The Robert Glasper Experiment

On his most recent album, the impressive Double Booked (Blue Note, 2009), pianist Robert Glasper splits the tracks between The Robert Glasper Trio and The Robert Glasper Experiment. The Experiment tracks have a distinct hip-hop vein running through them, propelled by the drumming of Chris Dave and are, well, experimental. Based on personnel, it was the Robert Glasper Experiment that showed up to play an SFJazz gig at the YBCA Forum last night, not the Trio as billed.

Doesn't matter. With Derrick Hodge on acoustic bass and Chris Dave on the drums, the three of them gave an impressive, humor-laden performance that was as notable for its personal interactions between them as much as the musical ones. Let's just say watching these guys is like hanging out people you've known a long time who are deeply immersed in their own long-running shtick- and Chris Dave is one funny guy, not to mention an extremely talented and inventive drummer.

Opening with "One For 'Grew" from 2007's In My Element, the first set flowed from one song to another across post-bop terrain, infected by Dave's unusual beats and cymbal work. Glasper and Dave were at opposite ends of the stage facing one another during, taunting each another at times, with the imposing Hodges set between them like the beam on a scale, keeping everything centered. Glasper announced what songs they played after awhile, but I couldn't catch them all.

He started messing with the band (and the audience) as he began to play Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time," prompting Dave to start walking offstage in bemused disgust. Next Glasper tried a little Bonnie Raitt and some Bruce Hornsby, but that didn't play either. After the first notes of "Send in the Clowns" Dave started to dismantle his kit. It was all pretty funny, as Glasper wore a "what? me?" look on his face. It reminded me of the Thanksgiving scene in She's Gotta Have It. Then they got serious with an impressive, extended improvisation of Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" which for me was the highlight of the two sets.

The next stops on their tour take them to Kansas City, MO, Cambridge and Northampton in MA, Washington DC, Creedmoor, NC and then a four night stand in Chicago. Check the site for dates and venues. The band is definitely worth seeing live.

Here's a video of the group shot in Paris last year, their musicianship on full display:

Before the show Glasper had a lengthy discussion with SFJazz's Rebeca Mauleon, but the Elder Swede and I missed most of it because we were having dinner and drinks at Credo. Chef Gustavo Romero gave us a duck confit appetizer that fell of the bone and was simply delicious, as was the rest of the meal and the Manhattans.

After the show, we strolled over to First Crush for more Manhattans, and heard one of the funniest jokes in recent memory. Do you know what the difference is between jelly and jam?

Best Lucrezia Borgia review ever

Courtesy of Dr. Hank:

Well your opinion doesn't matter to me or to Ms. Renee Fleming. She is already a legendary singer of our time. As far as I'm concerned she doesn't even have to sing. She can just poop on stage in front of everyone and I'm still gonna shout "brava".

And that's pretty much what happened.

She's no Femme Fatale.

"Stop that! I can't see the prompter!" Kowaljow and Fleming. Photo probably by Cory Weaver.

For better or worse, there are two subjects in which I'm pretty well-versed: opera and the allure of the femme fatale. So you can imagine my interest in seeing San Francisco Opera's latest offering, Donizetti's Lucrezia Borgia, which if you believe what's written in the program notes, is the genre's ultimate example of the bad girl some of us just can't seem to stay clear of no matter how large the red flag waving in front of  our faces. If that weren't enough, the casting was alluring (a star vehicle for Renée Fleming and a major role for the great Vitalij Kowaljow) and after years of pretending I didn't, I now readily admit to truly liking Donizetti. To top it off, the company's never staged it before and I'm a sucker for seeing something new. Sadly, the raison d'etre of the entire production, Fleming's participation, is the fatal flaw in an otherwise decent, though by no means great, night at the opera. 


Standing room wasn't at all crowded for Monday night's performance even though Fleming, who hasn't starred on this stage since 1999's Louise, is guaranteed to sell the house out. I bought my ticket at 5:30 and it was number 40 of 200. There was plenty of room at the rails in both the orchestra and balcony, though it looked like every available seat was sold.


Making his house debut, conductor Ricardo Frizza strode to the podium in an all-black ensemble with an open necked shirt, looking suitably swarthy in that way only Italians can really pull off, though it doesn't seem to stop Russians from trying to emulate them. Really, the Russians should just give up.


Speaking of giving up, the opera opens with Fleming standing center stage while all sorts of commotion is going on around her in slow motion. I've now seen this bit three times in the past two months so can we please have a moratorium on supers in slo-mo? It's interesting the first time, but by the third it's just silly, and in this case unnecessary. In fact there's a whole bunch of things which are unnecessary in this production, but I'll get to that shortly.


SFO's budget woes start becoming apparent off the bat as the chorus sounds under-rehearsed in the first act. Usually the chorus is super tight but on this night they get off to a sloppy start and never gel until the final act and by that time I really didn't care. Fleming enters and gives the first sign that this entire thing isn't going to go very well. When she encounters her son Gennaro (Michael Fabiano) during the opening party scene she sings "What a joy it is to gaze at him." But she's not even looking in his direction- she's looking at the audience, she's looking at the prompter, she's looking stage left- she's looking everywhere but at Gennaro. It  would prove to be one of the most misguided interpretations of a role I've ever seen in an opera.


Fabiano isn't really helping here, because despite having a pretty decent voice and pleasing appearance, he relies on the prompter all night long, so instead of coming off as being captivated by Lucrezia, he's always looking away from her, as if he's wondering if his fly is down or did he leave the iron on in his dressing room. The Act I duet is a total failure because neither seems to be paying attention to the other.


After that, there's a fun and juicy bit where Gennaro's buddies approach Lucrezia and lay the deaths of their nearest and dearest at her feet. It's a fine set up, marking her as a murderous femme fatale, and I'm seriously hoping for some juicy stuff to follow this litany of mayhem. It's during this scene the finer qualities of Fleming's voice emerge for the first time, as she pierces clearly  through the chorus of accusations. As the scene concludes the Borgia insignia descends from above, looking like a logo for a chocolate store in Union Square. It's deliciously fun and tacky, but this isn't supposed to be fun and tacky- it's about murder and incestual desire, so it doesn't quite work. The curtain comes down.


Speaking of things that don't work, Genarro has a pal named Maffio Orsini, inexplicably a trouser role (which goes unexplained in the program) portrayed by the hapless Elizabeth DeShong. Poor DeShong. For some reason she's made to wear an orange Billy Idol wig and her skin has matching bronzer applied all over it, though no one else has to suffer this indignity. On top of that, or beneath it actually, Gennaro stands a full head above her so she looks like a dwarf when she's supposed to be his macho equal, but worst of all she looks like Pia Zadora in Santa Claus Conquers the Martians.

Coming soon to San Francisco- "Butterfly, the opera": Photo by Corey Weaver

Separated at birth?

At intermission I went outside to smoke and some guy tries to cruise me. Why is that any male under  a certain age at the opera is automatically presumed to be A) gay B) looking to hook up?



The curtain rises on Act II and it's apparent Kowaljow is in excellent form this evening- his voice is literally booming, and it makes me look forward to seeing him in Simon Boccanegra in LA this spring, even though there is nothing remotely Italianate about his voice, it works incredibly well in this role. His authority is masterful. The other thing that becomes apparent in the opening scene of the second act is how much Verdi borrowed from Donizetti in his early and middle periods, because all of this is sounding very Verdi, but it's prime Donizetti, while Verdi was still a pup watching it in the audience. During the second act, the supporting cast really shines, especially the Duke's right hand man Rustighello, portrayed by an excellent Daniel Montenegro. All that good stuff aside, it's here in the 2nd act the wheels come off this production. In what should be the showdown between the Duke and Lucrezia, the scene where we should really see the mettle which marks her as a true femme fatale, Fleming is vacuous- their confrontation has no edge to it at all, and the scene belongs to the Duke. I was imaging what a singer with acting chops- Netrebko or Dessay, Mattila comes to mind, so does Nadja Michael (the acting, not the voice), even Patricia Racette, among others, could have done with this, as it all but begs for some scenery chewing, some nastiness, some confrontation and drama. But there was none to be found from Fleming, who came across as meek and subservient to the Duke's power.


Director John Pascoe paints Lucrezia as a victim in his program notes- of incest, male domination, blah, blah, blah, an that's all fine and good but it's not an excuse to make her weak. And this Lucrezia is weak, draining the opera of any tension and drama and therefore the whole endeavor becomes a bore because Fleming is completely unbelievable in the role. This is exacerbated in the trio which follows where Gennaro drinks some poison, Lucrezia knows this, and yet everyone seems unaffected by it all. Where's the she-monster? Well, there's one in the balcony watching it all, but no one asked her to go onstage. At this point Fleming starts looking at the prompter as much as Fabiano is, and I'm just thinking to myself "good lord, pity those chumps who paid top dollar for this." One good part of Act II is Fleming's costume, which raises the heat a little bit. She may have those weird low notes that come out of nowhere, but Fleming is hot. This only mildly detracts from the fact that the blocking in this act was a disaster (why are Lucrezia and Genarro singing of their love while standing at opposite ends of the stage?) and when the whole thing winds down with the Duke giving Lucrezia a slug to the jaw I at least wish we'd gotten to that point awhile ago, though for different reasons. Kowaljow and Montenegro are the only ones acting the parts- everyone else is doing park and bark.


It's all so straightforward and in this case boring. Now I don't mind straightforward and traditional- the Traviata featuring Swenson, Hvorostovsky and Villazon during the Rosenberg era was as traditional as can be without putting statues onstage in place of the singers, but it was done with such conviction that it remains one of my top 5 all-time opera experiences. This is just trad masking itself as something more edgy, but it's not despite Pascoe's lame attempts to play up the homo-eroticism between Gennaro and Maffio (next time cast it more believably, for starters) and making Lucrezia a victim (side note- all Femme Fatales have been victimized- it's why they become what they are).


At the second intermission I choose to stay upstairs and avoid the cruiser, and end up listening to this couple talk about "The Tudors" for twenty minutes. Seems everyone thinks the sex in this show is pretty hot, so if that's your thing check it out. Ironically, Showtime also has a show about the Borgias, so maybe that's worth checking out too, if you're into incest and stuff like that. I'm not judging. I also overhear another couple dismissing all French people as "armchair critics who only parrot what they read in the papers." Or on blogs. On the whole, it doesn't seem to be a very discerning audience, exhibit A being the yahoo next to me in shorts who insists on clapping first, even if the music isn't over, and also on clapping last, after the music has resumed.


Okay, so now we're at Act III. Are you still with me? We can stop here, honestly. It didn't get any better. Genarro and Pia do their  "till death do us part" duet that just looks ridiculous, especially since Fabiano is still staring at the prompter through most of it. The ending scene is described as a "riot" of a party but there area only nine people onstage and unless all of those nine people are John Belushi or Iggy Pop, nine people don't make a riot. The scene looks cheap. Where is everybody? Even when the party swells to fifteen revelers the huge set still looks empty.


At the end, when Genarro is dying from poison (you didn't really need a spoiler alert for that, did you?), Fleming isn't floating a single note Bel-Canto style. The voice sounds good, but not for this material. It's appropriate she's announced this gig was her last in this kind of role. In the end, she slashes her throat- a bit of verismo that comes all too late. If we only could have had that kind of conviction from the beginning maybe it would have all been worth it.


Still, Fleming received a tremendous ovation for a mediocre performance at best, and there are plenty of folks who will think this was great. It wasn't, but that's the current state of things at SFO. It made me hope that Turandot, which I was going to pass on, will redeem a season that so far has been a complete disappointment. Check back next week.

I'm listening to...

Obviously the title caught my eye when I saw A Fool in the Forest had a new post from the Carlsbad Music Festival entitled "Penelope." I clicked over to read what it was about, which was a live performance of a piece created by lyricist Ellen McLaughlin and composer Sarah Kirkland Snyder, the recording of which topped author George M. Wallace's best albums of 2010. In a bit of fortuitous timing, it turns out some of the performers of the piece are from the Calder Quartet, which I'm seeing on October 2nd.

Wallace has an excellent review of the recording here. I looked it up on MOG and found it. It's a disarming, entrancing album, and works extremely well as a companion piece to the other album which has ensnared my attention these past weeks, Laura Marling's "A Creature I Don't Know." I heartily recommend both of them.

Speaking of recommendations, I've also been listening WTC 9/11, the new Steve Reich composition performed by Kronos Quartet. Disturbing, thoughtful and respectful, its use of recorded voices and music reminds me of the interesting work Joe Frank did in the 80's with "Work in Progress." It's an entirely more appropriate artistic response than the piffle of Heart of a Soldier, currently underway at San Francisco Opera.

Kronos will perform the local premiere of the work as part of an all-Reich program on October 9th. Both the Calder and Kronos programs are presented by Cal Performances and take place on the UC Berkeley campus.

All three recordings can be listened to on MOG.

The New Century Chamber Orchestra begins their 20th season

The New Century Chamber Orchestra is beginning its 20th anniversary season and I caught their San Francisco concert last night at the Herbst (the ensemble routinely performs each program in four venues around the Bay Area- Berkeley, Palo Alto and San Rafael are the other locations).

By the time I parked my motorcycle behind the opera house I was pretty exhausted from the day's events and the preceding week in general, but I was looking forward to the performance, especially since I had read Josh Kosman's enthusiastic review of Thursday's concert earlier in the day.

The ensemble gave an energized, well-executed performance during the two-hour concert, no doubt influenced by having their former and founding Music Director Stuart Canin as the featured soloist in the second work on the program, Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in D minor (an early composition, written when he was just 13). His presence created a visible enthusiasm on the faces of the musicians- more than a few of them couldn't keep from smiling through much of the piece, frequently casting admiring glances at him. When it was finished, the response can only be described as extremely enthusiastic from the both audience and orchestra, including some stomping of feet on the stage. As for the work itself, it supports the case for claiming Mendelssohn a child prodigy equal to Mozart, but like most juvenilia, it made me wish that a more mature work was performed instead, though the Allegro had energy bursting from all quarters.

Before that came Ernest Bloch's Concerto Grosso for String Orchestra with Piano Obbligato, composed in 1925 with Bach in mind but with an eye firmly set toward the future.  I'm not too familiar with Bloch's work, and one of the pleasures of the New Century is they frequently program works by lesser-known composers and as a string orchestra, the works themselves fall outside the standard rep by default. It's almost a given I'm going to hear something for the first time at one of their concerts and that was the case here.

And what an interesting and engaging piece this is. It's certainly not a piano concerto, but the presence of the piano is noticeable throughout, the score constantly drawing attention to where it is within the orchestra. Miles Graber's playing was notable for its graceful, seamless integration into the whole. This must have been particularly challenging for him because the positioning of the piano precluded him from watching director Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg's lead, and to me it appeared he was listening to where everyone else was at all times, and perhaps that's why the whole sounded so perfectly balanced. Each of the work's four movements were notable but I especially liked the Dirge of the second.

Speaking of sounding perfectly balanced, some acoustic modifications have been made to the theater with the installation of some material above the stage which pushes the sound out into the audience with greater lushness than is usually heard in the room.

The second half of the program was devoted to yet another re-working of Bizet's Carmen score, this one by the Russian composer Rodion Shcherdrin as a ballet written for his wife. I wish composers would leave Carmen alone. The orchestra took the stage with each member wearing something red- a tie, a hair accessory, red tights, etc. I'm not sure what this bit of whimsy was supposed to achieve- a scarlet nod to opera's most famous femme fatale? A reference to the blood on the floor at the opera's conclusion? It seemed a little silly to me and caused me to reflect on how the orchestra could benefit from some glammimg up, which is a ridiculous thought, isn't it? But there you have it. Perhaps its best not to draw attention to what otherwise would have gone unnoticed.

Now I don't know why, but for the second time this week I found myself at a concert thinking of The Music Man of all things. The other night while listening to Mahler's 3rd over at Davies I was struck by how much a moment in the score reminded me of "Till There Was You" and last night I thought of "Marian the Librarian" during more than one part of Shchredrin's suite. I guess that's better than being reminded of "Pick-a-Little (Talk-a-Little)" or "Goodnight Ladies," but still. While the piece was played with a lot of enthusiasm and verve, the work itself, broken into thirteen parts featuring the most popular bits of Bizet's score reworked in ways that are sometimes clever and at others obvious, didn't engage me at all and wasn't helped by the breaks between the sections, which brought the flowing music to halt a dozen times. My reaction was definitely not felt by that vast majority of the audience, which ate the whole thing up with relish, but I would have preferred some real Meredith Wilson.

The orchestra repeats the concert tonight at 5:00 pm at the Osher Marin Jewish Community Center in San Rafael. See the website for ticket information.

Mahler's Third Symphony (SFS 100 post #2)

Over the course of the last decade, during which the San Francisco Symphony performed and recorded Gustav Mahler's entire symphonic repertoire, I thought I had caught at least one performance of all of them, including the 3rd when it was last performed in 2002. Apparently my memory isn't what it used to be, because after Thursday night's performance I'm convinced I'd never heard the piece before. How could I have forgotten something so monumental- a work that when it concluded (two hours, no intermission) had struck me as being both ridiculous and stupendous?

The first movement is a monster of Milton-esque proportions as darkness and light fought one another for supremacy. It's the sound of things coming apart, falling into despair, where, by the sheer power of what- hope? love? pick a positive noun- the overwhelming sadness transforms into a jaunty march, striding into the sunlight, traipsing about like Professor Harold Hill holding the hand of Stuart Smalley, only to be pulled back into the shadows by clarion calls from the brass section while the strings shimmer ominously underneath them. Remorse, danger, despair- Mahler loads it all on top of one another, only to sweep it all away with bursts of brass, huge blasts from a ridiculously stuffed percussion section, and plaintive solos pushing everything back into the light- into a place where everything is redeemed because the forces of good always triumphing over those of evil. Yes, of course I know I've overwritten this and it's nonsense- consider it my homage to the first movement.

The second movement, "a sentimental minuet" according to the program notes, dances between yin and yang in more delicate ways, the percussion quiets down, allowing the winds and strings to explore more sensual terrain, which in MTT's hands entered into the realm of eros, yet even there something dark and sinister seemed to lurk under the covers. It's too pretty- too sentimental, and ends with a dream in which a promise goes unfulfilled. 

The third movement's a jaunty scherzo, manipulating the listener back into the lighter realms of the first, and for a long stretch it's a dance program which is suddenly interrupted by Mark Inouye's brilliant posthorn coming from the top of the house, evoking all the mysticism Mahler could muster. The dance then began anew, only to yield to the posthorn once again and everything slows down until the dance is allowed to resume. At this point I grew exasperated with it all, and wanted to let the darkness take over and have its way with me. And then as if on cue, the darkness returned, summoned by a blast of timpani and of course brass, but it didn't last, instead it was just another herald, the opening of the scherzo brought back at its close, this time with force.

The mezzo-soprano Katerina Karnéus had taken her place onstage before the third movement and now she's ready for her part as the fourth opens ominously. She sings some Nietzsche, as if there hasn't been enough fighting for the soul already (we've crossed the hour mark at this point), here's the woman in red telling us to "Take heed, humanity!" However, she does issue the warning beautifully, conveying the text's awareness of joy and pain. Notice a theme here? Of course you do, because Mahler is determined to keep hitting us over the head- darkness and light, joy and pain, spy vs. spy- all the complexities of the life split into competing factions and there is no middle ground anywhere to be seen.

Katerina Karnéus

The fifth movement opens with a rebuke to the sadness we just heard as the Women of the San Francisco Symphony Chorus and the San Francisco Girls Chorus chime in, complete with ding-dong bells accompanying them, singing the sweet song of angels.  The women and girls have been sitting in the rear terrace seats above the orchestra from the beginning and I had to wonder what mental exercises they must have performed to keep it together for almost an hour and a half before they get to sing less than five minutes of music. It just seems so unfair- almost sadistic on Mahler's part, to have all these people gathered for such a long time, only to have them contribute something so obvious, so fleeting, and ultimately inconsequential in light of what follows.

Which is the final movement (the sixth), an immense adagio. It's actually more than immense. It's monumental, and it was one of the most amazing performances I've ever heard. I haven't yet mentioned how glorious all of this sounded from the moment it began, but it did, as if MTT and the orchestra wanted to present the results of their experience with Mahler over the last ten years in this one performance, summed up in this last movement, as if to state this is where we've come, this is what we can do, this is what ten years of exploring Mahler sounds like. And it was nothing short of phenomenal. The adagio reaches for Tristan level emotion and scale and the orchestra took it all the way there without flinching. Wave after wave of gorgeous passages unfurled from the stage, filling the hall with a magnificent wall of sound. It was exhausting, but it was thrilling. I would gladly sit through it all again, just to hear that last movement one more time.

There are two performances left and tickets are available as of the time I write this and since this is the only Mahler on the schedule for the entire year, you may want to get over to Davies tonight or tomorrow afternoon. So far, the Centennial Season is off to a pretty amazing start.

Rockit, Herbie

Vinnie Colaiuta took the stage first, took a seat behind the drum kit, and started it off with a funky beat. James Jenus followed, picked up a five string bass, and threw it in behind Colaiuta, solidifying a groove that would would have made Sly & Robbie envious. From stage right came Lionel Loueke, strapping on a guitar with a sunburst finish, and the three began to groove, Loueke chipping in behind the rhythm section with pedal-produced bits of xylophone effects. In the middle of the stage sat a gleaming grand piano, a Korg Kronos synthesizer set at a right angle to the piano's keyboard. Behind the left of the piano a large Apple monitor displayed a psychadelic screen saver, and a Roland AX-7 rest horizontally on a stand next to it.

Herbie Hancock strode onto the stage in black jeans and shoes, a brightly patterned red shirt and waved to the cheering audience in the well-sold house. I can't believe the man is 71 years old- he easily looks 20 years younger. Taking a seat at the Korg, he pulled the band into a tight, funky version of 1974's  "Actual Proof," taken at a hard, funked out bop. Hancock swiveled to the piano and began working with Colaiuta, percolating the song toward a crescendo and when it hits, it hits with a bang but it doesn't stop-  he lets it subside so Loueke can join in and bring it back to another climax. I'm just sitting there, somewhat amazed at how tight these guys are out the gate.

When it ended Hancock grabbed a mike and stood center-stage, smiling.

"You have no idea what it's like to play with these musicians... This is dangerous stuff."

And for the next hour and a half he proceeded to back those words up with some funk-laden jazz that covered a lot of the ground he's explored in his fifty-year plus long career, chops on display all the way.

"Watermelon Man" came next, done in 70's Headhunters-style, rather than the original 60's version. It segued into a tune called "Seventeens"- a nod to the time it's played in, composed by Loueke for the band. In the middle of all of this Hancock grabbed the Roland and had something of a bass-off with Genus, the only section of the show that bogged, depending on one's enthusiasm for lengthy indulgences (my own is obviously not deep). During the extended jam, everyone got their moment to show off in a solo.

Hancock took the mike again, this time to oversell Loueke's coming solo turn, which was impressive, but didn't exactly deliver what Hancock billed it as, which was something along the lines of you won't believe this is only one man and one guitar. Actually, the one guitar part was easy- it was Loueke's processed vocals accompanying it that was truly a surprise. Both his voice and guitar were drenched in effect, delivering some sounds from his native Benin with mesmerizing results, making me regret I missed his recent show presented by SFJazz last season.

Then came the moment I was really looking forward to more than anything, Hancock alone on the piano, performing an improvisation that went deep into conflicted territory before coming to light as "Someone to Watch Over Me"- the extended intro passage in hindsight sounded like a plea, or justification for needing just that.

The band returned and began "Speak Like a Child," but it wasn't long before that turned into a bumping version of "Cantaloupe Island" that kept chugging along for quite awhile, giving both Genus and Loueke generous moments to shine, while Colaiuta kept the beat incredibly tight.

And that was that- almost. The band returned for an encore of "Chameleon" that was just drenched in funk, more than once entering deep P-Funk territory. It was pretty glorious to behold stretching out to the length found on the album version.

Done with it, the band lined up in front of the stage and took a bow. "Rockit" blasted over the PA and Hancock led the band in a little Bros Johnson style move, albeit a Senior's version- it was charming. The crowd rose, gave them a standing ovation, the band walked off, leaving the beautiful noise of Grandmaster DST's scratching to put a smile on everyone's face as they headed for the doors.

The next gigs on the tour are Sept. 23rd in San Diego with this band and then he's performing with the LA Phil at Disney Hall on Sept. 27th. I'd love to see that.

Cal Performances presented on the show. They've an entire Sunday of free performances for the entire family and all tastes coming up this weekend on Sunday September 25th. Check Free For All out.

"The king's name is a tower of cash"

Over at Iron Tongue of Midnight Lisa Hirsch has been writing about the difficulties she's experienced ordering tickets from the San Francisco Symphony. I'm going to jump on her bandwagon and complain about a different local arts company and how ridiculous their ticket-purchasing set-up is to navigate and how they're totally gouging the public with "fees."

Yes, I'm talking about you, Shorenstein/ SHNSF. Your system stinks.

In trying to buy tickets to the upcoming run of Richard III featuring Kevin Spacey at the Curran next month, Isabella and I found two different sites selling two different sets of tickets at two different price points. All of which were incredibly expensive ($578 for an orchestra seat???). One can buy tickets from either the SHN site or the Curran site. The Curran site folds the fee into the ticket price, which still adds up to a pretty hefty fee even at the back of the balcony. The SHN site adds the fee to the already exorbitant price (orchestra- $400+ fees!). Not only that, but once you select your ticket on the SHN site good luck figuring out how to actually buy it.

The Curran is easier to navigate, but their prices top out at an unbelievable $578 per ticket (yes- I had to write this twice), with the cheapest seats going for $78.

Now I live within walking distance of the box offices for both the Curran and the Orpheum and we wanted to walk over to the box office and buy them there and save some money by avoiding these incredible online fees. We made three phone calls trying to find out the box office hours before we hit the right information- which is that there isn't any. Why?

Because the box office doesn't open until 09/30. There is no other way to buy tickets except online to a run which will likely be sold-out by then. So bend over theater-going public, and pony up at least an extra $30 a ticket in fees if you want to see some Shakespeare- and give yourself at least an hour to figure it all out.

So much for making attending the performing arts easier for the public.

Not all companies, indeed most, aren't this bad- I just find SHN to be a particularly horrible (and greedy?) example of this. Fie!

Laura Marling at Bimbo's

Two weeks ago I was reading the New York Times article about Laura Marling and for some odd reason, even though the description of her music didn't really appeal to me, I clicked on the stream to listen to her new album A Creature I Don't Know. The first two songs, "The Muse" and "I Was Just a Card" sounded good enough- better than I expected for an artist unfortunately tagged as an "English folk singer,"- there was a rough, jagged quality to Marling's voice- amused, yet angry, which appealed to me and the songs had unusual touches, but the third song, "Don't Ask Me Why" grabbed me with its graceful melody and lyrics and hasn't let go since I first heard it. The song has a refrain that was disturbingly appropriate for what I was feeling that particular day:

Those of us/ Who are lost and low/ I know how you feel/  

I know it's not right but it's real/ But it's real

I ended up listening to the entire album at least half a dozen times that day and a couple of times the next morning before going out for a walk.

When I first moved to San Francisco in 1993 I lived in a tiny, dark basement apartment between North Beach and Russian Hill. I was dead broke, didn't have a job, and spent a lot of afternoons on a bench in Washington Square Park trying to figure out what to do next with my life. I rarely visit the neighborhood anymore and when I do it's usually to sit on one of those benches and try to see what's coming next- just like I used to do all those years ago.

That's what I was doing on the morning of the recent Labor Day, and after sitting on a bench watching people play with their dogs and listening to some derelicts banging out a fairly decent, though drunken, version of "Sympathy for the Devil" on a guitar and some cans, I got up to make my way down Columbus, headed for the Bay. As I walked toward Bimbo's I looked up and saw Laura Marling was going to be there on the 17th. How serendipitous, I thought. When I returned home that afternoon I bought tickets.

Last Saturday night GG and I were standing outside of Bimbo's in a line longer than I anticipated, talking about the recent misfortunes of some people close to us, waiting to get in. In the back of my mind I thought the line was too long for us to get a table once we were inside but it turned out I was wrong and we easily found a table along the wall, giving us a perfect view of the stage. The first round of drinks came pretty quickly. There are many things I love about GG, not least of which is her enthusiasm for bourbon on the rocks, which rivals, and probably surpasses, my own.

An hour and two more rounds later, the lights dimmed and Alessi's Ark took the stage to open the show. Alessi's Ark is basically Alessi- a diffident young woman with long straight brown which has never held product nor felt a blow dryer. She was greeted enthusiastically by the young Lilith-fair types who were crowded up front of the stage. Backed by a single guitarist (whose name isn't "Ark"), she proceeded to play pretty much the same slow song for an hour, pausing every three or four minutes to rename it and then play it again, with somewhat different lyrics each time. After the fourth or fifth version, GG leaned over to me and said "She makes Bread sound like Metallica."

I chortled at this truism and a second later some wit in the audience called out "Free Bird," causing some bourbon to exit my nose. Alessi took all of this in stride, commenting that it's okay to like Lynyrd Skynyrd, which endeared her a bit to me, but I was still pleased when she was finished with her set, which lasted 30 or 40 minutes, though it felt like three days. When it was over GG and I tried to figure out how she ended up on this tour and decided that there must be an old connection between her and Marling- two friends who started out in the same place, one now taking the other along though they are clearly no longer musical peers.

While there was a steady exodus of people to the back bar during Alessi's set, during the break the club became packed- it looked sold-out. The floor was filled with a lot of young women, many of them in pairs and trios, along with guys who wore obvious "my girlfriend dragged me this?" looks on their faces. There was also a sizable contingent of the curious of a certain age and the usual suspects who decided this was the cool gig to see this weekend- one of whom blabbed incessantly about herself during Marling's set to the point I got up and asked her to shut up, which she did.

Marling came on at 9:30, backed by five other musicians and began the set with "Rambling Man" from her previous album, I Speak Because I Can. Her demeanor with the audience was loose, though she too exhibited diffidence. Maybe it's tick of young British females? The band was tight from the beginning, needing no time to warm up, and "Goodbye England (Covered in Snow)" felt very evocative on an atypically warm San Francisco evening. I can't remember the name of the pianist/guitar player but he was excellent on both.

My hope for the show was for Marling to play some songs from her previous albums and then perform A Creature I Don't Know in its entirety. It didn't go that way, though she did perform most of the album, highlights of the set being the gorgeous, Zeppelin-esque "Sophia" and the medley of "Don't Ask Me Why" and "Salinas," strung together as they are on the album.

The the centerpiece of the album, "The Beast," was strangely left out of the set and I found this extremely puzzling. Closing appropriately enough with "All My Rage," the performance felt briefer than it actually was, lasting perhaps an hour and a half. Not brief in a bad way, but in the way which leaves one wanting more, which the audience clearly did. Diffidence aside, Marling is an alluring presence on stage- not seeking any attention but claiming it effortlessly, she's not quite mesmerizing, but she's close. She's still at an early stage of her career and it will be interesting to see how her stage presence grows. In five years I suspect she's going to as commanding onstage as anyone, especially if her songwriting and guitar-playing skills continue to grow at the present exponential rate. In that time, perhaps she'll also get around to understanding how to build tension through a setlist, instead of seemingly deciding to just play the tunes in an apparently random order (even though that's unlikely). As an artist with such strong material, she could benefit from being more fearless in front of an audience- what in the end turned out to be a very good show felt like it could have been truly great had she just set the beast free.

There are a few more U.S. gigs, some of which are already sold-out. Check Marling's website for details of the tour and I can't recommend A Creature I Don't Know strongly enough. It's my favorite album in years.

As we made our way back toward my part of town after the gig, the ugliness of North Beach on a Saturday night was beginning to bloom. Two hours after we walked through the neighborhood, two bystanders would be hit by police gunfire in an incident on Broadway. We headed for the relative safety of the Tenderloin, bought some pizza and beer, and talked until two in the morning.

9/11 as opera- a bad idea, poorly done

"We said at the beginning, we were not going to write a '9/11' opera. We wanted to be true to who Rick [Rescorla] was throughout his life," librettist Donna Di Novelli claims in the program notes for the world premier of composer Christopher Theofanidis' Heart of a Soldier, now onstage at the War Memorial Opera House courtesy of San Francisco Opera's David Gockley and director Francesca Zambello. Perhaps that was the intent at the beginning, but the end is result is indeed a "9/11 opera" and a woefully inadequate one at that, though I don't really have any idea what would  be an adequate artistic response to that event.

Through press releases and various interviews, the public's been led to believe this opera is about the life of one man, Rick Rescorla, an undisputed hero who died while leading 2,700 Morgan Stanley employees to safety that morning; his autumn romance with Susan Greer, who would become his second wife; and his long friendship with his fellow soldier Dan Hill. It was based on a book of the same name written by James B. Stewart. Let me get one thing out of the way- I haven't read the book Heart of a Soldier, and I'm of the firm belief that like a film based on a book, to be considered successful a work must stand on its own apart from whatever it's based on, independent of the source material. Of course knowing the source helps immensely, and no doubt based on what I've read, the raw material for an opera about Rescorla exists, but it's not present here. The wrong people were hired to bring this to the stage.

The fallacy behind the claims of Heart of a Soldier not being about 9/11 begins with the extremely uncomfortable decision of San Francisco Opera to begin each performance with the National Anthem. What is the rationale behind this decision? What is this supposed to mean or represent to the audience? While the anthem sounds beautiful when sung by 3000 people in the house, it also feels horribly wrong. Is this part of the stage direction? Is the audience going to be requested to stand and rise for the "Star Spangled Banner" if the opera is performed at Covent Garden? Then why here? I presume this isn't being done at each performance of Turandot.Why this opera, if this is about a hero- and not about 9/11?

The entire opera clocks in at two hours and fifteen minutes, including a twenty minute intermission. That's a good half-hour shorter than a Transformers movie- and that's the biggest problem in Heart of Soldier- with the exception of one scene in the second act, it comes across as a series of  strung together sketches and vignettes, devoid of a story arc and any real character development, just a series of scenes from a life (or three), until we get to that September morning when everyone in the audience knows what's coming next. To make it what the creators claimed they wanted, the work would have had to have been nearly twice as long- and should have been.
There are perhaps four real arias in the entire opera- none of which are terribly moving nor memorable when removed from the context- you likely would never want to hear them again, nor would you likely remember the melodies, because there aren't any. The best one is sung by a symbolic character -one without any real relevance to the story. The libretto is dull in the first act and in the second, which features the romance between the Rescorlas, much of the libretto falls beneath the lamest dialogue found in Hollywood's romantic comedies- or a 3rd tier television show. It's dreadful stuff. Over and over again, each emotion, each important moment, is given two lines, and then it's on to the next part of the story- it's all exposition instead of development.

Repeatedly at the points in the story where the the audience should reasonably expect some true character development or dramatic tension to develop because this is all based on real people and real events, Theofanidis and Di Novello quickly move on to the next plot point in Rescorla's biography, shedding no light on who the man really was, nor what motivated him and Daniel Hill  (hell, I would have been happy with some interesting music, but that's nowhere to be found either).  Instead they've created what may well be the first Power Point opera- Rescorla's life is rendered as a series of bullet points, the geographic locations where it unfolds (England, Rhodesia, Vietnam, Fort Benning) are merely slides to put them on. Nothing sticks, nothing grows, yet all the while the audience knows where this is all headed. Why? Because it ends on the morning of 9/11- and there is nothing in the opera for two hours that stops us along the way, forcing us to consider why this story is going to end on this day. We just know that it does- because it is the 9/11 opera.

There is one scene in the opera that does work and works painfully well- because its the one point in the work that everyone in the audience is going to respond to in their own deeply personal way. It's unavoidable. When the chorus starts to sing about how beautifully blue the sky is on that September morning- and it was a remarkably blue sky that morning- we all know that- it's part of the horror, and knowing what's coming made me choke up. It's extremely effective and you know what? It's fucking manipulative. Nothing in the work itself merits that response.

We don't know these characters to care enough about them as they are presented here- the Rescorlas and Hill are meant to portray us- Americans (and those who want to be), that is, real people with our hopes, dreams, expectations, sense of duty, fears- but they don't because unlike in an opera (or film or novel) where we see ourselves in the characters- or people we'd like to imagine ourselves to be- those people aren't brought to life onstage in Heart of a Soldier- they're in a book, they exist (or existed) in real-life, but they are not on the stage. Avatars are on the stage. And yet because we are talking about an event so complicated to us still, even after what feels like an incredibly brief ten years, that response comes from the collective emotions forged from an event the audience understands through their own history, yet that's not what's being portrayed on the stage.

At the work's conclusion, there is one important, notable musical masterstroke in an otherwise largely unimpressive score- the opera ends on an ascending series of chords leading inexorably to a point where the listener anticipates resolution- and there is none. The music just stops.

Zambello's direction is distractingly cinematic in places, at others it just doesn't gel. In the first act characters appear on stage with no justification- Juliet appears in three of the first four scenes, but I can't tell you why. At the end of the Vietnam segment, there is a noticeable shift in Dan's character that is unexplained, left to the audience to perhaps infer the horrors of X-Ray has caused two men who were mirrors of one another to suddenly take different radically different approaches to how they handle the men they command. Links are missing everywhere. At a wedding in Dallas in 1972 the guests do a dance that looks like it belongs in a production of Eugene Onegin. The collected wives in the Dallas scene form a chorus whose lyrics are so banal it's almost painful.

The second act doesn't fare any better as we enter the last three years of Rescorla's life. Melody Moore makes a game effort to give Susan some depth but she's undermined by the libretto at every turn. Thomas Hampson's middle-aged Rescorla under Zambello's direction morphs from hero to sitcom character during their meeting and courtship- I suppose its meant to make them real to us, but their romance, described as the most improbable that could have happened to either of them at this point in their lives, is developed faster than a hook-up on Jersey Shore- and the saddest part is there's hardly any singing to take us along the path of these lovers- just lots of dialogue and a few lines sung here and there. And yet this romance is supposed to anchor the entire work? I'm not saying Susan has to drop her key in front of Rescorla while he's jogging and ask him to help her find it, or that he has to unwittingly drink a love potion, but this is an opera and if two people are going to fall in love like they never have before they deserve some music to accompany it- and so does the audience. Their duet starts off "Do you ever wish there wasn't so much before this?" I wished there was something either before or after to show why we should even care.

Shortly after that the happy Rescorla describes the woman of his life with this beautiful, descriptive phrase: "She's funny. She's warm." That's all we get. Sure, the man is a military guy, but he hasn't been shown thus far to be the quiet brooding type so couldn't we have more than this? It would be one thing if he'd been portrayed as complex and conflicted up to this point but that's not the case. The characters just have no development in an opera that seems more interested in getting us to the horrible ending than in making us care about the people we're following there.

An example of how this could have been so much better? There's a part where Rescorla admits he has a "filthy habit" of smoking cigars. Susan confesses she likes them too and Rescorla feels this seals it- she is indeed the perfect woman for him. What should have followed was a scene where they are smoking cigars together. It would have been sexy. It would have made them real to us. Instead the story just kept chugging along.

Another miss- when Dan is discussing Bin Laden, there is no difference discernible in the music. Not that the music had any leit motives that I noticed, but if the libretto is going to mention OBL why wouldn't the composer take that opportunity to make a musical statement within the context? Instead there's nothing.

Hampson's big moment- an aria which begins with the line "We fought side by side at Marathon..." was the only aria to garner any applause. I'm not sure I want any applause moments during a 9/11 opera, much less comedic ones that seem like they came from an old episode of Rhoda, but if there's going to be one, than give the audience one for each major character. Sadly- and freakishly, the most startling, beautiful vocal moment in the entire work comes from Mohannad Mchallah's call to prayer. It's more stylized than any other vocal part in the opera- and the most effective. And for some reason that exoticism annoys me greatly- both its presence, which comes from a poorly explained part of Hill's character development, and its emphasis, which is left completely unresolved within the story when Hill returns to New York as if he'd never really left, though as a Muslim he claims to be in much better physical shape than Rescorla is now.

The music during the evacuation adds no drama, and the sound of the towers being hit doesn't chill the listener like it should. It should, right? If you're going to render an event of this magnitude on the stage than do it and then create a catharsis for the audience after it. Of course that's impossible- which is why it would have been better to not attempt it in the first place- at least not like this.

Having said all that, William Burden's Hill was the vocal and acting highlight of the afternoon. Though they seemed engaged in their roles, I just felt badly watching Hampson and Moore sing this stuff. In smaller roles Michael Sumuel was extremely effective, as were Adler Fellows Nadine Sierra, Maya Lahyani, Susannah Biller and Sarah Gartland.

The People: San Francisco

Braving what turned out to be a typical San Francisco evening (cold and windy), a few hundred people gathered in front of the ZSpace building on Florida Street last night to witness the unfolding of Big Art Group's The People: San Francisco, the fourth version an event which has previously been staged in Italy, Germany and Austria. New York gets its turn next month. The production involves a live video transmission broadcast onto the side of a building while the audience watches what's taking place inside from the street outside- or from inside the building if they wish. The live feed is inter-cut with previously filmed interviews of locals discussing topics like justice, democracy, terrorism and their personal histories. The interviews take the form of a Greek chorus, commenting on the live action, which is a loose re-enactment of Aeschylus' Oresteia. It works remarkably well.


Sprayed across the large paned windows of the ZSpace building in five large blocks,  the images are distorted in a way that sometimes made the footage seem surreal and unsettling, such as when Clytemnestra murders Agamemnon, while during others it made me wish they were using a flat wall so the details were clearer. I'm not sure if that was the desired effect or if the Big Art Group was forced to work with the space they were given - a large, flat, windowless building might have worked much better visually.  From a block away the images were clear, but the audio was difficult to make out. Still, it works- the cumulative result seen from the street creates an effect which blurs the lines for the viewer, as if we're watching a documentary one can't quite trust, not because of the content, but because of how its being presented. It's Greek tragedy presented as a combination of cinema verite, reality television, and Errol Morris documentary.

Done with a cast of locals, some of whom really stand out (especially the women who portray Clytemnestra, Elektra and Iphigenia), The People: San Francisco presents a local view of how members of this community feel and think about current political and personal issues. Big Art Group's editors juxtapose this contemporary local view with the Oresteia story to illustrate the timelessness, or universality, of conflict and disorder. An off-screen director can be heard cutting off the actors and making humorous comments, keeping the production from lapsing into the didactic.

The people interviewed range from the youthful to the elderly and across racial lines, creating a true sense of community taking part in the whole and that same variety was visible in the audience as well- lots of seniors and girls in mini-skirts milled about the crowd along with the usual hipsters, aging and not, everyone freezing it seemed, but engaged in what turned to be a contemporary agora, complete with food trucks and lattes.

It happens again tonight at 8. 450 Florida Street between 17th and Mariposa. Parking is pretty easy. Tickets are $10. Presented by YBCA and ZSpace. Food and drinks begin at 6:00 PM and the performance ended at 9:20. Dress warmly.

MOG vs Spotify, round two: MOG hits back with free service

Apparently in an effort to out-box Spotify, MOG is now offering a free version of its service supported by ads. There's a difference in that it uses game technology to encourage users to share what they're listening to with friends and check out new music, and by doing so the user "earns" more free music. It sounds a bit complicated- at least to me, since I'm not a gamer, but it's explained in depth on the MOG Blog.

The new, free service is only available online, and while I think it's a great way for those still playing the MOG vs Spotify challenge to decide which service they prefer, for ten bucks a month I say MOG is an incredible deal so just take the plunge. I'm constantly amazed by what I find available on it. Plus, the MOG Blog is a good place to find out about re-issues and new releases- there's no way I would have otherwise known that Kid Creole and the Coconuts have a new album out, almost every Pink Floyd album is about to be re-issued in deluxe packages, and Grace Jones' "Hurricane" is available in the US for the first time now as a double album.

One of the best aspects about subscribing to music online is that it really does make it incredibly easy to engage with music almost immediately. Last weekend Molly and I were discussing, well, pretty much everything under the sun, and she mentioned Jackson Browne was her favorite singer. Snob that I am, I met that proclamation with a bit of derision, only to find out the next day as I was reading Keith Richards' autobiography that he listened to "Running on Empty" constantly when it came out. So guess what- I'm revisiting an album that I haven't listened to in over 30 years, with older ears and you know what? Molly and Keith know a thing or two.

You can subscibe to MOG or get in on the free service by clicking that link over there on the right.

Laura Marling, Big Art Group this weekend

There's an awful lot going on this weekend- Yo-Yo Ma is in town, Booker T opens up SFJazz's fall season, Turandot and Heart of a Soldier are both onstage at the War Memorial Opera House. And there are two other things you should see if you can.


First of all, on Friday and Saturday night YBCA presents  Big Art Group's The People: San Francisco at Z Space - a narrative constructed from interviews with members of the local community who voice their thoughts about democracy, war, terrorism and justice as it relates to their personal histories. Live theatrical reenactments are intercut with earlier, taped interviews, which will be projected via large-scale video onto the side of the Z Space building where the live-play and video will be viewed by the audience at street level.  Perceived as a kind of “living television,” The People repurposes commonly used media strategies such as video clips, interviews and re-enactments, to explore extraordinary forces reshaping contemporary government. It then sculpts these developments into a performative action that takes as its inspiration the foundational idea of community dialogue and the birth of democracy. Below is a video prepped for the event:

Starting at 6:00 p.m., there will be a pre-show, no-host party with a beer garden at the Coffee Bar, which is across the street from Z Space at Mariposa and 17th streets. Friday night will feature a Taco Thrown Down with special guest chefs, and on Saturday surprise specialty chefs will prepare some of their favorite dishes. The cost is $10, free for YBCA members.


The other big deal this weekend is Laura Marling's debut in the U.S. at Bimbo's 365 Club on Saturday night (she hits LA for gigs Sunday and Tuesday, Chicago on Thursday). Touring in support of her third album, the stunning A Creature I Don't Know, the young British singer is a recent NME and Brit award winner and seems on the verge of breaking out in a tremendous way. She's popping up in the press all over place, and in this case you can believe the hype. Alessi's Ark opens the show. Tickets are $20.


Below is a video of Marling performing "Sophia" from her new album:

See you there?

Yo-Yo Ma, San Francisco Symphony begin the Centennial Seaon (SFS 100 post #1)

Chad Newsome and I were walking toward my apartment for a brief stop before getting dinner prior to the performance when the Little Chinese Man came running toward us.

"Hi Tom!" I called out cheerfully. LCM stopped, like a well-trained dog, and spun around on one foot to look at his greeter, arms extended in reverse akimbo, reminding me of a bat frozen in mid-flight.

"Oh hi!" he said, taking a second to recognize his double. "I have to run along now!"

"Okay, take care," I said.

Chad turned to me, an incredulous look on his face, "Was that...?"

"Yep," I replied.

"Wow. He really does exist. I had no idea," Chad muttered, as much to himself, as to me.

Fifteen minutes later we were seated in a booth at Urban Tavern, where two weeks before I and a certain notorious female "ambushed" him as he claims. Taking him to dinner and to see Yo-Yo Ma was my penance, for really, it pains me to do Chad a false turn. The hostesses at Urban tavern are really some of the best-dressed I see in this town. Tonight the younger one was manning the station wearing a brilliant white Ralph Lauren dress which she claimed was new but had a serious retro 60's flair to it. I assumed it was another Mad Men inspired fashion statement, this one better than most I see about town. We both ordered the fish and chips proceeded to discuss what has happened in the aftermath of the ambush, as we haven't spoken since. There was much to catch up on.

After dinner we walked down to Davies, to attend the first "real" concert of the San Francisco Symphony's centennial season, since the festivities of last week don't really count, most of all because I didn't attend them due to circumstances of a nefarious nature perpetrated on me by the same notorious female mentioned above and my subsequent departure to Alabama the next day.

Arriving early, we hung fire and surveyed the crowd. We were both taken by a certain metallic-hued dress and its perfect fit upon its bearer, both of us approving with a glance at each other before confirming it with words. Other than that, we noted the crowd seemed quirky tonight, an unusual mix of the regulars and those drawn out by the appearance of the world's most popular classical musician. Chad espied an unfortunate couple, the woman wearing a striped dress he assigned as a woman of ill-repute, but I just thought it an unfortunate match which obviously originated from a personal ad on Craig's List that would go no further than this performance.

It's a nice touch that the SFS begins and ends this milestone season with works by Beethoven which celebrate the triumph of the human spirit. Tonight's concert began with the Leonore Overture No. 3, which is a common item in the concert hall, but since I listen to Fidelio regularly it was a bit of a shock to be reminded how long it's been since I've heard this and how little it bears in common with the overture used in the opera.

The piece was given a rich, luxuriant treatment by MTT and the orchestra, taken at a pace that brought out the majesty within it. Heads turned in the orchestra section when the solo horn radiated from the balcony, its effect perfectly placed. There was an exceptionally strong flute solo by Tim Day, and a minute before the conclusion, principal cellist Michael Grebanier broke out in a grin, which was taken up by associate principal Peter Wyrick. It's almost a guaranteed night of musical excellence when these two are onstage together. But all the heavy hitters were onstage tonight except Nadya Tichman, and at various moments they all shone. Musically, the orchestra is sounding better than ever.

Yo-Yo Ma came out to a sustained welcome from the audience and warmly greeted members of the orchestra before settling in to perform the Hindemith Cello Concerto. This was the first time I've heard the piece and it's also my first time seeing Ma perform in person. I was intrigued by how aware he was of what was happening around him and how he anticipated what was taking place among the other players, but in a manner that had no artifice in it all, as if he was truly part of the larger ensemble even though he and everyone else onstage knew the show was sold out because of his presence. His presence is akin to that of a guest at a party that everyone adores and without whom it just wouldn't be the same. When the performance ended I was struck by how genuinely enthused and pleased the entire orchestra seemed to have him there. I've never seen a guest artist so warmly applauded the orchestra, so many grins onstage, Even Barantschik was actually applauding with his hands, which I've never seen him do before. Ma had warm hugs for Grebanier.

As for the performance? Ma handled his solo parts as one would expect, though I detected a couple of possible flubs that didn't sound quite right to my ear. Nevertheless, he displayed a dazzling amount of skill as he worked his way down the neck of his instrument, resulting in some frenzied solo passages which frankly reminded me of late 70's Eddie Van Halen in terms of dexterity and execution. The work itself seemed to border on novelty to me, with its frequent lapses into tremendous crescendos and volumes at the expense of any subtlety. There's nothing in it that immediately struck my mind as "ah, that's unique"- Shostakovitch did all these things better to my mind, with an emotion not detectable in Hindemith's work, though I may have a different opinion after repeated listenings

There was some audience attrition at intermission, and when the orchestra returned to play Brahms' Symphony No. 1 there were more than a few vacant seats. The row in front of us was nearly empty, and a young couple scampered over  and took the seats in front of us to get a better view. As the young woman rested her head on her date's shoulder I was reminded of how these evenings at the Symphony mean different things to different people, and how my own reaction to them has changed over the years. I used to think it a romantic evening out myself, long ago. Now I just go for the music. There are hundreds of people in the audience occupying a mental state in between, and probably many others occupying a state I'm unaware of- including people who may be interested in buying this ridiculous souvenir of the Centennial Season, the MTT kitchen apron ($32.95+ tax):

Pity to those who departed, because they missed an absolutely thrilling performance of the Brahms which I thought was the evening's highlight. Now I have to admit I'm not a tremendous fan of Brahms- why would one listen to Brahms when there's plenty of Beethoven or Wagner to put on the stereo? On top of that, the Romantic period has never struck me as being MTT's strongest suit, unless it's Russian. Tonight did away with all of that thinking, and MTT delivered a stunningly gorgeous performance. I've never heard the strings in this orchestra sound richer than they did in the first movement. In the second Barantschik played the solo parts with exquisite feeling, peeling off note after note of beautiful, lush sounds. The horns shone in the 3rd, led by Robert Ward. In the overly long 4th movement Robin McKee was fabulous and Carey Bell, Bill Bennett, Stephen Paulson all added significantly to the whole. The brass section was in exceptional form as well, all of this leading me to appreciate Brahms in a way I never have before. Consider me a convert- at least when played like this.

There was no clapping between movements during the entire concert (for a change) and although the guy two seats down from seemed like he was going to lose a lung in a coughing fit during the Hindemith, overall it was the quietest, most attentive audience I've witnessed in Davies in years- all the more exceptional for it being completely packed.

It was a memorable start to what promises to be an exceptional year. The rest of the performances are sold out, but you may get lucky and score a return by calling the box at the last minute. It would be worth the effort.

Strike the Spiegeltent- Teatro ZinZanni to close

Inside the Spiegeltent

Sadly, word went out today that after more than eleven years, 800,000 visitors, hundreds of guest artists and 40 different shows, Teatro ZinZanni will shutter the fabled Palais Nostalgique Spiegeltent on Pier 29 after its 2011 New Year’s Eve show. 


Teatro’s current home on Piers 27 and 29 is scheduled to be a part of the upcoming America’s Cup and the Bay Area treasure is working closely with the City to locate a new permanent home. Longtime Bay Area comedian and clown Geoff Hoyle (a veteran of Pickle Family Circus, Cirque du Soleil, A.C.T. and Berkeley Rep to name a few) and blues singer Duffy Bishop, a Teatro ZinZanni favorite since 1999 who has released eight albums in addition to performing with various legends such as Bo Diddley, John Lee Hooker, Lou Rawls and Ruth Brown, will headline the final (and brand new) production, On the Air, accompanied by an acclaimed international cast beginning October 13 and closing December 31, 2011. In a storyline that echoes Teatro ZinZanni’s own struggles to remain in San Francisco, the plot revolves around the struggle to keep a local radio station on the air.


The other performers are also heavyweights I've seen in previous ZinZanni productions, which makes this final run all the more alluring. Joining the cast of On The Air is Bernard Hazens who has been thrilling Teatro ZinZanni crowds for the past four years with his one of a kind act, a dynamically choreographed combination of acrobatics, juggling and Rola Bola; Danielle Rueda-Watts, an aerial silk artist featured in the hit movie musical Chicago and the documentary of Michael Jackson’s final tour This Is It; Wayne Doba, hailed by Donald O’Connor as a “throwback to the old Vaudeville days” and Cirque du Soleil veteran Andrea Conway Doba with her physical comedy and acrobatic mischief; resident opera diva Kristin Clayton, a graduate of the prestigious San Francisco Opera Adler Fellow Program and well known for her performances of contemporary works by composer such as Conrad Susa, Jake Heggie and Peter Ash; Manuela Horn, otherwise known as the Austrian Amazon, a yodeling, dancing, acting comedic force of nature; Christopher Phi, a San Francisco native and graduate of the prestigious Notre Dame de Namur University, who showcases his handbalancing and aerial artistry; and multi-media performance artist Mat Plendl, who brings his own form of magic to the tent in the form of a hula-hoop.

Danielle Rueda-Watts: Photo by Michael Doucett

 “We are proud to trace our lineage back to the very beginnings of theater in San Francisco,” said Norm Langill, Teatro ZinZanni’s President and Artistic Director.  “From the Rowe Circus to the National Theater to the Tivoli Opera House founded during the Gold Rush, Teatro ZinZanni is one in a long line of high spirited San Francisco theatrical experiences combining the arts of vaudeville, cabaret, cirque and opera with great food and strong drink– a winning combination if ever there was on." Amen to that. This is a significant loss for San Francisco and one can only hope the City comes up with a plan to relocate the troupe. 

Norm Langill: Photo by Drew Altizer

Langill continued:"Showbiz is unpredictable, but we can celebrate an amazing eleven year run on Pier 27 and 29. I’m constantly humbled by the enthusiasm of our audiences, the talent of our performers and staff and the support from the City of San Francisco. Working together with city leaders, we are determined to find a permanent home in San Francisco– for Teatro ZinZanni is now part of the terrific fabric of cultural institutions that give this city  its unparalleled reputation for arts and culture. Our show mirrors the spirit of this city – a magical place that embraces silliness, frivolity, fun, intimacy and self expression. We’ll be back. This is home.”


There will be an "Americana” menu to complement the theme of the performances.  Understandably, ticket demand will be high for these final shows so do yourself a favor and get yours now by phone at 415/438-2668 or online at http://love.zinzanni.org. If you've seen ZinZanni before, you know you won't want to miss what may be their swan song. If you haven't seen this incredibly entertaining and talented company before, just go before it's too late.




NB: some of the copy in this post was pulled and reworded by me from a press release ZinZanni sent to me, but I wouldn't print it if I didn't think it to be true- J.M.