Nielsen Rating

I'm old enough to remember the tail-end of the Nielsen revival of the 1960s and 70s, so when Alex Ross recently opined that Nielsen was his choice for "most underrated composer of the twentieth century," I thought ... well, I won't say what I thought, except that I felt there might have been worthier candidates.

Thus you can imagine the jaundiced eye I gave Ross's recent New Yorker piece on Nielsen. But you know how it is with Ross: his brilliantly apt descriptions of the music get into your head, and you start hearing things differently. I just listened to a live performance of Nielsen's Violin Concerto with Leonidas Kavakos and the Frankfurt Radio Orchestra conducted by Nielsenist Paavo Järvi, informed by Ross's portrayal of Nielsen's aesthetic. The abrupt shifts of mood and rhythm, the echoes of folk music, the "blazing individuality"--they were all there, but I must thank Ross for allowing me to actually hear them, whereas before Nielsen's music only sounded like a very good example of the usual neo-Romantic sumptuosity.

The New York Philharmonic's conductor designate, Alan Gilbert, is, according to Ross, a Nielsen booster, so perhaps we New Yorkers have some exciting performances to look forward to.

I Play Assignment Editor

I'm just going to say it: Larissa MacFarquhar is the best profile-writer there is. No intellect is too forbidding, no cranky genius is too crazy, no idea is too recondite for her. Her recent profile of Louis Auchincloss--not online as far as I can tell--brought to life Auchincloss, his world, and his oeuvre, with subtlety and penetration.

So I began thinking ... whom I would like to see MacFarquhar profile next? And then I thought: Jaromir Jagr. OK, so you are thinking my hockey obsession has gotten the best of me. But hear me out. Jagr is the intellectual of hockey players. Who better than MacFarquhar to explain how he ticks, and, at the same time, illuminate the world of hockey?

It's late, and this could be one of those fevered ideas that will seem only embarrassing in the morning. But why not toss it out there into the noosphere and see what happens?

Vanishing Horizon?

The Horizon, Commentary's generally smart culture blog, is, according to a post on the site, on hiatus. I'm not sure whether that means it's taking a break or it's done. Readers are directed to Contentions, Commentary's more political-minded blog. Which is a pity. Political discussion, especially of the ideological variety, is so damned easy; everyone can do it, and everyone does do it, and we're all bored with it. But good culture writing is really hard, and, in the end, far more important than yet another take on some politician that will go stale quicker than a quart of milk. I'm sorry there is one less place for it.

Emendation

Last night I attended Otello at the Met, and I need to emend my earlier post, which was based on listening to the Sirius-cast two weeks ago. It was completely ridiculous of me to say that Botha's voice "coarsened" when he pushed it. Last night, in the house, it was clear that he could bring it with the best of them, his voice ringing out with real ping and resonance when he pushed it--as was clear from his confident, flawless "Esultate"; in the more tender moments he found a beautiful, expressive, effective mezza voce. As has been noted elsewhere, he really attended to Verdi's dynamic markings as best as any tenor can.

What I want to know: how soon can he sing Siegfried?

This Centenary We Should Celebrate

As has been noted, this is the centenary of Herbert von Karajan and Olivier Messiaen. But where is the hoopla for another centenarian, the legendary Jane Peters, better known as Carole Lombard, born October 6, 1908? She defined a genre, and an era--the depression-age screwball comedy--and is still used as a standard against which other comic actresses are judged.

While we are waiting, here is a fun blog-style site, generously illustrated, devoted just to her.

Memo to Slats: Keep Jagr

With the NHL trade deadline fast approaching, teams are scrambling to make deals, and much speculation has centered on the future of the Rangers’ captain, Jaromir Jagr. Whether it ends this month or after the playoffs, this may be Jagr’s last season as a Ranger.

Which would be a pity, and a mistake. Visitors to the Garden are now hearing Jagr booed, or the word “superstar” shouted derisively. It’s true that he’s not scoring, although scoring has not been a problem for the team this past month. It’s true that he’s probably too introverted to fill all the duties of a team captain, although the Rangers are lucky to have Brendan Shanahan as a spokesman. It’s true that he can be overly demanding of his teammates. It’s true that his style of play may not entirely mesh with the team’s current direction.

But his contributions to the team go beyond scoring goals, and anyone who wants any insight into Jagr should take a look at these pieces from the Times and News. Jagr may be the most intelligent player out there. He studies the game relentlessly. His work ethic is amazing. He is gracious towards younger players (look how his early-season faith in Brandon Dubinsky has paid off). He is candid with reporters and has a sly sense of humor. And he sincerely wants to bring the Cup back to New York.

So Mr. Sather: Keep Jagr. The team needs him.

(Photo of Jagr courtesy of the Daily News.)

Hear, Hear

"Galliano Masini is flat in 'Mia madre, la mia vecchia madre' (1947), yet redeems himself by being touching in 'Vedi, io piango' (1947). When Kiri Te Kanawa flats, I cannot pardon her. But when an expressive singer, Callas or Olivero, say, is out of tune, I forgive her. Such is an opera fanatic's duty."--the one and only Stefan Zucker, on Opera-L.

Symphony Hall

Last night I attended a concert at Boston's famous Symphony Hall. Despite having watched in my youth "Evenings at Pops" and telecasts of the Boston Symphony Orchestra (Seiji Ozawa, music director, as William Pierce always added) and thinking I had a pretty good idea of what the hall looked like, I was completely surprised to discover a gallery of statuary above the uppermost balcony. What a crazy thing! I was not sure whether the statues were meant to be listening in rapt attention, or whether they portrayed audience members petrified by boredom. (Above, the picture I took with the lousy camera of my cell phone.)

The hall lived up to its renowned reputation. It's a nice antidote to our overly bright New York halls, and that includes renovated Carnegie. The acoustic flatters the orchestra and hides blemishes such as lapses in ensemble or shrillness in violins or high winds.

We in New York City are so used to trumpeting our best-in-everythingness that we take on, despite all our cosmopolitanism, a kind of provincialism. So it is with some humility that I have to admit that the concert experience I had last night was superior in many ways to some recent concert outings of mine in New York City.

Let's start with the program book. Rather than the useless throwaways that litter our concert halls, the BSO's program is produced by the BSO itself. It features a long essay on the concert program, not a puff piece about upcoming events. Steven Ledbetter's program notes are extensive and well written and contain a guide to further reading (and listening). No where is there a presumption of cultural or musical illiteracy.

Levine, much to his credit, eschews "thematic" programming, although the pieces he chose for Thursday's concert had much in common: Mozart's Symphony No. 29 in A; Berg's Chamber Concerto for Piano and Violin with Thirteen Wind Instruments; and Brahms's Serenade No. 2, in A. All three pieces are for reduced forces; all of them are by composers who were resident in Vienna for much of their careers; and while the Berg is atonal, it is anchored, if not in the key, than on the note A.

Levine is a great conductor because he brings a forceful musical personality to everything he touches. (How deep that musical personality goes is another matter.) He is a master of dramatic momentum, and he knows how to unleash the fullness of an orchestra's sound without losing textural clarity. At their best, Levine's performances bring together intensity and richness of sound, while still maintaining enough flexibility to bring out a musical detail. (I write this as someone who has probably heard live more Levine performances than those of any other conductor--most of those performances at the Met).

The danger with this approach is that not every piece of music sustains dramatic momentum. A case in point is the Berg Chamber Concerto. The last movement, with its abrupt stoppages and whispered coda, resists the usual musical narrative. Levine really could not recover after an explosive first movement and a deeply felt, ruminative second; the last movement had nowhere left to go. Perhaps in future performances, Levine will solve this problem.

To the Mozart, Levine brought the zest and vigor that is his custom in such music; the Andante especially was beautifully played, marred only by too-loud horns towards the end. The central movement in the Brahms is its sublime Adagio, and Levine resisted the temptation to draw it out endlessly, instead eliciting ravishing playing from the orchestra and letting the music make its point.

I can attest to what has been said of Levine lately: that he has revitalized the BSO, and vice versa; that he has managed to keep off most of the weight he recently shed; and that he is bringing a new seriousness and a commitment to modern and contemporary works to these concerts. Bostonians are lucky to have music-making of such a high level, and such a great hall to hear it in.

I Love Alex Ross, but ...

I'm not buying what he's selling on Messiaen. By rights, I should be a Messiaen fan: he's French, he's avant-garde, he's a teacher and inspirer of Boulez and Stockhausen. But I've never been a fan. So I'm glad everyone had a good time at the St. Louis concert the other night; but I'm also glad that I missed it.

Iron Man of the Met

Marcello Giordani is on the cover of the March Opera News, and the article about him quotes him as saying that he's "old-fashioned"--in that he stays at one company for most of the season, as the pre-jet-age singers did. The company happens to be the Met, of course, who is no doubt glad to have him. Using the Met Archives, I've tallied his performances this season. As of February 16, 2008, he has sung 16 performances of four roles: Edgardo, a last-minute Romeo, a last-minute Pinkerton, and, currently, Des Grieux in Manon Lescaut. Coming up this season is Ernani, and any other role that might need a last-minute replacement.