I was handed this CD with the title “BACH: The Well Tempered Clavier Book I” and, at least based on the artwork on the front (a portrait of JSB beside 3 small photos of a piano keyboard, two pages of piano music, and a church apse), expected a new recording of those works.  Then I noticed, in very small print, these words: “A computer mediated decomposition by Damian Catera.”  Ah.  Electronic manipulation of some of the most well-known and loved keyboard compositions in the Western world.

I was game.  I grew up with Wendy Carlos’ “Switched On Bach” and Tomita’s “The Planets.”  I worked with the The Relâche Ensemble for a John Cage-inspired event during their 30th anniversary year.  I’ve dabbled in electronic music myself, and my friend Chris Cresswell is rather good at it.  Then the person who handed me the CD read a bit of the press release that came with it.  According to the release, the works are “transformed through the radical application of contemporary and digital based practices. The result of this sound appropriation process is a five piece album that demolishes disciplinary and genre boundaries by introducing chaos to classical.”  Hmmm.  Not the most promising description, I thought.

I took the CD anyway – I’ve been surprised more than once when pieces that I thought would be terrible turned out to be quite good.  Popped it in the CD player, turned it on.

Yikes.  They got the “chaos” part right.

After the dog ran out of the room, I listened through headphones.  To the whole thing.  Just for you, dear readers – you’re welcome (and you owe me!)

First of all, I can’t help but wonder if Catera is using a demo version of Max/MSP for his “deconstruction.”  Each work, from the shortest (at 4′ 23″) to the longest (at 16′ 59″) consists of noise (type A, we’ll call it) lasting anywhere from 3 to 5 minutes, a 5 to 10 second pause, more noise (type B, if you will) for 3 to 5 minutes, another pause, more noise (type C) for 3 to 5 . . . well, you get the idea.  It’s like the software has a kill-switch at 5 minutes, then it resets, and the next random “deconstruction” is completely unrelated in any way, shape or form to the previous block of noise.  And frankly, when I call this noise, that is exactly what I mean.  It is unpleasant from beginning to end, grating on the nerves to the point where I found myself cringing and frowning without realizing how long I had been that way.

When I took my first electronic music class, we all spent time playing around with the various programs.  “What happens if I do this?  What about that?  Ooh, what does this do?”  Each of us had all kinds of random noises in various files, but none of us were foolish enough to call that random assemblage a finished piece.  Apparently, Catera got to the “playing around” part, but missed the class that talked about turning that into a coherent work.

Perhaps I am missing something, something Catera intended, something in the methodology he used.  What’s that?  Check the liner notes?  Good idea – except there are no liner notes.  There is a gorgeous, full-color tri-fold insert that contains: the CD cover art (described above); 3 images of a page of sheet music (1 per panel), each more artistically swirled and randomized than the previous one; a solid block of text that appears to be taken from an edition of the WTC-I and subsequently randomized; and the final panel listing the 5 tracks on the CD.  OK, so check his website, right?  Nope, no help there either.  And the CD production company’s website has little more than the press release.  (By the way, this is the only CD in their catalogue at the moment.)

So what we have here is a CD filled with 60 minutes of pure, grating noise, with no plan, no purpose, no apparent thought behind it.  AND . . . no credit to the person(s) providing the original recording(s) that have been used for the “deconstruction.”  Way to support your fellow artists.

Do yourself a favor.  Unless you plan to use this to keep your neighbors up all night, don’t waste your money on this CD.

CD Info:

BACH: The Well Tempered Clavier Book I
A computer mediated decomposition by Damian Catera

Distributed by Praxis Classics

Tracks:

Well Tempered Bach Rock
Well Tempered Laptop
Well Tempered Randomization
Well Tempered Algorithm
Well Tempered Revolution

This past year has had more than its fair share of personal ups and downs.  Commissions from Melomanie and the West Genesee Middle School marked particular highs for me.  A couple of hospitalizations (for myself and one of my siblings) took me to the opposite end of the emotional spectrum.  Family, good friends, and of course, music, have been constants to carry me throughout the year.

I must say that 2012 is already shaping up into a good year.  Two more confirmed commissions are scheduled for premiere this spring, and the rest of the year surely has more excitement in store.  As for the blog, look for more event reviews, some further musings . . . and CD reviews.  I’m looking forward to keeping up on new releases, and passing some of my opinions on to you.

So, in closing out this short new year’s eve entry, I wish you health and happiness in the coming year.  May you find a bit of joy in every day.

I work weekends.  In particular, I am very careful in choosing what to play at 7:00 on a Sunday morning.  I want to catch your attention, to help get you moving you as you wake up and start your day.  So I try to play pieces that will keep your interest.  At the same time, I don’t want to blast you out of your bed with great crashes and cacophony so you slam the off button while you are cursing my name!  (I save the bombastic pieces for closer to noontime.)

I am also interested in sharing my new discoveries with you, in the hopes that you will enjoy them as much as I do.  I love some of the great newer works we have lurking in the music library.  And I suspect I am relatively successful in what I share on the air, since (so far) I get only positive feedback from our listeners.

There is an individual at the station, however, who has a genuine bias against 20th and 21st century music.  He often tells me I shouldn’t program “that stuff” because is it not “mass appeal.”  What is most frustrating to me is that he doesn’t actually listen to the works he tells me to avoid.  His bias is based on when the work was written, rather than the quality of the piece itself.

Not too long ago, he even said he didn’t want to have to take a music appreciation course just to listen to the radio.  Well, who says you have to do that?  You don’t need “lessons” to appreciate good music, whether it is Baroque or Modern.  Do you need to know every minute detail of the rulebook to enjoy watching tennis or football?  Do you have to understand every brushstroke in order to like (or dislike) Monet’s Water Lilies?  Do you have to read the Cliff Notes for every book you’ve ever read, just to be sure you understand it?  You like the piece, or you don’t.  That should be enough.

After all, how do we determine what is truly “mass appeal?”  Show me the studies, the research, to support the assertion that people prefer harpsichords over marimbas, and I’ll rework my programming accordingly.  Too often, though, people who throw around terms like “mass appeal” and “average listener” are really just saying, “this is what I like, so make me happy.”

So, until I find the appropriate research, or have a chance to personally chat with all of our listeners to find out what each one of them likes, I have to rely on my own taste and judgment, and hope others will enjoy what I am sharing.  Frankly, the best barometer for how successful I am comes from your feedback and the ratings.  So I hope you listen to my program, at least occasionally.  And I hope you like what I bring to you every weekend.

And if you don’t, well, let me know.

You would think that would be an easy question, right?  I mean, we all know what “music” is, don’t we?

After that discussion, I’m not so sure we do.

Take the Islamic call to prayer, for example.  Absolutely beautiful!  But, in my understanding, according to doctrine it is not considered music.  It is chant, it is expression of a religion, but it is not music.  To a non-practitioner, however, it sounds quite musical.

Of course, there is also the John Cage school of thought – that everything is, or can be considered, music.  His most well-known example of this, of course, is 4′ 33″.  Everything heard during the performance becomes the music.

Then we have this work from John Stump.  Absolutely unplayable, but, in fact, accurately notated.  Although it was intended as satire, it begs the question: must a work be heard in order to be considered music?  Or is notation sufficient?  (Are you beginning to realize the complexity of that oh-so-simple question, “what is music?”)

And once we define “music,” how are we to categorize it?  In Western music, there is a lot of borrowing, sharing, and paraphrasing which serves to blur the lines between one genre and the next.

As to what has brought up this line of thought right now, I was recently asked by someone if I consider a pop song that has been arranged into a large orchestral work to be “classical music.”  Contrariwise, if an opera singer records a pop song, does that suddenly become a classical work?  (“And now, Dame Joan Sutherland sings Rod Stewart!”  Thanks for that image, Robin Williams!)  I mean, if I re-arranged the national anthem with slide guitar and sang it with a Tennessee accent, would it be a country song?

While we can point to characteristics of Western music that put it into categories such as “Renaissance,” “Baroque,” “Classical” or “Romantic,” when it comes to 20th and 21st century works, all bets are off.  The rules have been thrown out the window, and the range of music is far-reaching.  (That’s why I’m not crazy about the term “Contemporary Classical.”  It seems a throwback of sorts.)

So, does the national anthem become a country song?  Or just a bad arrangement?  Is the orchestral arrangement of Chubby Checker’s “Twist Again” as effective as the original?  Is “Beatles Baroque” clever or just annoying?  Is “Billy the Kid” better with 2 pianos or full orchestra?

Lots of questions.  And frankly, I don’t have any answers for you.

By the way, at the end of the semester in our World Music class, the only thing we did agree on is that we couldn’t agree on an acceptable definition of “music.”

You might remember a few years ago, Bell played at a Metro subway station in Washington DC (links here and here).  It was an interesting study in human nature.  Any of the hundreds of people passing by him would likely have given him an enthusiastic standing ovation in a concert hall.  This incredible musician, playing with breathtaking beauty, was well deserving of everyone’s attention, even if he wasn’t recognized.  Yet, in that setting, he was all but ignored.  Is applause only reserved for the concert hall?

Which brings me to a real pet peeve.  I know I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it again:  I get so frustrated when I go to a concert or a play, and the moment the piece is done, someone in the audience immediately leaps to their feet, clapping like there’s no tomorrow and screaming “Bravo” so they can be heard.  Yes, there are some performances worthy of that enthusiasm.  But not every single one!  In all honesty, I cannot remember the last concert I attended that did not include a standing ovation.

Nor is this a new phenomenon.  We saw “Cats” during its first tour in 1982, and after the performance of the song “Memory,” half of the audience jumped to their feet.  Frankly, that was not the piece I would consider the show-stopper.  The dancer who absolutely conquered the stage during “Mr. Mistoffelees” was clearly the one who delivered a genuinely show-stopping performance.  But Barbara Streisand had been all over the radio singing “Memory” by then, so that’s what the audience thought they were supposed to latch onto.

Auto-tuned pop singers put on glitzy performances and the audience goes nuts.  But take away the software, and hand them an ordinary mic on a bare stage, and most of the time you’ll be disappointed.  Watch “Dancing with the Stars” and you’ll see people, often with no musical sense and little coordination, tromping around the dance floor for 10 weeks being called “dancers.”  I dare you to watch DWTS side-by-side with a real ballroom competition, one where the dancers have been working at their craft since they were children, and realize where the true mastery lies.

I was fortunate to grow up near Philadelphia.  It seemed like every week we were back in town for another play, another show, another concert.  And when you have the incredible quality and variety that comes from an arts hub like Philly, (or New York, or Chicago, or the like), you have the opportunity to learn that there is a difference between “good” and “really good” and “incredible” and “holy moly, I just saw the performance of a lifetime!”

Therein lies my frustration.  There is nothing disappointing about a “really good” performance.  “Really good” is entertaining, enjoyable, and well worth the price of admission.  But “really good” in my book doesn’t merit a standing ovation.  And what happens when you are fortunate enough to attend an absolutely outstanding performance, worthy of cheers?  Well, the response ends up looking just the same as any other performance, because nowadays pretty much everyone gets a standing ovation.  In the end, rather than elevating a good performance with the (now de rigueur) standing ovation, I think we are actually diminishing the value of an outstanding one.

Part of recognizing quality is looking for it.  It’s OK if a performance didn’t particularly move you.  If you did enjoy the performance, applaud enthusiastically.  You’re not required to be on your feet in order to show the performers your appreciation.

The other part of recognizing quality is letting yourself be open to the possibilities.  Set aside all your pre-conceptions, and take in each performance with a clean slate.  You may find a new appreciation for something unexpected, or realize that, while the piece is incredible, the performance may fall short.

And the next time you see a performer on the street, take a moment to listen.  You may be surprised at the talent they bring to their performance.  Or you may hear Joshua Bell on your commute.

A while ago, I overheard someone calling Renaissance composer John Dowland the “Neil Sedaka” of his era.

I just about choked.

First of all, if you must draw that kind of a parallel, couldn’t you have picked someone besides Neil Sedaka?  Don’t get me wrong, I like Neil Sedaka just fine.  Good songwriter, decent kinda guy, got some of his records.  But I can think of half-a-dozen better comparisons off the top of my head.  (And so can my husband, whose formal musical education ended with high school chorus.)

Clearly the person who made the statement was attempting to toss off a glib comment in order to show both their “knowledge” and their “razor wit.”  (Note to self: Don’t try so hard to be clever.  You might wind up looking dimwitted instead.)

I think what really offended me, though, is the ill-conceived desire to even try to draw such a parallel between two composers.  Talk about influences, talk about similarities in style, but don’t diminish one composer by putting them in another composer’s clothing.

I don’t want to be another Bach, another Beethoven, another Barber.  I want to be Diane Jones.  Whether you like my music or not, whether you think it should be declared a national treasure or buried in soft peat until it’s forgotten, at least have the decency to acknowledge that it is my own.

Samba Laranja is the Brazilian Ensemble at Syracuse University, and during the school year we have anywhere from 35 to nearly 50 participants.  Over the summer, though, our performances are given by a small but mighty crew of long-term members.  Last night it was myself, Brian Ludwig, Rosie Rion, and Josh and Elisa Dekaney, who lead the ensemble.

We had a perfect night for music!  A gentle breeze blew in off of Cazenovia Lake as an enthusiastic crowd gathered on the lawn.  Everyone was settled in, ready to sit back and let the music wash over them.  Then we started in with the Samba Reggae, and sitting quietly was out of the question!  Everyone started smiling, clapping, and getting up to dance.  (Check out the music on the Samba Laranja MySpace page – you’ll have a hard time sitting still!)  And the dancing hardly stopped all night.  We had couples dancing salsa and samba, kids dancing in groups (with one enthusiastic group joining us on stage for a number), and tons of folks clapping and chair dancing. By the final Samba Funk, we had a line of 25 or 30 folks dancing all over the park.

Also included on the program were some indigenous songs, some Brazilian pop music, and my original choro.  I don’t know that I’ve seen so many people up and dancing at one of these concerts before.  If you were there, I thank you for your incredible enthusiasm and support.  And if not, keep an eye on this website for upcoming performances from both Samba Laranja and Josh Dekaney.  You won’t regret it.

Edit:  My friend Steve took some great pics!  Here are a few for you to enjoy:

Samba Laranja Performs

The crowd dances to Samba Laranja!

Diane, Rosie & Brian

Josh & Elisa

Yes, I know it sounds egotistical and a tad arrogant.  But think about it, really.  Do you honestly - honestly – like absolutely everything that one composer has written?  Pop, jazz, blues, classical, whatever your taste, whoever you like, I’m sure you’ve come across at least one clunker from a composer you normally enjoy.  As for me, the only composer whose every work I like is, well, me.

I mean, if I don’t like everything that I write, why do I do this in the first place?

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not claiming to be the world’s greatest composer, living or dead.  Nor am I suggesting that you need to enjoy every single thing that I’ve written.  (Well, my husband says he does, but he can’t cook, so it behooves him to stay on my good side!)

What I am saying is that I find it very hard to claim any individual composer as my “favorite.”  There is always some work that just doesn’t reach me the way their other works do.

I’d really rather talk about which pieces I’m enjoying at the moment.  What is my favorite today.  Because even my enjoyment of an individual piece can change over time.  It may depend on my mood, or the environment in which I am listening at the moment, or simply the quality of the performance.  Or an event may happen that changes the way a piece affects me.  (Since my mother died, certain renditions of “Over the Rainbow” – a favorite of hers – send me into tears now.  Don’t get me started on Anne Akiko Meyers’ recording!)

I do have some works that I’ll never leave behind.  Elgar’s Enigma Variations, Beethoven’s 6th Symphony, Debussy’s Syrinx, Higdon’s Blue Cathedral, to name a few.  If I tried to write up a complete list, it would go on and on and on.  And I’m always “discovering” new pieces that become favorites, if only in the short term.

So here is my suggestion.  Let’s leave “who’s your favorite composer?” by the wayside, and instead ask “what’s your favorite piece today?”

I could rave about each piece on the concert, but I want to use Chris’ success as a way to point out something very important.  Included in the program was a work for baritone saxophone and electronics.  Normally, when I see a piece on a program listed as “with electronics,” I cringe.

I have lost count of the number of programs where I have shifted uncomfortably as the composer fusses and fiddles with wires, laptops, microphones, and anything else on the stage.  I’ve seen it happen during the first performance, and the fiftieth.  I’ve seen it with student composers and established professionals.  I’ve seen composers jumping on and off the stage apron to get to their equipment in the pit.  I saw one performance with the composer sitting in a folding chair next to the pianist, laptop on his knees, head down – I didn’t know if he was performing, or just cruising the internet.  And if one more person stops the performance so they can reset and re-start, I might just scream.  Or walk out.

It makes me crazy!  Using electronics in a piece is no excuse for wasting the time of your audience and your performer.  It shouldn’t take any longer to set up a work with electronics than it does for any other piece.  Set the stage, take a quick second to tune, and then start the piece.

Which is EXACTLY what Chris did!  Hooray!!

Chris had his laptop all set up, his mixer, the speaker, the mic – all he had to do is hand the instrument mic to the soloist, who clipped it onto her sax.  And then they began the piece.  Chris was seated in front of the stage (essentially in the pit), so he and the performer could easily see each other and communicate.  The rest was transparent.

From the audience’s perspective, it was no fuss, no muss.  Just a well written, well executed performance.

C’mon, composers!  We are far enough along with our technical advances to expect this kind of seamless performance every time.  And I’ll give you just two words to tell you how to get it.

TECH REHEARSAL!

You absolutely must run through the piece – ALL THE WAY – enough times to ensure it is smooth and seamless.  Don’t get partway there and call it good.  No orchestra practices the first eight measures of a piece and figures it’s good enough for performance.

I’m not saying that things will never go wrong.  Things happen.  But not the things that have been rehearsed.  Lights burn out?  Music blows off the music stand?  Violin string snaps?  Audience member trips and knocks your laptop to the floor?  Yeah, these things happen, and you can’t avoid them.  But the mic not working because you didn’t check it before the start of the performance?  Shame on you!

Technology can be tricky when it is new, but frankly, this technology has been around long enough that it should be transparent to the audience by now.  Musical theater used to rely on the vocal power of the likes of Ethel Merman to be heard over the pit musicians, and now it is all done electronically, sometimes with the musicians in a completely separate room.  Many (too many) pop musicians rely on electronic manipulation to run their (over-produced) live shows – auto-tune, pre-recorded orchestral tracks, extra backing vocals.  For Pete’s sake, the lone guy with the guitar who sings at Greasewood Flats has the technology to add backing harmonies to his live vocals in real time!

So let’s get with the program!  An electronic music work is like a magic act.  The audience wants to be awed and impressed, and in the end, they don’t really want to know how it’s done.

Edit:  Chris has posted this video on YouTube of the premiere.  Enjoy!

My hat’s off to Dancing with the Stars for putting together “Classical Week” for this week’s theme.  (Although they copped out on the second night – but more on that later.)  For far too many people, the thought of “classical music” (insert audible groan here) means a quick shake of the head and a channel change.  But not this week, if you wanted to watch DWTS.

I was pleased with the music presented.  Of course the show started with Beethoven’s 5th.  Why “of course?”  Think back (if you’re old enough) to 1976, when Walter Murphy’s disco arrangement called “A Fifth of Beethoven” hit number one on the Billboard charts.  (Not so stuffy now, eh?)  I also enjoyed the variety of works presented – Palladio (better known as the DeBeers Diamond Song) and music from Harry Potter for a contemporary theme, the Flower Duet from Lakme, O mio babbino caro from Gianni Schicchi and music from Carmen for opera fans, Con te partirò (Time to Say Goodbye), music of Tchaikovsky, Grieg, and more.  With one exception, the music paired very well with the dances.  (I’m not entirely convinced that The Hall of the Mountain King worked well for the Paso Doble, but that’s just me.)

Also on the program were two relatively young classical artists, David Garrett on violin and mezzo-soprano Katherine Jenkins, along with a 46-piece orchestra (a little small, but it filled the stage).  Which brings another hooray to my lips.    Classical music is not just for the blue-rinse crew!

Some of the stars were pleasantly surprised that they really grew to like the music they were given.  Others (yay, Romeo!) had the likes of Beethoven on their iPod already.  And for myself, I think this is one of the best ways to bring “Classical Music” into the mainstream.  Just put it out there, let folks listen, and like what they like.  Who says you can’t like Edvard Grieg and Lady Gaga?

So, I tune in with anticipation for night 2, they begin it with that great classical work . . . Walk This Way by Aerosmith?  OK, it is classic rock, and it was arranged for strings, but that doesn’t make it “classical music.”  And the other guest performer for the evening was Jennifer Hudson — who is wonderfully talented, but was singing pop music from her new album.  Yes, they did include a ballet segment from Swan Lake, but as for the rest of the show?  All pop music.  So much for Classical “Week” on DWTS.  **sigh**