Buried Under Bach
Oh my gosh. Once upon a time a bunch of years ago someone gave me a great present, the goodness of which wasn’t really that obvious to me at the time. It was a set of the complete organ works of J.S. Bach
I kept leaving it behind in England whenever I went back because it would sneak out of the way until everything was all packed up and my suitcases were already twenty pounds too heavy. Then it would leap out, waving it’s inlay and demand to be remembered and loved and transported. Up until the last expedition I had not yet caved into it’s demands.
But now, the little guy is sprawled eagerly over my desk. We’re (it’s a joint venture between me and him) up to CD number 7 in the MP3 conversion extravaganza.
I guess I never quite made it into Bach. Every time his music is on it feels so overwhelmingly ornate and difficult. You might even call it baroque (sigh). And 17 CD’s is a lot of organ music. Sometimes I listen to it while mentally changing the instrument from an organ to an electric guitar – it switches over very nicely, I think modern heavy-metalists owe a big debt to mister Bach.
Sergei Prokofiev’s Grandson is a Badass
I was just reading this piece in the Guardian which is a review of ‘classical music for the hoodie generation’, at the Scala in London. That’s the Scala, not La Scala. Anyway, it was a performance of Prokofiev’s Concerto for Turntables (and snippets of a performance here) The astute might’ve guessed that it wasn’t a piece by the old Prokofiev, but a newer more shiny one. His grandson, actually, Gabriel Prokofiev.
It turns out that Gabriel is all about blending electronica with classical setups, as in the piece mentioned above in which a chamber orchestra competes with a DJ on a deck as the soloist. I can’t say that I really like it much (at least from the brief snatches in that video), unfortunately, as much as I’d like to sound avant garde.
I’m a big old fan of electronic music (most of my non-classical collection is in that kind of genre) but the turntableist, scratching kind of stuff sounds so harsh over the top of an orchestra. An even more horrible example of this painful kind of interference is here.
Gabriel P. also wrote at least a couple of non-turntable-messed-up pieces. These actually sound listenable. They’re spiky and modern and actually sort of sound a bit like electronica played by string quartet, which might not be terribly surprising since he seems to be into that kind of thing. There are a couple of camcorderesque videos on youtube of his dance and last movement of his string quartet. Additionally, the Elysian Quartet (who are intriguing themselves, and might be hot) have a performance on their website here.
Another Classical Convert. Almost.
Over at the Guardian, Sean O’ Hagan is trying to convert from rock to classical, or at least dip his toes in a bit. Mostly he seems frustrated by the eliteness and standoffishness of the classical crowd – all the old people looking bored in the concert hall. He says that he can kind of feel that aloofness steaming off the music even when listening over the radio.
I definitely agree with the stuckuptitude of the typical classical audience (though it’s not too bad here in Ithaca) and it’d be great to be able to, you know, shout a bit and stomp your feet and stuff instead of politely clapping for 10 minutes at the end of a performance. However, I reckon that cold, detached feeling he is getting when hearing a CD or radio performance is just there by association. It’s a societally inherited, “everyone knows only old/boring/pretentious people listen to classical” sort of deal. He say that classical is a “well behaved form”.
Tristan Jakob-Hoff then wrote a follow up piece contesting that classical music is not a “well behaved form” as Sean claimed, giving examples of Stravinsky (of course), and Jean-Baptiste de Lully. I think he missed the point a bit though, as I said above, I don’t think Sean is claiming the music is not emotional or wild.
I think he is, quite rightly, claiming that the general classical audience is completely the opposite of emotional and wild.
That general perception probably stops a tonne of people from actually listening to classical music properly. People associate listening to classical with the stereotypical audience member, which is bloody unfortunate. Perhaps if that conception could be changed, more people would get drawn in.
And that’s a bit of everybody’s fault. Especially the media, in which classical music is about as stereotyped as the English speaking villain (who probably listens to classical).
Fortunately he’s not letting his preconceptions turn him off, but I bet he’s a rare exception.
Now This is Real Tragedy
Sniff sniff. At Musical Perceptions they have a list of the top 53 classical music blogs, calculated by technorati authority (basically the number of unique blogs linking to your site) and I didn’t quite make it. I’m in the top 100 though I think. Ah well, I’ve only been going half a year so far!
Next year…
Anyway, that list is great link-fodder. There’s a bunch of places I haven’t been to, but am heading to as I type. Kind of. Well obviously not quite simultaneously, but you know what I mean.
How I Listen to a new Classical Piece
I don’t think I’m that good at listening really. Not really.
It takes me AGES to get into a new piece. I’m crap at doing the thing where you get a new CD and dim the lights (probably after taking a bubble bath with acres of scented candles while being fed grapes in that really impractical, dangling them over your gaping mouth kinda way) and then focus every little exquisite amount of attention you can possibly round up at this new slice o’ music.
I’m not very good at that. I can’t hang on to the melodies quickly enough to see the piece through, there’s too much going on to get a proper grip on things, and I feel lost.
The first time (and the second time, and probably the third fourth and fifth) I hear a piece, it’s washing over me, breaking me in, preparing me to really hear it. It’s like when you first wake up and there’s this smudged, vague period in which the real world is creeping in. Your body isn’t quite prepared to let you bounce open into all the meniality of the day without a bit of a gentle wearing in and soaking up.
Just as you twist from unconsciousness to consciousness in bed, my grasp of a new piece of music starts with a lazy sort of nothing: a deep sleep with simply the broad initial feelings handed over on the first listening. They’re like the vague stew of feelings your dreams have slipped you into before you wake, a starting place, the general scene. With progressive listenings I become more and more awake, more aware of my surroundings. Things tighten up, melodies crystallize, lines separate into instruments and objects.
Hmmm. I don’t think I can push this metaphor too much further, but it’s working out a lot better than I thought it would. I need to regroup and think of a better one. Then I can have a grandish unifiedish theory of listening to a piece of music.
I’m such a geek.