This is old news, but only now have I caught up with it via another blogger. The sainted Garrison Keillor isn’t above using bully tactics to protect his lucrative Prairie Home empire from harmless parody. Read all about it here.
Pianist Jeremy Denk has had enough of people remarking that performers presenting a score should just “leave it alone”:
To "leave a piece alone" by contemporary standards means perhaps: to do what modern conservatory education tells us to do: play in time, observe markings, play expressively but do not add any extras: present the score, as if there were a perfect "acoustical correlative." This faith in an acoustical correlative is one of the strange cults of our modern classical musical religion, and it too I would like to debunk, but perhaps not today. What I'd suggest is that to "leave a piece alone," by modern standards, may have seemed to Romantic or Classical standards also a definite action, something tangibly "done to the piece;" an immobilization; perhaps something akin to taking a butterfly and sticking a pin through it and preserving it in a perfect display case. Harsh metaphor! But I think we have all heard such performances, preserved mimicries which seem to be right, which have wings on display, but do not fly.You’ll find Denk’s full musing on the value of interpretation—although he never quite admits that’s what he’s talking about—here.
In the latest Tucson Weekly, I offer a preview of a comedy-magic benefit for a foundation supporting those who suffer chronic pain. It all started with a local high school girl:
In 1998, 16-year-old Amy Potter was a dedicated jock. She played varsity basketball and golf at Sabino High School, and worked out regularly to stay in shape through every athletic season. One day, in the presence of a trainer, she was doing a free parallel squat with 300 to 400 pounds on a barbell across her neck. Suddenly, she felt what her father, Tom, describes as "a hot dagger plunging into her neck."Learn more here.
The pain never went away, although it eventually seemed to concentrate in her hands somewhat more than her neck and shoulders. Over the next few years, Amy went from one physician to another, getting five different diagnoses, but rarely any true relief.
"There are so many doctors who don't understand chronic pain," says Amy. "A lot of them will just tell you that you need mental help. I heard I was a whiny girl."
I often wonder if anybody listens to the concert programs we broadcast at 8 p.m.; it seems that most people are spending their evenings out, or watching TV, or reading, or anything but listening to the radio. But here's a comment I got today from a former Tucsonan now living in California who listens to us on the Internet:
Don't get to many live concerts as I work nights and don't expect that to change. But I very much enjoy listening to the live concerts on KUAT as it keeps me up to date on what is actually being performed rather than issued on recordings. And KUAT has a very clean signal. Some of the stuff on the Net is really crappy.
I like the spontaneity of the live performances, warts, background noise, and all. There was a wonderful moment with the Pittsburgh (I think it was) a few years ago doing the Beethoven Triple Concerto and Yo-Yo Ma fell backward off his little riser. Luckily, someone caught him but it was quite noisy and that kind of thing would never appear on disc. It's like the Navajos leaving an error in a fine rug.
The Arizona Daily Star reports the latest personnel mini-scandal at the UA: “An adjunct psychology lecturer at the University of Arizona resigned Saturday after writing to a conservative blogger that she wouldn't care if his 2-year-old son was killed the way JonBenet Ramsey was.” Although I am inclined to take the liberal side in most political arguments, I must admit that I’m happy to see a flamer of any persuasion go down in … um … flames.
Something about the Internet has always brought out the worst in people, ever since the development of primitive electronic bulletin boards in the early 1990s. From there through the vicious exchanges in Usenet newsgroups up to the dopey comment sections in today’s blogs and news sites, Internet “discussions” have tended to degenerate into ad hominem attacks and sheer nastiness. This is why I don’t allow a free flow of comments at this blog. I’m not going to turn the blog over to the wackos and malcontents who make intelligent discussion impossible. If you have something relevant to say, e-mail me and I’ll be happy to post it, even if you disagree with me. (This isn’t censorship; it’s moderation.) I’d also encourage you to visit the sites listed in the right-hand column, where debate (when it occurs) remains civil yet stimulating.
Monday morning, before I discovered that my blogsite was down, I was all set to upload the following post …
Here’s a link to a recently discovered photo taken in 1840 of a group that includes Constanze Weber Mozart, Wolfgang’s widow. She was 78 at the time; Mozart had been dead for nearly 50 years, but imagine—if he hadn’t expired so ridiculously young, he might have been in this photo, too. Perhaps he would have looked happier to be a subject of the new technology than the dour Bavarians in this picture.… but then, via Sounds and Fury, I learned that the photo is probably not what is claimed. You can read the initial exposé here, and a technical explanation of why the photo can't be what it's purported to be in the second update here.
James Reel's cranky consideration of the fine arts and public radio in Tucson and beyond.
