The Beethoven Project

The San Francisco Symphony's Beethoven Project began Thursday evening with a quirky program of his early work and rarities. The concert opened with the song "Adelaide," written in 1796 and being performed in these concerts using an arrangement by SFS Chorus Director Ragnar Bohlin. The opening minute and a half seemed like a mash-up using bits of Fidelio and the Miss Solemnis, while Robin Sutherland accompanied the chorus on piano pulling what seemed like an entire sequence of notes from the jaunty transition between the 2nd and 3rd movement of the 4th Piano Concerto. I enjoyed it, but at six minutes it's more amusing than revealing. The same can be said for the Sonatina in C major for Mandolin and Fortepiano. Clocking in at roughly three and a half minutes and almost completely forgettable, one wonders how it made it onto the program and why, unless it's meant as a bit of a joke. The piece was inspired by the Countess Josephine Clary, who, according to the image of her used in the program, was quite well-endowed and probably inspired a great number of men to do foolish things and waste much of their time, Beethoven among them.

Well, okay, it is nice to be reminded in programming like this that it's not all about the big and famous works we already know. In fact, what was great about this program was its decidedly contrarian programming, especially what was for many the main attraction- a chance to hear the Cantata on the Death of the Emperor Joseph II. I've never heard this performed live and I can't imagine many opportunites to do so exist, but it was an important topic when I took a class on Beethoven while in college so I was quite pleased to get a chance to hear it. LVB was only 19 when he composed it, but again one can hear parts that would eventually show up in Fidelio almost note for note, as well as many works in the "heroic" era and later. MTT and the orchestra, with a brilliant performance by the string section (the first one I've heard from them since returning from the strike) and led by the fabulous singing of the marvelously attired soprano Sally Matthews (who really needs to perform more here in the States) really made a case for the work as more than just an interesting historical or academic side note. A stunning (and pregnant) Tamara Mumford (a shout out to her neighbor Maria Gostrey out there in Sandy, Utah), Barry Banks and Andrew Foster-Williams were also on hand. If close attention to MTT's actions at the end of a performance can be interpreted, MTT was keener on Foster-Williams' performance than on Banks'. Truthfully I didn't notice because there was a woman seated directly behind me doing her best impersonation of Ozzy Osbourne hacking up a lung at the beginning of the Black Sabbath song "Sweet Leaf" during the entire thing. Speaking of Black Sabbath, did you know tickets go on sale for what's likely to be the band's last tour together tomorrow? I would love to go, except the damn thing is at Shoreline, a venue I hate, and I know that I won't be able to tolerate thousands of stoned 50 and 60-something-year-old men yelling "SAAABAAATH!!!!!" and "IRON MAN!" all night long. On the other hand, if someone gave me a ticket I would definitely be happy about that. Things like people coughing or talking during a performance used to bother me much more than they do now, but this woman was really starting to annoy the piss out of me. Somehow she thought it best to cough during the moments of silence, which is a really bad decision. Of course human nature being what it is, soon there were other coughers, though this is the fucking month of MAY already, people! Thankfully the coughing woman and her date left at intermission never to return and I didn't have to turn around and give her nasty looks of disapproval, because that's always so effective, right?

The most familiar piece on the program was the Symphony No. 2, which was the key to knowing how MTT is going to approach Beethoven for this particular series of concerts. Now I have to admit I have not always admired MTT's approach to Beethoven in the past, though once in awhile he switches things up, takes a new tack, and surprises everyone with the usually stellar results. Last night's 2nd was performed in MTT's usual approach, which is either growing on me or is exceptionally well-suited for this piece. Fleet and lean, with brisk tempos throughout, this is Beethoven without any sturm und drang but with plenty of heart. He wrung every bit of transparency he could from the strings, which jabbed and penetrated into the rhythms, and if the horns seemed to bobble it in the opening of the first movement, soon everything was clicking along beautifully- a vibrant, lively reading of a Symphony that deserves greater recognition among its peers.

The program repeats tonight. See the Symphony's website for the rest of the schedule.

Hype happens: Goerne & Eschenbach at Davies.

Cristoph Eschenbach and Matthias Goerne. 

Baritone Matthias Goerne visited our fair city last week for one of the most anticipated appearances of the season and apparently I'm the only one who wasn't impressed. In a pair of programs which took place at Davies Symphony Hall (the first for three nights with the San Francisco Symphony conducted by Christoph Eschenbach, followed by a Great Performers series recital accompanied by Eschenbach on the piano) Goerne took up a lot of space and did precious little with it.

The Symphony program began with two Wagner excerpts- Die Frist ist um from The Flying Dutchman, followed by Wotan's Farewell scene and the Magic Fire Music from Die Walkure. In the Dutchman segment the orchestra was flat, at least the strings were- especially to anyone who heard this same orchestra bring this same score to thrilling life a few years ago under MTT, but even with the flat tone of the strings Goerne struggled to be heard, left little impression of the character, and gave no hint as to why he wanted to sing it in the first place. As Wotan he wasn't any better, and though the much enlarged orchestra made it clear just how far the composer had grown in his musical language in the fifteen year span separating the two works, Goerne sounded spent at the conclusion of the segment, making me wonder how he could ever hope to make it through an entire performance of the opera. Though he has a large, warm tone, his voice sounded ragged at the edges and the words which could be clearly heard were few and far between, despite the fact that he's a native singer.

The second half of the concert featured Dvorak's Symphony No. 9, From the New World, the fondness of which is something else I don't have in common with most of the planet, but in passages, some of which were played at pleasingly loud volume, I could easily see what does draw people to this work. It's just something that's always left me cold. I feel the same about Bach passions, for what it's worth.

A couple of nights later I returned for the recital, and it seemed like everyone was there. They weren't of course, but when one turns around and finds Chip Grant seated behind you, it feels indeed like everyone is there. The program this time was Schubert's Winterreise- twenty four dark, lonely and despairing poems by Willhelm Muller set to music that creates a narrative arc of alienation, loss, anxiety, fear, and finally defeat. It's a heady 70 or 80 minutes, and definitely not everyone's cup of tea in the same way that Handel or Wagner may not be for everyone, but there's no denying the genius of the work and it's the kind of melodramatic Romanticism for which I'm a complete sucker.

Eschenbach's accompaniment lacked a light touch when it was most needed, his foot sometimes never left the pedal, and he played too loudly in key moments, reaching over Goerne's volume. In short, there was an absence of grace in the playing which would have been of benefit to the whole as the problems I had with Goerne's appearance on Thursday were still evident on Sunday- a woolly wound, rough at the edges, mushy diction, and a lack of dramatic involvement or appreciation for nuance (Erstarrung and Ruckblick were taken very fast, and the latter became messy), and a tendency to bluster through certain segments (Fruhlingstraum, Einsamkeit, Die Post). They had their moments, notably during Im Dorfe and Der Wegweiser, but in a program of this scale that's simply not enough. A recital should have at least one revelation moment, when one instinctively knows, or hears something, that justifies the fact that a crowd has gathered to hear one lone voice deliver something unique to it. Something truly beautiful- or powerful, frightening, or joyful. Something, but not just anything. Goerne never delivered that moment.

But don't believe me- because everyone else seems to have loved every minute of it, except me, and those who straggled out of the hall, choosing to get lost during the journey. And one last note- a sartorial one- choose a shirt with a good, strong, well-made collar.

Cheap Stones tickets- get yer ya-ya's out for $85

I told the Tiny Todger the prices were too fucking high, but he never listens to me.

Who wants to pay hundreds of dollars to the Stones on their current tour which starts this Friday night in LA? 

Apparently not many people, or at least not enough. There are lots of seats left for most of the shows,  and they’re going to be sold for $85 a ticket. The catch is you need to register to get the alert and since they’re going to do this at the last minute (the day of the show), expect long lines to pick them up at will call the night of the show. But you’ll only know when they’ve been released if you register- and you can do that here and also here.

Still, if you want to go but couldn’t/wouldn’t shell out the dough, here’s your chance for some satisfaction. 

Prince at the DNA Lounge- late show, Wednesday night April 24

Prince and 3rd Eye Girl in Vancouver. The lights for the DNA show were set up differently, but the vibe is similar.

The word from the Swede, who had gone to the previous night's late show, was that is was guitar-heavy rock and roll, with almost nothing he recognized during the first hour, but with which the mostly younger audience seemed well-versed. He said he wanted to get in line for the next night's show at 8:30. Having worked all day at my day job (people are constantly surprised I have one- as if this  beast somehow paid my bills) I needed a wee bit of downtime before meeting up with him.

Sometime around 9:30 I found him near the front of the line, and once I had made friends with the folks around us he ditched me to get a half-pint of Makers. Returning, he opened the bottle and took these little itsy-bitsy swigs, then took out a pack of blue American Spirits, lit one, and then gave one out to everyone standing behind us. I was the only one not smoking and not drinking and I taught this fucker the pleasures of both bourbon and cigarettes and there was something about this entire situation that was just incredibly wrong.

The line to get into the 800 capacity club was incredibly long, snaking all the way down the block. I had no idea how all those people were going to get inside, but I also didn't really care because we were pretty close to the front of the line. I know I mentioned that already. I know I'm gloating. So?

Soon the line began to move and I noticed a half-pint of Beam, more than 3/4 full, sitting on the sidewalk, discarded next to the bus stop. It looked so sad there. I knew the Swede's Makers was going to soon join it and even though I gave up booze over a year ago, I still hate to see it go to waste. Fucking amateurs, just leaving it there on the sidewalk for the bums. Pros like me had soft-sided flasks. That's comme il faut.

We got inside and staked out a spot about 15 feet from the microphone placed center stage. A voice came on the PA and said anyone taking pictures with their phone would be removed from the audience. The Swede said they weren't joking about this, since he saw them give people the boot the night before, but as it turns out I did see a couple of people who thought this didn't apply to them turn out to be right.

When these shows were announced, along with their hefty prices, I took umbrage to a comment I saw on a friend's Facebook that the audience would be full of "douches" because obviously who else could afford such tickets. This ended up becoming an online debate between us as I stuck up for my peers, who had just been called douches by some 30-something slacker/hipster, and though the crowd was for the most part quite nicely appreciative, enthusiastic, knowing and behaved, I did have the distinct misfortune of standing next to two of the most obnoxious assholes I've encountered in a very long time, one of whom felt the need to tell everyone within earshot that Slash is the worst guitar player ever and Jeff Beck is the best. Repeatedly. 300 fucking times. Okay, maybe only six times before I looked at him with an annoyed look and asked him to shut up. What an asshole. Only creepy douches walk around telling people Jeff beck is the world's greatest living guitar player. What an asinine thing to say. Jeff Beck isn't even in the top ten. Everyone knows that. Try humming a Jeff beck solo from after 1971. See? Idiot. Jeff Beck. Jesus. Dumbshit. Then there was his pal, who was just a creep, trying to manipulate this young guy who was there with his girlfriend, saying he shouldn't let her out of his site because someone might give her a roofie. He seemed like just the type of Humbert Humbert wannabe scumbag who would do such a thing. He really creeped me out. Meanwhile, however, the young guy's girlfriend, who was also Swedish (but raised here), felt it incumbent to keep pressing her large breasts forcefully into my back and arms and resting them there. As if I should know them. And I wanted to. Douches aside, so far the show was great and Prince wasn't due onstage for at least half an hour.

The lights went down at 11:35, the crowd went crazy, and Prince and the three women who comprise 3rd Eye Girl walked onstage and accommodated us with a slowed-down, grungy blues version of "Let's Go Crazy" and I immediately wished I had brought some ear plugs, as I could feel every hair on my body rise and begin to move like underwater plants. It was incredibly loud, to the point of painful, but it also felt good and soon my ears adjusted to the volume.

Now let me state this without reservation: 3rd Eye Girl- Donna Grantis, guitar, Ida Nielsen, bass, Hannah Ford, drums- is the perfect back-up band for Prince when he's in a rock and roll mood, and that's exactly what this tour is about. . While Grantis gets to trade licks with Prince, it's really Ford's drumming, and her never-ceasing exuberant smile, which propels the band and makes this foursome rock solid. It's also a seamlessly tight band, but the audience expects that from Prince at this point.

At the age of 54, he's just starting to show signs of aging (it's almost imperceptible, but you can see it in his skin and in his body movements if you look closely and pay attention) but musically the man is still in his prime and obviously going strong. Of course it helps to have a body of work like his, which he made plain to the crowd when he taunted "Do you know how many damn hits I have?" in the middle of a medley of some of the bigger ones later in the hour and forty-five minute show. But the new material- guitar oriented, hard driving, muscularly beat out with slashing chords and a stomping beat, sounds hot, and the band played both the new and the old with equal fervor. Still, the funk was there. During "Housequake"(my favorite of the night if only because I didn't expect it), Prince commanded "Everybody jump up and down!" and we did,  to the funky beat, and it was good. It was fantastic. It was like 1987 because for some reason Prince decided to play more songs off of Sign O' the Times than any other album, and who would have expected that?

If you didn't already know Prince was one of the greatest guitarists of all time, then this band and these shows may not be for you. For those that do know, and that's a lot of folks, it doesn't get much better than this. Loud, raucous and funky- this band kicks ass, and with the electric lights pulsing behind them, the music cranked, the women shredding and smiling,  it's like they're the house band in a Tarantino remake of Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill! 

The set list, as I could recall it the next afternoon...

Let's Go Crazy
Let's Work
You Got the Look
Endorphine Machine
I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man
Screwdriver
Bambi
Guitar
Purple Rain
Adore
She's Always in My Hair
I Like It There
FixUrLifeUp
Boom Stratus
Sign O the Times
Hot Thing
Housequake
I Would Die 4 U
When Doves Cry
A Love Bizarre
Alphabet Street
Fragments of Nasty Girl/Single Ladies
Pop Life

The Artist Sessions

The Artist Sessions, a new concert series that's the brainchild of Lara Downes, gets underway tonight with Downes herself taking the stage with Quartet San Francisco at Yoshi's San Francisco location. Downes is an exceptionally gifted performer, a tireless advocate for expanding classical music's reach beyond its traditional audience and venues as well as an engaging and interesting personality.

This is what's in store (lifted from her site):

Each evening begins with an on-stage conversation between Downes and the guest artist, and includes audience talk-back immediately after the performance. Says Downes: "In The Artist Sessions, I want to create an engaging space, a space for truly intimate encounters with artists who are working in especially compelling and thought-provoking areas of their discipline. A space for talk, food, drinks, friends and some of the best music - classical and beyond - that is happening right now! I'll be curating these evenings with an eye to giving a close-up look at each artist's musical landscape. I want audiences to come away with a real understanding of who the artist is, what drives him or her, and how that shapes the music."

Tickets are still available, and there's a discount available for members of the Bay Area Classical Music Meet-Up group. I won't be able to make it because I'll be seeing the Prince gig at the DNA tonight, but that's about the only thing that would keep me from attending this.

Pericles, post-punk, in Berkeley

Evan Zes, Annapurna Sriram and Rami Margron in Berkeley Rep's Pericles, Prince of Tyre. Photo courtesy of mellopix.com 

There are so many things that can go wrong when a company decides to do Shakespeare. Double that risk if it’s not one of the “better” plays, and double down again if the script is cut. So it’s pleasing to report that not only does Mark Wing-Davey’s take on Pericles, Prince of Tyre do justice to a problematic play, but it does so with a kind of gleeful post-punk self-awareness of what can and can’t be done with the thing. It's what Shakespeare might look like if John Waters made a sincere attempt at him.

Seriously cut, it feels more episodic than ever and if your attention wanders for a moment you’ll likely get lost but it’s also easy to find your way back. There’s a lot clamoring for one’s attention on the smartly designed-set, whether it’s the home-made of look of many of the instruments used by the trio of musicians parked above the floor, Ninja stagehands, a brawling Batman and Robin, or a King in Klimt dress (the costumes by Meg Neville are marvelously realized creations). The music, which is present through most if not all of the production, by Marc Gwinn consistently enhances the action and never distracts from it. However, apart from the actors, it’s really the scenic design by Peter Ksander and Douglas Stein which makes the most lasting impression. My favorite sly touch is how the marital bed in which Pericles’ family is conceived then becomes the vessel upon which it is destroyed and returns once again for, well, you’ll see if you pay attention. But there are also tweaks in script that zip by in a flash and don’t be surprised if you find yourself thinking wait- that’s not Shakespeare- that's Monty Python.

The cast of eight is solid, led by Anita Carey’s Gower and David Barlow in the title role. Everyone else doubles at least in other roles, with James Carpenter seeming the most at home with the Bard’s language as multiple kings, but all acquit themselves just fine. Jessica Kitchens is a marvelously physical actor. But it’s really Wing-Davey’s vision that keeps this Pericles always interesting and at times makes it soar, escpecially during the first half. Through May 26^th at Berkeley Rep’s Thrust Stage. Recommended.

Little Women in May

April's Operapalooza rolls into May as the San Francisco Conservatory of Music presents Mark Adamo's Little Women only weeks before San Francisco Opera stages the world premiere of his new work, The Gospel According to Mary Magdalene. Performances will be May 3rd at 7:30 and May 5th at 2:00 PM. Free admission, fully staged, with piano accompaniment. Details on the cast can be found here.