First Ivors Composer Week announced


The Ivors Composer Awards celebrates their 20th anniversary this year – and they are marking the occasion by expanding its format into a first-ever Ivors Composer Week.

The seven days of events will follow on from the Awards themselves, which celebrate the best new works by composers writing for classical, jazz and sound art. Ivors Composer Week will take place from 14 to 20 November, with the winners of this year’s Ivors Composer Awards announced on Tuesday 15 November.

Like the Awards themselves, the week will champion composers, providing opportunities to connect and exploring topics that impact on composers. Events will support The Ivors Academy Trust, which creates new opportunities for composers and songwriters including mentoring, creative support, leadership development and education.

Key events during the week include:

  • A reception at the House of Commons on Monday 14 November. This invitation-only event will be hosted by Kevin Brennan MP, chair of the All Party Parliamentary Group for Music, and sponsored by PRS for Music. The ORA Singers will perform Ave Verum Corpus Re-imagined, composed by past Ivors winner Roderick Williams.
  • On Tuesday 15, the 20th edition of The Ivors Composer Awards will be presented by BBC Radio 3 presenters Hannah Peel and Tom Service, the latter also a BBC Music Magazine contributor. Tickets are available.
  • For Meet The Commissioners at St Martin in the Fields on Wednesday 16, Sarah Gee (Spitalfields Music), Gill Graham (Wise Music Group) and Aaron Holloway-Nahum from Riot Ensemble will discuss the changing classical commissioning landscape. Book for free as a member or for £10 as a non-member.
  • Thursday 17 will feature a live stream of a lecture by David Ferguson, Classical Beyond the Concert Hall. Also on the bill, composer Héloïse Werner (pictured top) and others will discuss the impact of new technologies in creating and strengthening human connections. Live streamed, the event is open to all.

Lloyd Coleman, composer and chair of The Ivors Academy’s Classical Council, said, ‘As we celebrate the 20th anniversary of The Ivors Composer Awards, it is important that we look ahead to the next twenty years. As composers, we are affected by problems with touring, under-investment in state school music education, and financial pressures facing cultural institutions and venues.

‘But the talent of composers in the UK, innovations in technology and the importance of music and culture to Britain’s place in the world mean that with the right support and funding, there are good reasons to be optimistic. The Ivors Academy will launch a new conversation and campaign, Composers Under Pressure? during Composers Week to explore the challenges and opportunities facing composers today and how we can ensure a bright future.”

You can read more about the Ivors Composer Awards in the December issue of BBC Music Magazine.

Héloïse Werner pic: Nick Rutter



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Composers and Pets, Part 2



The strong connection between humans and animals, especially pets, has been known for thousands of years. Composers are no different from us mere mortals in that many of them, too, had cherished pets, and some even wrote music inspired by animals. Following my previous post on the topic, let’s “paws” for a few more pet “tails.”

The story goes that Domenico Scarlatti’s cat Pulcinella once jumped up onto his harpsichord’s keyboard and produced a 4-note theme. It was not typical of the music of the time, but it intrigued Scarlatti so much that he used the phrase to write his Fugue in G minor, K. 30. Scarlatti never called the piece “The Cat Fugue,” but the nickname it picked up in the 18th century has stuck to this day. Here’s a cool rendition as harpsichordist Elaine Comparone plays standing up.

American composer Amy Beach was so charmed by the Scarlatti cat story that she used it a jumping off point for her own Fantasia fugata, Op. 87. She included an inscription that read: “The composer is indebted to ‘Hamlet’, a large black Angora who had been placed on the keyboard with the hope that he might emulate Scarlatti’s cat and improvise a fugue.” Here’s Joanne Polk.

There are many stories about Mozart and his sometimes, shall we say, eccentric behavior. Apparently, one odd thing the composer liked to do was to imitate cats. And there are at least two stories of different occasions where Mozart, who was said to have a low boredom threshold, suddenly started meowing loudly, and leaped over nearby tables and chairs.

Mozart’s affection for cats, however, actually proved a help to his career early on. When he was nine, the Mozart family traveled to London. The Royal Society, a 360-year-old British organization dedicated to the sciences, doubted the child prodigy’s age. They felt no one could be such a genius and so accomplished so young and suspected that he was actually an “adult dwarf.” They thought his father Leopold was lying in order to make Wolfgang’s achievements seem more spectacular.

They sent Daines Barrington to visit and find out the truth. Barrington put the boy through a series of tests, including covering the keys with a cloth to see if Mozart could still play from just the sense of touch. The story goes that a favorite cat entered the room and the child left the piano to play with it and it took a long time to get him back to the instrument. Seeing that typical childlike action is what finally convinced Barrington that Mozart was, indeed, still a child.

Another famous cat lover was French composer Maurice Ravel. While it’s not known definitively how many cats he owned at any one time there is one account claiming there were at least 7 Siamese (his favorite breed) in the house. Ravel claimed that he could speak the cat language and did so, even when there were guests in the room.

The cats were allowed to frolic in his work room, and even climb up onto his piano. I mentioned in last year’s pets blog that there was one musical instance of his love for cats in his music. In his opera, L’enfant et les sortilège, (The Child and the Spells), a naughty little boy mistreats his belongings and one night the toys and furniture and animals take revenge on him, including a dark “Duo miaule” for male and female voices. Here’s a scene from a São Paulo performance:

Ravel loved his cats so much that, when he had visitors, he spoke to them endlessly about his cats, and when he wrote to family and friends, he filled several pages describing their every moves.

I couldn’t find a citation that Beethoven ever owned a pet; however, one did work its way into his heart. The 40-year-old composer had fallen in love with his 18-year-old piano student Therese Malfatti and proposed to her. Many speculated that she rejected him more for his famous volatile temper than for the age difference. Although their personal relationship didn’t work out, Beethoven was befriended by Therese’s dog, Gigons. At one point Beethoven wrote to a friend, “You’re wrong to think Gigons only goes to you. No, I too had the good fortune to have him stick to my company. He dined by my side in the evening, and then accompanied me home. In short, he provided some very good entertainment.”

Another dog lover was English composer Edward Elgar, who owned a spaniel named Marco before he married. Unfortunately, Elgar’s wife Alice didn’t care for dogs and Elgar was dogless during their 30-year marriage. He had to make due with walks with his friend George Robertson Sinclair’s bulldog Dan, who was remembered in No. XI of the “Enigma” Variations. Elgar wrote that the first few bars depicted the dog “falling down the steep bank into the River Wye, paddling upstream to find a landing place, and his rejoicing bark on landing.” Here’s the Symphony Orchestra of India.

After Alice died in 1920, Elgar adopted two dogs, another Marco and Mina. There’s a story told that Elgar conducted a live broadcast concert when he was 70. At the end of the concert he gave a short speech which included saying good night to Mina. The dog was described as being very excited hearing her name and her master’s voice over the radio.

American avant-garde composer George Crumb, who passed away in February of this year, was a known lover of dogs. His 1998 suite for guitar and percussion, Mundus Canis (A Dog’s World), describes the dogs that his family owned over the years. Here’s the whole piece, with the fifth and final movement titled “Yoda.” It’s not about the famous Star Wars character, but his dog of that same name, “…a fluffy-white animal of mixed parentage and mercurial temperament.” You’re sure to get a chuckle for how that section ends!

CODA:  And leaving you with one more piece for cat lovers. Although the Duetto buffo per due gatti is attributed to Gioachino Rossini, there are many scholars who say some of the music is Rossini’s but the “cat parts” were added by someone else. There are many fun versions to be found online, but this one is pawsitively hiss-terical!





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Mixtape #66 : Fibonacci – 5:4


For the autumn 5:4 mixtape, i’ve returned to the same mathematical world that led to the Prime Numbers mix, and upped the ante a bit. This time, i’ve used the Fibonacci series as the basis for the mixtape, but instead of featuring the numbers in the titles of the tracks, i’ve been using the numbers to determine the durations of the tracks. Basically, i’ve created a simple expanding and contracting sequence, starting with a track lasting 8 seconds, increasing – via 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233 and 377 – up to 610 seconds, and then contracting again; this sequence runs twice (i chose 8 as the minimum as it turned out i had surprisingly little music in my collection lasting only 1, 3 or 5 seconds).

The result is a mix that stylistically flexes according to the stretching nature of its spiral structure. Of course, though i’ve used tracks with the exact durations as described above, due to silences occurring at the start or end of some of them, in addition to my own crossfades, the timings drift a little throughout the course of the mix. (Hopefully Fibonacci won’t mind too much.) As usual, i’ve avoided music featured in previous mixtapes, and on this occasion i’ve generally favoured older rather than newer favourites.

Here’s the tracklisting in full, together with approximate timings and links to obtain the music.





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Cate Blanchett conducts herself magnificently in a modern classical music drama


A great orchestra conductor doesn’t just keep the violins from going one way and the trombones and tuba another, nor act as a human metronome who looks good in a tux. They stir musicians to great heights and unlock the sonic imagination of an enraptured audience.

In short, they rule. And on that note, Cate Blanchett soars in writer/director Todd Field’s drama “Tár” (★★★½ out of four; rated R; in select theaters now, nationwide Friday). Powered by Blanchett’s baton-wielding tour de force, the film is a modern tale about a cultural giant who uses her power in not-so-great fashion, so there’s shades of #MeToo at play. However, “Tár” has more of a timeless quality, playing out in the style of a Greek tragedy with the epic downfall of a woman behaving badly.

‘Who better to play a genius?’: How Cate Blanchett got the role of a lifetime in ‘Tár’

In the film’s classical music world, Lydia Tár (Blanchett) is like Ye and Taylor Swift combined: An EGOT winner who’s led a bunch of top orchestras around the world, and is the renowned conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic, ready for her master stroke. She’s preparing to do a live recording of Gustav Mahler’s heavyweight fifth symphony while also releasing her memoir (with the oh-so-pretentious title “Tár on Tár”). From the opening moments, Field so impressively weaves Lydia’s storied career into real life that you need to stop yourself from Googling her. (While it does seem like a believe-it-or-not biopic, she is fictional.)

Her rise has been triumphant, but you know what they say about the way down. While Lydia’s close to her greatest heights, a former student ends her life and a legal team wants to chat with the celebrity conductor about allegations of sexual misconduct. She’s married to her concertmaster Sharon (Nina Hoss), although their relationship chafes when Lydia takes a special interest in Olga (Sophie Kauer), the orchestra’s new wunderkind cellist. And Lydia also needs to figure out who’ll be her new assistant conductor, the dream job for loyal personal aide Francesca (Noémie Merlant).

Ranked: All the best movies we saw at Toronto Film Festival (including ‘Banshees of Inisherin’)

Lydia Tár (Cate Blanchett, right) rehearses with her new cellist, Olga (Sophie Kauer), in “Tár.”

It’s a lot. Cracks are seen early in the enigmatic Lydia’s cool façade – the threatening way she deals with kid bullies at her adopted daughter’s school, for example, and how the self-described “U-Haul Lesbian” lays into a socially conscious student who disrespects Bach for being a misogynist. (She also causes a stir by suggesting men apply for her conducting fellowship for young women.) The pressure continues to mount, and Lydia’s personal and professional missteps threaten to tear down everything she’s meticulously built.

Even if you take out the timely “cancel culture” bent, “Tár” works as a really intriguing exploration of the mostly uncharted world of classical music, as “Black Swan” did for ballet and “Whiplash” for jazz. While the Amazon series “Mozart in the Jungle” offered a comedic take on backstage orchestral maneuvering, this film takes a much more introspective look at its politics and ultra-competitive nature. It’s the one aspect begging to be mined more in Field’s busy narrative, which already pushes limits with a taxing 158-minute runtime.

One big positive: The movie sounds fabulous, even if Lydia’s life is as discordant as a Charles Ives effort. Oscar-winning composer Hildur Guðnadóttir’s (“Joker”) score doubles as themes of a composition Lydia’s toiled at for years, not to mention some Mahler and Edward Elgar works to please the classically minded set.

Blanchett, of course, is the real maestro here. Surrounded by a number of ambitious women in a world that’s historically patriarchal, Lydia is an astounding study of ego and hubris gone wrong in a period where devices track every questionable move.

A shoo-in for a best actress Oscar nomination (and an early favorite to win the darn thing), Blanchett plays piano, drives like a maniac and, yes, conducts an orchestra like a seasoned pro, though her biggest feat is molding a magnetic character out of an unknowable figure.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: ‘Tár’ review: Cate Blanchett wows as A-list conductor in musical drama



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Selma H. Savage Obituary – The Providence Journal


96, died peacefully at home on October 19, 2022, surrounded by her loving family. Selma was intellectually curious, a voracious reader, a talented painter, and lover of art, history, classical music, opera, flowers, and carousel horses. The Savage family matriarch, she loved all things family.

She was the beloved wife of the late Julian B. Savage for over 60 years. Born in New Bedford, Massachusetts, she was the daughter of the late Myron and Fannie (Shapiro) Herman.

She was the devoted and loving mother of Robert S. Savage, and his wife Dianne, of Cranston, RI and Jonathan N. Savage, and his wife Judith, of Providence, RI and dear sister of the late Eleanor Sacks of Akron, Ohio.

She was the proud grandmother of and friend to Justin B. Savage, and his wife Elizabeth, of Providence, RI, Jeremy B. Savage, and his wife Katherine, of Rumford, RI, and Julia M. Savage of Anchorage, Alaska. She was the cherished great grandmother of Julian N. Savage, Charles D. Savage, and James F. Savage.

Selma was owner of the former Myron Herman Co. / Herman’s Furniture Galleries where she instilled her artistic vision, retiring in 1997. She was a member of Temple Beth-El and the Providence Art Club, friend of Brandeis University, and active with the League of Women Voters and Planned Parenthood. A graduate of Hope High School, Selma received her bachelor’s degree from Pembroke College (Brown University) in 1948 and did graduate work at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.

A graveside service at Swan Point Cemetery was private. In lieu of flowers, contributions in her memory may be made to Temple Beth-El (Providence), Planned Parenthood, or WGBH, all of which were important to Selma throughout her life.

Arrangements by Shalom Memorial Chapel, 1100 New London Ave., Cranston, RI.

Posted online on October 26, 2022

Published in Providence Journal



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Instant Replay: 040 | CRB


This series highlights our favorite music of the moment – discoveries we’ve made when we’re at home cooking or cleaning, at the office, or out and about. Classical or otherwise, old, new, or just really cool, these are the tracks we’ve had on repeat this month. Find a cumulative playlist at the end of this post. Happy listening!

Tobi Morare — Starter
John Shanahan
There’s a lot that I love about Berlin-based producer Tobi Morare’s album, Soul Kitchen, and it all kicks off here. Pulling inspiration from ’90s downtempo and IDM, Morare laces in a hefty dose of funk straight out of the 70s thanks to liberal wah-wah use, and lays down hooks you can hang your hat on. I don’t think I’ve played this yet without turning the volume waaaaay up.

The Real… Bossa Nova (album)
Laura Carlo
(Ed.: This is the first track on the album Laura recommends, The Real… Bossa Nova, which is not available on Spotify. However, a helpful Spotify user compiled all of the individual tracks into one playlist, which you can find here.)

Whether you’re on a beach vacation, or enjoying cool drinks on the back deck, a warm summer evening is begging for 1960s-era bossa nova. This compilation album has authentic music from Brazil (Antônio Carlos Jobim and João Gilberto) to jazz greats (Stan Getz, Myles Davis, and the Dave Brubeck Quartet) setting the right mood for the season. It’s going to be on “repeat” the rest of the summer.

PUBLIQuartet — Montgomery: Break Away: III. Smoke
Emily Marvosh
Lately, and rightly so, composer Jessie Montgomery has been “blowing up,” as the kids say. Exhibit A: the BSO is putting one of her works on their opening night program at Symphony Hall next month. Here is one of my favorite examples of her music, Smoke, for string quartet. It’s less than 4 minutes long but absolutely packed with ear-catching ideas and sounds. I can’t wait to hear what’s next from her.

Sibylle Baier — Colour Green
Edyn-Mae Stevenson
When Sybille Baier was in her twenties in Stuttgart, Germany, she recorded a secret diary of songs on a tape recorder she propped up on a stack of books. Then she forgot about it. Nearly 50 years later in Western Massachusetts, her son unearthed the recordings and decided they needed to be shared with the world. The result is an intimate collection of songs that sound as if Baier is sitting directly across from you, knees touching yours as she sings. In the titular track, Baier knits a green sweater and imagines spending her summer in New York City.

Piffaro — Dalza: Calata ala Spagnola
Colin Brumley
A couple of friends and I road-tripped to New York for a hard rock show this month. And what did we, three heavy metal connoisseurs, listen to on the drive? Renaissance music, exactly! This little unassuming tune has been one of my favorite secret gems in our playlist. In a world where songwriting gets more complicated by the day, not to mention overburdening production quality, it’s nice to have a simple melody and nothing more. P.S., listen for this one on the air!

Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra, Ryusuke Numajiri — Akutagawa: Music for Symphony Orchestra: Allegro
Tyler Alderson
The best way to describe this 5 minute slice of musical chaos is if Shostakovich or Prokofiev took laughing gas and scored a Tom and Jerry cartoon. And the resemblance to those composers is no mistake! Akutagawa once snuck out of Japan into the USSR on a personal mission to meet his composing idols, and brings that mischievous energy to this rollicking Allegro.

Leon Fleisher — Schubert: Sonata in B-Flat Major, D. 960
Chris Voss
Looking back over the years that I’ve been at CRB, one of the things I’m most proud of is an interview I did with author Andrea Avery about her memoir Sonata: A Memoir of Pain and the Piano, in which she shares her journey with music and rheumatoid arthritis. The memoir is built around Schubert’s Piano Sonata in B-flat, D. 960, and that piece just happened to pop up on my shuffled playlist and bring back some nice memories.

Carly Rae Jepsen — Beach House
Rani Schloss
When Carly Rae Jepsen releases a new single, it would be a shock if I didn’t pick it for this series. So, true to form, I present to you: an absolute bop, an earworm perfect for summer, CRJ’s “Beach House.” Come for the hyperpop, stay for the dark undertones and the backup vocals from various members of her production team. I love when you can hear how much fun a group of people had when they were recording something.

And…

The Beths — Expert in a Dying Field
…Since it’s my final contribution to Instant Replay, if you’ll indulge me, The Beths also released a new single this month, and it’s very good. I love the contrast in their vocals, the way they play with rhythm, and their tight harmonies; in my mind The Beths can do no wrong. (Note: I promise, the title is not a reflection on leaving radio after 12 years, and I almost didn’t include this in case it gave that impression. It’s just a very good song, and the lyrics are an extended metaphor about a romantic relationship that has run its course.)

“Expert in a Dying Field” has been stuck in my head for weeks, and the video brings up a lot of nostalgia for one of the first projects I worked on here, involving reel-to-reel tapes of concerts from the Gardner Museum in the 1970s. And if you’re watching the video and getting an overwhelming sense of warmth and friendship, it’s likely because it was filmed in the house of Larry Killip, the band’s “longtime friend and collaborator.” As they wrote in a really touching Instagram post, Larry “mastered 2 of our albums, and has nursed a number of Jonathan’s microphones and tape machines over the years… We’re big fans, and so we say Thank You Larry!” Larry is like so many people I’ve worked with here – quietly and consistently making things hum behind the scenes, with a passion and dedication to the craft that’s clear through their work. I can only hope that I’ve been a Larry to the team here, too.

Carly Rae Jepsen — Beach House
Kendall Todd
I also pick “Beach House” by CRJ. Rani may be leaving us, but rest assured, I’m still here to carry our Carly torch into the Instant Replay future.

———
Listen to this month’s playlist:

The full cumulative playlist is available here.





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Congregation of Drones – Twenty Twenty


Is there a collective noun for drones? It wasn’t until i was about halfway through Twenty Twenty, the debut release from Congregation of Drones, that the question occurred to me. On the strength of this remarkable album, though, ‘congregation’ seems entirely appropriate. Congregation of Drones is a duo comprising violinist Pauline Kim Harris and Jesse Stiles on electronics. Twenty Twenty is their first collaboration, created (as the title suggests) late in the year when the world took a turn for the pandemical. As such, the first two of the four pieces on Twenty Twenty were created in person, while the latter two were worked on remotely, due to lockdown. It’s therefore striking to note that there are no obvious signs of these different working conditions – if anything, those final two tracks are arguably the most compelling and cohesive (and, in the case of third track, ‘Experimental Treatment’, ambitious) on the album.

Choosing an artist name like Congregation of Drones implies one or two things about the nature of the music you’re setting out to create. ‘Congregation’, considering when the music was created, is an interesting choice of word, precisely because congregating wasn’t something that was possible during that time. (The word could also have religious connotations but that’s not relevant here.) As for ‘Drones’, that word’s both accurate and deceptive. Drones are certainly at the heart of Twenty Twenty – there are plenty of them, and they could certainly be said to ‘congregate’ – though they’re by no means the only focus of the music, and at times aren’t obvious or even audible. All of which is a somewhat roundabout way of saying that Twenty Twenty is an enormously complex listening experience. Drones suggest stability, a foundation, yet they’re continually militated against by a plethora of unpredictable materials, often arranged in multiple layers, creating a powerfully dramatic soundworld. Not surprisingly, the resulting narrative is not linear, but follows a capricious, even rhapsodic, path moving freely between patterns and gestural repetitions one minute, and free-form vagueness the next, all the while continually shifting the centre of attention between back-, middle- and foreground.

An interesting aspect of Twenty Twenty is the relationship between Harris’ violin and Stiles’ electronics. In opening track ‘Gesture of Devotion’ the distinction between them is at its clearest. The violin gets things going with faint harmonics that slowly join together to form the beginnings of a melody; meanwhile the electronics stir from a distance, traces that over time start to coalesce into a nascent texture. This clarity of separation is played with; the violin expands into oscillating gestures, though subsequent ‘calls’ from the instrument start melding into the electronics, and in due course the two parts become smoothed into a single, homogeneous music. The distinction between violin and electronics is continually blurred and clarified, though it soon becomes clear that regarding the violin as soloistic, and / or the electronics as atmospheric, is a mistake. Both are both, or perhaps it’s truer to say both are neither: if anything characterises the duo’s relationship throughout Twenty Twenty it’s a consistent sense of sympathy and unity, where either component can come to the fore or retreat to the sidelines according to the organic whims of the music.

That organic quality is what makes the album so engrossing and immersive. It’s the best kind of organic, not merely a music that ‘makes sense’ as it progresses but which allows for complete spontaneity – where, in spite of what’s gone before, we nonetheless have little to no idea what might happen next – yet where everything sounds just right. A vital part of that spontaneity is the music’s tendency to play fast and loose with certainties of pitch. Returning to ‘Gesture of Devotion’, in the midst of a later, more powerful dronal texture there suddenly appear huge shafts of sonic ‘light’ that reverberate through everything.

On the one hand, it’s a moment that seems to be catalytic, causing percussive impacts to break out and ultimately evaporate the solidity of the texture into a gorgeous shimmering. On the other hand, almost everything in Twenty Twenty could be read as catalytic, inasmuch as that sympathy between the violin and electronics causes a continual mutual response, one that often leads to support and reinforcement but which – vital for a genuinely interesting improvisational environment – is not afraid of going in opposing directions. Mutual sympathy doesn’t, and shouldn’t, imply endless agreement (the downfall of so much latter-day improv), and the result here is a hugely effective tension between behavioural harmony and friction. Apropos: second track ‘See What Happens’, where, a few minutes in, after a series of rising tones and arpeggios have brought clarity to a hitherto stratified amalgam of stuff, the electronics swamp and destroy, crunching everything in waves of noise. Perhaps nowhere else are the duo so evidently pitted against one another; many minutes pass before things start to stabilise and the two finally find a way to merge once again.

Congregation of Drones: Pauline Kim Harris, Jesse Stiles

i’ve avoided talking about details, mainly because it’s not necessarily the moment-by-moment activity that’s of primary importance throughout this album, but rather the longer-term way in which certain behaviours are given time to emerge and play out, rarely sounding pushed or hurried along. Yet as a listening experience, it’s the details – a vast, seemingly never-ending torrent of fascinating filigree – that ultimately make Twenty Twenty as utterly arresting as it is. This reaches its zenith in the highlight of the album, the third and longest track, ‘Experimental Treatment’. A mixture of miniature chirrups, gentle crushed impacts, sighing low notes and dreamy drones combine to form an intoxicating soundworld, penetrated by notes pushing through like messy lasers. From here, the music develops a balance between ambient bliss and abrasion. What characterises the track most, though, is the extent of its details, featuring layer upon layer of stratified elements, all distinct and individual yet somehow all functioning in a way that, at least, neither disrupts not detracts from any of the others. Such a bewilderment of detail is mesmerising; each time i’ve listened not only have i heard many new things, but the way i’ve listened has changed: sometimes the ear skitters across the surface, beguiled by idea after idea after idea; other times it homes in on certain elements and focuses on them, everything else becoming peripheral embellishment and decoration.

Fittingly, the final movement, ‘No Spinning’, becomes a kind of extended resolution to the multifaceted complexity of the first three tracks. Sounds redolent of wind and foghorns emerge from a dense texture out of which various pitches – often heard as a perfect fifth – are reinforced. However, unexpectedly, those pitches become encrusted with noise, which in this context sounds like the effect of a light shining too brightly. Where previously focusing on one element was subject to the vagaries of each listening, here this intense band of pitch-noise becomes a clear epicentre, around which all else – a cavalcade of apparently swirling elements, all circling at different rates – form a gorgeous mandorla, radiating outward. Pitch is subsequently clarified more and more, the violin – both real and in electronic incarnations – emerging in various parallel melodies in the midst of textural flutterings, becoming frantic before the album’s final plateau (Twenty Twenty doesn’t really feature ‘climaxes’ at all, just assorted forms and intensities of plateaux). An intense dronal background with a clattery core, it somehow manages to conjure the effect of a cadence by stealth, magically arriving at an inverted ‘tonic’, concluding in some final electronic jitters and surging vestiges of noise as the drone draws everything to a close.

The spontaneity and organic nature i’ve talked about combine to create an almost biologically-charged music, continually shifting shape, all the while retaining an ever more coherent and clearly-defined sonic palette. More importantly, though, is the simple fact that Twenty Twenty is absolutely stunning. The first thing i did after listening to it, was listen to it again, and then again. Barely a day has gone by since first contact when i haven’t revisited it to discover more of what’s going on in its amazingly intricate dronescapes, and every time the experience has been different, renewed; it’s as if the album didn’t definitively exist but were being reformed and recomposed on each new listen. One thing that’s never changed, though, is the evident need to play it loud – this isn’t simply music to be listened to or even immersed by, but inhabited.

Released by Every Possible Recording, Twenty Twenty is available on vinyl and download.





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For Harvard Westlake lineman Kai Faucher, jazz music is part of his life


Kai Faucher, 6 feet 6 and 280 pounds, is pulling off the rarest of doubles. On Friday nights, he’s a standout offensive and defensive lineman for Studio City Harvard-Westlake High. Three or four times a year, he’s also playing the baritone saxophone at school concerts.

“Kai stands out in any crowd,” said Terry Barnum, head of athletics at Harvard-Westlake. “He looks like the other students, just three times bigger. We order an extra big chair for him.”

Committed to Brown for football, Faucher has made jazz part of his life since his seventh-grade band teacher suggested he switch from symphony to jazz because “you’re too good.”

“It was more improvisational nature than classical music, so I got into it playing various acts,” he said. “I fell in love with music.”

As much as five hours a week, he’ll practice his music at home in preparation for concerts, where he joins 19 other band members as the solo saxophone player. He’s prepping for a December concert. The discipline learned from football helps with music, such as staying focused in keeping perfect time when he’s about to enter with his saxophone.

Harvard-Westlake’s academics are challenging enough for students, but coaches aren’t afraid to encourage developing additional interests, such as acting, robotics, music, singing and dancing.

Kai Faucher of Harvard-Westlake is a two-way starting lineman and saxophone player. (Eric Sondheimer / Los Angeles Times)

“I think a lot of times football players are depicted as kids who aren’t creative,” Faucher said. “It’s old stereotypes. Now it’s good that athletes aren’t just showcasing their athletic abilities but also their creative and artistic minds.”

Said coach Aaron Huerta: “I tell the kids I want them to do other things. It’s great for them, but it means there’s more responsibilities and it’s going to be harder.”

Faucher enjoys the chance to be an influencer in two completely different endeavors.

“I hope I have a presence and my own feel and personality when I play and paint my own picture as a player and as a soloist,” he said.

In football, he has helped the Wolverines (5-3) move to within one win of clinching a Southern Section playoff berth.

“He’s our offensive and defensive leader,” Huerta said. “He gets our guys going every day. He works with our young guys. The biggest thing is his demand for effort from other guys. He’s another coach. We’ve won five of the last six games and we’re going to throw the ball more than run because of him.”

Faucher had an interesting experience as college recruiters tried to impress him.

“Not too many recruiters know much about jazz but the ones who do I actually had great conversations with,” he said. “The UC Davis coach, we sang jazz back and forth.”

No matter how many pancake blocks Faucher gets in football, that environment of playing the saxophone is something he intends to savor.

“Jazz will be part of my life long after football,” he said.

This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.



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Pensacola Opera Forty Forward is a 40th anniversary celebration


In 1983, a small group of opera admirers decided the Pensacola community deserved to be enlightened and enriched by the beauty of opera music. 

Now 40 years later, Pensacola Opera will celebrate its position in the arts community with a one-night-only gala concert Nov. 12 at Saenger Theatre called Forty Forward: Celebrating Four Decades of Opera in Pensacola. 

“There’s a reason why those diehard opera fans love it,” said General Director of Pensacola Opera Chandra McKern. “They’ve been listening to it from the time they were little kids, or maybe you’re new to it and had no idea you like opera until you actually experience it. It’s pretty magical.”

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That magic comes to life when the audience is in their seats, the curtain goes up and they see the giant sets, beautiful costumes and makeup. There are no microphones, just the natural sound of singers’ voices projecting across a 30-piece orchestra.

The Forty Forward concert will have 16 thrilling vocalists take center stage and will collaborate with other local art organizations including Pensacola Symphony Orchestra, Pensacola Opera Chorus, Pensacola Choral Society, Pensacola Children’s Chorus and Ballet Pensacola. 

The concert will include productions of Pensacola Operas past as well as never before performed productions such as Richard Strauss’ “Der Rosenkavalier” and Ralph Vaughan Williams’ “Serenade to Music.” 

History of Pensacola Opera

Pensacola Opera was started when a small group of people interested in opera, including singers, parents of singers, singing teachers, professionals and business leaders, decided that Pensacola could use their rich local talent to produce quality opera and created a grassroots opera company called “Pensacola Chamber Opera.” 

In the beginning, they were selling the costumes, auditioning and rehearsing singers, and designing and printing the program.

In the early 1990s, Pensacola Opera moved to its current home at the historic Saenger Theatre in downtown Pensacola. A full-time office, run by volunteers, allowed Pensacola Opera to offer its first season subscriptions and to begin its outreach programs. 

The opera began its Artists in Residence program, now called the Jan Miller Studio Artist program, in 2004, bringing young professionals in for residency to tour across Northwest Florida with its education programs. That same year, Pensacola Opera was among the “fastest-growing companies in the United States,” as recognized by Opera America.

In 2008, the Opera Center added 1,100 square feet of office and conference space. In May 2009, during the 26th season, Pensacola Opera returned to the newly renovated Saenger Theatre. 

Forty years later, the company has grown into an established nationally renowned regional opera company that reaches over 50,000 people of all ages each year.

Artistic Director Corey McKern did not grow up with opera when living in Alabama, but when he was exposed to it he fell in love with the sheer power of the music. He went to Mississippi State University and started singing, hoping to make it into a career. 

As the artistic director he feels like a missionary, bringing that same sheer power to an audience and watching it hit people the same way it has influenced him. 

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For Corey McKern, opera is a place where multiple artforms come together to form one amazing show.

“It’s sort of a one-stop shop if you want to see what all of classical music and dance and acting comes to the opera,” Corey McKern said. “And so I think it’s a good thing for young people to see and it’s something they might have not experienced. It’s like classical music on steroids.”

Music Director Cody Martin describes opera as an utterly human art form where they use their bodies as an instrument, amplified by the fact that everybody is on stage. 

It’s all of the weeks of preparation leading up to the performances that make the orchestra such a breathtaking experience, including the set design, lighting and the people backstage who make sure that everything on stage runs smoothly.

“Every time I go to a performance I leave with some sense of warmth and calm like I just feel like, ‘OK, that really refueled me, warmed my soul and made me feel human,’” Martin said. “And I always come away just a little more relaxed, but also excited about what might come next, So I always hope audiences go away with that sort of feeling as well.”

Tickets to Pensacola Opera’s anniversary concert start at $25, ranging in price to $75. Tickets can be purchased online at pensacolaopera.com/event/forty-forward/, on Ticketmaster, and through the Pensacola Opera office at 850-433-6737. 



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“Get a Real Job!” | CRB



As we approach the 128th anniversary of Labor Day becoming a national holiday, I started to think about how many composers we wouldn’t know today if they hadn’t followed their hearts. So many of them were ordered by their fathers, or ill health, or financial circumstances, or even the constructs of society, to forget about having careers in music and “get real jobs” instead. And so many of them were miserable as a result. Luckily, some broke free of their non-music careers. Here are a few of their stories:

Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741) was given music lessons by his musician-father, Giovanni Battista Vivaldi, from when he was a young child. Due to ill health, which modern medical researchers now suggest could have been caused by severe asthma (he was a violin virtuoso, but couldn’t ever produce enough air to play wind instruments), the teenaged Antonio gave up his dream of becoming a musician and studied for the priesthood, instead. He gained the nickname, “The Red Priest,” because of his red hair. He served as a priest for only about one year, however, before turning back to music.

The story gets a bit muddy here. Some accounts say he couldn’t concentrate on saying the Mass because a musical phrase would jump into his head and he’d just leave the altar mid-Mass to write it down! Other stories emphasize that the mysterious illness, which included a tightening of the chest, made him too weak to finish saying a Mass completely. He was given special dispensation from having to say Mass as part of his priestly duties, and instead became a music teacher for the girls at a Church-run orphanage in his native Venice. Boys would leave the school around age 15 after learning a trade, but the orphanage included musical instrument training so the girls would learn desirable skills to become governesses.

Vivaldi is credited with writing over 600 concertos, (over 500 of which have been found so far), and a number of them were pieces he wrote to highlight the musical abilities of his students. Wealthy patrons of the orphanage would be invited to school recitals and hire governesses for their children based on the girls’ musical talents. In his spare time, Vivaldi also accepted commissions from royalty and wealthy patrons. He eventually moved to Vienna, concentrating on staging his own operas. He died there in 1741.

Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach (1714-1788) was the second surviving son of Johann Sebastian Bach and his first wife, Maria Barbara Bach. Although Emanuel had been given music lessons by his dad and had planned to follow in his father’s musical footsteps, it was his father who advised him to pursue a law degree at the University of Leipzig rather than music, so that he wouldn’t be treated as a servant once he got out into the working world. Emanuel studied law, philosophy and theology, and obtained his law degree in 1738, but never practiced. Instead, within months after graduation, he was hired in the service of Crown Prince Frederick of Prussia, later Frederick the Great. He became a member of the royal orchestra, thus launching his performing and composing career.

Franz Schubert (1797-1828) showed musical talent from as young as five when his older brother started giving him piano lessons, and his father, a local school master, gave him violin lessons. Schubert quickly outgrew their abilities. His father sought out music lessons for him from a local church organist and choir master. Antonio Salieri, then the leading musician in Vienna, became aware of the young man’s talent and took over teaching. It was clear that under Salieri’s tutelage, Schubert’s compositional and instrumental abilities flourished. He wanted nothing else but to be a professional musician.

His father, however, had other plans. Franz was sent to a one-year course to become a teacher, and then went to work for his father at his school. By all accounts, Schubert was miserable being a teacher, but continued giving music lessons to make some money, and composed on his own time. He was a prolific composer and his name started to be mentioned in the press. He won a position as a music teacher to the children of Count Esterhazy, which provided him with both more money and more time to compose. He moved out of his father’s house eventually and devoted himself to his music. He spent the next 7 or 8 years pursuing his music career, as he died young, at only 31.

Alexander Borodin (1833-1837) was born the illegitimate son of a married 25-year old woman and a wealthy older man. Societal dictates of the day resulted in the father not acknowledging the son, but instead registering him as the child of one of his serfs, named Borodin. When Alexander was seven his biological father emancipated him from serfdom and provided for the boy and his mother with a house and private tutors, and when he was 17, he enrolled in the Imperial Medical-Surgical Academy to become a doctor. One can imagine how important it was to him to shed the shame of “illegitimacy” and to “become somebody.” He served a year as a military surgeon, and then went on to do advanced study in the sciences. He returned to the medical college as a professor of chemistry and spent the rest of his career in teaching and research there. He was highly regarded as a medical chemist and always considered that his actual career, while music became an avocation. In fact, he didn’t even begin music lessons until age 29 when he began studying composition with Mily Balakirev. He became an accomplished cellist, and a respected composer of symphonies, chamber music, and opera.

Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) It is amazing to think that the composer who gave us The Nutcracker and Swan Lake ballets, plus operas, symphonies and piano and violin concertos, almost had no music career at all. Like Schubert, he was given piano lessons starting at age five and within three years he was reading music at his teacher’s level. Despite his love for music, however, Tchaikovsky’s parents sent him to the Imperial School of Jurisprudence, with the hopes that he would be trained for a civil service job. Musicians at the time in Imperial Russia were considered no better than peasants, and his parents hoped a civil service career would elevate his status. Upon graduation he started his civil service career in the Justice Department, a position he held for three years. During that time, however, he continued to take music lessons, compose and make connections in the music industry. It was his private pursuit of music that eventually won him enough notice that he could devote his full attention to it, and a career was born.

Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904) was given music lessons by his school teacher, shortly after beginning primary school. Even at six years old he showed his musical talents and the teacher encouraged his father, an innkeeper and butcher, to let the boy move forward with music lessons. His father eventually agreed that young Antonin could pursue a music career, but only as an organist, believing that there would be work for him in area churches and that he could earn a living. Dvorak played in a local orchestra, gave piano lessons (which is how he met his wife), and composed on his own time, all while he helping his father run the inn and butcher shop. It wasn’t until 1876 (at age 35) when he won the composition competition known as the Austrian Prize, that his composing career was launched full-time.

Cecile Chaminade (1857-1944) was born into a musical family, and was given her first piano lessons by her mother. As early as age ten, she was assessed by a leading music teacher at the Paris Conservatory and approved for study there, but her father forbade it. He said that a music career was improper for a girl of their social class, whose “job” would have essentially been to get married. She was allowed private lessons, however, and to her father’s dismay, she excelled at them, and so her real passion, and career, was born.

At one point she brought some of her compositions to Ambroise Thomas, the leading French opera composer of the day, and asked him for his opinion. While it seems like a backhanded compliment to our 21st century sensibilities, his declaration that “This is not a woman who composes, but a composer who is a woman,” was seen as a great compliment. She often toured in France and England, and did a 12-city concert tour of the U.S., but only performed her own music, and always to high acclaim. In 1913 she received the title “Chevalier” from the French Legion of Honor, the first for a female composer.

These are the brief stories of only eight composers. We will never know how many other talented and brilliant composers never “made it” to their dream careers, nor what beautiful music they might have written, but for opportunity, finances, or family and societal expectations. The need to “get a job” is real, but so is the need to follow one’s heart. As we approach Labor Day 2022, I offer a wish and a prayer that all those with the talent to pursue a music career be able to do so in a way that’s meaningful and fulfilling to them.

CODA: Richard Lewis, a member of the singing group, The Silhouettes, wrote “Get A Job” in the 1950s. He said: “When I was in the service…and didn’t come home and go to work, my mother said ‘Get a job’ and basically that’s where the song came from.“ Their first song became a No 1 hit!

A couple of fun facts about it: the song was featured in a number of movies, including American Graffiti, Trading Places, Stand By Me, and Good Morning, Vietnam; and the group Sha-Na-Na said they took their name from the “Sha na na na, sha na na na na” in the song!

Happy Labor Day!





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