Gawker pricked a totally latent memory today with an old Sesame Street clip that I haven't seen since, oh, just about the Bicentennial or so:
Of course, at the tender age of three or four I wouldn't have known Philip Glass if he had walked out of our TV set and bopped me on the head, but in watching this today I distinctly remember being as mesmerized by the music as with the visuals, and trying to chant along.
I've been thinking a lot in the past year or so about how where--and how--you choose to live affects your energies: creative energy, intellectual energy, physical energy, all that. Some places are utterly exhausting, in every possible way, even if you try to make the best of them. (I've lived in a number of those.) And some places that should, or could, be wonderful places of retreat don't live up to their potential if you don't put in your own time and effort into making them so. (I'm in the actively striving stage.) Sometimes you create something wonderful, even if the larger environment doesn't quite sing. And sometimes you visit someone, or you read about someone else's abode, and you think: Yes. This is what I am aiming to cultivate on my own terrain.
Just before the onslaught of all the holidays, I was thinking about all this when I came upon a lovely profile of our friends Roswell Rudd and Verna Gillis in the New York Times just before Thanksgiving that affirmed these thoughts about creating a home that is a place of refuge and recharging. The fact that they have a tremendous love story doesn't hurt, either.
Our merry little band of three spent a good deal of the Christmas break catching up on releases that we didn't have a chance to listen to in the year past. (Ah, regrets and resolutions...)
In any case, the Official Good Time Disc of the past week, and heretofore regretfully and completely overlooked on my part, is Shantel's Disko Partizani!, which was released on Crammed this fall. The title track is my least favorite (see if you feel differently; the rather excruciatingly heavy-handed video is up at YouTube). If you dig Gogol Bordello and Balkan Beat Box and all that, check out Shantel's heavily Greek/Turkish spin on the genre.
(I must admit that I love the tenth track, "Immigrant Child", in particular, not in small part because it uses the old rembetika tune "Sto Cafe Aman"--the song which inspired the name of this blog.)
Happy 2008!
I was one of the (very) few music types to show up to the NY Phil's press conference this morning to hear in person what the orchestra has planned for its trip to North Korea in February.
Naturally enough, the bulk of the press corps Q&A focused mostly on the diplomatic and political delicacies of this whole adventure. But I did think it useful to ask Zarin Mehta about the choice of repertoire, which is to include Wagner's Prelude to Act III of Lohengrin; Dvorak's Ninth Symphony, and...Gershwin's An American in Paris. Apolitical stuff, to be certain; and surely not much of anything that would point to the cultural or intellectual life of America today. even the "American-ness" of the program is worth a moment of reflection. Of course, Gershwin is a polyglot in that super-American way, and we all know the "New World"-isms of the Dvorak. But isn't rather interesting that the "American" selections are of a European's views of an (1890's) America, and that the sole American composer represented on this concert is not directly reflecting on his own nation, but instead responding musically to one of the great European capitals?
Mehta didn't think much of my question. He waved it off, saying: "Great music is great music." (He added later, not apropos of my question, "We are going in order to share the joy of music," which begs the question if such music exists without message, meaning, or context--music as pure entertainment only.) But a moment or two after he answered me and I had already retaken my seat, he added--and not without a certain note in his voice--"Well, what would you have us program? The Chairman Dances?"
ETA: Sorry for the multiple postings--I was updating the blog as I left the press conference, and obviously things went haywire.
2nd ETA: I see that my exchange with ZM made it to the NY Times' coverage this morning, along with that cheeky BBC question about who might be the greater opera composer: Mozart or Kim Jong-Il.
Have you seen this yet? (Courtesy of MMFCC, via Stu.) I have to say, though, that the "conductor" is not exactly convincing in his role.
Some observations about this year's nominees, which were announced a couple of hours ago (and good luck trying to get into their website right now, because the traffic is terrible; instead, for the classical categories, head over to see Steve's post...)
-It's interesting to see that entities that either didn't even exist a couple of years ago (hi, Starbucks!) or didn't really seem to pay much attention to the Grammy process until quite recently, at least as far as I'm aware (and I'm too lazy to research otherwise), now want in. (Greetings, CBC, Cedille, OUR,Red Mark, Violinjazz, and brethren!)
-Not a single classical album showed up in categories like Historical or Album Notes. (Memo to producers/writers/etc.: If you want your work to be considered, I understand it's best these days not to assume that the label will submit your stuff for you. So get cracking!)
-There was a lot of great competition this year in both of the world music categories. Four of the five nominees in the "traditional" world music category are of African or African-rooted music, including the phenomenal Live at Couleur Cafe by Konono No. 1, released by Crammed. (The odd recording out is Rahim Al Haj's excellent When the Soul Is Settled---Music of Iraq on Smithsonian Folkways.)
-Its sister category, "contemporary" world music, headed instead to Brazil: Ceu, Gilberto Gil, and Bebel Gilberto were all nominated. Also, I can't quite believe that Lorena McKennitt's album managed to get accepted as any kind of world album. Yes, I know she winds up on SoundScan's world chart, but please, Verve (or whoever submitted this one): you show no mercy. (Et tu, Grammy world committee?)
-My pick for Best Classical Album, and certainly not for sentimental reasons: Lorraine Hunt Lieberson's exquisite, and utterly poignant, recording of her husband's Neruda Songs (Nonesuch), which is also up for Best Classical Vocal Album and Best Contemporary Classical Composition. (Also, the other candidates for Best Classical Album? Blink. Have I missed something(s) truly phenomenal?)
-I've really loved the Minnesota Orchestra/Osmo Vanska Beethoven cycle (BIS), and am not at all surprised to see their recording of the Ninth up this time around in Best Orchestral. I also find myself needing to return to the LA Phil/Salonen Rite of Spring (DG).
-The nominees for Best Opera make me think how paltry the new opera offerings have been in recent times.
And, finally, random thoughts about some other categories...
-The slightly bizarre, hugely entertaining, and fastidiously researched (and presented) Actionable Offenses--Indecent Phonograph Recordings from the 1890s on Archeophone got two noms (Historical and Album Notes). Hooray!
-Loren Schoenberg's notes for his Chu Berry set on Mosaic were amazing, and the nomination is well-deserved.
-I giggled when I saw The Beastie Boys rubbing shoulders with Dave Koz, Kirk Whalum, Spyro Gyra, and Chris Botti (Best Pop Instrumental Performance and Best Pop Instrumental Album).
-Amy Winehouse: You really are a mess, but I still love Back to Black. (Yay, Dap Kings!) And, speaking of Winehouse & co: I still dig Mark Ronson's own Version.
ETA: And a personal congratulations to some old friends: David Frost (Best Classical Album, as producer of Renee Fleming's "The Age of the Diva"); Robina Young (Producer of the Year, Classical); and Michael J. Maccaferri and the rest of the eighth blackbird flock (Best Chamber Music Performance). MJM: If you don't submit this to our (high school) alumni magazine, I will.
Via Bill Bragin: Bob Boilen at NPR has posted a lovely tribute to our (and many people's!) mutual friend Tom Terrell, which includes a link to a great piece Tom did about how he, as a black kid, fell for --of all bands!--the prog rockers Yes.
From today's inbox...
"Gabriela Montero,
the Venezuelan-American pianist renowned for her improvisational
artistry in the concert halls of the world, will perform improvisations
on the piano in her living room, based on themes submitted by her
audience. These will be recorded live and streamed on the internet
twice monthly, beginning December 2007. They will also be available
for download for three days after each event.
Ms. Montero is seeking audience participation in this unique musical
experience, inviting fans to email suggested themes to her website, www.gabrielamontero.com
A theme might be in the form of an emotion, vision, or current life
situation, or it might be inspired by another composition, film, or
television show. The chosen themes will be posted on Ms. Montero’s
website, and those whose themes have been chosen for each edition of Live From My Living Room will receive a personalized MP3 file of the improvisation."
Of late, I have been reflecting on a story recently recounted by a new acquaintance. (Though the story was told publicly, I'll keep his/her identity anonymous for the time being, since I don't have explicit permission to identify the person involved. However, I just can't stop thinking about it.)
This person is a musician who struggled for a long time with an anxiety disorder. Because of this person's obvious love of music, friends and loved ones would often gift him/her with recordings. For quite a long time, however, s/he would always put these gifts away without listening to them.
Why? Because the seemingly simple act of listening to music meant to surrender control of his/her emotions, and to entrust that extraordinary power to someone else, even if only temporarily.
Very, very sad news this morning: Tom Terrell's battle with cancer ended at 5:05 AM today. His last days, I have heard, were peaceful and pain-free.
Tom was an incredible writer--I spent time just a couple of weeks ago re-reading and thoroughly enjoying his notes for the Miles Davis "On the Corner" boxed set. (An editor friend told me that despite all the turbulence of the last few weeks, Tom submitted a "best releases of 2007" list to him just a few days ago.) But even more than that, Tom was a wonderful friend with the strongest of hugs and the readiest of laughs. He will be deeply, deeply missed.
Funeral arrangements are being made for next Saturday, December 8th, in Washington, DC. A separate memorial service will be organized in NYC at a later date.
