

*this is a correction to my original text in which I assumed that Ms. Oropesa was to be the soprano in the final chorus to sing the "hinan C."   I have since learned (via my good friend Thomas Faracco, who WAS there) that Ms. Meade was chosen for the task, which explained much of my conclusions.  Thank you Tom.