tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70950872755159267362023-11-15T06:43:02.141-08:00From the Podium...Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-84329163175484019962019-04-20T09:21:00.002-07:002019-04-20T09:21:48.941-07:00How Tiger used Masters history (and Jack) to help him win at AugustaAfter Eldrick Woods's epic fifth victory at Augusta National, the reporting on the event was exasperating. Many sports writers went on and on about how he hugged his son, Charlie (harking back to Tiger's embrace with his father, Earl, after his first victory, in 1997), which is appropriate for the Today Show and other news magazines, but not what one would hope to read from sports journalists. The New Yorker wrote a piece about the Tiger roar. Karen Crouse of the New York Times wrote a newsworthy piece, but no account I read alluded to the real reasons for Tiger's victory. <br />
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Many writers said that Francesco Molinari's wet ball double-bogey at the 12th was where he lost the tournament, but the great Italian golfer was still well within victory; his response was a nifty birdie on the 13th. Amen Corner was not his undoing. Molinari's biggest mistake appeared as a non-event: after a poor drive on the 15th -- not a disaster, for it is a par five -- he laid up to the <i>left</i> side of the fairway, where the pin was also located, giving him no chance for a good shot to the green. (Molinari, who bested Tiger in last year's British Open, was classy in his post-round remarks, admitting that he made "a mess of the hole.")<br />
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Tiger's tee shot to the 12th green was thought by many to be a <i>safe</i> <i>reaction</i> to Molinari's shot into Rae's Creek. But Woods had a plan long before he stood on the tee box, because of his appreciation for Masters history. And Jack Nicklaus.<br />
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On April 13, 1986, Nicklaus won his sixth green jacket, in large part due to his birdie run on the back nine. The highlights reveal very little about his bogey at the 12th. Yes, his back nine 30, six under par, included a bogey. But what amazed me was how Jack described it to the press after his round, referring to it as "an acceptable bogey." Nicklaus calls the 12th at Augusta "the scariest par-three in all of golf."<br />
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Why? Nicklaus knew that the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeB2D9mg4po">swirling winds</a> above the 12th hole were not to be trifled with. And the traditional sucker pin placement on Sunday -- so tempting, so inviting -- is to be avoided, at all costs. His tee shot at the 12th sailed over the green -- what golfers sometimes call a 'bail out,' or in golf parlance, the best place to miss. He chipped onto the green within 8 feet of the hole, and missed the putt for par. No big deal. Sigh of relief and move on.<br />
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Tony Finau, the extravagantly gifted 29-year-old playing in the final group with Molinari and Woods, also went into the water on 12, and he may be excused for not knowing about how Nicklaus dealt with the 12th hole. But surely he must have known of Jordan Spieth's day at the 12th, only three years ago, went he <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjGvTZy3X08">put his ball in the water twice</a> for a quadruple bogey. What's more remarkable about Spieth's first tee shot is that it landed short and <i>to the right of the pin</i>, an aggressive and totally unnecessary strategy, given his three stroke lead at that point. (He lost by three strokes to Danny Willett.)<br />
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So where then, did Tiger put his tee shot? It looked to be headed for another county, on the other side of the green, taking the water out of play. He followed with a pretty good lag putt and an even better par-saving putt. A bogey would not have knocked him out of the tournament. What may have sealed it for him was his shot at the 16th, a par-three where he could be aggressive. (There were two holes-in-one that day!) Tiger's <a href="https://video.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search?fr=yhs-Lkry-SF01&hsimp=yhs-SF01&hspart=Lkry&p=Tiger+woods+at+the+16th+hole+2019#id=9&vid=8fbb71caf3d72abd634e08805a025a0b&action=view">ball flight</a> was very much like that of <a href="https://video.search.yahoo.com/yhs/search;_ylt=AwrC5rIxPrtcokgAGi40nIlQ;_ylu=X3oDMTBncGdyMzQ0BHNlYwNzZWFyY2gEdnRpZAM-;_ylc=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?gprid=O7inQIP3T.u8sGgI9sUeuA&pvid=xyEHSjEwLjFGohMdVc0X.ACbMjYwMQAAAAAZv4iQ&p=NIcklaus+at+the+16th+hole+1986&ei=UTF-8&fr2=p%3As%2Cv%3Av%2Cm%3Asa&fr=yhs-Lkry-SF01&hsimp=yhs-SF01&hspart=Lkry#id=1&vid=a8747e47496923df038f5287c0384ae0&action=view">Nicklaus's tee shot 33 years earlier</a>.<br />
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Many would later point to Tiger's 70 foot lag putt at the 9th green as a turning point, and I would have to agree. It was just before the leaders would begin the back nine, where the Masters on Sunday kicks into another gear. The putt looked like it might stop 20 feet short of the hole, before it kept trickling downhill, at a snail's pace. This was a great example of Tiger's imagination, his creativity, his ability to see the ball roll in his mind's eye before executing the stroke. To walk away with a par after what seemed to be a certain three-putt bogey, if not worse, certainly set the stage for what was to come.<br />
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But at the 12th, Tiger did what he had to do to keep him in the tournament. Just ask Jack.Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-53488063291109513642018-11-11T20:24:00.002-08:002018-11-11T20:24:42.720-08:00Mendelssohn's Scottish SymphonyCarlo Maria Giulini waited until he was 65 years old to conduct Beethoven's <i>Fifth Symphony</i>. This fact had always amazed me: why would one of the world's greatest musicians wait until the end of his career to lead this masterpiece, one that most of his peers would conduct more than any other work? Was it out of some deep respect for LvB, or did Giulini have some kind of inner fear or trepidation?<br />
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Frankly speaking, some of the world's greatest maestri have been vexed by the opening, which remains to this day one of the most difficult passages to conduct. I cannot think of a single audition I've taken where I did not have to negotiate the first thirty measures or so, before I would be cut off and asked to move on to something else. (For my Pittsburgh Symphony audition, Beethoven's 5th was not on the prepared list of works, but they made me do it anyway.)<br />
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More recently, I thought about Giulini's long wait, and nodded to myself knowingly: <i>now I understand</i>.<br />
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Every musician has his or her little blind spot, avoiding a work that everyone else does but you. For me, it has been Mendelssohn's <i>Symphony no. 3,</i> "Scottish."<br />
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I can't explain exactly what it has been about this piece, but will try. It has nothing to do with Mendelssohn: I've done the <i>Italian Symphony</i> on several occasions, love the <i>Hebrides overture</i>, and if I conducted his <i>Violin concerto </i>two or three times every year, it would be sheer pleasure. The <i>Overture to a Midsummer Night's Dream </i>is still a modern miracle, that a seventeen year old could write such perfect, magical music.<br />
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But the <i>Scottish</i> has vexed me in ways that are hard to explain. Is it the opening, which feels more like an inner <i>andante</i>, rather than the introduction to a symphony? Have I avoided it because, unlike the <i>Italian</i>, it's harder and much less fun to conduct?<br />
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And then it came to me: what I have been most afraid of is the violins' first entrance.<br />
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There is so much that can go wrong with this passage. For one, all violins -- 1st and 2nd -- play it together, in unison. It's very revealing, a bit of a high wire act. If just one player gets it wrong, or misses even the most minor detail, it can throw the whole thing off. <br />
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Getting out of the first bar is tricky, requiring just the right combination of rhythm, bow speed and breath. But even if the first bar goes without a hitch, there is still more that can go awry, particularly with the syncopated bow changes throughout the run of sixteenth notes, first descending before ascending, then falling gracefully to an appoggiatura, a momentary stopping place.<br />
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The unison continues while the rest of the orchestra waits, culminating on a high D that falls by a series of minor thirds, which, like the beginning of this passage, requires very deft playing. And because it is unison throughout, each player is required to play with the most perfect intonation. Whether you have 16, or 24, or 36 violinists, if just one of them is out of tune, you're sunk.<br />
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But for me, it has been none of these things -- however important they are collectively in any interpretation. No, for me, it has been something more basic, far more elemental than that:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the sound of that opening E.</span><br />
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One note.<br />
Just that one pitch, played <i>sforzando</i> (accented) and then sustained.<br />
That one note has kept me from Mendelssohn's <i>Symphony no. 3</i>.<br />
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It's the same E which happens to be every violinist's highest open string. Even as the E is played on the adjacent A string (playing the E on an open string would be sacrilege), the E string can still be heard sympathetically, which is not the most agreeable sound. Hundreds of years ago, when Guarneri and Stradivarius were creating the most beautiful violins still in use today, they used *catgut for strings; today, metal strings are the norm, and far more practical, for obvious reasons. But what we have gained in practicality has been lost in the sound.<br />
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An orchestra is only as good as the sound it produces. It's like a signature. How a large group of human beings comes together in a unifying aural experience is where it all starts. Everything begins and ends with the <u>sound</u>. It's the first thing an audience notices, even before the concert starts. Listen to players warming up on stage, and you know. You can just <i>tell</i> whether you are in for a satisfying sonic experience.<br />
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Until now, I have been afraid of that opening E, but no more. With the Hartt Orchestra, we began the season with a symphony by Brahms, and then a work by Schoenberg. In both works, the string sound was glorious, a thing of beauty.<br />
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And so it will be with Mendelssohn, and his Scottish, and that opening E. We had our first rehearsal last week, and the violin entrance was just as I knew it would be -- singing, radiant, wondrous.<br />
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<h4>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">on December 14, 2018, in Lincoln Theater, the Hartt Orchestra will perform works by Mozart, Mendelssohn and Susan Botti. The concert is free, and you can get tickets here: https://app.arts-people.com/index.php?show=91795</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Catgut strings were not actually made from the guts of a cat, but rather from the lining of intestines, from sheep or goats.</span></div>
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<br />Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-90092411335436770132017-12-09T13:09:00.002-08:002017-12-25T13:22:44.895-08:00A world premiere with the Orpheus Chamber OrchestraLast Saturday, I went to hear the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra perform at Carnegie Hall. It was my first time attending an Orpheus concert, having heard many of their fine recordings over the course of their remarkable forty five year history.<br />
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What distinguishes Orpheus from other orchestras is that the musicians play without a conductor. So, how does that work, exactly? Who makes the decisions? Orpheus solves this problem through a more democratic process, where each musician can have input into how a passage is played. But when it's crunch time, in performance, the concertmaster is the de-facto leader.<br />
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At a rehearsal or recording session, just like in the movies, you can take a passage over and over again, until you get it right. In a theatrical setting -- actors on a stage, instrumentalists behind the proscenium -- there is no such thing as a do-over. With a conductorless ensemble, there is an added layer of danger. But when you hear Orpheus's gifted musicians, working together in concert, the rewards far outweigh the risks.<br />
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I was there for the world premiere of a former student, Shuying Li, who had been commissioned to write a new work for the ensemble. But I also brought with me an intense curiosity, to see how Orpheus would navigate the intricate music of Handel, Shostakovich and Stravinsky, without a leader in front.<br />
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Which is only partly true -- Orpheus does have a leader in their concertmaster, which, as is their custom, rotates from piece to piece (as with the other string principals), and so there were four different leaders for this program. But when you have two to three dozen players on stage, it's difficult for all of them to have regular contact with the first chair violinist. The Orpheus gestalt is to apply "chamber music principles to an orchestral setting." Having different leaders over the course of one program gives them an additional challenge: for each piece, the players must get used to performing under the leadership of a new concertmaster. Except for the Emerson Quartet and a few other ensembles, most chamber groups do not change leaders midway through a program. It's a high wire act.<br />
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Orpheus is a model for other conductorless ensembles that have formed more recently, such as Les Dissonances in Paris, founded in 2004; A Far Cry (2007), in Boston; and Kaleidoscope (2014), in Los Angeles. What these groups have in common is a direct relationship with their audiences, who feel more connected to the players and the music they perform.<br />
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I have to come clean: a review of an Orpheus concert should never come from a conductor. But I thoroughly enjoyed this performance, from start to finish. That I was listening to New York's finest freelance instrumentalists was never in doubt. Right from the start, the music was electric, played with radiance and great precision. Throughout the evening, however, there were minor issues that, in all likelihood, only a very few in the audience would have noticed.<br />
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In the opening Allegro of Handel's <i>Water Music</i>, the horns played behind the ensemble, and I could tell from their position on stage that they were unaware of it; it's a problem with every orchestra, the distance between the winds and strings, and the resulting lag time, which a conductor can more readily spot and easily correct than a concertmaster can.<br />
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But at the onset of the Shostakovich<i> Cello Concerto, </i>with the<i> </i>masterful Truls Mork as soloist, the ensemble problems were in high relief. I could tell that the woodwinds could not hear Mork, and in some spots when he rushed, the lag was even more evident. The concern was etched on the concertmaster's face, as she tried to help the winds, beating out conducting patterns with her violin from her left shoulder. The first <i>raison d'etre</i> for any orchestra, conductor or no conductor, is to get the four families of instruments -- strings, woodwinds, brass and percussion -- to play together.<br />
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Many years ago, the ensemble's distinguished bassoonist, Frank Morelli, and I had a heated conversation about the merits of Orpheus, in which he told me that the orchestra really shines when they are playing music with a soloist, because taking out the middleman (i.e., the conductor) makes it a more intimate, and musically satisfying experience. A beautiful example of this occurred late in the slow movement of the Shostakovich, where the clarinet and celesta were in clear contact with one another. It was as visually thrilling as it was aurally.<br />
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Over time, Morelli's point has been validated, as more and more baton-led orchestras have invited pianist/conductors to perform with them <i>sans chef</i>, in which the solo work is conducted from the piano. Violinists Joshua Bell and Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg have served as music directors of the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields and New Century Chamber Orchestra, respectively, simultaneously playing and conducting from the front. But it's one thing for a violinist to lead an ensemble in Vivaldi's <i>Four Seasons</i>, or a pianist to lead a Mozart concerto; it's another thing entirely when a solo cellist plays Shostakovich without someone holding on to the reins.<br />
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For Shuying Li's <i>Out Came the Sun</i>, inspired by events surrounding the birth of her first child, the composer had an advantage over Handel and Shostakovich: her piece was written with the knowledge that it would be played by a conductorless ensemble. (Readers may scoff at this suggestion, pointing out that <i>Water Music</i> would have been played with no conductor, but Handel would have been leading from the harpsichord, just as Haydn did with his symphonies.) <br />
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The Orpheus players were clearly in love with Shuying's music, which they played with force, delicacy and passion. The piece begins dramatically, with four quick hammer strokes, on two different augmented triads which, in Shuying's hands, sounded like modern consonance. She was savvy with her choice of instrumentation -- strings with seven additional players: woodwind quintet, timpani and celesta. The music had an inexorable pull towards the poignant lullaby near the end, played on the celesta, before the music eventually died away. The piece is ravishing, and was ravishingly played. The audience -- which had clapped in between movements throughout the evening, and which had produced a coughing chorus at the start of Mork's hauntingly beautiful cadenza -- was rapt and quiet throughout. For such a young composer, it was astonishing to hear music of such elegance and maturity.<br />
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Closing the program was Stravinsky's <i>Pulcinella</i> suite, an Orpheus tour de force. For this work, Liang-Ping How was the concertmaster and leader of a solo string quintet, featured by Stravinsky throughout the suite. Mr. How and the other four soloists played with charm and finesse, and in the penultimate movement, <i>Vivo</i>, the <i>spiccato</i> strings sizzled. (I've never heard it played better.) Throughout the performance, I kept thinking of how much Stravinsky detested conductors (even the ones who were good to him), and how most of his music post-<i>Le Sacre</i> is written in a manner that takes decision making and interpretive skills away from the conductor, rendering the maestro into little more than a traffic cop. And so it was with this <i>Pulcinella,</i> handled deftly by Orpheus. The winds paused a bit too long between variations in the <i>Gavotta</i>, resulting in more unwanted applause. Earlier in the piece, after passing the melody to the bassoon, the *horn did not know that his time with the tune was temporary, and Mr. Morelli, who played all of his virtuosic bassoon solos with great panache, was drowned out. But these were bagatelles in an otherwise captivating performance.<br />
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Orpheus will never have need of a conductor, but they would do well to have someone out in the hall during rehearsals, with score in hand, acting as a kind of stage director/producer/consultant, when needed. If Truls Mork had been placed further upstage, between the front stands of violas and second violins, rather than down on the edge of the stage, in a world of his own, then the winds would have had better sound contact with Mork. <br />
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Still, the evening with Orpheus was, for me, one of the most enjoyable orchestra concerts I have attended in a long time. I'm just sorry I waited so long to hear them. From an audience point of view, it is thrilling not just to hear Orpheus perform, but to <i>see</i> everyone of its members playing, with undisturbed sight lines -- without the distraction of a conductor.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* at figure 6</span><br />
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<br />Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-54593286897210397062016-10-03T08:01:00.003-07:002016-10-03T08:01:36.105-07:00Pennsylvania's orchestras, and Tip O'NeillFriday was a rough day for orchestras in the nation's commonwealth. The Pittsburgh Symphony's musicians hit the streets on Friday morning; later that evening, only moments before the Philadelphia Orchestra<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"> was set to perform for a gala audience, the players walked out. The 550 gala attendees did stay for dinner, but only after some of them shamed some of the musicians for ruining their evening.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">People will want to conflate the two, but their situations could not be more different. The two things both orchestras share are a common state and reputation for being world class. That's it. Beyond that, as Tip O'Neill liked to say, "All politics is local." The same can be said for orchestras.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">The Philadelphia Orchestra's challenges are not unknown to the orchestra world: in 2001, it moved into a new venue, the Kimmel Center, before it was even finished. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18px;">Ten years later, the orchestra filed for bankruptcy while, only </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">a few blocks away, the Curtis Institute of Music was raising 65 million dollars for a new building. (This news must have been deeply distressing to all constituent groups of the Philadelphia Orchestra, particularly its musicians, who once had enjoyed a base pay larger than that of most major orchestras.) The Philadelphians' strike lasted less than two days, as both sides agreed to a contract, but the ill feelings may linger. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Pittsburgh's situation could not be more different. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Last night's Monday Night Football game at Heinz Field, in which the Pittsburgh Steelers clobbered the Kansas City Chiefs, brought back a wonderful memory for me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18px;">Twenty years ago, I made my conducting debut with the Pittsburgh Symphony, in which I conducted the brass and percussion sections in our nation's anthem, right on the 50-yard line of Three Rivers Stadium. It was a thrilling moment for me, and it made me understand how hard it must be for opposing team's players to hear their quarterback's play calls, because the crowd roar after the final note was positively deafening. It actually hurt my ears -- that's how loud it was. (It was also a bittersweet moment, as it was on that very same field that Franco Harris had caught his Immaculate Reception, thus destroying my beloved Oakland Raiders.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Earlier that evening, on the bus ride from Heinz Hall to the stadium just across the river, one player opined that the Pittsburgh Symphony would never go on strike. It made sense to me at the time, even as the orchestra's newest employee. Pittsburgh, as I would come to learn, is all about its community. During my six years as Resident Conductor, the city's Cultural Trust transformed the downtown area, building a new Convention Center while bringing all of the arts organization under one umbrella. And when PNC park was built, many baseball fans had to walk by Heinz Hall to find out what concerts were on the horizon. During the intermission of Sunday matinees, many musicians would be looking at a tiny television set near the stage door entrance, to keep tabs on the Pirates, Steelers or Penguins. There is no more sports crazy town than Pittsburgh, and I loved it. How many cities can say all three of their sports teams wear the same colors? Walking my children to school, every boy and girl was adorned in black and gold.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">And this town LOVES its orchestra! Evidence of that was when over 2,000 musicians from all over western Pennsylvania gathered in the Civic Arena to break the record for the World's Largest Orchestra. When the Pittsburgh Symphony went on a three week summer tour of Europe, every concert was reported in both of its daily newspapers, generating so much civic pride that when the orchestra returned home for opening night, the place was sold out -- for Arnold Schoenberg's <i>Gurrelieder</i>! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">I am hopeful that both sides will come to an agreement soon. Of all the cities where I have worked as a conductor, Pittsburgh was a highlight for me and my family. (Well, maybe my ex-wife didn't like it that much, but the kids and I had a blast.) Every day I drove downtown, I had the biggest grin on my face, as I was about to spend another day, listening to one of the greatest orchestras in the world. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Philadelphia has Carson Wentz, Jeffrey Lurie, Yannick Nézet-Séguin</span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18px;"> and Allison Vulgamore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18px;">Pittsburgh has Ben Roethlisberger, the beloved Dan Rooney, Manfred Honeck and Melia Tourangeau.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">C'mon guys. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Let's come together.</span></span>Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-54250133051917575292016-08-18T08:44:00.000-07:002016-08-24T10:49:45.715-07:00Lionel Bringuier, Riccardo Chailly, and the Conductor timetableIt has just been announced that Lionel Bringuier has not been renewed at the Tonhalle Orchestra in Zurich, Switzerland. He was 26 when he began his tenure there, and will be done after four years, which is short by most standards. His tenure as an assistant to Gustavo Dudamel and the Los Angeles Philharmonic was wildly successful, but the plaudits from one city don't always translate to <a href="http://www.nzz.ch/feuilleton/aktuell/chefdirigent-der-tonhalle-hoert-2018-auf-lionel-bringuier-verlaesst-zuerich-ld.111427">another</a>.<br />
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Riccardo Chailly was 26 when he conducted the Los Angeles Philharmonic in Stravinsky's <i>Le Sacre du printemps</i>. Audiences and critics were <a href="http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/arts/la-et-cm-chailly-lucerne-review-20160808-snap-story.html">underwhelmed</a>.<br />
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That was 1979. Chailly has since gone on to become one of the finest conductors in the world today. His performance a few years ago with the Gewandhaus Orchestra of Leipzig (on tour in the U.S.) of Strauss's <i>Don Juan</i> was one of the most thrilling performances I have ever heard, of any work. I have conducted the work several times, but this performance made me want to rush home and look at my score, to see all of the wonderful details that Chailly had brought into a new light. This was great conducting, with a great orchestra. (The Gewandhaus, the oldest orchestra in the world, whose first conductor was Felix Mendelssohn, is generally not regarded as highly as the great orchestras in Berlin, Vienna, Amsterdam and the United States, but it was hard to tell on this evening.)<br />
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Will Bringuier, like Chailly, go on to become a great conductor? Only time will tell. But with rare exceptions - such as Dudamel, Andris Nelsons, Lahav Shani, and Esa Pekka Salonen and Simon Rattle before them, great conducting takes time. Leonard Bernstein became a great conductor long after his music directorship with the New York Philharmonic. In his forties, Carlo Maria Guilini was a very fine conductor; in his sixties, his conducting became otherworldly.<br />
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One more thing about Chailly . . . I met with him after the concert, and he could not have been more welcoming, more engaging, or more generous with his time. A real <i>mensch</i>. The truly great artists, such as Yo Yo Ma and Guilini, share this quality. We can only hope that Chailly makes more visits to the U.S. in the near future.<br />
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<br />Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-24286434842716620342015-08-25T12:20:00.002-07:002015-08-26T00:02:43.334-07:00Managing the adrenaline rushOf the thirty to forty golf tournaments played each year on the PGA Tour, the four majors -- Masters, U.S. Open, British Open and PGA -- are what the great players set their sights on. Jordan Spieth, the new world No. 1, was recently asked why he likes golf so much, and what drives him to play so well when he gets to the last stretch of a major tournament.<br />
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His response:<br />
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"Your blood starts running; you get nervous; you get the adrenaline," Spieth said. "For golf, when that comes up, that exhilarating factor, you have to learn to control that for an extended period of time."<br />
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If someone asks me why I am a musician, I would give a different answer. But if someone asked me why I conduct, my response would be much the same.<br />
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Note how Spieth took the adrenaline factor a step further, saying "<i>you have to control that for an extended period of time</i>." This is not unlike conducting an epic work by Beethoven, Strauss or Mahler. To make the golf analogy more apt -- since a tournament is played over the course of a long weekend -- it might be more like conducting Wagner's Rheingold, Walkure, Siegfried and Gotterdammerung over the course of several days.<br />
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One of the hardest things for a golfer to do is to control one's emotions when you're not swinging a club. This is a time when one must stay true to the task at hand, one shot at a time. As soon as you start thinking about your position on the scoreboard, you're in trouble. (Not unlike in a concerto, while a soloist is in the middle of an extended solo <i>cadenza</i>, and the conductor may be prone to daydream.)<br />
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How often do we hear an athlete say, "We just need to stay aggressive." Fine for football, soccer, baseball, basketball and other team sports . . . but what about golf? If a tournament contender approaches the 72nd hole needing a birdie to win, the objective is clear. But if you go to the tee with a clear lead, and a bogey or worse will win it, playing it safe is best. (Jean Van de Velde's play in the <a href="http://espn.go.com/golfonline/british99/features/00001948.html">1999 British Open</a> is a cautionary tale.)<br />
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But what if a player needs a par to win? Is it best to be aggressive, or defensive? In the 2006 U.S. Open, Phil Mickelson needed a par on the final hole to win; a bogey would have put him in an 18-hole playoff the next day. He played aggressively, making a double bogey to finish in second place. Of his half dozen near misses at the U.S. Open (the only major that still eludes him), this was his greatest disappointment.<br />
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At the U.S. Open earlier this year, Dustin Johnson approached the par-5 18th hole needing an eagle to win, a birdie to tie. After two astonishing shots under the greatest pressure imaginable, he was only 12 feet away from the hole. At worst, a playoff appeared certain. He had left himself a ticklish downhill putt, so the necessary aggression of his shots from tee to green would need to be tempered somewhat . . . or would it?<br />
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To win, Johnson had to strike the putt firmly enough to <i>get it to the hole</i> -- not a problem for a downhill putt. But he also had to make sure that if he missed the putt, he would not want to run the ball past the hole more than two or three feet, at the most. As it turned out, the eagle putt (to win) went six feet past, and the birdie putt (to tie) also went by the hole. This, after two superhuman shots over a distance of more than five football fields, to within 12 feet of the hole. It would be another major victory for Jordan Spieth, but the golfing world ached for Dustin Johnson.<br />
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I can remember a tournament when Peter Jacobson was on the 72nd hole, in the middle of the fairway, in great shape to make a good approach to the green and two putts to win. Just before he struck his six iron over the green into a pond, television commentator Johnny Miller warned the audience that Jacobsen might not be taking his adrenaline into account. <br />
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Was adrenaline a factor in Tom Watson's bid for a sixth (6th!) British Open title in 2009? I don't think so. He had won at the highest level many times before, and thus knows what must be done at every critical juncture. Needing a par at the last hole to win, he had already hit a perfect drive off the tee, leaving hims something between an 8 or 9 iron to the green. What to do? He went with the longer club, the 8-iron, which landed on the front part of the green, bouncing and rolling over the back edge, from where he would fail to get up and down for par, putting him into a four hole playoff, which he lost to Stewart Cink. He later said that if he'd had one do-over, "I'd probably hit the 8-iron easier."<br />
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If adrenaline was not an issue, perhaps his age was. At 59, Watson would have been the oldest major tournament winner ever, by 11 years. Six other golfers in their 50s (including Davis Love III, who was victorious at Wyndham only two days ago) have won lesser tournaments, but no one has won a major. Julius Boros won the 1968 PGA at the age of 48, and many remember Nicklaus's amazing win at Augusta in 1986, at the age of 46. Kenny Perry nearly won the Masters just months before his 49th birthday.<br />
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Golf and conducting have in common the potential to stay in peak form well into the latter stages of one's career. For most athletes and dancers, the mid-30s is a time of significant falloff. Leopold Stokowski conducted well into his 90s, and there are number of conductors today doing great work well into their 80s, including Christoph von Dohnanyi and Bernard Haitink.<br />
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So, how does a conductor manage his/her adrenaline, particular at the end of a long and physically demanding work?<br />
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For the final pages of Beethoven's 9th Symphony, much of one's energy is focused on controlling the different tempi. But this work ends in a blaze of glory: what about works that end quietly, such as Tchaikovsky's Pathetique, or Mahler's 9th, whose final minutes require not just the conductor's control over the ensemble, but that of the entire audience, which must remain quiet and still for several minutes. For my performance of this masterwork with the Hartford Symphony, I was luckier than <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/13/nyregion/ringing-finally-stopped-but-concertgoers-alarm-persists.html">Alan Gilbert and the New York Philharmonic</a>.<br />
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Far more than managing the adrenaline rush, my principal concerns are avoiding fatigue and injury. I am now in my 50s, but my energy levels are higher and more sustained on the podium than they were ten or twenty years ago, in large part due to playing basketball 3 to 4 times a week. I used to have problems with my rotator cuff, but no more, thanks to regular strength training.<br />
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There is one thing which gives me great delight: the bigger the stakes are, the more fun it is. Just before a big gala concert with Yo Yo Ma, rightly considered a rock star in our world, many of the orchestral players were walking around backstage on eggshells, asking me questions they would not normally throw at me. <br />
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All I could think was . . . . <i>bring it on</i>.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span>Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-66931447063916186922015-04-27T16:28:00.000-07:002015-04-27T16:28:49.846-07:00On Louis Krasner, Dmitri Mitropoulos, and preparing for performances of Haydn's "Paukenmesse"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My students are tired. It's the end of the semester, and they need a break. Final exams are looming, and they are preparing for recitals and chamber music concerts.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">They don't want to know why I need yet another rehearsal in between two performances of Haydn's <i>Paukenmesse</i> (Mass in Time of War). Time is at a premium.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">They are right to ask.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Always question authority, yes?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They don't realize that this Friday will be our only rehearsal in Lincoln Theater, where we will perform Haydn's masterpiece that same evening. And they aren't thinking that, even with all the hard work the orchestra has put into the piece, this Friday afternoon will have been only our second rehearsal <i>with the chorus.</i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But sometimes a couple of good stories are the best way to explain, and for this, I decided to quote the great Ukrainian violin virtuoso, Louis Krasner.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As a student, I had the great opportunity to meet Krasner, for whom Alban Berg wrote his *<i>Violin Concerto</i> (which was to be conducted by Anton Webern, who bailed at the last minute, probably because of nerves). Krasner also premiered Schoenberg's <i>Violin Concerto</i>. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Krasner was a nice man, very engaging, and loved telling stories. There were two memorable ones he shared of his time with the Minnesota Orchestra (formerly the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra), where he had been concertmaster in the 1940s, when Dmitri Mitropoulos was their music director.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(It is not well known that Mitropoulos was a mentor to Leonard Bernstein, who succeeded Mitropoulos as music director of the New York Philharmonic in 1958.)</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mitropoulos was legendary for his memory, even memorizing rehearsal figures in the score. He was a perfectionist, and his work ethic could sometimes drive the orchestra musicians nuts. For example, when the orchestra was on the road performing in smaller venues throughout the state (sometimes in high school gymnasiums), Mitropoulos would rehearse the orchestra at every stop, even if the work was well known to the players.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One player summoned the courage to ask him: </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">'Maestro, why must we rehearse Beethoven's Seventh Symphony at every stop? We know this work very well, we have performed it many times under your great leadership, and we know what you want from us. Is it absolutely necessary to rehearse at every tour stop before a concert?'</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to which Mitropoulos replied,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">'My dear colleague, for the one person who may be hearing Beethoven's masterpiece for the first time, we must still do everything in our power to get it just right.'</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">After Mitropoulos had already left for New York, Mr. Krasner returned to Minneapolis for a visit. He asked the players how things were going.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One player responded:</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Orchestra Musician: </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, things are a lot easier here now, since Mitropoulos left.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Krasner: Oh, well then things must be better, yes?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Orchestra Musician: </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Not at all, Lewis! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Because there is only one thing worse than being overworked - - - boredom."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">*<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKO-GKUgDXw">Here is an excerpt of Krasner playing the Berg Violin Concerto, Anton Webern conducting.</a></span></div>
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Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-77722573871955890332015-03-08T16:27:00.002-07:002019-05-31T12:01:58.026-07:00Whiplash: Docudrama, or movie?When I watched <i>Whiplash</i> yesterday, I was compelled to watch it again. It was that good. As I took in J.K. Simmons's blistering performance for a second time, it occurred to me that jazz musicians would probably react negatively to the movie; sure enough, only a few hours had passed before I heard that a local jazz great was unhappy with how his world was depicted in <i>Whiplash</i>. That's too bad, because it misses the point of the film entirely.<br />
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Similar things were said of the movie <i>Amadeus</i> when it first came out, and it's still a part of the discussion now, in the picture's <a href="http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20150224-what-amadeus-gets-wrong">thirty year anniversary</a>. Similarly, when <i>Black Swan</i> came out five years ago, there seemed to be as much discussion about Natalie Portman's failure to acknowledge her ballet double than there was about the critical and public praise for Darren Aronofsky's psychological thriller.<br />
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For a music appreciation course I taught thirty years ago, I showed <i>Amadeus</i> (which had just come out in VHS) to my class of nearly 200 students. It did not concern me that Salieri was not as evil as he was portrayed. More important was what I hoped my students might carry with them to this day -- Mozart's towering genius. To see F. Murray Abraham as Salieri, visibly moved by just one sustaining note on the oboe, sonorously played in the slow movement of Mozart's <i>Gran Partita,</i> is to put ourselves in his place, and to experience first hand what distinguishes genius from great talent. Make no mistake -- Salieri was a supremely gifted musician and composer. In the film, he is recognized as such by everyone around him, including the court that employed him. But his curse is to know that he will never write anything even remotely as beautiful as what came from Mozart's pen. (Salieri might have taken some solace in this story: when asked to write an opera for Prague, the great composer Franz Joseph Haydn suggested they ask Mozart instead, who gave them <i>Don Giovanni.</i>)<br />
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The fact that the author, Peter Shaffer, took liberties with <i>Amadeus</i> should concern us less than his achievement for having created it. Some artistic license was also taken for <i>Black Swan</i>, which was roundly dismissed by many who work in the world of ballet. But what gripped me throughout the film (in addition to Tchaikovsky's music for <i>Swan Lake</i>, far less well-known than his score for <i>The Nutcracker</i>) is the discipline and tenacity required of ballet dancers.<br />
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I should preface this by noting that I have studied dance, and have conducted for ballet, so my familiarity with the life of a dancer is far greater than your average moviegoer. But in <i>Black Swan --</i> Portman's Oscar-winning performance aside -- I found the inner drama of angst-filled dancers and what they routinely endure to be utterly compelling. Professional ballet dancers may have more in common with football players in the NFL (average career of 3.3 years) than with professional musicians or actors. And the dedication and commitment required are similar.<br />
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Which brings me back to <i>Whiplash</i>.<br />
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Great filmmakers are not just interested in making a great movie; they also want to leave you thinking. Think of the <i>Red</i>, <i>Blue</i> and <i>White</i> series by Krzysztof <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 16px;">Kieślowski, </span>or any film by Sam Mendes, whose <i>Road to Perdition</i> still haunts me to this day. People will long recount Simmons's performance as a jazz band leader in <i>Whiplash</i>, even though such conduct from a conservatory professor would not be tolerated from more than a day. (The fact that some college football and basketball coaches remain in their positions despite their abusive behavior is another story.) But Damian Chazelle's story of the young drummer, Andrew Neiman (played by Miles Teller), for whom there are not enough hours in the day to perfect his craft, is what remains with me.<br />
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Many summers ago, I was selected by a nationwide audition to play in the Disneyland Band. Having just finished my first year at Cal Berkeley, I was Andrew's age, still highly impressionable, and had decided to pursue a career as a professional musician. But I was not prepared for what I would witness during my ten weeks in Anaheim, where the most disciplined guys in our band were two jazz musicians from the University of North Texas. All of us in the band practiced, and we all worked hard, but these two young men, saxophonists both, were legendary in their work ethic.<br />
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Our job was to play five sets throughout the amusement park, from noon until nine every day, ending with the Electric Parade. In between sets, we would have a short break to relax, or grab something to eat. But I never saw the jazz guys in the cafeteria. Both of them were friendly, but they never hung out with the rest of us. The first thing they did during a break was to look for a corner fence or back alleyway behind the scenes (unseen by park visitors), where they could work on their scales. That's all they did, over and over again -- <i>scales!</i> Up and down, two to three octaves, in all varieties. Major scales, minor scales (harmonic, melodic and natural, and some I did not recognize), chromatic scales, octatonic scales . . . . you name it, they did it. I wondered at the time: <a href="http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20150317-the-worlds-most-difficult-music">who in their right mind practices this hard?</a> The biggest gift these two young men gave me that summer was the realization that I would never possess the skill or discipline necessary to be a professional horn player. (Fortunately, endless hours of score study was not a deterrent for me as a conductor.)<br />
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At The Hartt School of Music, jazz and classical musicians walk the same hallways and stairwells, but they don't hang out together, and I'm not certain if they share any classes. That's a shame, because there is so much they could learn from one another.<br />
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It's great to see composers, dancers and jazz musicians (Charlie Parker, in Clint Eastwood's <i>Bird,</i> is another) up on the silver screen. But we must not forget that the music of Mozart, Tchaikovsky and Duke Ellington is only a starting point for what makes a great film. Critics who wag a disapproving finger at the iconic characters so memorably played by F. Murray Abraham, Natalie Portman and J. K. Simmons are missing the point.<br />
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<br />Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-74964396934550806912015-02-22T19:53:00.000-08:002015-02-24T06:08:33.409-08:00IcelandOn Monday January 26, 2015, Hartt's contemporary ensemble, Foot In The Door, flew to Reykjavik. After years of planning by composer Ken Steen and my conducting colleague, Glen Adsit, the group had been invited to perform at Myrkir Musikdagar -- the Dark Music Days Festival, which "provides Iceland's foremost platform for showcasing innovative and progressive contemporary music in Iceland." This was a prestigious call, notably because we were the only non-professional ensemble in attendance, and the only group performing two programs. All events were to be held at the new concert hall, Harpa, sitting on the edge of the water like a radiant ice sculpture.<br />
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The festival opened on Thursday with the Icelandic Symphony Orchestra presenting a program that included a new violin concerto, featuring Sigrun Edvaldsdottir, the orchestra's concertmaster, as soloist. Her brilliant solo playing was often relegated to the role of David to the orchestra's Goliath -- never before had I heard a concerto in which the orchestra alternately interrupted, ignored and pummeled the soloist with such force and reckless abandon. It left me shattered, and to this day, I am still thinking about how the composer had completely re-imagined the (usually supportive) role of an orchestra.<br />
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On Saturday night, it was our turn. A couple of months had passed since our last concert, so a date at SubCulture New York (a new hip, underground venue on Bleeker street) the day before we left helped us to get fresh again. As we do on all Foot In The Door programs at home and abroad, Glen and I took turns on the podium. We began by exploring Icelandic influences, including works by two young emerging Icelandic composers, as well as a work for solo violin and chamber orchestra written by Hartt student Ben Park, featuring Hartt alumna, Groa Valdimorsdottir, for whom the piece was written. To close the program, Glen led a beautiful rendition of a new work Ken Steen wrote especially for the festival.<br />
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To celebrate, we drove to Groa's parents' home after the concert, where her mother had graciously prepared fish soup and dessert for all of us. As many of us prepared to leave, Groa's mother exclaimed, "why is everyone leaving so soon?" I suggested that Chris Ladd give an impromptu guitar recital, beginning with a duet for violin and guitar which he and Asa Gudjonsdottir (another Hartt alum) had played so beautifully at an Icelandic high school the day before. (Asa did not have her violin, but Groa quickly solved that problem.) 9 o'clock soon became 11 o'clock, so we said our goodbyes.<br />
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Our second program, featuring young American composers -- Nico Muhly, Derek Bermel, Jonathan Newman and Andrew Norman -- was extremely well received. Immediately after our concert, there was still one more concert, and if there was an award for busiest festival performer/administrator, it would have gone to Asa, who played one concert with us, another with the Icelandic Symphony Orchestra, and her last with the Reykjavik Chamber Orchestra.<br />
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Later that evening, all of us shared our final dinner together, and at 11:30, it was time to find a bar that was playing the Super Bowl. Seth, Ben and Brian Johnston (trombone) were all in, and Kristen Powell (bassoon), Elyse Vest (saxophone) and Shannon Vandzura (a flutist with no knowledge of football) decided to join us. Seth had already done some scouting earlier in the week, and he led us to a bar with television screens everywhere, even on the window facing the sidewalk. Unfortunately, the place was packed with people ignoring the game, and there was no room inside for our large group. And even though Reykjavik was a tad warmer than what we'd left behind in Hartford, watching the action outside on the sidewalk was not an option. A quieter bar down the street had the game on, so we settled there just as the first quarter was underway. <br />
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Super Bowl commercials were not part of the local telecast. At each game break there was color commentary in Icelandic by three guys, one of whom looked like he just stepped off a farm (though he appeared to know more about the game than the other two suits). Kristen, Shannon and Elyse left early, and to our dismay, the Patriots and Seahawks were not a priority for the bartender, who told us she was closing at halftime. (It was a Sunday, after all.) What to do? We returned to the other crowded bar, but just as we arrived, they locked the doors. And it was still too cold to watch from the sidewalk. Time for Plan B.<br />
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Earlier in the week, many of us received an email from the U.S. Embassy in Reykjavik, inviting us to watch the game at their building on Laufasvegur, provided we respond by Thursday at noon. I had done so, as had Ben, and with a little charm and cajoling, we thought we could get Seth and Brian in as well. We went back to our residence, Aurora House, to collect our passports (required for entry), and then went in search of the embassy. Fortunately, a driver was just dropping off other residents at Aurora House as we arrived, and when we asked him for directions, he kindly offered to take us there.<br />
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With Naoki Katakura (violinist), we were now five. At the front door to the embassy, they only had Ben's name on the list. It was difficult explaining our predicament to the two Icelandic guards, and when another was summoned, he, too, was not very sympathetic. He apologetically explained that, if we were not on the list, we could not watch the game. (While this was going on, Katy Perry's halftime show was filling the upstairs floor.) With Naoki's phone, I searched for the email I had sent to the embassy for proof; once found and read, one guard gave me an opening, saying ". . . . and you sent this email on behalf of the group?" Of course, I had not, but a white lie was far better than throwing my students under the bus. Moments later, we were passing through security and on our way upstairs. (For some reason unknown to all of us, Brian had brought his trombone, which was left in a closet for safekeeping, or for post-game improvisatory revelry.)<br />
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Once upstairs, we were greeted by a young embassy staffer named Marcie, who could not have been nicer. (Where was she when we were downstairs, fighting for our patriotic right to watch a game with 114 million other U.S. citizens?) There were about a half dozen tables with people watching a large screen television that fronted a cardboard cutout of President Obama and the American flag. The Air Force Network's commercials were even more pathetic than the Icelandic color commentary, but the game had been well worth our trouble, given the high drama at the finish. (Hang on . . . who won the game?)<br />
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We were back on the streets at 3 a.m., in bed by 4, and after a few hours sleep, just enough time for a quick dip at the Blue Lagoon, a geothermal spa in the middle of a lava field. When we arrived in Boston later that afternoon, yet another snow storm greeted us. But the warmth of blue waters, as well as that of my friends and young colleagues, had been the perfect coda to our week.<br />
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<br />Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-52713061098131506542014-08-11T17:40:00.000-07:002014-08-12T09:56:44.483-07:00The PGA -- thrilling and exasperatingAt the final round of golf's last major championship of the season, the PGA of America failed to act preemptively, resulting in a finish that was marred by confusion. Because of a decision not made earlier on - and another request that ought to have been denied - the ending resembled what one friend called "a four-ball scramble at a charity event."<br />
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Too bad, too, because for millions of golf fans around the world, it had been years since we had seen golf this riveting. When Rory McIlroy, Henrik Stenson, Ricky Fowler and Phil Mickelson were all tied for the lead, I was reminded of the exciting close to the 1986 U.S Open at Shinnecock, when seven players were at the top of the leaderboard before Ray Floyd separated himself from the pack. In 2009, Tom Watson, nearing the age of 60, almost won his 6th Open at Turnberry.<br />
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Since then, the majors have been less than compelling. Over the past six years, Woods has not won a major, prompting many to crow that when he's not contending, people don't watch. The final round of this year's PGA Championship showed what nonsense this is. Even though Woods missed the cut on Friday, nobody missed him during an electrifying display of golf over the weekend. CBS was happy too, and proved it by keeping the tournament on the air well past the time other viewers were expecting to see "60 Minutes" and "Big Brother." [In 1968, NBC infamously cut away from the closing minutes of a game between the Oakland Raiders and the New York Jets for the movie, "Heidi." Oakland went on to score two touchdowns to defeat New York while furious Jets fans watched a little girl wander the Swiss Alps. No major network has dared to make this mistake again.]<br />
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CBS hit a home run (even with the weak meanderings of Nick Faldo), but the PGA blew it. As Mickelson pointed out afterwards, the PGA of America should not be in the business of running major contests. Golf's last major tournament of the summer is the only one they administer all year, so they don't get a lot of practice at it. Did anyone from the PGA take notice at what the Royal and Ancient Golf Club did at Royal Liverpool?<br />
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In last month's Open Championship, the R & A changed twosomes to threesomes to speed up the pace of play, thus avoiding the projected bad weather. After a rainstorm delay early Sunday afternoon, threesomes at the PGA would have avoided the debacle on the final hole of regulation play.<br />
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It was 8:31 p.m. Fowler and Mickelson stood on the 18th tee, tied for second place, playing in front of the last group, the leader Rory McIlroy and Bernd Wiesberger. Because of slow play, McIlroy and Wiesberger arrived on the 18th tee while Fowler and Mickelson were still waiting to hit. Unknown to television viewers (who could see everything quite clearly), it was getting so dark that the players could no longer see the flight of their ball. <br />
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McIlroy asked tournament officials if he and Wiesberger could play the last hole with Mickelson and Fowler as a foursome. The request was denied, and for good reason. (I'll address this later.)<br />
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To Mickelson's and Fowler's credit, they allowed McIlroy and Wiesberger to hit their drives immediately after Mickelson and Fowler hit theirs. Fowler would say later, "Typically, if it's getting dark and they are going to blow the horn, you at least get the guys off the tee and it gives them the opportunity to play."<br />
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By this Fowler meant that it gives players the opportunity<i> <u>to finish</u></i>. If play had been suspended on account of darkness <i>after</i> McIlroy hit his tee shot, then he could elect to either (a) mark his ball and finish the hole on Monday, or (b) continue playing the hole in the dark. If play were suspended <i>before</i> McIlroy teed off, he would have had to come back on Monday to play the last hole. Nobody wanted that (unless there was a tie). So, after McIlroy and Wiesberger were allowed to hit their tee shots, everyone assumed they would wait to hit their second shots after Mickelson and Fowler had finished the hole.<br />
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This is where the most thrilling major championship in a decade suddenly became a circus.</div>
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Mickelson and Fowler were playing great, only two shots back, playing a par-5 finishing hole that could be eagled in the hopes of tying the lead. And after extending the courtesy, they both knew that McIlroy's ball was not in the best position, having narrowly missed going into a water hazard. A lot was on the line, and both players wanted to put extra pressure on McIlroy while he stood and watched.<br />
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This time it was Wiesberger (no longer a factor, hoping to catch the next available flight home to Vienna) who got into the act, asking officials if they could hit their second shots before Mickelson and Fowler were even done playing the hole. The officials relented, making their second gaffe of the day. This was a rapid turnaround from the PGA's earlier ruling, which after first denying McIlroy's and Wiesberger's request to play as a foursome, was now allowing them to continue playing the hole <i>right behind</i> Mickelson and Fowler! CBS caught Mickelson on the 18th green with an expression that conveyed equal parts exasperation and incredulity.<br />
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Why couldn't the PGA let all four golfers play the last hole together? Anyone familiar with the heat of competition understands why leaders bring up the rear -- so that everyone else has a chance to catch up to (and put pressure on) them. Mickelson and Fowler were hoping to make a low number on the last hole, putting pressure on McIlroy, who would have to respond in turn.<br />
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Sure, it was getting darker by the moment, but when McIlroy was allowed to play each of his shots immediately after those of Mickelson and Fowler, everything changed, and the roles were reversed: now McIlroy was putting pressure on Mickelson and Fowler. And that was wrong. <br />
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Bravo to McIlroy - this was a great win for him. He is fast approaching the pantheon of Nicklaus and Woods. And congratulations are due to Fowler and Mickelson, each of whom played brilliantly, only to come up just short by day's end. Mickelson's chip on #18 nearly went in for an eagle, which might have forced a tie with McIlroy if he had failed to birdie the hole. As upset as Mickelson was with how the final hole played out, he graciously said that the outcome probably would not have changed either way.<br />
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The tournament was over, but the PGA still wasn't done: the third and final <i>faux pa</i>s came when Kerry Haigh, Chief Championships officer with the PGA of America, could not even present the Wanamaker trophy to the champion without losing the lid of the cup, expertly caught by McIlroy.Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-29968136324616296382014-07-15T16:39:00.000-07:002014-07-15T16:39:05.838-07:00Jimi Hendrix and Charles IvesThey may never have been mentioned in the same breath, but I'm thinking now these two men may be cut from the same cloth.<br />
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In Pittsburgh, at the Woodlands Music Camp for adults with disabilities, I have been teaching music appreciation. Last week, after playing Aaron Copland's arrangement to "Shall we Gather by the River," I played Ives's version of the song for violin and piano (from his <i>Fourth Sonata)</i>. Predictably, some members of the class liked it, and a healthy majority did not. One student mentioned how listening to Ives was like hearing someone go crazy on the electric guitar. Another threw out the name Jimi Hendrix, and we were off and running.<br />
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I subsequently showed the class a clip of Hendrix at Woodstock playing the <i>Star Spangled Banner</i>, in which the guitarist riffed, improvised, and otherwise deconstructed the anthem to the point of obscurity. Near the end, Hendrix began wailing on <i>Taps</i>, played at funerals for the U.S. military. I wondered if on that August day in 1969 there were young Vietnam veterans in the audience who might have been offended. It's one thing to dismantle our national anthem, but unraveling and dissecting <i>Taps</i> is another matter entirely, maybe the musical equivalent of burning the American flag. Had Hendrix gone too far?<br />
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Whether he did or not is a matter of opinion. But I believe Ives would have defended his right to do so. As with Hendrix, his music was not written to offend, though it certainly isn't to everyone's taste. During my years leading the Hartford Symphony, I programmed the music of Ives on numerous occasions, which I thought to be particularly appropriate given that the composer grew up in Connecticut and spent a lot of time in the capitol city. <br />
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A few people liked his music, more still simply endured it, waiting patiently for the Beethoven symphony that would come later on the program. In August 1969, one wonders if more people traveled to Woodstock to hear other groups --- like Blood Sweat & Tears, or Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young --- rather than Hendrix, who had been scheduled to play at the end of the festival. By the time he took the stage, the audience had dwindled.<br />
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Hendrix probably didn't care. Ives would have understood.<br />
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<br />Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-47652145621133515682014-07-13T12:26:00.000-07:002014-07-13T12:46:57.851-07:00Lorin Maazel, 1930-2014I arrived in Pittsburgh in the summer of 1996, just after Lorin Maazel's final year as music director of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. The season went on without a sitting music director; his successor, Mariss Jansons, was due to start the following year.<br />
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Maazel had left his stamp on the ensemble, so every guest conductor faced a group that was well-honed and accustomed to an extremely precise technique and a very strong will. Because many of the visiting maestri were not equipped to pick up those formidable reins, the orchestra could sometimes sound rather indifferent.<br />
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This was my first position with a world class orchestra, so I write this from the vantage point of hindsight. Every rehearsal and concert in Heinz Hall regularly sent me into a kind of seventh heaven. But only when the new boss arrived in February did the orchestra really snap to, playing with an alertness which I had not encountered thus far. The program itself felt like Jansons was auditioning the orchestra all over again: <i>Roman Carnival</i> by Berlioz, Stravinsky's F<i>irebird Suite</i> (1919), and Mahler's <i>Symphony no. 1</i>. (Imagine riding on a roller coaster for an entire week, and you get the idea.)<br />
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The orchestra was largely divided into Maazel devotees and those who would not miss him, with a few who liked Jansons and Maazel in equal measure. But in sound and aesthetic, a Maazel orchestra could not be more different from a Jansons orchestra (or for that matter one led by the great Claudio Abbado, who died earlier this year). Jansons asks players to breathe together and listen intently to one another, receiving cues not just from the podium, but also from <i>within</i>. Maazel, however, was always in command, always in control. His imprint on the orchestra was so strong that it took Jansons a good year to make the ensemble his own.<br />
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One member of the orchestra shared with me a rather perverse detail, which I found hard to believe: at every opportunity, Maazel cued the player at every single entrance. Sometimes it was with a flick of the wrist, or with his face, and if he was busy with another section, a kind of backhand glance, as if to make sure the player knew he had not forgotten. Of course, the player adored Maazel.<br />
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This was a big part of his prodigious skills as podium master -- his photographic memory. Maazel sometimes appeared to be turning pages with his eyes as he conducted. This is an essential difference between Maazel and most other conductors who lead without score: he saw every single note in his head as the music was playing, each individual page of score flipping before his mind's eye. On tour for a performance of Beethoven's <i>Fidelio</i> at Carnegie Hall, one of the solo singers became ill, requiring a last minute replacement to fill in without the benefit of rehearsal. This kind of thing was child's play for Maazel, who quietly mouthed the words to the substituting singer before each phrase during the entire performance.<br />
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This was just one of three traits which separated Maazel from the rest of his exalted fraternity.<br />
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His ears were legendary. Maazel heard everything. Having a good ear is a prerequisite to standing in front of players and telling them what to do. But being able to hear individual players the way he did -- even string players sitting in the back who blend in with the rest of the section -- was a freakish gift very few conductors possess. (Boulez has this, as did Lukas Foss.) But because Maazel was also an accomplished violinist, he could hear <i>and watch</i> <i>each player's hands</i>, and thus be able to instantly know if that player was really playing his part accurately. No wonder Maazel struck fear in the hearts of many.<br />
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Then there were those unbelievable hands. Anything he wanted to do, he could do. He was given to frequent whims, where he could detour at a moment's notice, and take the entire orchestra with him, without a hitch or hiccup. This would account for the occasional uneven performance, but the command was always there. For a rehearsal of his work, <i>The Giving Tree</i>, he stopped to say he would do one bar differently, and proceeded to conduct this one measure in fifteen separate beats. With most any other conductor, there would be questions about how the bar would be divided, and in what pattern, etc. - - - never with Maazel.<br />
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He knew what to rehearse and what to leave alone. Indeed, another player once recounted how, before a performance of Sibelius's <i>Fifth Symphony</i> (a very demanding and exacting work), Maazel rehearsed only three or four passages from the entire symphony, releasing the players well in advance of the closing time, deeming them ready for the concert that night. And the performance? "It was the best Sibelius performance I've ever been a part of," the player responded.<br />
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He was a guest in Pittsburgh once during my residency, for his 75th birthday. In addition to the aforementioned work, the program included Dvorak's <i>Symphony no. 9</i>, and Ravel's <i>Mother Goose Suite</i>. After the first play through of the Ravel, he stopped to joke that, if he ". . . were a young conductor, I would talk far too long about what I'd like you to do differently." The players laughed knowingly, but everyone understood that Maazel knew exactly what spots could be left alone, even those that were not played to his satisfaction. <br />
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I will never forget how, during a passage of the Ravel, he seemed to forget he was on the podium, looking downward, momentarily losing himself in the music . . . . and the magic was palpable. During my half dozen years in Pittsburgh, it may have been the most ravishing playing I ever heard from the orchestra.<br />
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<br />Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-82507535278929247422014-07-04T12:08:00.000-07:002014-07-04T12:17:52.954-07:00Lou Gehrig's farewell speechToday is July 4th -- a day of celebration throughout America. It also happens to be the 75th anniversary of Lou Gehrig's farewell address at Yankee Stadium. He died two years later of Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, now known simply as Lou Gehrig's disease. Few will remember his home run total (493) in this post-steroid era, but his 23 career grand slams and 500+ RBIs during a three year period are indicative of one thing: the guy was <i>clutch</i>.<br />
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An article in today's Hartford Courant refers to Gehrig's speech as "one of the best-remembered of the 20th century," and "one of the most quoted of the 21st." But this is only so because of the opening lines . . .<br />
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<i>Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about the bad break I got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.</i><br />
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. . . and the closing:<br />
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<i>I may have had a tough break, but I have an awful lot to live for.</i><br />
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It was a short speech, around 300 words, and the middle portion -- including a reference to his mother-in-law -- consists of language more suited for a chat with friends in your living room. Among the few names Gehrig mentions are Jacob Ruppert (who bought the Yankees in 1915) and Miller Huggins (Yankees manager 1918-29), important figures in Yankees history whose names have not stood the test of time. Even the groundskeeper gets his due. My guess is that Gehrig wrote the first and last lines, and his wife helped him with the rest. <br />
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His 2,130 consecutive game streak (broken over fifty years later by Cal Ripken, Jr.) was a big part of who he was, showing up to play every day. Besides his brilliance on the field, his everyman quality was a big part of his popularity, never asking for the attention demanded by his teammate, Babe Ruth (who was openly critical of Gehrig's streak).<br />
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Before the Lou Gehrig story was made into a film, memorably played by Gary Cooper in "Pride of the Yankees" (1942), Eleanor Gehrig sent Samuel Goldwyn the text of the speech, in which she claimed " . . . Lou and I worked on the night before it was delivered, and naturally, my memory would not fail me in this instance."<br />
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If you want to listen to a recording of Gehrig's speech today, you will hear just the best parts of it. Gehrig adored his wife, and so he would naturally take her advice before such an awesome occasion. His hesitancy to take the microphone given to him by the Yankee skipper, Joe McCarthy, speaks volumes. But Gehrig knew this: when addressing thousands of his fans, he remembered to begin well and end well.<br />
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<br />Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-48235872617386368822014-06-13T13:02:00.001-07:002014-06-29T13:02:29.906-07:00Music in MayA few weeks ago, I had the great pleasure of working with 56 young musicians selected to play in the Music in May Festival Orchestra, hosted by Pacific University, in Forest Grove, Oregon. It was 'old home week' for me, my first time at Pacific in over twenty years, when McCready Hall, in the Taylor-Meade Performing Arts Center -- first opened to great fanfare. (And what a gem it is.) But Pacific University is also the site where my teaching and conducting career began, fresh out of Yale, nearly thirty years ago. (For those of you who are thinking <i>how old I am</i>, let me warn you that I've played basketball already four times this week, including one game where I beat my son's team!)<br />
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But I digress.<br />
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Concert day was a real thrill, in the Stoller Gymasium, the only campus venue large enough to hold over 400 musicians and all of the family and friends who came to hear them perform. But my strongest memory will be of my rehearsals with a group of classy, eager and outstanding young citizens, all there in the service of music and good fun.<br />
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Kristin, Luke, Mack and Tyler held up the string section, and the four of them together were easily one of the finest high school bass sections I have ever worked with. On cello there was Micah, Karla, Clair, Athena, Keegan and Nate -- <i>les six</i> took great delight in knowing that, of all the instruments playing the melody at the beginning of Dvorak's Eighth Symphony (including clarinets, horns and bassoons), only the violoncelli were given the direction: <i>espressivo</i>. There were just four violas: Jessenia, Charley, Summer and Lyndsey, but they held their own very well, and not once did the other string sections drown them out! On violin there were twelve: Jonathan, Kathleen, Hanna, Jessica, Kendra, Taylor, Alec, Teagan, Joseph and Daniel (plus Victor and Anastasia, Pacific students who were gracious enough to help us out), and they acquitted themselves admirably, particularly since no one else in the orchestra had music to play that was more difficult than what Dvorak gave them. Tough stuff. (Way to go, guys!) Miss Ihas, a violist on the faculty at Pacific, helped me with the strings throughout the festival; she introduced Mascagni's Intermezzo (from <i>Cavelleria Rusticana</i>) to the string section, and they played it beautifully in the concert.<br />
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Let's continue with the woodwinds -- at the high end, there was Ali, who played piccolo, but also flute with her colleagues Jessika, Charlotte and Kendra.<i> </i>Jessica told me later this was her first time in orchestra, but you wouldn't have known it. (Of course, this was likely true for <i>most</i> of the woodwinds!) Megan and Kyle played oboe; there was a running contest to see if Kyle would ever make a mistake in rehearsal, and he finally did, but only once. (And another thing: Kyle also played the English Horn solo beautifully in the Dvorak.) There were six clarinetists, Joshua, Joy, Ian, Luna, Tara and Nikki, all with big personalities, but none bigger than Nikki, who has dreams of being a conductor someday. (Good luck if you do, Nikki!) Lucas was by himself on bassoon -- good thing we had him!<br />
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The horns were solid all weekend: Timothy Mac, Phoebus, Erin and Timothy H. They were splendid, and were not thrown off when I gave them more music to play than they'd asked for (mostly 2nd bassoon stuff, to join in with Lucas when needed). On trumpet were Chandler, Isaac and Aly (who conducted the orchestra the day before the concert with great feeling and sensitivity). These three played with a noble tone uncommon for high school trumpeters -- not once did I have to admonish them for playing too loud, or too stridently. Great job, guys.<br />
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At the first rehearsal, I was a little surprised to see two tubas when we only needed one, but Samantha and Matthew (who also conducted on Friday) could not have been more well matched. On trombone we had Devon, Dawson, Jonathan and Steven (who showed up for the first rehearsal in a kilt -- a friend has been bugging me for years to get a kilt and conduct in it, so I was just a little jealous.) Devon also played in the band, but he also joined us in the orchestra so that we had have some needed extra heft for some of the big climaxes. Jonathan, Dawson and Devon sounded great in the opening of the Dvorak, and Steven was equally fine playing the 2nd bassoon part on bass trombone -- such a nice sound they made together! And imagine my surprise when Steven presented Schumann's <i>Dichterliebe</i> to me during a break in the action; when I went to the piano to begin playing the first song, "Im wundershoenen Monat Mai," Steven broke out in a beautiful tenor voice -- wow!<br />
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Which brings us to the percussion, Aaron, Brandon, Kaitlin and Libby -- poor guys only had one piece to play (Hoe-Down, from Copland's <i>Rodeo</i>), so one of the other percussion mentors took them aside and had them work on a piece to play on their own, which opened the concert. But I will long remember how they reared up for their big YEEEEE --- HAWWWWW in the Copland! (And Libby was awesome on woodblock!) Then there was Levi, who played timpani and piano and . . . harp! Well not harp exactly, but the harp part, for the Intermezzo. Levi wins the versatility award (Steven might be tied for first, because in addition to his tenor voice and bass trombone playing, he also did some nifty conducting.) Levi played an original piano composition for me, revealing a very inventive and accomplished young musician.<br />
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What a wonderful group of young people -- I expect great things from them in the future!Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-82438853169670511112014-05-29T15:57:00.001-07:002014-06-29T13:03:53.358-07:00Esa-Pekka Salonen, new media iconIn October, I was in Los Angeles to hear Esa-Pekka Salonen conduct his <i>Violin Concerto</i>, written for Leila Josefewicz and the Los Angeles Philharmonic and premiered by both in 2009. Imagine my pleasant surprise when a new Apple <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4msNKgRQDc">ad</a> featuring Salonen hit the airwaves. <br />
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My favorite writer on music, Alex Ross, writes about it <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/culture/2014/05/esa-pekka-salonens-ad-for-apple.html">here</a>. Enjoy!Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-23488597671258121662014-05-02T15:25:00.000-07:002014-05-02T15:25:46.902-07:00Frank TicheliTonight, the Hartt Orchestra will be performing works by Mozart, Mendelssohn and Hindemith, all of which are classics in the orchestral repertoire. The overture to <i>The Marriage of Figar</i>o is one of the greatest curtain raisers of all time; the producers of the movie, "Trading Places," understood that, as they quote liberally from the overture throughout the first few minutes of the film. (Watching it recently, it certainly put me in a very good mood.) Then there is the Scherzo to Mendelssohn's incidental music to <i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i>, which violinists, violists, cellists and bass players all over the world must learn if they are to gain successful entry into an orchestra. (Ask a string player, and he/she will tell you why.) Hindemith has fallen out of favor of late, which is too bad, because the <i>Symphonic Metamorphosis on themes by von Weber</i> is one of those pieces that orchestras love to play (though it isn't easy).<br />
<br />
Then there is the final work on tonight's program: Frank Ticheli's <i>Radiant Voices</i>.<br />
<br />
You might be wondering why I would conclude a concert with the only unfamiliar work on the program? The short answer is this: We are celebrating Ticheli's music throughout this weekend at Hartt*, so it is appropriate to end the concert with his colorful masterwork, with the composer in attendance. It's the polite thing to do, right?<br />
<br />
But if you are at the concert, you will understand that being polite did not play into this decision, for nothing can come after <i>Radiant Voices</i>. At a recent rehearsal, we worked on Hindemith after the Ticheli, and it felt strange, almost anticlimactic. Point is, the Hindemith is certainly more well known, and may always be, but <i>Radiant Voices</i> is a much more exciting and thrilling work, and it has been deeply satisfying to see my students take to this piece so readily.<br />
<br />
At the first play through a few weeks ago, the Hartt Orchestra played it unlike anything they've read for the first time -- like it was in their bones from the get-go. If we'd had an audience at that first rehearsal, I'm quite certain they would have been as thrilled as I.<br />
<br />
It's rare to encounter a new work (well, it's not <u>that</u> new -- it was premiered twenty years ago) that speaks so readily to musicians, but this piece does. But Frank Ticheli takes enormous pride in writing music that is not just great to listen to, but is fun to play.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, the composer has been very happy with what he's heard thus far, and all of us can hardly wait to bring it to life tonight. <br />
<br />
<br />
* <i>The Hartt Orchestra will perform Frank Ticheli's Radiant Voices Friday May 2, at 7:30, in Lincoln Theater. The following evening, Saturday May 3, the Hartt Wind Ensemble and Symphony Band will perform works by Ticheli, concluding with the Greater Hartford Youth Wind Ensemble on Sunday afternoon at 3 p.m. in Millard Auditorium.</i>Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-29828084254629477952014-02-13T11:27:00.000-08:002014-02-13T11:27:49.805-08:00Derek Jeter's timingWallace Matthews, who covers the New York Yankees for ESPN, was asked yesterday about Derek Jeter's recent announcement that 2014 would be his last season with the team. He replied that he didn't see it coming, believing Jeter to be one of those guys who would stay on too long.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure I would agree with that assessment, but all day yesterday, while the sports talk guys were blathering on and on about this, not one guy stated the obvious.<br />
<br />
Which is not to dismiss Jeter -- he is arguably one of the finest players of the past generation, even more remarkable for his off the field restraint; not once in the past twenty years was there any kind of 'story' about him in the tabloids. Jeter is likely to have a good season, and will hopefully go out near -- if not at -- the top of his game.<br />
<br />
The timing of his announcement, however, is perfect, given recent moves by the franchise. For one, Robinson Cano is off to the Mariners, only because he got a better deal. Too bad for him, as he was in position to become the next leader in the Yanks' clubhouse.<br />
<br />
And let us not forget that Alex Rodriguez will be away all of this season. What a relief for the team, to have a season with no distractions from this gifted narcissist.<br />
<br />
Can you imagine how things would be for Jeter and the team in February 2015, when A-Rod returns after his one year suspension? What a horrible distraction it will be for the team, dealing with all of the overblown media nonsense.<br />
<br />
So yes -- Jeter's timing is not only perfect, it's <i>obvious</i>. He gets to have an A-Rod-free year, going from city to city, receiving encomiums everywhere he goes. And remember all of the accolades given to Rivera at the end of last season? That will be nothing compared to what comes to Jeter. Mariano got a rocking chair; Jeter will probably have buildings, streets and highways named in his honor.<br />
<br />
And he richly deserves all of the attention accorded to him. He is a great player, a superb shortstop, and a really classy guy in an age when we have seen so few of them. Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-1073088704605774452014-02-08T06:43:00.000-08:002014-02-08T08:09:03.908-08:00Ray GuyGrowing up in Oakland, California, my brothers and I watched Oakland Raiders games with a passion. After church, we'd settle in for that week's big game. The 1970s were a tough time to be a Raiders fan (not as bad as today, though!), because the Steelers were always kicking our butt. And you cannot imagine how disheartening the Immaculate Reception was, when Franco Harris miraculously caught a 4th down Bradshaw pass that bounced off of Jack Tatum *and/or Frenchy Fuqua and ran it in for a touchdown -- even the cameramen were fooled. <br />
<br />
Over twenty five years later, I was with the Pittsburgh Symphony, led by Mariss Jansons, whose newest friend at the time was . . . . Franco Harris. Harris loved the orchestra, even coming to rehearsals from time to time, sitting by himself. I asked him about that amazing catch, and told him I was a Raiders fan, to which he responded, "yeah, someone recently played me the tape of the play-by-play call [from Raiders voice Bill King] from your perspective, and I guess it wasn't such a good day for you, huh?" Harris is a really great guy, making it very hard for me to dislike him, much as he disrupted my brother's and father's life at the time. <br />
<br />
It was thrilling to be a Raiders fan in the 70s, with so many ne'er-do-wells on the team, guys that no other NFL team wanted, like John Matuszak, Otis Sistrunk (from the University of Mars, they would say) and so many others. For the Super Bowl game in New Orleans against the Philadelphia Eagles, Coach Dick Vermeil made sure his players observed curfew, while Tom Flores's Raiders were up all night, every night, in the French Quarter. (The Raiders won -- so much for needed sleep before big games.) Quarterback Ken Stabler (aka "Snake") wrote a book about all of the off-field antics, of which one player on that team recently confirmed all of the stories to be 'accurate.'<br />
<br />
I am speaking of Ray Guy, legendary punter from Southern Miss. <br />
<br />
Most football fans understand that when a team has to punt, it's bad news, because you've just gone 3-and-out, and now you must give the ball back to your opponent (if you're not in field goal range). But when the Raiders had to punt, we used to lick our lips in anticipation, because we had Ray Guy. Even the announcers would get excited! Why?<br />
<br />
When Guy came out to punt, the other team was very worried. With most punters, the ball goes down the field, the punt receiver catches it, then he runs it back. With most punters back then, a punt receiver usually had time to run before the other team could get to him downfield. But you must understand -- a Ray Guy punt was extraterrestrial. It never came down. It went so high in the air . . . there was one time when a camera caught the ball gracing the rim of the stadium! His punts were majestic things of beauty. Guy's punts brought about the advent of the phrase: <i>hang time</i>. Imagine being a punt receiver, waiting for a Ray Guy punt to take forever to descend while Raiders special teams guys are ready to throttle you. It was a no-win situation. One year, Guy had several punts over 60 yards. Legend had it he could throw a ball 100 yards (he recently corrected it to <i>only</i> 80 yards), and his status as one of the Raiders' backup quarterbacks proved it. There was a stretch of over 600 consecutive punts without being blocked. Such an amazing athlete he was!<br />
<br />
Last week, Ray Guy was finally elected to the Hall of Fame. He had to wait 22 years for the honor, probably because no one had ever been elected to the hall as a punter before. Good thing the voters finally got it right, after so long. Congratulations, Mr. Guy. You richly deserve the honor!<br />
<br />
<i>* the 'and/or' was important then -- not so now -- as it no longer matters who last touches the ball. But in 1972, it mattered. <b>It REALLY mattered.</b></i>Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-56416529554224671492014-02-02T09:12:00.000-08:002014-02-02T09:14:21.341-08:00The Buffalo BillsToday, the Denver Broncos will play the Seattle Seahawks in Super Bowl 48. Much is being said and written about the Broncos' formidable offense, led by quarterback Peyton Manning, going up against Seattle, which can boast the best defense in the NFL. Four times before, the finest offense has gone up against the finest defense in the last game of the season, and in three of these games, the defense has prevailed. That bodes well for the Seahawks.<br />
<br />
But Manning has been special throughout this season, playing magnificently in the Broncos' victory against the Patriots in the AFC Conference Championship two weeks ago. So the story line continues to be about Manning, and whether he will be able to match the two Super Bowl victories already owned by his younger brother, Eli. Only Richard Williams, father of Serena and Venus, can understand what that would mean for Archie's boys.<br />
<br />
But there will be a loser in today's game, and few will remember who that team was. Of all the Super Bowl bridesmaids, there is one team that will always stand out above the others -- the Buffalo Bills, who made it to the big game four years in row.<br />
<br />
I went to the first of those four games, played against the New York Giants in 1991. We had just entered into the Gulf War, and for the first time, there were snipers waiting for all of us, circled along the top rim of the stadium. Whitney Houston sang the National Anthem, and the recording -- yours truly conducting the Florida Orchestra -- went platinum.<br />
<br />
If Scott Norwood's 47-yard field goal in the closing seconds had been a few feet further to the left, the Bills would have won the game. To their credit, they returned to the Super Bowl the following year . . . and then again the next year . . . . and then again the following season. That is an extraordinary accomplishment. A number of teams have made to to the Super Bowl in successive years, and there have been other teams that have gone winless in four of these games, namely the Minnesota Vikings. (The Broncos have lost four times, but few will remember this, because in the twilight of John Elway's career, they won two in a row.) Still, no team can lay claim to what the Bills did in the early 1990s.<br />
<br />
When Vince Lombardi famously said, "Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing," he wasn't talking about Marv Levy's Gang from Upstate New York. So today, I tip my hat to the greatest team that never won the Super Bowl, the Buffalo Bills.Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-41158050421419271562014-01-14T17:25:00.000-08:002014-01-15T11:45:06.022-08:00Peyton Manning's momentThis coming Sunday, Peyton Manning will have the biggest game of his life. Not of his career -- <i>his life</i>.<br />
<br />
This is a man who came back after a neck injury that threatened to end his career. Luckily for him, it only suspended it for awhile. But after this season, he will be examined once again, and if there is any cause for concern, he may retire at season's end.<br />
<br />
He has just come off one of the finest seasons in NFL history for a quarterback: 55 touchdown passes. Many sports writers who extoll praise on this achievement are, in the end, still unimpressed. Those who follow football do not care about the regular season. For most of us, it's all about the post-season, that rarified world open only to those teams who peak in the winter. And the best teams have the best quarterbacks.<br />
<br />
That's true again this season, as the four teams still in the playoffs all have superb leaders: in the NFC conference championship, two young ones -- great, but still unproven; in the AFC championship, two star veterans, Manning and Tom Brady, both with Super Bowl victories to their credit.<br />
<br />
But Brady not only has more Super Bowl victories (three, to Manning's one), he also has a sterling post-season record -- more playoff victories than any other quarterback in history. From his first playoff games in 2001, Brady was special, always finding a way to win. Last Sunday against the Colts, he did not throw one touchdown pass, but they could not have won without him.<br />
<br />
<br />
Manning's post-season record is not nearly as good as his record in regular season games. Many have pointed out his inability to win in cold weather, and this is somewhat unfair; most quarterbacks whose team plays in a dome do not fare well in cold weather. (Ask New Orleans's Drew Brees, an A-list quarterback with a championship ring of his own, who has a subpar record outdoors.) Manning spent most of his career with the Indianapolis Colts, where the weather on game days in their domed stadium is never a factor.<br />
<br />
But forget the elements. Manning is in Denver now, having led his team to victory last Sunday against San Diego. He's weary of all of the naysayers who continually hound him for his record in frigid conditions, and frankly, he's got a point. Enough already.<br />
<br />
But his playoff record . . . . that's a problem. He's lost more games than he's won. Certainly, a team's defense has something to do with that. Dan Marino's legacy - similar to the one built by Manning -- is secure. But look at his playoff record (again, more losses than wins) and look at his playoff stats -- all of those interceptions -- and they may give you pause. I will always think of Marino as a great quarterback, even though he appeared in just one super bowl (a loss), but a good part of his record belies that status.<br />
<br />
No one is talking much these days about Manning's brother, Eli, who, coming off one of the toughest seasons of his career, has two super bowl victories. He may never be as highly regarded as his older brother, which is unfair. When the heat is on, Eli can play.<br />
<br />
And that's the biggest knock on brother Peyton. When it's crunch time, he simply is not the same quarterback. (For those who like to think of last Sunday's game as a big pressure game . . . <i>please</i>. Not even close. But to the Bronco's credit, they shut out the Chargers for the first three quarters.)<br />
<br />
The New England Patriots come to Denver on Sunday, and the Broncos will have home field advantage, which can be factor in the playoffs, when fan noise reaches higher decibel levels than in the regular season. Just ask teams who've played road games in Seattle, where teams have committed the dreaded <i>false start (</i>a<i> </i>penalty which occurs when the visiting quarterback's signal-calling cannot be heard over the din) more than any other team . For Tom Brady and the Patriots, this won't be a problem. They are too well coached, and will be prepared for this.<br />
<br />
Which brings us to the real reason why this game is so important for Manning.<br />
<br />
If the Patriots lose Sunday, Brady's legacy will still be secure. Three championships is something only a few quarterbacks have achieved. Even if the Patriots go to the Super Bowl and lose, Brady will still be regarded among the finest quarterbacks of all time. The same cannot be said of Manning. For him, a Denver loss to New England would be devastating.<br />
<br />
John Elway knows something about this. The super bowl losses early in his career would have marred his legacy, had it not been for his resurgence at the end of his career, with two super bowl wins. Later, as the Broncos's general manager, Elway brought Manning to Denver, believing that he had what it takes to give the Broncos their next championship.<br />
<br />
Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova played against each other eighty times. Navratilova was better on grass (and won more finals matches), and Evert was superior on clay -- otherwise, there head-to-head record was 37-43, with a slight edge to Navratilova. This will be the fourteenth time that Manning and Brady have played against each other, and Manning's teams have won only four times. But Manning does have one thing in his favor: there have been just three playoff bouts, and the last was a victory for Manning.<br />
<br />
<br />
In commercials, and on Saturday Night Live, Manning is a gifted actor and comedian. His retirement looks very rosy, indeed. Of all the sports figures on television today, Manning is far and away the most natural talent. I look forward to the years ahead, when he will no doubt be a regular presence in the media. He's a classy guy, and a real gentleman.<br />
<br />
But for now, Manning has some unfinished business. When these teams have met in past playoff games, the home team has won, which may be why the Broncos are favored to win. Still, I would not want to be the oddsmakers on this game. With two of the greatest quarterbacks in the game today going against each other, and two teams playing their best football of the year, it promises to be a great game. I might miss the Super Bowl, but I'm not going to miss this one.Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-26934086982405646002013-11-16T13:45:00.001-08:002013-11-16T13:45:25.398-08:00Bill Moyer on Beethoven NineBill Moyer has written a piece on Beethoven's <i>Ninth Symphony</i>, which previews a documentary titled,<br />
"Following the Ninth."<br />
<br />
One of the performances he posted is a flashmob I did with my students at The Hartt School last spring.<br />
<br />
You can see the piece here:<br />
<br />
http://billmoyers.com/2013/11/14/beethoven%E2%80%99s-flash-mobs/<br />
<br />Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-27057569346497899792013-08-28T13:38:00.001-07:002013-08-28T13:38:53.491-07:00Bernard HaitinkLast Sunday, I heard the Boston Symphony and Tanglewood Festival Chorus perform Beethoven's Ninth Symphony under the direction of Bernard Haitink. It was easily the finest performance I have ever heard of this work.<br />
<br />
Granted, this is the kind of piece that guarantees a rousing ovation at the work's conclusion, and so any conductor could be excused from thinking that all of the plaudits are for him (or her). But the Tanglewood crowd can be a discerning crowd, and they were not going to stop applauding after two or three curtain calls. And much, if not all, of the credit, must go to Haitink.<br />
<br />
When I am asked for my favorite conductors living today, I have never mentioned Haitink's name. His reputation is beyond repute, and even the composer/conductor Gunther Schuller -- who is tough on all of the greats -- places Haitink among those at the top of the heap. This was only the second time I have seen Haitink live; the first time was over thirty years ago, conducting Holst's <i>Planets</i> at the BBC Proms. I thought it was a good performance, but I quickly forgot about it. When I saw him on television with the Concertgebeow Orchestra, his work seemed first rate, if sometimes lacking spontaneity.<br />
<br />
That's all changed now. Among the great conductors today, he is totally devoid of ego. The score was in front of him, and he turned every page, though I doubt he needed it. But the tempos were all right -- even when they were a bit on the slow side (the scherzo in particular), they still seemed <i>right</i>. He is 84 years old, but conducts like someone much younger. The third movement was glorious. And the finale, which in the wrong hands can be an unholy mess, was the most cohesive and persuasive account I have ever heard. (Stravinsky did not like the Ninth, but he might have liked <i>this</i> one.) The Turkish March had just the right combination of spit and humor, and the double fugue was super-charged, every voice crystal clear. There was never a moment when Haitink did nothing less than guide the players, and reveal the music as Beethoven wrote it.<br />
<br />
Afterwards, a player told me that Haitink stopped just once in the dress rehearsal, after a few bars of the slow movement, addressing the first violins: "Yes . . . . but can it not be more beautiful?" That's the only thing he said all morning. Many of the players agree that, were it not for his age, Haitink would be their next music director.<br />
<br />
After the performance, I spoke briefly with Mark Volpe, Executive Director of the BSO, who said the players were very tired, running on fumes, but because of their enormous respect for Haitink, they played like it could be their last performance. After several curtain calls, Haitink came out twice more, and both times the orchestra refused to stand, rapping their stands and stomping their feet in approval -- the ultimate compliment for a conductor. Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-11776461708432472352013-06-17T09:07:00.000-07:002013-06-17T09:59:05.786-07:00Promise denied, promise fulfilled at the U.S. OpenThe PGA tournament is the last of the four major tournaments in the golf season, and it's never had the same kind of panache and excitement as the previous three. The Masters is like a spring awakening, the only major held yearly at the same course, where so many golf fans know every hole as if we've played it ourselves. The US Open and the British Open are different tests -- the former demanding accuracy and the ability to scramble out of deep rough; the latter requiring great shotmaking on open, links-style courses, with nary a tree in sight. By the time the PGA rolls around in mid-August, most of us would rather just play golf than watch it.<br />
<br />
But at the 1999 PGA at Medinah, a 19-year old Spaniard announced his arrival on golf's finest stage, declaring his worthiness with a dramatic shot from the base of a tree that somehow found its way to the green. Sergio Garcia was in a duel with Tiger Woods, who at that time was the winner of just one major, the 1997 Masters, when he was barely legal. I was on tour with the Pittsburgh Symphony, and for every moment when we weren't in rehearsal or performing, I was glued to the telly in Dublin hotel.<br />
<br />
So this PGA was unlike many before and many that followed, because there was so much promise in the air. After Nicklaus/Palmer there was Nicklaus/Trevino and then Nicklaus/Watson, but after his dramatic (and last major) victory at the 1986 Masters, Jack moved on, and many of us moved on with him. The golfing scene had cooled considerably. <br />
<br />
Then Tiger arrived and, close on his heels, Sergio Garcia.<br />
<br />
Garcia is still a young man today, his enormous gifts still well intact. In the Ryder Cup, Garcia is characteristically brilliant in the team format. Sadly, when he's on his own, he's in a constant battle with himself. We want to root for him, because we love to see great shotmaking. He's had trouble with his putting, but more than anything, Garcia has a unique proclivity for getting in his own way. He's 32, and it already feels like he's past his prime. <br />
<br />
At the 2002 US Open at Bethpage, Garcia displayed an annoying habit of gripping and regripping his club while addressing his ball, such that rude spectators would count out loud, "1, 2, 3 . ." for each time he did it. At the 2007 British Open, he spit into the bottom of the cup after a 3-putt bogey. Earlier this year, at the The Players Championship -- where he won memorably in 2008 with a brilliant shot to the island green at 17 -- he hit three balls into the water on the last two holes, catastrophically knocking himself out of the lead. Moments later at a press conference, he insinuated that his difficulties were caused by improper on-course protocol from Woods. Whatever Tiger may have done -- and I wouldn't put it past him, given his arrogance and gamesmanship -- it certainly did not warrant Garcia's racially insensitive remarks. <br />
<br />
Like Garcia, Justin Rose, also 32 (or soon to be), announced himself to the golf world as a teenager around the same time. At the age of 17, he holed a wedge from the fairway on the last hole of the 1998 British Open, finishing in fourth place. With Nick Faldo at the end of his fine career, England was united in placing their hopes in Rose as the heir apparent. <br />
<br />
After turning pro, Rose missed 21 consecutive cuts. He won a couple of tournaments in his native South Africa, but his struggles continued. After moving stateside and dedicating himself to the PGA tour, he finally broke through in 2010, and since then has won at least one tournament every year. With his win yesterday at the US Open, he has joined golfing greats Lee Trevino (1971) and Ben Hogan (1950) among other great US Open winners at Merion. His win may not have been as dramatic -- Lee beat Jack in an 18-hole playoff, and Ben needed a late one-iron on a string to get himself in position for his playoff victory. Like Garcia (and Hogan), Rose is not a great putter; he 3-putted four times during the tournament. But he was still good enough to outlast Jason Day and Phil Mickelson, who thrilled the galleries with an eagle 2 on the 10th. But this and a lone birdie were not enough to overcome several bogeys on the finishing holes. His 43rd birthday would end with a record 6th second place finish at the U.S. Open.<br />
<br />
Rose will never be a household name like Garcia. He lives his life quietly, without fanfare, without controversy. And he has something that still eludes Garcia -- a major championship victory.<br />
Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-58277828132097157772013-06-11T13:33:00.001-07:002013-06-17T10:13:11.534-07:00Mining the data: What film will you next see?In the May/June issue of Intelligent Life, there is an article on <a href="http://moreintelligentlife.com/content/features/anonymous/slaves-algorithm?page=full">algorithims</a> which shows how the company, Epagogix, uses data to determine who is a bankable movie star. Brad Pitt, Johnny Depp and Will Smith are actors who have demonstrated over time to bring a return on the investment. This has nothing to do with whether the film is any good, or if it's even art. But algorithims help Epagogix guide studios in their decisions. (The article went on to say that a certain unnamed A-list actress is guaranteed to lose money. I wonder if it's Julia Roberts?)<br />
<br />
The Hartford Symphony recently did a popular all-Mozart program, and it was difficult to get a ticket -- even with four performances. Later in the season, a program featuring two pianists in music by Gershwin also did well. Unfortunately, the season closer, featuring Stravinsky's <i>Le sacre du printemps</i>, did not draw audiences of similar magnitude. <br />
<br />
The Hartford Symphony is right to perform <i>The Rite of Spring</i>, and like most orchestras, they wanted to schedule it when the rest of the world was celebrating the work's centenary. But honoring that date -- May 29, 1913 -- means that you must close your season with it. And Stravinsky is never going to sell like Mozart or Gershwin. However viable artistically it may be, closing your season with <i>Le sacre</i> is a calculated risk.<br />
<br />
Enter algorithims. Again, we are <i>not</i> talking about the artistic level of these performances, but rather the interest these programs would likely generate within the community. (For what it's worth, I attended the Mozart program -- featuring concertmaster Leonid Sigal as soloist and guest conductor -- and it was very good. Sometimes box office and artistic merits can be on the same page.)<br />
<br />
Creating a symphony season is quite a puzzle. During my years as music director of the Hartford Symphony, there were always checks and balances to what I planned. Initially, the process was a bit arduous. The year before I arrived -- without a sitting music director -- the Program Committee had planned the entire masterworks series. With their newly minted success, they wanted to continue having an active role. What they did not understand is that programming is one of the most important things a music director does. I wanted to play to my strengths, and to that of the orchestra, and who would know better than a conductor?<br />
<br />
<br />
Once you have a first draft of a season, then it's time for careful scrutinizing. And one of the first questions will be, "will it sell?"<br />
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Mozart always sells. Vivaldi's <i>Four Seasons</i> and Beethoven's <i>Ninth Symphony</i> are guaranteed box office hits. But you can't fill your whole season with these works, otherwise. . . . what are you going to do the following season? You must be judicious, and plan ahead.<br />
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There is also the matter of concertos -- for an orchestra that does several masterworks programs over the course of a season, the HSO always features at least one or two pianists, sometimes more. Then you must decide which concerto will be played -- will it be one by Rachmaninoff? Audiences love just about anything by Rachmaninoff, but they also have preferences: the Second or Third concertos, for instance, or <i>Variations on a Theme by Paganini</i>. But if you schedule the First or Fourth concertos -- both wonderful, if neglected works -- audiences may not come (and the less discerning ticket buyers may feel cheated).<br />
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Sometimes you get a surprise hit. With the help of Christopher Stager, a marketing whiz who continues to guide me and many other orchestras and opera companies, he suggested that if I wanted to do Berlioz's <i><b>Romeo and Juliet</b></i>, it would be best to position it near Valentine's Day. Now, there are lots of people who love Beethoven, Bach and Brahms, and maybe even one or two works by Berlioz (<i>Symphonie Fantastique</i>, for example), but few would admit more than a passing knowledge with this great work. Well, Valentine's Day arrived, and sure enough, just as Chris had predicted, scores of young men brought their beautifully-coiffed dates to the Bushnell, hoping to get tickets. Some did, but many others were denied entry, as the box office staff were caught completely off guard by the last-minute onslaught. Chris's suggestion had been a master stroke; if we had put <i>Romeo and Juliet</i> on any other month of the year, it would have gone by with nary even a dull roar.<br />
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If you need a sure thing, put Brad Pitt in the movie, or put Carmina Burana on the docket. But for the rest of the year, you'd better have the data on your side. Without it, you can only hope to get lucky.<br />
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Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095087275515926736.post-38454064808785506152013-04-29T12:21:00.000-07:002013-05-31T11:52:30.051-07:00Tiger's lost opportunityEarlier this month, the golfing sensation, Eldrick "Tiger" Woods was given a big chance to bring back millions of fans forever lost to him, and he threw it away.<br />
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On the second day of the Master's Championship -- the first of golf's four major tournaments, and for many fans, the most compelling golf on television all year -- Woods hit into the pond fronting the 15th green. Instead of playing his next shot from a drop spot (a much harder shot), he elected to go back to the place where he originally hit the shot. Where he broke the rule was in the placement: he (incorrectly, as it turned out) thought he could drop his ball a couple of feet behind the original location, and did so. After he finished his round, he signed a scorecard that was incorrect, because it did not account for the 2-stroke penalty he incurred with his improper drop. Since he signed an incorrect scorecard, he should have been disqualified. But because of some new rule established in 2011, a rule which is still unclear to me, he was able to take the 2-stroke penalty and continue playing through the weekend.<br />
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Whether or not he should have been disqualified is not the point. Tiger ought to have removed himself from the tournament.<br />
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Imagine what would have transpired if Tiger had won the tournament by one stroke, or even two strokes -- the win would have probably been dubbed his <i>Masterisk</i> victory, because of the controversial ruling. Why does Roberto de Vicenzo lose out, but not Tiger? In 1968, De Vicenzo was tied for first place with Bob Goalby after 72 holes, but was denied victory because he signed an incorrect scorecard. (His playing partner, Tommy Aaron, gave him a '4' on the par-4 17th, which De Vicenzo had birdied.) I understand that these two instances are not the same thing, and the rulings (new and old) are different for each instance. Still, they both involve an incorrect scorecard.<br />
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This is the nature of Woods's arrogance. We applaud it on the course -- his singleminded, win-at-all-cost nature is what propels him, and it is what compels us to watch him. Golf is more thrilling to watch when Woods is in the mix.<br />
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But if he had even taken just a moment to realize the situation, to realize that he was not going to blow away the field as he had done in his first Masters victory in 1997, when he beat his closest pursuer, Tom Kite, by 12 strokes, the picture would have come more clearly into view. Who, after all, wants a victory that is tainted? How do we feel about Barry Bonds now, who has the all-time home run record? If you're like me, you're still rooting for Hank Aaron.<br />
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If Tiger had disqualified himself, many people who had given up on him after his transgressions of several years ago might have come back. (There is a segment of the female population that will never forgive him.) America is the land of second chances -- look at Eagles quarterback Michael Vick (dogfighting scandal), or former governor John Rowland (corruption scandal), both back at work in the public eye. We want to see people like them pick themselves up and make a fresh start.<br />
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If Tiger had addressed the press on Saturday and told them, "I signed an incorrect scorecard; if I had checked with an official before I signed my card, I would have recorded the 2-stroke penalty and continued playing. But I did not know of my error until it was too late, so I must, by the rules of golf, bow out of the Masters."<br />
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Nike, his $100 million sponsor, would have gone through the roof. People's jaws would have hit the floor. Here was Tiger, like every other golfer before him, playing by the time-honored rules of golf, in which most players call penalties on themselves, even when they are not visible to the millions who watch on television. (The penalty on Tiger only came about because of a phone call from a viewer, who pointed out the error to Master's officials.) Tiger, that cad off the course, was showing a side we had never seen before. He was fair. He was professional. And in April 2014, everyone would be looking forward to his return, talking about how he had taken a few steps up the ethical ladder, preparing himself for another stab at the green jacket.<br />
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But no, he played on to a forgettable top-ten finish. Heck, few of us will even remember that Adam Scott (whose caddie, Steve Williams, formerly worked on Tiger's bag) won the tournament. <br />
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Regrettably, it was a lost opportunity for Tiger.Edward Cumminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539557386431739296noreply@blogger.com0