A Christmas sugar plum

I went to the opera recently and nobody died. Franz Lehar just isn’t like that. The Merry Widow is a huge whipped cream torte of music, frivolity, and child-like swirls of emotions. The Lyric Opera of Chicago has done it up right, with great costumes, beautiful voices, and a cast that makes a serious stab at acting.

It does seem that these financial times have returned us to more conventional productions. A number of years ago the Lyric was experimenting with “modernizing” some operas. For me, the nadir was reached in their production of Gluck’s Alceste, where everyone was costumed in beige and gray. At one point there was a pile of naked, writhing bodies on stage that, far from being erotic, resembled a plate of Klingon Gagh, or the earthworms in my compost heap. My guess is the people who pay for the big ticket seats didn’t exactly relish it either.

Opera, well done, can be the best of all theater experiences: music, dance, plot, lyrical language, voice, orchestra, acting—it CAN have it all. Okay, sometimes it’s a little weak on a few of those things. Acting can be a bit dubious when the two “young lovers” are pretty clearly pushing fifty under the spackled on makeup, or when they’re as big as two belugas circling each other. And the plots, well, I’ve been meaning to write “the three plots of all operas” for a long time. But sometimes the lyricism can move me to tears. Maybe it’s my age, but the regret of getting older in the words of the Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier, or just about any line in La Bohème, have me crying like I’m peeling onions.

The Nikipedia only likes happy endings, and by that standard Lehar ought to be her favorite composer (he’s not, but that’s another blog post). Both the Merry Widow and his other well-known work, The Student Prince, have all the problems you’d like to have, and even the villains are not so bad and have good reasons to oppose the hero/heroine. If only life were like that.

I have one horrible problem in viewing opera, and that is that after nearly freezing to death getting to the production (never once have I bought tickets that the day didn’t turn out to be a ride on the polar express), once I sit down and the overture starts, the combination of warmth and relaxation often puts me right to sleep. Usually, I have the Nikipedia to poke me in the ribs ruthlessly, but sometimes the Sandman even affects her. Not so this time—the constant action, the music, the dance, the colorful costumes kept me charged from beginning to end, and that’s saying something because it’s a 3 hour production. However, thanks to this somnambulance affliction, I’ve discovered that I quite enjoy opera on DVDs as well, where you don’t have to watch the entire thing at once. Also, while nothing compares to the live experience, you can wait a long time to see the opera you want produced within driving distance. DVDs fill the gap, and may be an easier introduction for squirmy kids. I haven't seen either the Merry Widow or one of the available versions of The Student Prince on DVD (the old version is available on Netflix), so let me know how they are if you check 'em out.

New Music

Unless you majored in music at the university level, “New Music” is probably not what’s loaded on your ipod under “classical”. I’m not even sure what to call it, and I don’t think even its fans do—new music, twelve-tone, atonal, experimental, fashion-forward, whatever. However, World’s Foremost Authority on Everything (aka, my daughter) spent her pacifier days being entertained (read, shut up) by a video of the Three Tenors, so traditional classical music is so, well, BTDT that we trot off to “New Music” a lot.

WFA was delighted, early on, by hearing John Adams conduct his Grand Pianola Music, Shaker Loops, and other works during his guest artist gig at Northwestern. We progressed on to attending a performance of his opera A Flowering Tree, which oddly enough I loved and she detested. It made her so aggravated she wanted to argue with him in person, but Mr. Adams escaped her clutches, luckily for him. However, my toleration for pure orchestral new music only goes on for so long, but unfortunately most orchestral performances go on for about twice that long.

Therefore, it was with some shaking in my crocs sandals that I agreed to form part of the cheering squad at the final concert of Camposition, a showcase for music composition students in the summer program of the Chicago Academy for the Arts. Dal Niente was playing the music composed by these students, and I was delighted to see a harpist, and even more delighted to see that that harpist was Ben Melsky, from whom WFA took a few lessons before he graduated from Northwestern. Well, I’m certainly not qualified to say that Ben is the best harpist of his generation (although others have), but I can certainly report he hasn’t been slacking off since graduating, as the guy has forearm muscles like steel bands.

It was a most interesting chamber music ensemble overall, with Mabel Kwan on piano, Paul Mulligan playing clarinet and Ryan Muncy on saxophone—a different set of instruments than the omnipresent violin, cello, etc. The piece I most enjoyed was Monica George’s One Day a Rabbit of My Own. It was the longest work, and employed a lot of innovative techniques (striking harp strings, for example) which actually enhanced the music. Monica put a lot of thought into the piece and how to use the available instruments in the composition. I know so, especially since she came over to borrow WFA’s harp composition handbooks several weeks earlier.

Student composer Brendan Mohr gets the prize for the most works generated, with 4 works on the program. I found most of them a bit difficult for me to click on, but his endings were particularly striking and exciting. WFA and I had a fine time arguing about Lauren Williams’ work Illusions and WFA was thrilled to get the sheet music for Jahan Nolley’s piece Wane.

Maybe it was because the entire concert only lasted an hour and I knew relief was in sight if needed. Maybe it was because the room and the audience was small, with black walls, but it seemed like a velvety experience to me: intimate, engaging, and an exciting showcase of personal vision. My only gripe is that, in an educational setting with a production of music most of us still need to learn to appreciate, there was no information whatsoever provided. Come on folks! How about some liner notes for us dunderheads who would like to know about your inspirations, what you were thinking, even why you chose your titles?! And Dal Niente! PR, guys! I don’t want to have to go chasing you down on the internet just to find out who you are! What if I were super rich and wanted to hire you? (Okay, I’m not, but I wish…)

Anyway, I’m not quite a convert, and I do think listening to music with no clear theme and a lot of mathematics is a bit of a stretch. But that Sunday, in that setting, with so much earnest talent, it was a privilege, a delight, and why I am so happy to live near a big city.

Live music’s dirty secret

It’s been unintentional, but it struck me recently that I’ve stopped going to the movies. I used to enjoy the dimming of the lights, the giant screen, the hushed concentration that the theater offered. When the hush disappeared, slowly so did I.

There are certain types of features where you’re prepared for having the back of your seat kicked constantly: mostly pictures made by Disney, Pixar or the Harry Potter series. After all, it’s a time honored tradition to dump your kids off at the Saturday matinee. When it’s an adult movie, at the ten o’clock show on Saturday night, I can’t bear the sound of wailing infants. In fact, some of us went on Saturday night to ESCAPE the sound of our wailing infant. My take on it is, if you can’t afford the $15 for a babysitter, you can’t afford the $20 for the tickets, either. And running a baby around at 10 o’clock at night, with a ton of other people, and the oh-so-clean state of most movie theaters—ugh!

Babies are only half the problem, though. The other half is people old enough to know better—senior citizens. Some seem to think they are still sitting in their living rooms, where they apparently talk throughout the programming, and ahem! some of us have become a trifle hard of hearing. Or maybe it’s just that they have to ENTIRELY DROWN OUT the sound of the movie. And when we run out of commentary, some of us just seem to have to find that little piece of wrapped candy (or four or five) that’s wwaaaaayyyy down at the bottom of our purses.

Thanks to a giant screen tv and Netflix, I can now watch a movie with someone who knows how to behave, and the snacks are cheaper chez nous, also. Surely, though, a classical music concert attracts a different audience, no?

Well, maybe an evil fairy waved her wand over the Yo Yo Ma/Chicago Symphony Concert at Ravinia on Saturday night, but the same brigade showed up. The lawn seats there were $20 (special and dare I say cynical increase over the usual $10 for less pop star performances?), so I know the couple on the next blanket had enough dough to cover the babysitter. They had a stroller the size of a Hummer, and decided to keep their infant quiet by rattling a large set of toy keys throughout the performance. Then there was the three year old who began her aria just at Yo Yo Ma’s longest cello solo cranked up. But the most enjoyable performance was the mother-daughter team, now dubbed the cackle hens. Want to know all about daughter’s roommates, shopping expeditions, friends’ love affairs, problems with finding good shoes? I can tell you. In fact, so can anyone sitting within 100 feet of them. MY daughter was reduced to tears of frustration trying to hear.

For many outdoor classical performances you can get away from these boors by moving your blanket. But Ravinia seems to have no limit to the amount of tickets they will sell. (We once were forced to sit on the sidewalk during a performance of the Gypsy Kings. I wonder what would have happened if someone had shouted “fire!”) In an attempt to squeeze the juice out of anyone dumb enough to attend, there is obviously no concern that there be any type of quality to the experience.

I had resolved never to attend again unless I bought seats in the Pavilion. That is, until I remembered the Lyric Opera’s matinee of Der Rosenkavalier that daughter and I attended a couple of years ago. We had good seats on the main floor, and my memory is that they cost around 70 bucks a pop. However, I have no idea of how the opera ended, as the entire last scene of the opera was utterly drowned out, and the sight lines totally obscured, by the amount of elderly patrons who decided to get up, leave early, clank their walkers up the aisles, discuss the exact time their trains left, and slap-slap-slap the exit doors, not necessarily in time to the music. Haven't these people learned any manners in their seventy or eighty years? Where do they have to be that is so much more important than where they are? Has attention span become so short that a stellar production requiring hundreds of hours of work and thousands and thousands of dollars, and for which they paid a tidy ticket price, cannot hold their interest?

I did complain several times to Lyric management. They don’t let people in once the music has started, and they make an announcement to turn off cell phones. I asked them to add a request that people who must leave early, do so at intermission. Although they said they would consider it, nothing has been done. They lost my yearly subscription. Although I’ve been a subscriber off and on for nearly 30 years, never again until something is done. We buy individual tickets only, far fewer, and only for evening performances.

Maybe nobody cares. Maybe the bean counters are satisfied with their gate. Maybe I’ll switch to music dvds.

Clear Glass

I’m very fond of music DVDs. No, not the MTV kind, but the kind where a usually classical artist talks about his work, plays, and we get to follow him around. Sometimes the talent is so overwhelming, it’s hard to picture a Leif Ove Andsnes or Boris Berezovsky inhabiting the same recognizable universe as the rest of us.

While these videos somewhat cut them down to human size, in other ways they elevate these artists—even though they live in the same cities we do, the excellence of their art transforms them and shapes their world. Recently, we had the opportunity to see Glass: A Portrait of Philip in Twelve Parts. I wouldn’t say I was the biggest fan of Philip Glass’s music—I’ve found it hard to listen to, sometimes harsh, and repetitive. But after watching this, and hearing the snippets of pieces in the background throughout the DVD, I feel a serious need to get my hands on some of his works. It’s absolute torture not to hear any complete works while watching the program.

The people surrounding Glass also captured my heart, especially his latest wife. She clearly loves him, and early on is clearly so thrilled that this genius loves her. As time goes on, though, and they have children, she appears to become lonely and filled with longing for a deeper relationship with a man whose deepest relationship is with his music. I wanted to send her a copy of Middlemarch, but I didn’t think it would help her be any happier.

I once heard a Spanish proverb, “Take what you want. Take what you want and pay for it.” Everybody in this film has gone after what they want, and they have all paid, heavily. The music is stunning and complicated, but you will want to hear more of it after watching portrait. I got it from Netflix, but it’s also available on Amazon.

Nag, nag, nag!

When my daughter was first taking music lessons (piano) her first teacher wisely told me that she had never seen a student progress well without a parent who kept on them. Since I vacillate between being a drill sergeant and a pushover, I never quite got my nagging program in gear. As might be expected, piano progress was so-so.

However, when she began harp lessons, I was convinced that I might as well throw $55 out the window, and my nag switch opened full throttle. Besides the fact that harp turned out to be “her” instrument (see my post on harps), she readily admits that without the...er...motivation I supplied she never would have made the progress she has.

It strikes me that as teachers and learners, we really should just admit something to ourselves and our students: some things just aren’t fun to learn. Fields that require memorization or significant practice to master are going to have a huge quantity of things you have to beat yourself into doing: the foundations of music, math and foreign languages are, let’s say it, dull and repetitious. No amount of cute computer animation or music enhanced audio flashcards, or any of the other tricks we try really make a difference. Expecting a child to have the discipline needed is unrealistic. Someone else, someone who can visualize the long term benefits, needs to supply the superego.

As I used to pound into my daughter, memorizing the 2500 or 3000 words needed to read a French newspaper is no fun, but being able to pick up a French language fashion magazine or make yourself understood while travelling is a lot of fun indeed. Getting to the fun part, at least in some fields, requires a significant amount of grinding away. For me, and for her, the study of literature or history has been intrinsically pleasurable, because it exercises the brain, but requires no particular skill building exercises once you’ve learned to read. But not so with math, languages, music and advanced art: it’s practice, review and memorize for a long time before you can think big thoughts or work with anything interesting.

“Child-led learning” sounds great and is certainly a popular concept in both traditional and homeschool settings. I wish I believed in it. I wish my child had known what she wanted to do and pursued it wholeheartedly at an early age. I wish I could fly. While I recognize that there are kids like that somewhere on the planet, I think it’s a disservice to expect all of them to be that way, or to wait until they are. How could a child discover a passion for Javanese gamelan (or harp) if she was never exposed to that possibility? So, until I’m confident that she can drive herself, I still direct the tour.

Why do kids quit doing art?

My daughter played startlingly beautiful improvisations when younger, but as her music study went on she began to focus more and more on her lesson material and on learning to play her instrument with increasing expertise. The improvisation dropped off due to no time and a lot of demanding skills acquisition. I worried about the loss of joy, especially during those practice times when I heard her growl in frustration.

Many children produce wonderful images and sounds early on. Think of the freshness of much child-written poetry, melody, or art. Picasso and others often spoke about the need to remain as a child when approaching art. The challenge is to mature into an understanding of what you’re doing, while still maintaining freshness and innovation. Not easy. But also, without training, most artists will eventually get frustrated with their lack of ability to produce the skillful and sophisticated works rattling around in their heads. Perhaps this is why, without serious training in drawing skills, so many kids give up drawing at about age 10 or 11--they start to know that there's something better out there, but need the training to access it.

The age when children decide to give up in frustration is also the age when schools start to regard all the arts as a nice supplement, if they can afford the time and the money (NOT!). Sure, a huge after-school industry in arts instruction has developed, but only for the parents who seek it out and can afford it. We are now a nation who can’t draw stick figures, pick out a simple melody, or even dance. Yet we stop offering any instruction at just the age when children might make some real headway in learning the skills, and then be able to apply those skills to their own creative inspirations.

Real music composing, at least classical, is a very complex endeavor, requiring expertise with a variety of instruments, a historical vocabulary, and much theory. If the spark is truly there, and opportunities and encouragement are offered, I think the young person will return to their art interests with a vengeance. Mine has.

Homeschooling and my own interests have provided my daughter with a veritable flood of arts instruction and activities. Thanks to the greater interest in homeschooling, there’s a cornucopia of self-instructional materials available. If you want to be overwhelmed with what’s available to play with, check out the Rainbow Resources catalog. It’s a treasure trove for homeschoolers, after-schoolers, and even adults. Self-instruction programs are a lot cheaper than many classes, portable, adaptable to your time schedule, and teach self-reliance and how to be a life long learner.

And if you just want to learn to draw a (much better) stick figure, check out Mark Kistler’s books. Talent may be a spark within, but anyone can learn the skills.

Harp on it

For years my daughter begged to study harp. I ignored her pleas because, to put it charitably, she was an indifferent piano student. Although she began lessons at 6 years old, she never seemed to find the right “click” in a teacher, and there was no real spark, although in general she loved music. I hoped to put off harp lessons forever, as I didn’t need any more giant instruments that sat around our house unplayed.

About 4 years ago, I heard an interview on NPR with Max Zbiral-Teller (whose family happens to live a few blocks from us). He’s an extraordinary hammered dulcimer player who described how he had begged for years to be allowed to learn the instrument, finally convincing his parents. The NPR commentator went on to describe him as probably the best in the world (Max was then about 16). A chill went up my spine. What if people are meant for certain instruments, and I was preventing my daughter from discovering her real calling?

Yup. Three years later, she is playing in two youth orchestras, practices three hours a day voluntarily (I could barely nag 30 minutes out of her on piano), and adores it. I have come to believe that, even though most children begin on piano or violin, they should have an opportunity to try out other instruments whenever possible. I had originally agreed to let her try 10 lessons, and even though the first harp teacher was dismal, I could see a difference in my daughter’s commitment from day one.

Harp playing sounds beautiful from the first day, something that cannot be said for violin. It has a great range, and many styles of music—folk, Celtic, jazz, blues, and of course, classical—sound extraordinary and unique on harp. But harp’s reputation is that it’s the exclusive province of angelic little girls from wealthy families, and that points to the main problem in its lack of popularity: there’s no easy entry point.

You can pick up an electric piano at an electronics store for a few hundred bucks, or haul one out of someone’s basement for about the same price, and see if your kid will actually work at the thing. School orchestras and bands often have loaner instruments for violins, flutes, you name it. However, you’ll be very fortunate if your kid’s school orchestra owns a harp, and even more so if it has been restrung and regulated in the past ten years. Harp has no “try-out” instrument that costs less than several thousand dollars.

We were lucky to find a used Dusty Strings lever harp for $2100 (plus another $125 for restringing), but it was a fluke. A decent lever harp is going to set you back upwards of $4K, and the half-way decent student will be whining for a pedal harp in two years or so. Don’t even think of spending less than $10K for a pedal harp. This level of entry is beyond what most parents can stomach without knowing whether the child has any commitment to the field. If you’re lucky, the teacher will have a harp or two to rent, but they go fast.

Unlike many other instruments, harps don’t last. They get beat up easily and the sound board lifts up. A used harp or one that has been rented extensively should be approached with the caution you’d apply to purchasing a used car: take your mechanic (harp teacher) with you. And be warned, six different harps of the same model will have six different sounds. Not an easy thing to purchase online.

It’s too bad that it’s so expensive to get started, because it’s an instrument that children are naturally drawn to. Whenever my daughter plays, kids can hardly keep their hands off the harp.

The other problem harp has is that there is relatively little music written for it in the classical sphere. Although it’s one of the most ancient instruments (think Greek vases), the harp had a limited range until the double action pedal harp (invented in the early 19th century) made it more versatile and appealing to composers. Repertoire available for harp is pretty much limited to works composed after then, with a bigger role for harp in opera and ballet music, whose heyday coincides more closely with the double action harp. Of course, numerous transcriptions of earlier music are available, and harp has a huge repertoire in folk and particularly Celtic music. Nevertheless, the harpist for an opera company is likely to be busier than the harpist in a symphony orchestra.

There’s some sensational stuff out there, well beyond the angel choirs type stuff. Give a listen to Kim Robertson (Celtic), Joy Yu Hoffman (Chinese, and btw my daughter’s current teacher), Deborah Henson-Conant (jazz & pop) or Judy Loman (classical). Prepare to be transported.