Archive for the Music Category

The Piano in Question

Posted in Music with tags , , on April 27, 2012 by telescoper

Here’s a trip down memory lane for me. While I was at school I was captivated by the BBC TV series, directed and introduced by Jonathan Miller, called the Body in Question. This episode, first broadcast in 1978, shows Dr Miller at the piano with Dudley Moore, his old friend from Beyond the Fringe. They’re exploring the mysterious process by which pianists manage to put their fingers on the right keys without apparently consciously thinking about the mechanical operations involved or even looking at the keyboard. Practice seems to program the hands so that the translation from sheet music to sound becomes second nature, but to those without the ability to effect the transformation (like myself), the process still seems almost miraculous.

Haydn and Mahler

Posted in Music with tags , , , , , , , on April 21, 2012 by telescoper

Returning from my travels I thought it was a good plan to make the most of the many opportunities Cardiff presents for listening to live music by going to last night’s concert at St David’s Hall. In there’s a considerable flurry of activity in the music scene over the next few weeks so if I can find the time during the flurry of work that will happen simultaneously then I’ll probably be doing quite a lot of concert-going (and blogging). I’m particularly looking forward to the Vale of Glamorgan Festival which offers a much more daring selection of music than the rather conservative fare on offer at St David’s.

Anyway, last night’s concert by the BBC National Orchestra of Wales began with Symphony No. 104 (“London”) by Joseph Haydn, the last symphony he ever wrote. It’s very typically Haydn, beautifully crafted in a straightforward, middle-of-the-road kind of way. Under the direction of conductor Thierry Fischer the Orchestra gave a polished performance of what is a familiar favourite. Like the other Haydn symphonies I’ve heard (which isn’t all that many actually), I found it quite enjoyable but rather unadventurous. For all that I admire the way it fits together so beautifully, his music is a bit too “safe” for my liking. I found it all a bit trite, I’m afraid.

The audience was rather sparse for the Haydn, but after the interval it filled up with a lot of young people, presumably music students. A number of them had A4 pads at the ready, which made me conjecture that Mahler might be on the examination syllabus this year. In fact when I booked a ticket, most of the stalls area showed up as taken. As usual, however, most of the capacity was given to BBC employees rather than sold to the public. When I went to collect my ticket before the performance, there was a problem printing it out so I had to get someone to write one out by hand. When she started she asked “Are you with the BBC, or did you actually pay?” Often the recipients of this largesse don’t bother to turn up, which makes for flat atmosphere during the performance. It can’t be fun for the performers to see swathes of empty seats in front of them.

Anyway, as I said, after the interval the hall was much fuller, as was the stage as Symphony No. 4 by Gustav Mahler requires a much larger orchestra than the Haydn piece, although not as large as some of Mahler’s other works. Symphony No. 4 is one of the most accessible of Mahler’s works, which is not to say that it’s particularly simple from a compositional point of view; its shifting tonality contrasts markedly with the static feel of the Haydn work we heard earlier. There’s also much less angst in this Symphony than you get with other Mahler symphonies. Although it has its tempestuous passages, the prevailing atmosphere is one of an almost childlike tenderness and there are moments of radiant beauty. Often in Mahler the light merely serves to make the shadows darker, but not in this piece. It’s wonderful.

I particularly enjoyed the restful 3rd movement, starting with cellos and plucked basses and gradually expanding to incorporate the entire orchestra, it slowly swings between sadness and consolation.The last movement, based on an extended setting of the Song Das himmlische Leben from Des Knaben Wunderhorn, depicting a child’s version of Paradise, beautifully sung last night by soprano Lisa Milne. It’s a far more satisfactory conclusion than most romantic symphonies from a structural point of view, as well as being a wonderful thing to listen to in itself.

Although both symphonies consist of four movements, the Mahler (58 mins) is almost exactly twice as long as the Haydn (29 mins). But that’s not the point. There’s just so much more going on in the Mahler, both inside the music and in its emotional impact. Haydn entertained me, but Mahler moves me. I could summarize the difference by suggesting that Haydn was a craftsman and Mahler was an artist.

Discuss.

Left Alone

Posted in Jazz with tags , , on April 15, 2012 by telescoper

Here’s a lovely little duet by saxophonist Archie Shepp and Abdullah Ibrahim, who was born in South Africa and formerly  known as Dollar Brand. A good time to post it, as it’s called Left Alone and  I’m spending the day on my own finishing a few things off before returning to Blighty tomorrow…

Cement Mixer

Posted in Jazz with tags , , on March 31, 2012 by telescoper

Well, term is over and, inevitably, there are signs that the weather is on the turn. Time, I think, for a bit of inspired silliness by the great Slim Gaillard. I’ve posted about Slim before, but for completeness Slim Gaillard was a truly remarkable character who led a remarkable life, as his wikipedia page makes clear. He was a superbly talented musician in his own right, but also a wonderful comedian and storyteller. He’s most famous for the novelty jazz acts he formed with musicians such as Slam Stewart and, later, Bam Brown; their stream-of-consciousness vocals ranged far afield from the original lyrics along with wild interpolations of nonsense syllables such as MacVoutie and O-reeney; one such performance figures in the 1957 novel On the Road by Jack Kerouac.

In later life Slim Gaillard travelled a lot in Europe – he could speak 8 languages in addition to English – and spent long periods living in London. He died there, in fact, in 1991, aged 75. I saw him a few times myself when I used to go regularly to Ronnie Scott’s Club. A tall, gangly man with a straggly white beard and wonderful gleam in his eye, he cut an unmistakeable figure in the bars and streets of Soho. He rarely had to buy himself a drink as he was so well known and such an entertaining fellow that a group always formed around him, just in order to enjoy his company,  whenever he went into a pub or club. You never quite knew what he was going to do next, in fact. I once saw him sit down and play a piano with his palms facing upwards, striking the notes with the backs of his fingers as he does in this clip, wherein he interpolates an upside-down but nevertheless very accurate version of the opening passages of Debussy’s Claire de Lune.  I’m posting this primarily because it’s such a hoot, but I think it also demonstrates what a marvellous musician he was both on piano – check out the size of his hands! – and on guitar, playing a medley of his hit Cement Mixer to accompany his own gloriously daft vocal.

Other random things worth mentioning are that Slim Gaillard’s daughter was married to Marvin Gaye and it is generally accepted that the word “groovy” was coined by him (Slim). I know it’s a cliché, but he really was a larger-than-life character and a truly remarkable human being. As one of the commenters on Youtube aptly put it “To Slim Gaillard, the whole world was just one big O-roonie”. Enjoy!

Joy Spring

Posted in Jazz with tags , , , on March 28, 2012 by telescoper

Having an early morning cup of tea in the garden just now, as the fine weather continues, I suddenly remembered this classic from 1954. Fortunately someone has put it on Youtube so I can share it right away. This piece will forever be associated with the late great  Clifford Brown who plays trumpet and leads the band, but the real star of the show for me is the arranger, Jack Montrose, who wove a rich  texture around the melody of Joy Spring, with more than a hint of the West Coast “Cool”  that was to dominate the US jazz scene  in later years.

Im Frühling

Posted in Music with tags , , on March 25, 2012 by telescoper

We’re enjoying a spell of perfect weather at the moment, so I’m going to be out most of the afternoon enjoying the flowers and trees in Bute Park. I assume  I’m not in danger of being run over by a lorry speeding along the paths, since I don’t think they work on Sundays. Anyway, BBC Radio 3 is devoting the period until the end of March to a “Spirit of Schubert” festival, so I thought I’d join in by posting an appropriately seasonal ditty. This is Im Frühling (D. 882) (“In Spring”), sung by Peter Pears with piano accompaniment by Benjamin Britten way back in 1950. Gives me a lovely glow inside listening to this. I hope you feel the same..

Nora the Piano Cat

Posted in Music with tags , , , on March 19, 2012 by telescoper

A busy day, filled with meetings meetings and more meetings. Time to relax with some music. This is a complete performance of a work by Mindaugas Piecaitis, featuring Nora the Piano Cat….

 

Remembering Bird

Posted in Jazz with tags , , , , on March 18, 2012 by telescoper

Last week saw the 57th anniversary of the death of Charlie Parker, aka Bird, a musical genius on the saxophone whose influence not only on jazz but on twentieth century music is incalculable. I’ve posted quite a few tracks by Bird over the years and one thing I’ve learned from doing that is that he’s by no means everyone’s cup of tea. I can’t do anything about that, of course, but I can at least point out the existence of his wonderful legacy to those (regrettably many) people who’ve never heard of him or his musicI still remember the mixture of astonishment and exhilaration I felt when I first heard him on record and if I can give that sense of joy to just one person via the blogosphere then it’s worth a hundred posts.

Here’s Kim, another one of Bird’s tunes based on the rhythm changes, with an alto sax solo improvised at breakneck speed and with incredible virtuosity. The other day I was talking to a friend of mine who only has a passing interest in jazz and he asked me whether Charlie Parker really was that good. Well, if you’re asking that question to yourself, listen to this and then you’ll have the answer. As far as I’m concerned this is three minutes of pure awesome….

Volumina

Posted in Music, The Universe and Stuff with tags , , on March 15, 2012 by telescoper

I forgot to mention that, at the end of my talk on Monday evening,  a gentleman in the audience who is apparently a regular reader of this blog asked if I was aware of that composer György Ligeti had written a piece of music called Volumina  inspired by the Big Bang.  I was indeed  aware of this piece, and have a recording of it, but his question gives me the excuse to post a version here.  I’m sure at least some of you will have heard some of it before, in fact, as an excerpt  featured in the original radio series of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy which I listened to on the wireless many moons ago.

You might find Volumina a bit perplexing, but I can tell you that in surround sound with the volume up it’s absolutely amazing. My neighbours clearly agree, and were banging on the wall last night to show their appreciation.

Laughin’ to Keep from Cryin’

Posted in Jazz with tags , , , , , , on March 13, 2012 by telescoper

Neither the time nor the energy to post anything other than a bit of music, so I’ve picked a track someone happens to have posted on Youtube. I have Laughin’ to Keep from Cryin’ the original vinyl LP on the Verve label, but it’s still waiting for me to transfer it to digital. I love this record so much because it’s so joyful and at the same time so tragic. There’s some wonderfully upbeat stuff from the two trumpeters, the great Harry “Sweets” Edison (whom I’ve had the privilege to hear play live), who opens the piece, and then the perhaps even greater Roy Eldridge, but it’s also one of the last recordings made by legendary saxophonist Lester Young who was terminally ill with cancer at the time of this session in February 1958; he died just a year later. His formerly smooth tenor tone now ragged, barely able to stand or hold the saxophone, and playing almost in slow motion, he nevertheless manages to cast his fading light over the latter part of this tune and conjure up something quite magical. The other members of the band are Herb Ellis (guitar), Hank Jones (piano), George Duvivier (bass) and Mickey Sheen (drums) and this track is called Romping.