When Kronos came to town

I take this break from my normal rhetoric to bring a concert review

Kronos Quartet came to Stockholm on May 9th bringing a mixed program ranging from traditionals and popular music to several recently commissioned pieces to their long-time signature. The technical skill of the quartet is as strong as ever, their communication and cohesiveness still at the elite level. Their blend as ensemble is at times hard to judge--they make use of amplification throughout, and choosing to use just a stereo pair of speakers on sticks on either side of the stage makes it hard to tell. That set-up, if using a stereo image of the group (which the engineer was), causes blend issues based on location. I was a bit further house left, so I got a bit more violin in my ear. Honestly, I would make use of a different style of amplification set-up, perhaps utilizing the array already in place which would have done a better job at even amplification across the space.

The program is as follows

• John Oswald Spectre
• Geeshie Wiley Last Kind Words, arr. Jacob Garchick
• Raymond Scott, Powerhouse, arr. Michael DiBucci
• Traditional, Smyrneiko Minore, arr. Garchick
• Terry Riley, Serquent Risadome
• Karin Rehnqvist, All Those Strings!, for string quartet and kantele, featuring Ritva Koistinen
• George Crumb, Black Angels
• 1st encore, Jimi Hendrix, Purple Haze (arr. unknown)
• 2nd encore, Laurie Anderson, Push

Spectre is a piece designed as an opener, utilizing a smooth transition from tuning the string section into the piece. It follows a process from the beginning to the end, from a drone cello tone building up, through the use of electronics, to "a thousand Kronoses" (quote from David Harrington in the show). The process is straight forward and effective. The balance of the electronics to the performers was generally good, though a few passages were almost unheard during the loudest build-up of the electronics. During the climax of the piece, were "a thousand Kronoses" were battling it out, the performers pantomimed playing, either in stop-motion, hitting a position and holding it, or in an exaggerated fashion. This brought some chuckles from the audience around me, as the exaggeration was a bit campy. Pantomime is a difficult performance medium for some to take seriously. 

Geeshie Wiley's Last Kind Words is an old Blues song dating from 1930. Below is a recording of Geeshie Wiley playing the song

Playing a blues song that wasn't originally an instrumental offers challenges. Jazz players do it regularly, with the approach being keeping the form and melody, but adding lots of personal touches and long solo sections. What Kronos presented was the song, in it's entirety, transcribed for string quartet. It was less an arrangement and more a straight transcription.

Below are the lyrics:

Stanza 1: The last kind words I heared my daddy say
Lord, the last kind words I heared my daddy say
Stanza 2: If I die, if I die in the German war
I want you to send my body, send it to my mother, lord
Stanza 3: If I get killed, if I get killed, please don't bury my soul
I p'fer just leave me out, let the buzzards eat me whole
Stanza 4: When you see me comin' look 'cross the rich man's field
If I don't bring you flour I'll bring you bolted meal
Stanza 5: I went to the depot, I looked up at the stars
Cried, some train don't come, there'll be some walkin' done
Stanza 6: My mama told me, just before she died
Lord, precious daughter, don't you be so wild
Stanza 7: The Mississippi river, you know it's deep and wide
I can stand right here, see my babe from the other side
Stanza 8: What you do to me baby it never gets outta me
I may not see you after I cross the deep blue sea

Here's the issue with instrumentally performing songs--none of those words come across in the performance. That feeling does not get transmitted to the audience magically. The music in many songs aids in the transmission of the lyrics, adding to the ideas present.

A good arrangement of a song like this takes into account the missing lyrics and their meaning. Those emotions must then be portrayed and brought out by the arrangement in some other fashion. Having the first violin play the melody while the other three instruments perform pizzicato accompaniment imitating a guitar makes for a bland arrangement. I was bored in the concert without knowing the piece, and downright irritated after doing a quick search and finding the piece. A standard blues song form, with it's repeated 12 bar set-up, can become monotonous without the lyrics, or the additions most jazz performers add. Not a good arrangement at all.

compare this to Michael DiBucci's arrangement of Raymond Scott's well known Powerhouse. Almost all of you will recognize this piece instantly, even if you don't know the title.



This arrangement was faithful to the original, while making use of string quartet in a variety of fashions. The arrangement was solid, the orchestration well done, and the performance top notch. It suffered from none of the arrangement issues of Last Kind Words.

Smyrneiko Minore ended the trio of arrangements. It was performed well, with a much more imaginative orchestration, though it too stayed very close to the original. John Harrington specifically mentioned the recording below by Marika Papagika



Again, what came out was much closer to a transcription than an arrangement. In this case the musical material already included string instruments, which Jacob Garchick transcribed almost perfectly. The melody line was handled by the first violin, including all the embellishments.

It's interesting to contrast Smyrneiko Minore and Last Kind Words based on their original content and how interesting the transcriptions became in performance. Smyrneiko has a much more florid vocal line, with embellishments and quarter tones thrown around as a part of the expressive character. Last sticks to a more traditional blues style with a strong focus on the lyric character. The difference between the florid and simple settings make for vast differences in the transcriptions. For me, Smyrneiko was more compelling as a transcription, whereas Last would have worked better with a more careful treatment, using the instruments to bring forth the emotion content of the words rather than just repeating the melody.

Terry Riley's Serquent Risadome is a piece written for Kronos' 40th anniversary. The piece is very sectional, making use of a few ideas that are developed shortly, then left behind, to be brought back later for a fleeting moment. I haven't been a huge fan of Riley's more recent works, and this piece also didn't resonate with me. Kronos did a good job navigating the quick changes, and doing a fine job bringing out the moments that connect the seemingly disparate sections of the work.

George Crumb's Black Angels is a staple of Kronos' repertoire. They did not disappoint in their performance. Speaking to a friend afterwards, she was intrigued by the theatrical elements of the piece, and how much was built into the piece and how much was added. It's the type of piece that can draw in an audience into the performance. Kronos chose to have the wine glasses up on a separate platform covered by black cloth, making the reveal quite theatrical. This again brought a few chuckles from the crowd, but this theatricality fit into the piece well, and was part of what made the piece so memorable for my friend.

This is the triumph of new music. The choreography was needed but interesting, demanded in the same way as large percussion set-ups, and done in an interesting way that draws a little attention to the movement, but in a positive fashion. The many different sounds and ideas in Black Angels gives an audience a ride through different territories (figuratively, metaphorically, and literally as far as development of ideas). It was met with raucous applause by the audience.

The first encore was Purple Haze. Here's a quick reminder of Jimi Hendrix:



Pay attention to Hendrix's guitar tone. There's a bit of fuzz, but not an overwhelming distortion. There's an edge on the vocals, more like they were tracked a little hot. There's not a large amount of compression, but it's definitely present. The drums are slightly in the back, with the snares being quite rattly. This is a live performance. Compare to this to studio version, here off the Best Of album




There's obviously more distortion, a more fierce distortion. And yet, each note is clear as day. For all the crunch and nastiness, the pitch isn't obscured by the effect. It's crunched, but soulful. The drums are crunched and compressed, but in a way that is fitting. It's a classic drum sound that has been emulated for ages.

Also notice the funky 1960s style stereo panning with the vocals in the right channel until the later effects that sent it ping-ponging. There's delay and reverb on the voice as an effect, emulating the lyrics.

Hendrix knew what he was doing.

Kronos' version was so distorted and compressed that pitch no longer mattered. Most of the time I had no idea what was being played. The effect was so badly mixed that it was just a wall of noise. I've described to people tonight as "a group of 15 year olds playing used guitars into used, nearly blown Marshall full stacks, with only an old Boss distortion pedal turned up all the way. Everything just cranked all the way as loud as possible, jamming in their parent's garage, just shredding like they're the greatest thing ever."

There's something to a raw sort of version of Purple Haze. But what I got wasn't raw, it was almost unlistenable. If it had been billed as a Merzbow meets Purple Haze, I might have bought it. Instead, I got an interpretation that left me more annoyed than anything.

For a real look into how a group should approach a "new standard," and interpretations of songs, fall down the amazing rabbit hole of doing a YouTube search for All Along the Watchtower. Start with Bob Dylan. Visit Jimi Hendrix. Move to Dave Mason. Listen to Dave Matthews Band if you're so inclined. There's a video of Eddie Vedder. You can listen to Eric Johnson do a version that hearkens back to Hendrix with his guitar tone and style. Take a listen to Richie Havens version. Maybe hop to Jamie N Commons' version. So many groups doing version that range from tributes to Hendrix or Dylan to more original takes. Performers keep their style and their tone, not adapting or aping someone else. There's individuality along with reverence. But be prepared for the rabbit hole that is this search path.

Thankfully, Kronos gave the audience a second encore that was more fitting with Laurie Anderson's beautiful piece. It's a simple song, beautiful in its simplicity. It allowed me to clap and give Kronos the appreciation they deserved.

You'll notice I skipped one piece, All Those Strings! by Karin Rehnqvist. I was unacquainted with Rehnqvist's music before arriving in Sweden. She teaches at KMH, but my contacts were in the electronic department, not the acoustic composition. However, since I arrived here, I've made a point of listening to the music of as many different Swedish composers as I could. Luckily, Rehnqvist has a fair amount of music available through Naxos, so I was able to at least get a fair sampling. What I heard I enjoyed.

All Those Strings! includes a kantele, a type of plucked dulcimer/zither. It's an instrument native to Finland, and is linked to Norwegian Finnish* mythology through the Kalevala, a epic poem written in the 19th century (which has been the source of many works of various art forms since its creation). The Kantele is a beautiful instrument, with a bell like quality. It reminded me of the hammered dulcimers of Appalachia, or the cimbalom. The plucked quality reminds me of the guzheng. All these instruments share the same family, so the relations in my mind make perfect sense.

There are times when I feel a piece is too short. Not because the piece did not give adequate time to the ideas or themes, thus leaving me unfulfilled. This was Brian Ferneyhough's criticism of my piece Dance of Disillusionment and Despair, when my my concept of miniature movements did not end up serving the material (or the material serving the form, to different views of the same problem).





Also not because it was a particularly short piece. There's something to be said for a piece that gets in and gets in and gets out, making it's point.

No, All Those Strings! was simply enjoyable enough that I didn't want it to end. The piece was billed as 20 minutes in length, and it felt closer to seven or eight minutes. There have been few moments when I got lost in a new performance, but Kronos and Ritva Koistinen's performance was impeccable. Rehnqvist's writing was idiomatic and made strong use of all the instruments, employing a range of techniques in a fashion that fit the musical material. The piece is very new, so there are no recordings available at the moment, but do yourself a favour, check out Rehnqvist's music, and put All Those Strings on your "To Buy" list. Hopefully Kronos and Koistinen will make a recording in the near future.

Overall, the concert was performed with the high level of artistry that one would expect from Kronos. The weakest portions were the pop songs, where Kronos seemed to miss the point of the songs with poor arrangements. The strongest were the pieces written for Kronos that made use of all the strengths and breadth of Kronos' skills.

*Edit made 5/12/2014. Why I'm thankful for astute readers! That's just a silly mistake: of course the Kalevala is Finnish. A few of my teachers are shaking their heads right now...

Retrospective 2: In the spirit of compromise

Today has been a doozy of a day. At Midnight EST, the US Federal Government shutdown. In Minnesota, Osmo Vänskä resigned after management canceled the Carnegie Hall concerts. Adding insult to injury, with the lockout continuing in Minnesota and no end in sight, Aaron Jay Kernis resigned as head of the Composers' Institute, a major initiative for young orchestral composers run in conjunction with the Minnesota Symphony. And the NYC Opera has canceled the rest of their season and plan on filling of bankruptcy.

All these situations are difficult. At least two really stem from incredibly stubborn groups that just refuse to work in any sort of meaningful fashion with their counterparts. Instead of being two sides of a discussion, people have turned this situation into life-or-death, adversarial, war-like situations. What should be about fostering a compromise for what's best for the entire group by bringing together multiple view-points have become "showdowns at the OK Coral (Chorale?)." 

If you've read this blog, you know I take a very firm stance on most issues. I attempt to formulate these stances by doing at least some research, finding out what's happening, and weighing different opinions against my own personal experiences. Sometimes my own personal experience outweighs opinions, and sometimes my view is swayed in the middle of writing a post.

This is a post where my views were swayed.

I started out writing a post in one vein, and, there's a chance that will come back. But, right now, I look at these situations, and realize that for all my pigheadedness (something I have in spades), I do want to find answers that will work for as many people as possible, across a wide variety of situations.

What does this mean in music?

I'm going to approach this from a few angles, looking at some common perceptions of classical music from both listeners, classical musicians, and myself, and brainstorming ways that these issues may be rectified across the three views. These are, of course, based on wide-generalities, and must be changed in the real world. 

1) Programming:

In a perfect world, I'd love for a significant amount of recent works and 20th century works. Every orchestra should commission at least 1 work a year, and devout at least 25% of the programming to new works. By new works, I'll give some leeway and say anything post WWII. I'd really like there to be an emphasis on American music and music of composers from as wide of backgrounds as possible. This isn't from a "we have to include everyone" idea, but because composers from different backgrounds produce wildly different and engaging music inspired by their background.

I am not taking a Wuorinen viewpoint--25% "masterworks," 25% "20th century works," 25% "living composers known works," and 25% "the untried." While that would be interesting, and in some quarters a dedication to new music, as well as to various outreach and funding possibilities have led to success. But, let's be honest, what happens in LA would not fly in, say, Indianapolis. And what happens in NYC wouldn't work in Atlanta.

So, looking from a few viewpoints, what would be a good breakdown for programming? Where do pops orchestras fit in?

First, I honestly think core programming of Common Practice Period works should be high. I really do love Beethoven, Bruckner, Haydn, Bach, and many others. I think orchestras should look for new and interesting works from that period--and one area I think that needs improved on the most is in concertos. It's always disconcerting to see the same violin concerto programmed multiple years in a row. Yes, the choice is up to the soloist, but wouldn't it be great, in the spirit of compromise, for the soloist and the orchestra to really talk? I'm sure Hilary Hahn would play something other than the Sibelius if you said "Uh, Ms. Hahn, we've done the Sibelius three years in a row...do you have any other concertos? The Tchaikovsky maybe? Haven't done that in years!" It'd still fit the bill of a "standard rep" concerto, but it'd be different. And, of course, the soloist would still have final say.

I do think a larger portion of subscription concerts (non-pops) should be newer works. At this point, I'd say that most orchestras, as best, give 25% over to new works, with maybe a commission every year. I'd love to see every orchestra really give 25% and at least one, if not two commissions a year. At least one work per concert (roughly) would be great--that'd normally fill out to something more like 33% of total works, but not total time. Most of those would undoubtedly be openers, 10-15 minute works.

As for pops concerts, I actually don't have an issue with pops concerts at all, as long as they aren't done at the expense of subscription concerts. And I think cross-over collaborations can actually be really fruitful musical endeavors. Philip Kennicott would hate me for this, but, a piece of me actually enjoyed this piece:

This of course may not fit many orchestras, or their setup...But I can't help but remember the excitement I heard out of Indy with Time for Three, pairing up to play classical works and some more pop style arrangements with the orchestra. Crossing the lines, combining ideas, and being adventuresome can produce good programs.

It won't always work. Not everyone piece will be a winner. But, if we never try, and never move forward, the programs will get really stale as well. And just because one work didn't go well, doesn't mean others won't.

So, there ya go--I'm not against the masterworks, but I do want more effort given to newer works.

2) Attitude
I've touched on this before--how people view the orchestra makes a difference. The physical interaction of the group does change the experience for audience members. What's this have to do with attitude?

I want, one, orchestra performers to always perform like they love the music. Even if they don't like the music, play like you love it. Give it that feeling. I want musicians to be engaged, lively, concentrate, smile, and worry less about being "proper" and more about playing.

I want the orchestra to not care if someone enthusiastically claps between movements. And I want the rest of the audience not to jump down that person's fault. One man, Richard Dare, wrote an article over a year ago talking about how he felt stifled at a concert hall. He wanted to clap, laugh, scream, etc.

As someone that goes to popular concerts, jazz concerts, and "somber, reverential" classical concerts, I can understand. All these concerts have different social graces--you don't usually see too many rock concerts where everyone sits quietly, nor do you see jazz concerts where everyone is singing the tune. And, I think, allowing for good-natured feedback in a live performance is great. Clapping between movements? Well, it can slow things down considerably, but on the other hand, showing that immediate appreciation is also great. As a musician, it's always great when someone claps for me--in a jazz tune, ending a solo (especially one I didn't do so hot on), and hearing applause actually gives me some energy. I'm not a fan of applause after my solo in Bolero, but after a beautiful movement of a symphony? sure.

I mean, is that really all that more "disruptive" than the huge amount of somewhat forced coughing and sneezing?

So, musicians, love what you do every minute. Don't act like you hate something, even if you do--welcome to being a professional. Enter into every piece looking for positives, ways to create beautiful music, and with an open mind. And audience, show appreciation at "appropriate" times, not while music is playing, and everyone else should be supportive and happy someone liked it enough to clap loudly at the end of a movement.

And, if you need to laugh, give an appreciative "yeah!" for a wonderfully nailed solo, or tap your foot, go for it...just do it quietly. Sit next to me the next time I'm at an orchestra concert--you'll see me do all these things, in as surreptitiously a manner as possible. And when I get annoyed looks, I laugh a bit more, because I know the "decorum" of the classical concert all too well.

3) Outreach

First off, let's face a few facts. 1) the age of the audience has gone up steadily. 2) The cause of this is many fold--click on the link in the previous portion. 3) we're tempted, as musicians, to find quick answers. I often hear "it's the fault of education," "the music isn't relevant," "kids aren't into live concerts." Well, all those things could be to blame. So could the "we do it to ourselves," the "Ivory Tower" idea. 4) music education is a varied issue, ranging from topics covered, to time in the classroom, to style of teaching. 5) cultural shifts have changed how we consume media

So, to me, this is where outreach comes in. First, I want to turn music education and outreach away from the one that is most often pushed: performance. There are lots of initiatives that are important here that should have focuses, for sure: youth symphonies, instrument donations, free lessons and sectionals, free after school programs (such as El Sistema). These are great, and I'm definitely not calling for a "rob Peter to pay Paul" mentality with these suggestions.

I think orchestras, new music ensembles, actually every performing group in any area, should do more outreach for listening.

I don't mean free concerts. Free concerts are nice, but I'm thinking more...

Lecture recitals.

Oh yes, those things so many have done in their doctorates. A small group, maybe playing chamber and solo works, go to schools. They present to, hopefully, to groups smaller than everyone in the school. In the presentation, hopefully running about 50 minutes, musicians talk not about the technical bits of music, nor about how to get a career in music, but about listening to music. I mean presentations like this one by Benjamin Zander. And many of you know this little outtake of Bobby McFerrin



Now, the bit with McFerrin does have performance, but not in the way I was talking--it's not about making performers, it's about connecting an audience with music.

This is something many classically trained musicians want to do. Heck, it's why many of us got into this--I know it's why I'm here.

Audience members respond well to the "pre-concert" talks, many show up, want to hear more about the music. It creates a more rich listening experience when they hear musicians talk passionately about the music. Why is it always in the concert hall? Why aren't there more talks out in the public?

One guess is because, in some places, they tried, a couple times. And not many people showed up. Any new event takes time to build. So, these new outreach programs may not pay dividends in the near future--but it'll matter when those 12 year old kids that you reached with a couple outreach lecture recitals become 29 year olds with jobs and want to support the orchestra that came to them with outreach lecture/concerts.

And keep up all the rest of the outreach as well--everything plays a big part. And if more of the small groups would band together, more of these outreach opportunities could occur as well. It'd be great if members from lots of different groups got together and formed an "outreach coalition," in the spirit of compromise.

I do have another whole blog being prepped on outreach ideas for musicians of all walks, so stay tuned.

and finally:

4) Get over the fear of the new

Ok, this one isn't just going to be about compromise, about looking at lots of viewpoints and offering what I think are constructive views.

This one is personal.

Everyone involved: be willing to evolve.

A friend of mine posted a question that led to a lot of this thinking, and one point at the end struck me: How do we incorporate more meaningful new music into our models while not condemning the standard rep?

One word sticks out and makes me think. The question itself is important: how do we incorporate new music into the standard rep? What types of pieces? In what ways, context, etc? I've covered that already.

But it's another word: meaningful.

What is meaningful new music? How do we categorize it? Is it technically well constructed new music? Is it new music an audience will like? Is it new music that the orchestral musicians like? Is it socially and culturally relevant new music?

But, for me, this takes a different tone. Whenever I see meaningful, and in retrospect, use meaningful, it has a connotation of distrust. It says "I'm not sure I find this thing of equal importance to my current mindset." Like I said, I see this in myself as much as I do others. But it's an important idea to think about. How attached are we all to our current modes of thinking? Our current whims? Our current philosophies?

When I see the strikes in Minnesota, I see two groups that are stuck in their philosophies. One is a set of bankers masquerading as non-profit board-members, trying to cut from the largest profit differential, salaries, to make more money for the stake-holders...in this case, the endowment I guess. And I see musicians saying "the old ways are fine--we'll take a bit of a pay cut, but don't change what we do." Now, don't mistake this; I am firmly on the side of the musicians and think the management has acted atrociously. However, I think a lot of these questions come from a "new vs. old" dilemma. And I'm tired of "versus." I really do want cooperation and collaboration.

So, everyone, be ready to try new things. Because, let's be honest, a lot of the old systems are failing. I'm not sure they were ever designed to work all that well in the first place, and with the cultural, social, and economic shifts in America, old paradigms are going to have to fall away.

This doesn't mean getting rid of the masterworks. And it doesn't mean embracing only the newest fads.

But it does mean keeping an open mind and talking.

So, everyone, weigh in. Where can we start at building a new image for orchestras, and for classical music? What sort of image do you see?

For me, I see an image that retains its virtues, but isn't afraid to evolve through the cooperation of everyone involved: the audience, management, musicians, and guys like me, new music composers who love academia.