ONE CELLIST, ONE VIOLINIST, ONE WILD MAN

posted by James Reel

In my continuing effort to catch you up on my contributions to Strings magazine, here are links my contributions to the March issue. First, a profile of a tall, dark and handsome cellist who has made a few appearances in our neighborhood (mostly Green Valley):

IF YOU’RE NOT LOOKING BEYOND the chronology and vital statistics, Zuill Bailey’s career in music seems like one big happy accident. As a four-year-old, Bailey literally ran into a cello backstage, and even before anybody could pick up the pieces (luckily, it was a cheap cello), young Zuill had decided that would be the instrument for him. He grew up in a place abounding in classical music, where Mstislav Rostropovich was one of the prime attractions on a regular basis, so taking up the cello just seemed as ordinary a pastime as skateboarding. Later, still in his teens, Bailey won several competitions that put him on tour performing, so by the time he finished his education, he already had a solo career in full swing. Later still, Bailey’s wife got a temporary appointment in El Paso, Texas, and while the couple was staying there—ostensibly just for a few months—Bailey was asked to run a music series, which he has done from his now-permanent El Paso home ever since. All the while, he’s continued to perform around the world: touring Russia with the Moscow Chamber Orchestra; performing with the Toronto Symphony and conductor Itzhak Perlman; appearing with major orchestras in Chicago, San Francisco, and Dallas; doing the Dvořák concerto in Colombia and Peru; concertizing at Carnegie Hall; and playing all the Beethoven cello sonatas to sold-out audiences in New York City at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Yet, aside from happening to grow up surrounded by music, Bailey’s success is by no means a matter of luck. His dark good looks make him highly marketable, but he’s also highly musical, with a distinctly personal expression, and that’s something that requires careful cultivation. “I was given wonderful opportunities,” he says, “but I had to work very hard along the way.”

The full article is here. Then there’s a piece in which violinist Anthony Marwood of the Florestan Trio talks about life in a trio, and beyond:

Make the music speak. When violinist Anthony Marwood, cellist Richard Lester, and pianist Susan Tomes, all members of England’s Florestan Trio, studied with esteemed Hungarian violinist Sandor Végh, they came away from the sessions with those words as a mission statement. Violinist Marwood says, “Végh wanted to pass along to us an old European tradition that he felt was fast disappearing, which is very much about ‘speaking music,’ about going for the specific tonal colors that are appropriate, not necessarily trying to smooth everything out. He hated the idea of vibrato used to coat the theme—musical ketchup, just poured on everything. He emphasized using vibrato with great care and intention, and making sure that the real expression actually comes from the bow. That was fundamental to him and the school of playing that he was from.

The full article lurks here. Also on offer is a brief review of a quartet CD that features, in part, music by Raymond Scott.

Unless you remember the early 1950s, you probably don’t know Scott’s name, but you certainly know some of his music. Scott worked at CBS radio in the 1930s, running an oddball jazz combo called the Raymond Scott Quintette and playing witty originals with such eccentric titles as “Dinner Music for a Pack of Hungry Cannibals.” Scott went on to other things, including serving as bandleader on Your Hit Parade, writing music for Broadway, assembling (in 1946) one of the world’s first electronic-music studios, and inventing one of the first analog synthesizers. In 1943, Warner Bros. bought the rights to Scott’s back catalog, and composer Carl Stalling began working Scott’s maniacal music into popular cartoons featuring Bugs Bunny and pals. Scott’s “Powerhouse” was sure to back-up action in industrial settings, and decades later it accompanied the animated antics of the popular MTV cartoon characters Ren and Stimpy. Read about the CD here.

EAR TO THE BOOKS

posted by James Reel

Daily newspapers have been reducing or eliminating their book-review sections during the past year or so (they've spent a decade trying to appeal to non-readers, so why waste space covering reading?), but NPR is expanding its book reporting, especially online. Says Publishers Weekly:

National Public Radio has expanded the book coverage on its website, adding weekly book reviews, and has hired six new book reviewers—including a graphic novel reviewer—and added more features to an already existing lineup of author podcasts, critics' lists and other book-focused content. Among the new slate of reviewers joining NPR.org are Jessa Crispin, founder of the literary blog Bookslut.com; John Freeman, book critic and a former president of the National Book Critics Circle; and Laurel Maury, freelance comics and graphic novel reviewer and a longtime contributor to _PW Comics Week_.

You can read the news item here, and visit NPR's book page here.

BOY HOWDY

posted by James Reel

When I arrived a few mornings ago, the computer desktop confronted me with an alarming image:

It's only the latest incarnation of 1980s pop star Boy George, but I immediately sensed that this would be an excellent addition to the cover art used for John Eliot Gardiner's Bach cantata series, featuring photos of exotic peoples of the world. Consider:

SAVALL'S VESPERS

posted by James Reel

Having just played a Jordi Savall recording of Marin Marais on the air, I remembered that his recording of Monteverdi's Vespers, one of the best ever, is back in print in better sound than ever before. Here's the review I wrote for Fanfare:

MONTEVERDI Vespro della Beata Vergine • Jordi Savall, cond; soloists; La Capella Reial; Coro del Centro Musica Antica di Padova; Schola Gregoriana • ALIA VOX AVSA 9855 (Hybrid multichannel SACD: 95:43)

This is not a new recording, but a multichannel re-mastering of an old favorite: Jordi Savall’s highly Mediterranean 1988 account, recorded in Mantua’s Santa Barbara Basilica, where Monteverdi may or may not have first heard this music. Given the locale, Savall interpolates antiphons associated with the Feast of St. Barbara, and if you object to this, well, it’s only a few seconds of chant here and there that are separately tracked. He leaves out, as so many do, the second version of the Magnificat and the Missa in illo tempore. The performing forces include a smallish but colorful instrumental complement (not the 30 pieces Monteverdi may have used in at least one performance), a male quintet for the plainchant, a 32-voice choir and the usual complement of soloists.

Javall’s way with the Vespers is both sensual and devotional; tempos are on the slow side (akin to those of the more recent King on Hyperion, also on SACD), and there is a tremendous warmth to every moment (compare to the “whiter” voices of the leading English versions: Pickett, Parrott, Gardiner and especially the chilly McCreesh). The choral production is characterful rather than silken; Savall admits as much in a new introduction he wrote for the booklet: “United by the common bond of our very ‘Latin’ voices and sensibility, we all pursued an ideal approach to song, one in which declamation of the text and purity of sound were inextricably linked to an essential warmth and profound spirituality of performance.” Well, Savall just wrote my review for me.

Compared to the original Astrée set (I never encountered the more recent budget repackaging), this Alia Vox revamping is clearly superior. To begin with, the packaging is more lavish, with color illustrations, a bit more introductory material and translations into more languages (helpful if you are Catalan), although this means the texts and translations can no longer be given side-by-side. The sonics were quite good to begin with—a complex variety of forces captured only with a pair of omnidirectional microphones—but here the sound is even lovelier; rear-channel ambience provides a better sense of the basilica’s natural acoustics, while the performers seem to have been pulled just a bit closer to the listener than before, resulting in a hard-to-achieve clarity within a generous space. For nearly 30 years, Savall’s has been one of the finest versions of the Vespers on the market, and this Alia Vox revivification makes it even more attractive.

DINNER AND THREE SHOWS

posted by James Reel

The Tucson Weekly kept me busy last week. In today’s issue, I review three plays and a restaurant. I actually liked all three theatrical productions, as you might guess from the teasers:

A poor production of Tennessee Williams' _Cat on a Hot Tin Roof_ subjects us to three hours with a disagreeable Southern family in countless forms of denial. A good production cracks through those hard, nasty exteriors and squeezes out the complex pathos of each family member. In that and all other respects, Arizona Repertory Theatre's production is very fine, indeed. … What Arizona Repertory Theatre presents is a play that's not at all about hard, hateful people, but about people who love too much. … Arizona Onstage Productions' mounting of _Sunday in the Park With George_ is critic-proof, insofar as the whole run, including some added performances, is sold out, with the possible exception of the show tonight (June 26). But, as usual, producer-director Kevin Johnson has critic-proofed his production in a more important way than putting butts into all the seats before reviews appear: He's crafted something of sufficiently high quality that it stands on its own merits and generates a buzz even without help (or hindrance) from critics. … The romantic comedy _Prelude to a Kiss_ is not a particularly ambitious choice for Live Theatre Workshop, whose seasons are dominated by this sort of well-crafted entertainment. But director Terry Erbe has complicated things to good effect by introducing a live musical component to enrich the transitions between scenes. The lovely Amy Erbe, in a black evening gown and long white gloves, sings snippets of standards with piano accompaniment, the lyrics reflecting developments onstage. These are not stop-the-action musical numbers, but merely brief elements that bridge the action. She sings full-length songs only before the play and during intermission, and it's a shame that the audience chatters so much that you can't hear her very well when she and the pianist have the stage to themselves. As for Craig Lucas' play itself, it's a witty and warm psychoanalytic fairy tale about sex and death. Don't forget that "witty and warm" part, which is most important. But the business about transference and fear and desire is what gives the play a bit more intellectual heft than most works of its ilk. … Lucas wrote this in the late '80s as a subtle AIDS metaphor, but that's barely evident in Live Theatre Workshop's mainstream approach. It's about love and devotion, period, and if you want to read more into it, that's your business. As Peter and Rita, Nate Weisband and Dallas Thomas are an irresistible couple; they have tremendous chemistry together, the sort that makes you really care about their relationship from the beginning and root for them to be reunited, one way or another, by the end.

Get my more detailed and enthusiastic opinions here. On the other hand, the restaurant didn’t do much for me:

Let me make it clear that there is nothing bad about Arizona Pizza Company, but not much about it is interesting, either. It might be an agreeable drinks-and-pizza hangout if you live in the vicinity, but the next time I eat in that neighborhood, I'll be more inclined to patronize the more characterful Lebanese place nearby.

You can read that full review here.

BRUCKNER SEVENTHS

posted by James Reel

Somehow my editor at Fanfare has gotten it into his head that I'm a Bruckner fan, so he sends me most of the new Bruckner SACDs to review. Here are two reviews I've penned in recent months of recordings of Bruckner's Seventh Symphony.

BRUCKNER Symphony No. 7 • Bernard Haitink, cond; Chicago SO • CSO RESOUND (Hybrid multichannel SACD: 67:31) Live: May 10-12 and 15, 2007

This is, I think, Bernard Haitink’s third and finest recording of the Bruckner Seventh, a symphony that has been appearing on disc with increasing frequency. In Fanfare 31:3 I reviewed the Yannick Nézet-Séguin SACD on Atma, and observed that “while the music maintains motion, it never really gains momentum. For one thing, there’s very little tempo variety within or between the first two movements (by the way, Nézet-Séguin uses the Nowak edition, complete with cymbal crash and triangle). The remainder, though well organized, lacks the tension and detail of, for starters, Jochum/EMI.” Haitink, in contrast, although he is never a conductor to push and pull at a score, brings out those inner details with great finesse. From the very beginning, the performance promises to be patient, with careful dynamic shaping helping the music’s argument to unfold easily. It’s not a performance of sudden, high contrast, though. In the Adagio, for example (including the disputed but effective cymbal crash), the orchestra glows, but doesn’t really burn; this is a matter of Haitink’s interpretation rather than the Chicago Symphony’s sound. Throughout this performance, the brass playing is brilliant and the woodwinds are full of character, which goes without saying for this orchestra, but the strings also hold their own, which was not always the case in the Solti era. If you prefer a non-interventionist approach to Bruckner that, even so, illuminates the most telling details, this beautiful new performance will serve you well—especially if you want a surround-sound Seventh. The sonic perspective is from the middle distance, with everything in place but not as hyper-present as in some SACDs. There’s a bit of air around the orchestra, but the hall is not strongly reverberant.

An odd detail in the simple but attractive packaging: Inside the front cover, there’s a little blurb about the cover art, an image called “Underpainting.” According to the note, “Like the layers of sound within this symphony, the visual composition overlays color to build perceptions of depth, volume, and form. Emotive cues radiate from beneath, emanating a subtle glow that infuses the color palette. Variations in saturation, tone, and hue evoke the contrast between defined and open space.” True enough, of the music, the performance, and the well-chosen abstract cover art. But nowhere can I find a credit for the artist.

BRUCKNER Symphony No. 7 • Herbert Blomstedt, cond; Leipzig Gewandhaus O • QUERSTAND VKJK 0708 (Hybrid multichannel SACD: 69:45) Live: Leipzig November 23–25, 2006

Each month brings an SACD issue of Bruckner’s Seventh, and the latest entry comes, effectively, from the source. The work was first performed by the Gewandhaus Orchestra in 1884 under Artur Nikisch, a conductor who would lead the orchestra in all of Bruckner’s symphonies, including a full cycle during the 1919-20 season. That, of course, was long ago, but the current generation of the orchestra has a natural feel for the music, at least under its recently retired music director, Herbert Blomstedt.

Blomstedt has always struck me as a disciplined, solid, middle-of-the-road conductor without much of a personal profile. His recordings of Nielsen and Sibelius are, on every objective level, excellent, but not as interesting as those of, say, Bernstein (which many listeners will regard as a point in their favor). So I was never inspired to investigate his previous Bruckner recordings on Decca and Denon, or the earlier releases in the Querstand mini-survey from Leipzig (the Third and Eighth are already out, but seem not to have been reviewed in Fanfare). A little discographic research shows that Blomstedt’s various performances of the Seventh (always Haas/1885) have, along with Karajan/EMI, always been among the slowest treatments of this edition among major conductors other than the sui generis Celibidache. (Note that the total time of this disc includes 1:18 of fore and aft applause, separately tracked.) Still, a minute or two over the course of a work that lasts more than an hour doesn’t make a huge difference.

What does make a difference is Blomstedt’s ability to sustain the line and flow of this score. He maintains firm rhythmic definition, but not to the point at which it becomes the sole driving force; Blomstedt allows melody and, to a slightly lesser extent, harmony to be equally motivating factors. Indeed, Blomstedt has an almost Italianate ability to make the strings sing (just listen to the phrasing of the first movement’s initial theme). He’s less successful at decongesting the brass climaxes, but the orchestra plays for him with character, and the sound is captured with great clarity—less swimmy than Nézet-Séguin on Atma (see Fanfare 31:3), less dry than Haitink on CSO Resound (reviewed in 31:4). I gave Haitink, another straightforward interpreter, a favorable review, but frankly, and to my surprise, I find Blomstedt a bit more interesting.