The WFCR Blog

Inveterate observer of the cultural scene that I am, I have noticed while gazing down from my lofty perch that these are not the most romantic of times in the arts, or at least in what, with appropriate "air quotes," we might refer to as the "high" arts.  What's in?  Irony, detachment, darkness.  What's out?  Sentiment, directness, display.  If you doubt me, listen to Fresh Air  for a week or two.

It also strikes me that classical music may be the last redoubt of romance in the arts, which may be one of the reasons it seems increasingly out-of-place in our current culture.  What, for instance, could be less ironic than a none-too-svelte Rodolfo and Mimì bellowing their love at each other in La bohème ?  No wonder the arbiters of cool culture hath decreed that all productions of Romantic opera must be set either in Brooklyn or on the moon, and must be overrun by mobsters, pimps, or when all else (including the producer's imagination) fails, Nazis?  We dasn't see these operas done the old-fashioned way, don't you know, lest the icky, sticky emotions we're manipulated to feel become too much for our cynical, world-weary selves to take.

And how about Romantic instrumental music?  Again, no schmaltz, please, we're on a diet.  Give us instead original instruments in place of grand pianos, chamber orchestras in place of the full orchestral monty, fast tempos rather than indulgent adagios.  And please, for God's sake, cut down on the vibrato!

All right, I exaggerate.  That's what satire does.  But I also think I'm accurate in describing the direction classical performances have been heading for a while now, including, I'll admit, on WFCR's playlist.  Hey, if you can't beat them, join them.   How nice, on the other hand, to welcome a couple of CDs that stick up for romance, without half-measures or apologies, and do so with elegance and class.  You've heard them on WFCR, and will keep hearing them — if you don't mind adding a little honest sentiment to your day.

On her Violin Lullabies  CD, the extraordinary violinist Rachel Barton Pine celebrates the birth of her and husband Greg's baby daughter Sylvia with 25 lovely and relaxing selections, not a sneer or smirk in the bunch (hear Rachel discuss it on NPR).  Call them Berceuse, Wiegenlied, Schlummerlied, Nana, Vuggevise, or in plain English, Lullaby, these pieces take us back to the repertoires of such long-ago virtuosi as Jan Kubelik, Maud Powell, Eugène Ysaÿe and Jascha Heifetz.  Whether straight or muted, Rachel's tone is pure and sweet, her phrasing natural and songlike, a throwback to the very "vocal" style of violin playing from previous generations.  The imaginative and varied pieces may not include the equal of Beethoven's "Kreutzer" or Bach's "Chaconne," but there's not an unfelt note in the CD's 79 minutes.  It's been a long time since I've been as moved by a violin album.

Switching to the keyboard, we find frequent Springfield Symphony guest pianist Jeffrey Biegel, compiling sixteen works by pianist-composers of the 19th and 20th centuries, pieces "unashamed of sentiment, frill and facility," on an album whose title puts it directly, A Grand Romance .  And just look at the roster of composers:  Moritz Moszkowski,  Adolf von Henselt,  Anton Rubinstein,  Mischa Levitzki,  Ignacy Jan Paderewski — a veritable who's who of seemingly superhuman piano heroes, from the time when classical was known as "long hair music" for the leonine manes many of them sported atop their stunning profiles.  How did Jeffrey come by his taste for such untimely music?  Let him explain:

Over the years, many listeners have asked how I decide what classical music to play on WFCR.  The answer, in very short, is that if I think some music merits our listeners' attention, I'll play it.  But that question comes with an implied corollary:  What makes me decide that I'm not  going to play something?  And are there ever extra-musical reasons to turn something down?

Basically, the reasons for saying "no" are the opposite for the reasons for saying "yes."  If I think the music will fail to make a positive impression with our listeners, or will fail to uphold WFCR's reputation for delivering consistent quality, I turn it down.  In case you wonder what right I have to judge, it's the right, indeed the responsibility, conferred upon me by NEPR's management.  It's a tough and dirty job, but someone's got to do it, and until the end of the year, that someone is me.

But about those extra-musical considerations.  Do they ever play a part in keeping something off the air?  You heard it first from me:  Yes they do, sometimes.  If a musician is in the news for real or alleged criminal or offensive acts, that musician comes off our playlist until the situation is cleared up.  But how about when music and politics mix?  We can all name composers and performers with ugly political beliefs and unsavory associations, Richard Wagner being the most obvious example.  In such cases, I take my cues from the broader world of classical music.  If a composer's music remains active in the repertoire, or if a musician's recordings continue to thrive in the discography, I'll continue to play them, though I'll deal openly with the negative aspects of the musician's biography on-air.

Musicians are of course as free as anyone else to express their views on politics or any other matter.  Why anyone would care what a musician thinks about politics just because he or she is good at music is beyond me, but for the most part, I don't hold it against them.  The only exception, and the only thing that will make me refuse to play a musician, is when he or she expresses contempt for the audience.  That is the one thing up with which I will not put.  

Example?  Gladly.  When in 2009, Polish pianist Krystian Zimerman serenaded his Los Angeles audience with his negative opinion on U.S. foreign policy, he received applause from certain members of the press, though one should not be suprised that The Guardian  would opine thusly.  Fine.  Everyone's got opinions, and though he might preferably have chosen a better way to express them, Zimerman's entitled to his.  But when he vowed never to play in the U.S. again, he crossed my red line.  If he doesn't want his music to be sullied by having it reach American ears, I will honor his principled position by refusing to put his recordings on WFCR.  In other words, his boycott works both ways.

Have I then engaged in censorship?  This whole topic came up this morning in a Facebook discussion that followed my posting of this entry on Norman Lebrecht's Slipped Disc  blog.  To catch you up, the Deutsche Oper am Rhein of Düsseldorf recently cancelled Burkhard C. Kosminski's Nazi-filled production of Wagner's Tannhäuser  in mid-run, after some audience members were (to quote an earlier Slipped Disc  entry) "so severely affected by the production that they had to seek medical treatment."  This, Mr. Kosminski says, constitutes censorship.

And I say, no it doesn't.  If another company wants to mount Mr. Kosminski's production, he and they are free to do so, and should not be stopped.  But the Deutsche Oper am Rhein has free speech rights too.  And they extend to deciding what productions they will not  mount, even if they said they would.   Now, Mr. Kosminski may object to how and why it happened.  And the Deutsche Oper am Rhein are certainly open to criticism for their actions.  But his cries of "censorship," to my ears, are an insult to artists and journalists who face real suppression and much worse to do their work.  We presenters get to decide — have  to decide — what we present and what not to present.  Question our choices, question our methodologies, question our sanity.  But don't question our right to choose, and for whatever reason, to say "no."

There they are, just a few mouse-clicks away on the "music" section of the ArtsJournal website, practically begging me to notice and comment:  two contrasting views of contemporary classical music, and what it needs to get its audience back.  In this one, composer and conductor Rob Deemer surveys the music his students like to perform and listen to, and notes that lack of musical comfort food — "cheeseburgers," he calls them.  What Deemer hears as the predominate seriousness of classical music, he opines, is keeping away intelligent listeners who otherwise might be attracted to it.  

In this other one, Times of London  music critic Richard Morrison and conductor Leon Botstein (also president of Bard College) discuss Morrison's BBC Music Magazine  article (not available on-line, alas) in which the writer yearns for the days when a work like Igor Stravinsky's ballet Le sacre du printemps (The Rite of Spring ), premiered 100 years ago this month, could provoke audiences to riot.  While they do find some common ground, Botstein doesn't share Morrison's nostalgia for audience outrage, which he associates with such vulgar realms as sports and politics.  And he doubts whether present-day audiences would possess the musical literacy to understand how their world had been rocked even if another Stravinsky were to come along.  Morrison takes the more populist stance, to the point of hoping for a composing superstar à la Igor to rise up and energize the art form. 

Now, far be it from me to tell composers what to compose and listeners what to listen to.  But don't mind me if I look out at the classical world as a broadcaster, presenter and life-long fan, try to figure out where things are, and prophesy where they might be heading.  And from my lofty perch, I sense that Deemer is onto something that I have noticed as well.  There's an important element that classical music used to provide in huge helpings, but which it ceded over the past century to jazz, rock and other popular forms.  Now, it could really use it back.  The element is entertainment.  Mind you, entertainment isn't sufficient to build a thriving classical music culture.  The music has so much more to offer.  But entertainment is, in my view, a necessary start.  Unless audiences are confident that their encounters with classical music will be enjoyable, even fun, they won't be drawn in.  And just think of what they'll be missing.

So go ahead, Mr. Morrison, and wait for the next classical scandal.  But don't hold your breath.  On the contrary, you may want to avert your gaze and plug your ears the next time someone tries.  As for you, Mr. Botstein, if you're going to count on classical audiences to become well-enough versed in its history and repertoire to understand the modern classical equivalent of Joyce or Pound, you'll be counting a lot of empty seats.  Besides, sir, the present-day music audience is more literate than you give it credit for.  Problem is, the music it's literate in isn't necessary classical.  So, to wrap up, maybe we should stop looking to classical's glorious past to find answers for how to fix it for today.  It might be better to serve present-day audiences in a way that makes sense to them, and let go of the things that don't work anymore.  And by the way, I like my cheeseburger with locally-raised, grass-fed beef topped with artisanal cheese and served on an organically-grown, stone-ground wheat bun.  With fries, please.

(Photo:  A bacon cheeseburger of symphonic proportions, composed by the maestros of my favorite emporium, Northampton's Local Burger.)

“He never left you with any doubt about what he meant.”  Warne Marsh on Lennie Tristano

Here’s a documentary on Lennie Tristano that was produced by NBC, that’s Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation, not the American network, but imagine if it was.  The film features several of Lennie’s former students and disciples, including Lee Konitz, Warne Marsh, Connie Crothers, and Sheila Jordan, as well as excerpts from an interview with Tristano and several performance clips of the great pianist.  The 1983 production manages in an hour’s time to provide a comprehensive view of Tristano’s life, music, and teaching, and addresses some of the controversies that Tristano’s musical theories and outspokenness engendered.

Apropos of the blog I posted last week on Lennie and Charlie Parker, Jordan says, “Bird loved Lennie, I know that for a fact.  Because Bird used to hang out at my loft a lot, and I know that he loved Lennie. What’s not to love about Lennie? He was an original.  He was his own thing, and he was one of the musical heavies.”

Konitz recalls his early connection with Tristano, a fellow Chicagoan. “Well at that time, it was all new information, so it all meant a lot to me.  It just seemed that this was more than just a casual kind of a game to play, it was a serious art form, and I wasn’t prepared for that really at that age, I didn’t have that experience before meeting Tristano, so suddenly I felt like I had something to do with my life and I was very excited about that.”

Crothers and Marsh both elaborate on Tristano's idea of playing what one felt in the moment, that feeling was more authentic than ego-centered emotion.  At 21:35, Tristano speaks of the impact that Bud Powell's "energy" had on his understanding of the feeling-emotion dichotomy.  "Bud made it possible for people like me to get ahold of this idea....that you not only transmit what you hear, but what you feel."