Excerpts from a 2007 recital at the University of South Carolina School of Music available for your listening pleasure!!
Bach: Sonata in G Minor, BWV 1001 - Adagio
Ysaye: Sonata in A Minor, Op. 27, No. 2 - "Les Furies"
October 24, 2009
October 12, 2009
The Ghosts - and Ysaye
Funny, it seems that this writer is not actually keeping up with his 'responsibilities' as a writer, but it's been quite the time - part of which included a performance of the first movement of the Sonata in A Minor, Op. 27, No. 2 of Eugene Ysaye during Carpetbag Theatre's Fortieth Anniversary celebration in the Knoxville Botanical Gardens and Arboretum.
A few years ago I wrote about my first experiences with the Ysaye Sonatas and did find myself once again confronting the "ghosts" in the room while preparing for this performance. Those ghosts of course include Ysaye himself and memories of the many performances of these works that I have heard, but also included memories of my past performances as well as lessons on music and musicmaking that have taken place over many years.
The lessons that remained prominent this time included one of my first with Mr. Goldsmith, during which he said "Musicmaking is not a run-on sentence." So true - even in a movement that at first may seem to be a perpertual motion one must take time to breathe, take time to create silence, end phrases, tell the story. This is one of the premises behind Daniel Helfgot's The Third Line: analysis for performance must include real thought into the energy and direction of the music.
It is easy, of course, for many of us to become overwhelmed when faced with a work of such importance, and that overwhelm can result in a very superficial, cursory reading, but this time I did indeed want to go deeper....I think I did. Of course, it would be difficult to put all of this into words, but I find myself deeply grateful for all of the lessons, performances, books and lectures - all of the spirits who visited during this past week - for helping me begin to bring musical thought and action to life, to get past technique and into making music and hopefully honoring Ysaye's intentions as put to paper in 1924.
Until next time,
Sam
A few years ago I wrote about my first experiences with the Ysaye Sonatas and did find myself once again confronting the "ghosts" in the room while preparing for this performance. Those ghosts of course include Ysaye himself and memories of the many performances of these works that I have heard, but also included memories of my past performances as well as lessons on music and musicmaking that have taken place over many years.
The lessons that remained prominent this time included one of my first with Mr. Goldsmith, during which he said "Musicmaking is not a run-on sentence." So true - even in a movement that at first may seem to be a perpertual motion one must take time to breathe, take time to create silence, end phrases, tell the story. This is one of the premises behind Daniel Helfgot's The Third Line: analysis for performance must include real thought into the energy and direction of the music.
It is easy, of course, for many of us to become overwhelmed when faced with a work of such importance, and that overwhelm can result in a very superficial, cursory reading, but this time I did indeed want to go deeper....I think I did. Of course, it would be difficult to put all of this into words, but I find myself deeply grateful for all of the lessons, performances, books and lectures - all of the spirits who visited during this past week - for helping me begin to bring musical thought and action to life, to get past technique and into making music and hopefully honoring Ysaye's intentions as put to paper in 1924.
Until next time,
Sam
September 30, 2009
A New Year - a New Lease?
While there is a very significant part of me that wishes that the title of this entry was a reference to having "set up house", that is still in the works.
My birthday was on September 27. It was a beautiful day, a very peaceful one that contained a rehearsal for upcoming performances with Carpetbag Theatre. What can I say - to start a new year with work is a great thing, and it's wonderful to have been blessed with having made it through another year on the planet!
It has been a busy time, and there will be more to write about very soon!
All best,
Sam
My birthday was on September 27. It was a beautiful day, a very peaceful one that contained a rehearsal for upcoming performances with Carpetbag Theatre. What can I say - to start a new year with work is a great thing, and it's wonderful to have been blessed with having made it through another year on the planet!
It has been a busy time, and there will be more to write about very soon!
All best,
Sam
September 12, 2009
Michael Steinberg - revisited...
While there are so many things that I have experienced about which I want to write, this one is somewhat difficult - perhaps the difficulty is the usual thought that someone may see this. Perhaps it comes from the thought that I am now about to write about a REAL writer, one of the most important musicologists of our century who was also one of my chamber music coaches during a summer at the International Festival-Institute at Round Top - a man who, along with Jorja Fleezanis, truly opened my eyes to the world of poetry and musical research while also inspiring so many of us with his openness to life, infectious curiosity and beautiful spirit?
I met Michael in 1999 at the Round Top Festival - during his three weeks on Festival Hill it was absolutely delightful to listen to him as he narrated Copland's "Lincoln Portrait" as well as to have a coaching on the Ravel String Quartet. It was also during that summer that I experienced what I can only call "creative happenings": Jorja and Michael reading poems about music and musicmaking (including a brilliant work that explored the nature of interpersonal intimacy while very strongly doing away with the question of the relationship that Johannes Brahms had with Clara Schumann, another that captured the gentle nature of playing pianissimo, and many by Alfred Brendel)on one day in the chapel, followed by a later afternoons featuring recordings of "Dead Violinists" and "Dead Tenors" - the latter two organized to open our eyes to the immense world of sound that we as musicians should understand.
While not having been able to spend as much time with Michael as I would have liked to from that summer until May of this year, it seemed that he was always "with me": after devouring his book The Concerto: A Listener's Guide in 1999 (I was learning the Elgar Violin Concerto at the time and had the great privilege to study it with Jorja during that first summer on the hill) I continuously found myself surprised when upon opening a new recording (or an old one - new to me) I would find his notes - Mahler symphonies, an EMI Great Pianists recording of Alfred Cortot - as well as read his notes in programs and see his other books in the Listener's Guide series as well as the collection of essays For The Love of Music. The greatest surprise came in 2008 when, on my last day in Toronto, I found the book of Alfred Brendel's poetry from which Michael read in 1999.
I did have an opportunity to spend some time with Michael this year. While our time was short - could it have been longer, could I have stayed? - it was truly humbling and inspiring to be in his company. While we tend to "idealize" many of those that we hold in high regard we must be remind ourselves of their humanity: upon talking with him about his future plans (which included two Mahler biographies?!) I was deeply impressed and inspired by his gracefulness and gentle nature - and reminded that while "life happens", it is how we respond to what life brings that shapes us.
"Life gives and life takes away...say yes to life." - James Baldwin
It is so important for us, when able, to spend time with those who came before and truly listen to their stories, to return the gift of attention that they have so willingly and freely given to us. Those that we regard as mentors, as well as those in our own families, have a wealth of love, knowledge and insight on all things to share, and as we grow into our lives and routines we too will find ourselves trading places - becoming the ones with insight who are sharing with the world. While I did not consciously think that my short time with Michael would be the last, I found myself and still remain so deeply grateful for having that beautiful moment with him.
I recently spoke with an old friend who although never having had the opportunity to meet him nevertheless found herself inspired by Michael's work while preparing a vocal recital: "I wanted my program notes to be like his - to take the reader on the journey with me," she said. Perhaps many of us have had that desire - honestly, I must say that his writing did indeed inspire me to keep going deeper, to find out more than "the lay of the notes" - and while I am indeed grateful for his example as it has informed both my research and my writing, there can only be one and I can only hope that my work both past and future will be infused with the knowledge of man, music and history that Michael shared with the world.
My issues aside: while I wish that I could write something as eloquent as Mark Swed's Los Angeles Times article, I can only say thank you, Michael, for giving the world the best of yourself and continuously keeping out minds, souls, ears and imaginations open through your work - which included serving as the world's program annotator and penning three books of musical essays that rival if not suprass the work of Donald Francis Tovey , and being the mentor and champion of hundreds of us who have continued in this wonderful, crazy world that we call the business of musicmaking.
May your soul rest peacefully as your spirit - through your priceless contributions to our world - live eternally.
More from the road,
Sam
Minnesota Public Radio
San Francisco Examiner
San Francisco Chronicle
Baltimore Sun
I met Michael in 1999 at the Round Top Festival - during his three weeks on Festival Hill it was absolutely delightful to listen to him as he narrated Copland's "Lincoln Portrait" as well as to have a coaching on the Ravel String Quartet. It was also during that summer that I experienced what I can only call "creative happenings": Jorja and Michael reading poems about music and musicmaking (including a brilliant work that explored the nature of interpersonal intimacy while very strongly doing away with the question of the relationship that Johannes Brahms had with Clara Schumann, another that captured the gentle nature of playing pianissimo, and many by Alfred Brendel)on one day in the chapel, followed by a later afternoons featuring recordings of "Dead Violinists" and "Dead Tenors" - the latter two organized to open our eyes to the immense world of sound that we as musicians should understand.
While not having been able to spend as much time with Michael as I would have liked to from that summer until May of this year, it seemed that he was always "with me": after devouring his book The Concerto: A Listener's Guide in 1999 (I was learning the Elgar Violin Concerto at the time and had the great privilege to study it with Jorja during that first summer on the hill) I continuously found myself surprised when upon opening a new recording (or an old one - new to me) I would find his notes - Mahler symphonies, an EMI Great Pianists recording of Alfred Cortot - as well as read his notes in programs and see his other books in the Listener's Guide series as well as the collection of essays For The Love of Music. The greatest surprise came in 2008 when, on my last day in Toronto, I found the book of Alfred Brendel's poetry from which Michael read in 1999.
I did have an opportunity to spend some time with Michael this year. While our time was short - could it have been longer, could I have stayed? - it was truly humbling and inspiring to be in his company. While we tend to "idealize" many of those that we hold in high regard we must be remind ourselves of their humanity: upon talking with him about his future plans (which included two Mahler biographies?!) I was deeply impressed and inspired by his gracefulness and gentle nature - and reminded that while "life happens", it is how we respond to what life brings that shapes us.
"Life gives and life takes away...say yes to life." - James Baldwin
It is so important for us, when able, to spend time with those who came before and truly listen to their stories, to return the gift of attention that they have so willingly and freely given to us. Those that we regard as mentors, as well as those in our own families, have a wealth of love, knowledge and insight on all things to share, and as we grow into our lives and routines we too will find ourselves trading places - becoming the ones with insight who are sharing with the world. While I did not consciously think that my short time with Michael would be the last, I found myself and still remain so deeply grateful for having that beautiful moment with him.
I recently spoke with an old friend who although never having had the opportunity to meet him nevertheless found herself inspired by Michael's work while preparing a vocal recital: "I wanted my program notes to be like his - to take the reader on the journey with me," she said. Perhaps many of us have had that desire - honestly, I must say that his writing did indeed inspire me to keep going deeper, to find out more than "the lay of the notes" - and while I am indeed grateful for his example as it has informed both my research and my writing, there can only be one and I can only hope that my work both past and future will be infused with the knowledge of man, music and history that Michael shared with the world.
My issues aside: while I wish that I could write something as eloquent as Mark Swed's Los Angeles Times article, I can only say thank you, Michael, for giving the world the best of yourself and continuously keeping out minds, souls, ears and imaginations open through your work - which included serving as the world's program annotator and penning three books of musical essays that rival if not suprass the work of Donald Francis Tovey , and being the mentor and champion of hundreds of us who have continued in this wonderful, crazy world that we call the business of musicmaking.
May your soul rest peacefully as your spirit - through your priceless contributions to our world - live eternally.
More from the road,
Sam
Minnesota Public Radio
San Francisco Examiner
San Francisco Chronicle
Baltimore Sun
Memorial Days
Well, by the time that many of you read this the day will be Sunday, September 13, 2009.
On Thursday of last week I found myself remembering September 11, 2001 - it seems somewhat ridiculous to chronicle the events of that morning, one that started with simply waking for work; however, I have to remember that I did not sleep the night before and consequently woke late. Oddly enough, while we as people tend to become incredibly focused on ourselves when experiencing the domino effect of losing time, I distinctly remember thinking that something was terribly, terribly wrong on that day: that the level of anxiety was a bit too high for that time of the morning.
That thought, of course, turned into shock/bewilderment/overwhelm/fright upon hearing someone mention the fourth plane and then say "Do you have any idea what's going on right now?!"
As I thought of that day this week, I found myself wanting to remain quiet - once again - and I did in the moments that allowed that type of reflection. On the other sides of those moments, "things to do, life going on"...but once again, on the night of September 10, I did not sleep - nor did I on the night of September 11, 2009. On those nights I was neither shocked nor frightened...but I did again have the feeling that something was amiss.
So, after a sleepless night I left for the gym at 7:30am. At around 7:45am I stopped, as there were flowers on a monument here in Knoxville. Taking the time to view the monument - and feeling somewhat embarrassed at the fact that I was, although having been in Knoxville a few times over the past two years, really looking at the monument for the first time - I saw that it was a memorial to those who had died. Many names on this little obelisk on Main Street, and at the base lay flowers and pictures - testaments to those connected to this city who lost their lives on that day.
There are many thoughts, of course - some that I wish not to share - but I can only hope that in the days and years to come that I (and all of us) not only take the time to remember, but also to examine ourselves objectively while continuing to move forward in peace - and vigilance...and I find myself grateful for having been reminded that while life does indeed go on, it is vitally important for us as humans to honor our inner leanings at times of reflection.
On Thursday of last week I found myself remembering September 11, 2001 - it seems somewhat ridiculous to chronicle the events of that morning, one that started with simply waking for work; however, I have to remember that I did not sleep the night before and consequently woke late. Oddly enough, while we as people tend to become incredibly focused on ourselves when experiencing the domino effect of losing time, I distinctly remember thinking that something was terribly, terribly wrong on that day: that the level of anxiety was a bit too high for that time of the morning.
That thought, of course, turned into shock/bewilderment/overwhelm/fright upon hearing someone mention the fourth plane and then say "Do you have any idea what's going on right now?!"
As I thought of that day this week, I found myself wanting to remain quiet - once again - and I did in the moments that allowed that type of reflection. On the other sides of those moments, "things to do, life going on"...but once again, on the night of September 10, I did not sleep - nor did I on the night of September 11, 2009. On those nights I was neither shocked nor frightened...but I did again have the feeling that something was amiss.
So, after a sleepless night I left for the gym at 7:30am. At around 7:45am I stopped, as there were flowers on a monument here in Knoxville. Taking the time to view the monument - and feeling somewhat embarrassed at the fact that I was, although having been in Knoxville a few times over the past two years, really looking at the monument for the first time - I saw that it was a memorial to those who had died. Many names on this little obelisk on Main Street, and at the base lay flowers and pictures - testaments to those connected to this city who lost their lives on that day.
There are many thoughts, of course - some that I wish not to share - but I can only hope that in the days and years to come that I (and all of us) not only take the time to remember, but also to examine ourselves objectively while continuing to move forward in peace - and vigilance...and I find myself grateful for having been reminded that while life does indeed go on, it is vitally important for us as humans to honor our inner leanings at times of reflection.
September 7, 2009
The Complete Musician: Daniel Helfgot's The Third Line
As we all prepare for seasons to start, I am grateful for having a few moments to catch up on writing - it has been somewhat difficult to keep up this summer, with having traveled many miles and the necessity of keeping my head down. Of course, as time passes, insights and thoughts may grow stale; nevertheless, I can only hope that what I write here reflects what has been brewing inside for the months that have passed.
During this summer's Utah Festival Opera season I had the pleasure to attend a master class taught by opera and stage director Daniel Helfgot. Currently living in California, Mr. Helfgot has directed over 150 opera productions ranging from the Baroque to the modern, including several world premieres. I was incredibly impressed with his teaching this summer, as he focused on each artist's complete performance as opposed to centering on elements of vocal technique. Upon speaking to Barbara Day Turner (and, coincidentally, one of my roommates), I found that Mr. Helfgot had written a book titled The Third Line: The Singer as Interpreter.
Having been taught to be a complete musician by my teachers and coaches, I was nevertheless excited to get a copy of Mr. Helfgot's book, and while I have not finished reading it I find myself wanting to say that what I have read is some of the most thorough and insightful writing on maintaining a performing career that I have encountered. While primarily written for vocalists, there are many sections in this book that can be applied to anyone in the performing arts, specifically the chapters on auditions, competitions and recitals. I will, over the next few weeks and months, write more of my observations on Mr. Helfgot's text - and have to say that his work most definitely fits into the concept of "The Unbroken Line" that is explored in Constantin Stanislavski's An Actor Prepares.
During this summer's Utah Festival Opera season I had the pleasure to attend a master class taught by opera and stage director Daniel Helfgot. Currently living in California, Mr. Helfgot has directed over 150 opera productions ranging from the Baroque to the modern, including several world premieres. I was incredibly impressed with his teaching this summer, as he focused on each artist's complete performance as opposed to centering on elements of vocal technique. Upon speaking to Barbara Day Turner (and, coincidentally, one of my roommates), I found that Mr. Helfgot had written a book titled The Third Line: The Singer as Interpreter.
Having been taught to be a complete musician by my teachers and coaches, I was nevertheless excited to get a copy of Mr. Helfgot's book, and while I have not finished reading it I find myself wanting to say that what I have read is some of the most thorough and insightful writing on maintaining a performing career that I have encountered. While primarily written for vocalists, there are many sections in this book that can be applied to anyone in the performing arts, specifically the chapters on auditions, competitions and recitals. I will, over the next few weeks and months, write more of my observations on Mr. Helfgot's text - and have to say that his work most definitely fits into the concept of "The Unbroken Line" that is explored in Constantin Stanislavski's An Actor Prepares.
August 31, 2009
Four Years Later
Well...it's been a strange weekend and last week was somewhat odd, as I did feel a bit unsettled, as if I were forgetting something. Ironically, it was slipping my mind that the fourth "anniversary" of Katrina was looming. So, I called a few people who have all made it a point of checking in with each other on a regular basis since the storm and mass evacuation/relocation.
It seems that many people are simply focusing on the present moment while planning their futures, futures which include starting new jobs, new creative ventures, cross-country relocation, and all things "normal". Yes, it seems that life has, for the most part, gone back to normal...whatever normal may be.
Myself - I practiced, then went to the gym for a very long workout.
It is difficult to think of what a "standard" response should be upon remembering - after all, were not hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of people directly affected, and have we not all worked tirelessly to rebuild our lives in some fashion, to make sense out of chaos?
Myself - sometimes I get tired. Existential fatigue...
This year, however, weariness was replaced with moments of quiet contemplation as I walked across Knoxville's Gay Street bridge, evening sunlight dancing atop the Tennessee River, realizing that we are indeed a part of something so much larger than ourselves - a continuum of life, if I may?
It has been interesting reconnecting with some of the Europeans that I rode out the storm with, and particularly with those who in essence saved me. They're all well - it seems that we all had the same moment this weekend...quietly reflecting on that odd moment in time as if relates to the continuum of life...
...more soon,
Sam
It seems that many people are simply focusing on the present moment while planning their futures, futures which include starting new jobs, new creative ventures, cross-country relocation, and all things "normal". Yes, it seems that life has, for the most part, gone back to normal...whatever normal may be.
Myself - I practiced, then went to the gym for a very long workout.
It is difficult to think of what a "standard" response should be upon remembering - after all, were not hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of people directly affected, and have we not all worked tirelessly to rebuild our lives in some fashion, to make sense out of chaos?
Myself - sometimes I get tired. Existential fatigue...
This year, however, weariness was replaced with moments of quiet contemplation as I walked across Knoxville's Gay Street bridge, evening sunlight dancing atop the Tennessee River, realizing that we are indeed a part of something so much larger than ourselves - a continuum of life, if I may?
It has been interesting reconnecting with some of the Europeans that I rode out the storm with, and particularly with those who in essence saved me. They're all well - it seems that we all had the same moment this weekend...quietly reflecting on that odd moment in time as if relates to the continuum of life...
...more soon,
Sam
August 17, 2009
Free-Floating, Free-Falling Shapes with Heather Maloney
"Would you like to go downstairs and hear the piece?"
"No," she said confidently. "I'm going to improv."
This exchange took place last Friday night at the Alternate ROOTS Annual Meeting during that evening's Late Night/Open Mic sessions. I had decided to play Tom Benjamin's Shapes, for Violin Solo (1975) and, well, was given a gift.
Heather Maloney is a dancer and choreographer whom I met in December 2008 at the National Performance Network Annual Meeting - but the world being as it is, I first heard of her and saw her work in February 2000 at the New World School of the Arts in Miami, Florida. Her work is (to say the least) innovative and quite thought-provoking, with her choreographic language being characterized by an almost frenetic use of gesture and intense, focused physicality. I must say that it was quite the surprise to have found out that she was going to be in Seattle as I had wanted to meet her since first seeing her onstage in 2000...life does what it's going to do, no?
SO...while chatting during breaks in the evening at ROOTS that consisted of some amazing readings of poetry and other performances, Heather asked if I was playing - and then asked if I would like her to dance...and you've read the conversation. I must laugh at myself: so intent on being thorough with my practicing and musicmaking, making sure that my ideas are clear, I found myself a bit taken aback by the idea of going on stage in "free-fall" mode, let alone with one of the most fascinating choreographers that I've met. Of course, I have wanted to collaborate with dancers for quite some time, so I said yes.
What I HAVE realized, however - but not as profoundly until last Friday night - that Shapes, with its vertcial and horizontal motives, exploration of the violin and all of its sonic capabilities, and well-places breathing spots, SHOULD sound as if it is being "made on the spot", violinist and audience both waiting for the next sentence, phrase, or sound with heightened expectation.
While waiting - we were soon to perform (the number of performers on this night, one of the last, was near thirty!), we were joined by Hope Clark, who simply said yes, and jumped in.
The violinist stood silently, he breathed, and put bow to string, playing the first gesture. Movement took place in front of him - and while I did not see ALL of it, I have to say that what I DID witness (looking down while playing) was just as it should have been - but nothing that I had ever imagined or seen before....
....guess sometimes we just have to trust, let go, and dive in...I think there's video of this one...
More from this summer very soon - the lazy blogger has to get caught up,
Sam
"No," she said confidently. "I'm going to improv."
This exchange took place last Friday night at the Alternate ROOTS Annual Meeting during that evening's Late Night/Open Mic sessions. I had decided to play Tom Benjamin's Shapes, for Violin Solo (1975) and, well, was given a gift.
Heather Maloney is a dancer and choreographer whom I met in December 2008 at the National Performance Network Annual Meeting - but the world being as it is, I first heard of her and saw her work in February 2000 at the New World School of the Arts in Miami, Florida. Her work is (to say the least) innovative and quite thought-provoking, with her choreographic language being characterized by an almost frenetic use of gesture and intense, focused physicality. I must say that it was quite the surprise to have found out that she was going to be in Seattle as I had wanted to meet her since first seeing her onstage in 2000...life does what it's going to do, no?
SO...while chatting during breaks in the evening at ROOTS that consisted of some amazing readings of poetry and other performances, Heather asked if I was playing - and then asked if I would like her to dance...and you've read the conversation. I must laugh at myself: so intent on being thorough with my practicing and musicmaking, making sure that my ideas are clear, I found myself a bit taken aback by the idea of going on stage in "free-fall" mode, let alone with one of the most fascinating choreographers that I've met. Of course, I have wanted to collaborate with dancers for quite some time, so I said yes.
What I HAVE realized, however - but not as profoundly until last Friday night - that Shapes, with its vertcial and horizontal motives, exploration of the violin and all of its sonic capabilities, and well-places breathing spots, SHOULD sound as if it is being "made on the spot", violinist and audience both waiting for the next sentence, phrase, or sound with heightened expectation.
While waiting - we were soon to perform (the number of performers on this night, one of the last, was near thirty!), we were joined by Hope Clark, who simply said yes, and jumped in.
The violinist stood silently, he breathed, and put bow to string, playing the first gesture. Movement took place in front of him - and while I did not see ALL of it, I have to say that what I DID witness (looking down while playing) was just as it should have been - but nothing that I had ever imagined or seen before....
....guess sometimes we just have to trust, let go, and dive in...I think there's video of this one...
More from this summer very soon - the lazy blogger has to get caught up,
Sam
July 27, 2009
Michael Steinberg
While there are so many things that I have experienced about which I want to write, this one is somewhat difficult - perhaps the difficulty is the usual thought that someone may see this. Perhaps it comes from the thought that I am now about to write about a REAL writer, one of the most important musicologists of our century who was also one of my chamber music coaches during a summer at the International Festival-Institute at Round Top - a man who, along with Jorja Fleezanis, truly opened my eyes to the world of poetry and musical research while also inspiring so many of us with his openness to life, infectious curiosity and beautiful spirit?
My issues aside: while I wish that I could write something as eloquent as Mark Swed's Los Angeles Times article, I can only say thank you, Michael, for giving the world the best of yourself and continuously keeping out minds, souls, ears and imaginations open through your work - which included serving as the world's program annotator and penning three books of musical essays that rival if not suprass the work of Donald Francis Tovey , and being the mentor and champion of hundreds of us who have continued in this wonderful, crazy world that we call the business of musicmaking.
May your soul rest peacefully as your spirit - through your priceless contributions to our world - live eternally.
More from the road,
Sam
Minnesota Public Radio
San Francisco Examiner
San Francisco Chronicle
Baltimore Sun
My issues aside: while I wish that I could write something as eloquent as Mark Swed's Los Angeles Times article, I can only say thank you, Michael, for giving the world the best of yourself and continuously keeping out minds, souls, ears and imaginations open through your work - which included serving as the world's program annotator and penning three books of musical essays that rival if not suprass the work of Donald Francis Tovey , and being the mentor and champion of hundreds of us who have continued in this wonderful, crazy world that we call the business of musicmaking.
May your soul rest peacefully as your spirit - through your priceless contributions to our world - live eternally.
More from the road,
Sam
Minnesota Public Radio
San Francisco Examiner
San Francisco Chronicle
Baltimore Sun
July 13, 2009
And we're back...
WOW! Realizing that I have not written in quite some time, and did not write all that I wanted to about the Tafelmusik Baroque Summer Institute - perhaps that's a good thing as I was very busy during those weeks...but now, three weeks after a forty-eight hour turnaround that involved lots of packing and two weeks of rehearsals and opening nights, I'm here again, with much to come....it does, however, feel somewhat "right" to start with this...
Again, it may seem odd to reference high-energy beats when talking about an opera, but magic happened during the final dress rehearsals of "Cavalleria Rusticana/Pagliacci" at this year's Utah Festival Opera. From the first note, I think that we were all truly reminded of why we make music - there was a level of excitement and anticipation in the theater that I have not felt in a while and of course, once one experiences that, one wants to stay in that place....
...more on this summer in the next few days, including some words on the Tafelmusik Institute...but until then, some more magic...
Again, it may seem odd to reference high-energy beats when talking about an opera, but magic happened during the final dress rehearsals of "Cavalleria Rusticana/Pagliacci" at this year's Utah Festival Opera. From the first note, I think that we were all truly reminded of why we make music - there was a level of excitement and anticipation in the theater that I have not felt in a while and of course, once one experiences that, one wants to stay in that place....
...more on this summer in the next few days, including some words on the Tafelmusik Institute...but until then, some more magic...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)