The Goat Rodeo Sessions (recovered)

On Saturday night Cal Performances presented Yo-Yo Ma, Chris Thile, Edgar Meyer and Stuart Duncan, a collaboration that goes under the name The Goat Rodeo Sessions, to a thrilled full house at UC Berkeley's Greek Theater. While it was hardly strictly bluegrass, American roots music was the foundation upon which most of the evening's music built upon, though there were definite classical strains to be heard, and even what could be called "new-age" (before the term became associated with ersatz easy-listening). Though Ma is obviously a big part of the quartet's box-office appeal, what made the evening work is the musical parity between the participants.

In fact, it was Thile who emerged as the group's natural leader on the stage. The musicianship of each player draws attention, and each has numerous moments to shine individually, but it's Thile to whom one's attention constantly returns as he plays the mandolin at the extreme ends of the instrument's range, mesmerizing whether he's robustly plucking or gently strumming. Ma is the epitome of the gracious, warm performer, both toward the audience and his fellow musicians, and despite his status as the world's most popular classical musician, the Goat Rodeo Sessions is a real ensemble. Everyone shines and each possesses a distinct musical and personal charisma- obviously at ease with the audience and each other as they took turns trading quips, sharing anecdotes, and discussing the music between songs.

They played all of the tracks from their 2011 album of the same name. Beginning with "Quarter Chicken Dark," the melody of which so strongly resembles a pop song that's been lodged in my mind the for two days but I can't pull from its recesses, then strode deeply through bluegrass terrain, played with some Bach, and spent a healthy amount of time musically straddling both. Singer Aoife O'Donovan joined them for three tracks, adding her rich mezzo to the mix, blending well with Thile's vocals. Meyer, whom I've only seen perform on the double bass before this evening, proved an adept, thoughtful pianist and Thile provided one of the show's highlights when he switched with seeming ease (and gusto) to the violin.


The audience responded with a level of enthusiasm more often found at rock concerts and the musicians seemed both surprised and genuinely pleased by the warm reception. They shouldn't have been. While the Goat Rodeo Sessions isn't an evening of trailblazing music, it's good, authentic music performed with exceptional skill and obvious heart.

With special thanks to Lisa Hirsch for assisting in recovering this post.

About last month... Ojai in Berkeley

Let me ask you a question: do you do something you know you shouldn't and feel bad about doing it? And does doing that thing make you feel stupid? Or self-conscious? Then you unexpectedly see someone you admire, or who you know is not a loser, doing the very same thing and suddenly, while it doesn't make it okay, you know you're not the only idiot loser in the world?

I felt that way as I was walking up to Hertz Hall on the Berkeley campus for my second day of the Ojai North festival and saw Mark Morris outside of the building, ridiculously dressed in shorts, sandals, and dark grey socks, sitting there outside of the stage door on the edge of a planter smoking a cigarette. I had just bought my first pack after not having a single cigarette in five months and was about halfway through it, feeling a wave of self-loathing with each flick of my Bic. And there sat a genius, a man whose life should be so full and rewarding and interesting that it would be an absurd thought to think that such a person would even consider to do something as ridiculous as smoke cigarettes. It's a habit for losers. And Presidents. And yet there he was, puffing away in his anti-fashion that only geniuses can get away with wearing in public without fear or concern of derision.

Two nights before I had been there to see his troupe perform a powerful, mesmerizing Rite of Spring, accompanied by an explosive musical interpretation by the Bad Plus. Had Morris' group not led off the program with an amazing display of precision which included using the dancer's feet hitting the floor as percussion instruments accompanying the superb American String Quartet in a beautiful performance of Mosaic and United, the jazz trio would have stolen the show courtesy of David King's drumming, Reid Anderson's masterclass exhibition of what can be done with the bass, and Ethan Iverson's otherworldly piano skills. But Morris' troupe beat out a rhythm on the floor to Henry Cowell's string quartets of the same names, twitched their limbs like butterflies bursting from a chrysalis, and made me seriously regret missing some of their local performances during the past couple of years. Elements of the production reminded me of last year's Einstein on the Beach. 

Two nights later Sheila met me for the closing programs, which could have been subtitled More American Mavericks. Organist Colin Fowler came out shoeless and performed on the organ by Ives, Cowell, Vincent Perischetti and William Bolcom. The Ives piece, "Variations on America," written in 1892, was a revelation- the psychedelica of Hendrix's "Star Spangled Banner" pales in comparison to this intriguing and alluring blast of sound. Perischetti's "Sonatine" (1940), played with only the feet upon the pedals, struck me as more of a gimmick than anything else by the time it was over, but it was interesting to watch and realize how much sound can be made on an organ without using keys or knobs and whatever they have. Bolcom's "La Cathedralw engloutie (Rock of Ages)" from 1979 was like a 50's low-budget sci-fi flick scored by Ligeti- in other words, it was pretty great. If nothing else, Henry Cowell's "Hymn and Fuguing Tune No 14" (1962) exposed Deep Purple's Jon Lord as having very few original ideas, since Cowell seems to have encapsulated every great Purple keyboard riff in his own seemingly tossed-off tune long a few years before the band's formation, and the same thing can be said for Goblin, the Italian group on the soundtrack of who knows how many of Dario Argento's giallo horror flicks. In the second half Fowler put on some shoes and was joined by the red fish blue fish percussion ensemble for an interesting version of Lou Harrison's Concerto for Organ with Percussion Orchestra which started off great and then lapsed into merely interesting mode before wrapping it up with a Poppa-Ooo-Mow-Mow bang. It sounded like an entirely different piece than the one performed by the San Francisco Symphony last year. I liked the SFS version quite a bit more.

Speaking of the SFS, as we re-entered the hall for the final show of the festival, I noticed MTT enter the house through the stage door (quite nicely dressed, mind you). The show began with Cowell's "Heroic Dance For Martha Graham" performed by the Mark Morris Dance Group Music Ensemble, which is quite a mouthful, and it was okay. Frankly, I barely remembered it after what followed, which was the jaw-droppingly freakadelic orgasamajam of Cowell's Atlantis (1931), performed by the MMDGME with soprano Yulia Van Doren, mezzo Jamie Van Eyck, and barefoot bass-baritone Douglas Williams. I'm not even sure how to really describe what initially seemed to be a bizarre display of grunts, growls, gasps and ecstatic sighs performed by each singer into microphones morphed into one of the most delightful and alive musical performances I've witnessed in quite some time, but that pretty much sums it up. That each singer performed their part with enthusiastic abandon (though Van Eyck seemed a bit hesitant at first) only made it that much more delicious. If you ever get the opportunity to attend a live performance of this, do not miss it. Unfortunately I can't find a full-length recording of it to share with you, but perhaps that's for the good because it really is one of those things one must experience live.

The second half, featuring the music of Lou Harrison, couldn't top the first, though it wasn't for lack of trying as red fish blue fish performed "Fugue for Percussion"(1942) and then Fowler returned with some shoes on and joined the Gamelan Sari Raras for "Concerto for Piano and Javanese Gamelan." Harrison's score for the latter work calls for a non-standard tuning for the piano to sound more in tune with the gamelans, but I found it distracting and eventually displeasing- I have no idea if that's due to the timbre of the piece or perhaps the piano tuning didn't quite hit the right spot, but with the second of three movements consisting mostly of the mistuned piano, it was like listening to something which just sounded wrong. However, it blended well with the gamelans in the first and (especially in the) third movements. Still, while the variously sized gamelans produced an interesting array of sound textures, what I really wanted by that point was something that could top Atlantis, and this wasn't it.

This was the third season of Ojai North! presented by Cal Performances and the Ojai Music Festival, and I'm already looking forward to next year's model which will be planned by my pal Jeremy Denk.

Candlelight Concert by the Monteverdi Consort this Sunday

The Monteverdi Consort, St. Mary’s Artists in Residence, is a one-on-a-part vocal ensemble specializing in choral music of the Renaissance. This coming Sunday evening, February 19th at 7 p.m., they will present a Candlelight Concert at the Episcopal Church of St. Mary the Virgin, 2325 Union Street (at Steiner) in San Francisco.

The concert features a cappella music of Burton, Brumel, Morales, Palestrina, Roussel, and most notably, Josquin des Prez, in which the solfège syllables- ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, play a structural and often symbolic role. 

There will be a wine and cheese reception following the concert. I’ve been told that over the past few weeks some of the volunteers and staff at St. Mary’s have been caught standing just outside the door as the consort has been practicing in the church. Chip Grant, the Director of Music at the church, promises this concert is sure to transport you to another place and time. I can’t think of a better way to end the weekend.

Doors open at 6:30 p.m.  The concert is free and open to the public.  (Donations are always appreciated.)  There will be a wine and cheese reception following the concert.

If you can't make this event, the next Candlelight Concert at SMV will feature The Real Vocal String Quartet, Sunday, March 18th, at 7 p.m.

Philharmonia Baroque: Masters of English

Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra. Photo by Randi Beach

Conductor and harpsichordist Richard Egarr, Music Director of England's Academy of Ancient Music, is making his debut with the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra in their first concert series of the year with a program called "English Masters of the Baroque." Egarr, introduced each piece with a humor-tinged anecdote, and though I sometimes didn't hear what he said we would, I nevertheless found him to be a warm, engaging presence and a thoughtful conductor.

The first half of the program began with a brisk, lively performance of Handel's Symphony from Saul, with especially fine playing from concertmaster Lisa Weiss and principal oboist Marc Shachman during the fourth movement. This set the tone for the remainder of the concert, which seemed to fly by despite having seven pieces on the program. Matthew Locke's Music From the Tempest began with a storm and ended in a round and was followed by Purcell's suite from The Fairy Queen. Both pieces were played with the same vigor as the Handel and I was particularly entranced by David Tayler's theobro- an instrument I've never seen before which is kind of like a lute version of Jimmy Page's double-neck guitar.

The second half of the program began with Thomas Arne's Concerto for Harpsichord No. 5 in G minor featuring Egarr as soloist and conductor. There was a roughness in the rhythm of Egarr's playing, but having never heard the work before, I can't say if that was the design of the composer or the result of some very tricky passages requiring cross-hand playing. William Lawes' brief Consort Sett in Six Parts No. VII in C major followed, featuring paired violins, violas and cellos in two movements- a Fantasy and an Aire. It was the only work on the program I really couldn't find a way into, perhaps due to its brevity and my own inexperience with the form.

Two marvelously played pieces by Handel closed the program. The first was the Concerto Gross in D minor, which featured brilliant turns by each section of the orchestra, with many of its members visibly enjoying themselves. The concert concluded with the "Arrival of the Queen of Sheba" from Solomon.


There are two more performances this weekend at First Congregational Church in Berkeley. Philharmonia Baroque's next series of concerts will be in March and feature Steven Isserlis in works by Mendelssohn, Schumann and Brahms.

The debut of Eco Ensemble

Eco Ensemble rehearsing Edmund Campion's Flow. Debris. Falls. Photo by Peg Skorpinski (Bay Citizen, New York Times)

The music department of UC Berkeley unveiled a new house band last night in Hertz Hall called Eco Ensemble, whose mission is to perform works by contemporary composers, including professors and grad students of the university. The group is led by David Milnes, music director of the UC Berkeley Symphony Orchestra and conductor of the Berkeley Contemporary Chamber Players. But it's not all about the local angle- the group will be performing pieces by eleven composers including Nico Muhly, Magnus Lindberg and  Kaija Saariaho during three concerts, the first of which took place last night before a well-attended house.

The program began with Gérard Grisey's Talea (ou la machine et les herbes folles), a piece for five players- piano, violin, cello, clarinet and flute. Written in 1986 while he was teaching composition at Cal, the piece has two sections which examine speed and contrast of sound. Talea begins with a jolting buzz followed by sounds played so quietly they could be easily be missed. For the next seventeen minutes they expand and contract like a slinky designed by Ligeti.

Tristan Murail's L'Esprit des dunes, written in 1994 and dedicated to Giacinto Scelsi and Salvador Dali, is influenced by the sounds and sights of the Mongolian desert, a recurring inspiration of the composer's. Of the four works performed, Murail's was the one I found decidedly difficult to follow as its constantly shifting, electronically enhanced soundscape took me one place and left me there until I was suddenly jolted from it by a harsh note from a triangle or the introduction of another sound suddenly bursting forth from the musicians, often the percussionist. Here is a sample of it.

Edmund Campion, a current faculty member of the music department and instrumental in getting Eco off the ground, was introduced by Cal Performances director Matías Tarnopolsky. Campion describes his piano concerto/not a piano concerto, entitled Flow. Debris. Falls (2010) as "the musical equivalent of a B-movie developed under the radar of the censor-prone larger Hollywood studios. In these B-movie scenarios, stories that on the surface appear to be genre conforming, become subversive vehicles, sites for the creator's imagination to run without censure. It would please me if David Lynch like the title, as it is meant to evoke a location in America where normality exists mostly as an ornamental feature masking a more sinister underbelly."

That's actually not a bad description of the three movement work for ensemble and two pianos. The subversive element is twofold. First, the pianist's performance is analyzed by a software program hooked up to the instrument and fed to a player piano, which then performs an improvisation based on what's being played. Avatar, ghost in the machine, what have you, it's an interesting concept which worked really well, though I found the computer-generated parts often to be more forceful and interesting than what Joanna Chao was playing. Perhaps that's the intent, but it ultimately left me wanting to know if that was by Campion's design or if the software was capable of creating music more dynamic than that of the composer who created it. Truly, it's a musical Frankenstein and quite a fun little monster in both implication and reality. The second subversive element is the use of amplification at varying levels which also featured additional electronic elements. The ideas forming the basis of Campion's work would likely offend a lot of musical purists, but I find this transgression of tradition to be liberating and I'd like to see more works incorporating technology find their way into "mainstream" concert halls.

The last piece was Marc-André Dalbavie's In advance of the broken time (1994), a composition which wonderfully examines the shape and structure of sound and its movement as seven musicians take a single note on an extended journey which concludes where it began. It was a fitting end to the performance.

The program notes for the performance made it impossible to identify the musicians performing each piece- something I hope is remedied for Eco Ensembles upcoming performances on February 11 and March 24, as many of them merited individual praise.

Here's the program for those concerts:
Feb. 11: Saariaho: Ballade, Prelude/ Lindberg: Corrente/ Bedrossian: Swing/ Saariaho: Trios Riviers
March 24: Matalon: Tunneling/ Muhly: Clear Music/ Lim: Songs Found in Dream/ Einbond: What the Blind See

Necessary Monsters

Photo by Pak Han

Given the current messy, sad state of things, I sent the Femme Fatale an email asking if she was going to be attending one of the performances of Necessary Monsters, and if so, which one. I made my plans accordingly after receiving her response. While she was attending the show on Friday I was in Half Moon Bay celebrating my sister's birthday, so it worked out rather well. This little tidbit of information has more relevance than you may suspect, because the Femme Fatale, my sister- my entire family and probably everyone close to me for that matter- are all necessary monsters of my own design, though I don't mean that to sound exactly as it may come across.

What exactly is a "necessary monster," you ask? "A portrait of human culture and experience as told by our imaginations," says Carla Kihlstedt, paraphrasing Jose Luis Borges in his Book of Imaginary Beings, where he writes:

 "We do not know what the dragon means, just as we do not know the meaning of the universe, but there is something in the image of the dragon that is congenial to man's imagination, and thus the dragon arises in many latitudes and ages. It is, one might say, a necessary monster, not some ephemeral and casual creature..."

It doesn't necessarily have to be a dragon- the relationships which dominate our lives can take on the same pattern as Borges' creatures and is it a stretch to suggest they serve a similar purpose in our real, not imagined, lives? That is to say that though Borges' imaginary beings are meant to be symbolic, or representational, I think they also have a place in reality. Sometimes the imaginary version of the beings in our lives are easier to accept than their real-life counterparts- at least in mine, which may be quite different than yours.

It makes sense to me that in some hard-to-define way we need these monsters and if they didn't exist our imagination would create them out of need. For me, the Femme Fatale is a "dragon,"  though in reading the descriptions of Borges's beasts perhaps she's a Lamia, but I suspect she sees herself as a Nymph. Penelope is also one of Borges' metaphorical dragons, but in truth I think she's a Simurgh, a kind, benevolent being who can't abide snakes. My sister can be either a Fairie or a Harpie, depending on her mood, and of course the The Little Chinese Man is my Doppleganger. Whether I view them as dragons or creatures of another form, they all populate different parts of my imagination, fulfilling different needs, which I have made real and manifest. At least I think so. It's hard to tell anymore, this has been going on for so long. Perhaps this is because I am a Satyr.

Kihlstedt goes on to say "Each monster is a facet of one human being," so one human being can represent a different [but necessary] monster to an individual, and in turn an individual can be comprised of several different monsters. This is how I understand it. Are you confused yet?

If you had seen Kihlstedt's brilliant performance piece on this subject, entitled what else- Necessary Monsters- a song-cycle based on characters found in Borges' book, all of this prattle would make much more sense. Falling somewhere between a concert as performance art, a steampunk opera, and theater, Necessary Monsters is one of the most moving things I've seen recently, though it's going to be extremely difficult to relay its essence. In part this is because I think Kihlstedt, who has been working on this piece for awhile, and it's something of a work in progress, has really tapped into something elemental about the nature of imagination and personality and has created an almost perfect vehicle to express it.

The show begins with a woman known only as "The Collector" (a superb turn by Denmo Ibrahim) walking about the stage organizing storage boxes into a "just so" order, as if doing so will keep the monsters inhabiting  her mind at bay. There's a box for each imaginary being, who one by one take their place onstage. Despite the desire of the The Collector to keep things nice and tidy, these creatures refuse to be contained and soon the stage is feels wonderfully chaotic- my thoughts during the first 15 minutes of music was that I was watching an opera performed by the family in the The Hills Have Eyes. That's meant to be a tremendous compliment.

Kihlstedt's music never flounders throughout piece, traversing a lot of different genres performed by seven musicians playing a multitude of instruments and wielding a wide array of vocal talents. Kihlstedt's opening number, "An Animal Dreamed," may be the most easily remembered. Singing in a voice that sounded like a theremin (maybe there was one on stage and I just didn't notice), it's an eerie invitation to follow her down a rabbit hole. The effect is continued when the Squonk (a being who cries at the drop of a tear, performed by vocalist and cellist Theresa Wong) cries endlessly while following a melody performed on her cello and followed by Kihlstedt's violin.

Seven other songs follow, each one representing a different being and creating a heady, captivating cumulative effect as the music constantly shifts. By the time Matthias Bossi's Hochigan (percussion and drums) backs Michael Mellender's (on bass among other instruments) Ink Monkey,  the music has become straightforward hard rock, only to turn back on itself to the Brechtian tone of Freddi Price's lascivious One Eyed Being in a white bowler. Price, by the way, is a dazzlingly talented multi-instrumentalist and plays a phenomenal trumpet.

Yes, I know this all sounds confusing and chaotic and it was, but it also worked beautifully. The rest of the talented ensemble is Dina Maccabee as the Nisna on viola and vocals and Rob Reich as the Lamed Wufnik on piano, accordion glockenspiel and voice. While the show had a visual design that looked decidedly handmade (including Wong's whimsical, Calder-esque headgear), the performance came across as assured, well-thought out and thoroughly rehearsed. If you have a chance to see it, I can't recommend it enough. If you click on this link, you can hear "An Animal Dreamed" and some other music from the work, as well as see a video of Kihlstedt discussing it.

When it was over, Necessary Monsters left me in a decidedly odd mood. When we returned to my place, I felt compelled to watch a horror movie that somehow conveyed this. Awfully enough, I thought that the only thing that could follow such a strongly philosophical performance was Martyrs- a film Penelope would absolutely abhor. I have no idea what I was thinking, but thankfully it wasn't available on Netflix streaming and I gave up on trying to find the "right" choice. Bowls of popcorn and glasses of bourbon before us, we settled in to watch something neither of us found worthwhile and soon abandoned it for some more music.

At a quarter to one in the morning, I received a text message from the Femme Fatale, saying she hoped we enjoyed the show- or something like that.

Pak Han has a gallery of wonderful photos taken during what looks like a rehearsal here.

Josh Kosman of the SF Chronicle has a much more succinct review here.

Hodges plays Stockhausen and Beethoven

This afternoon on the Berkeley campus British pianist Nicolas Hodges performed one of the more challenging programs in recent memory- Karlheinz Stockhausen's Klaviersück X (Piano Piece No. 10) and Beethoven's Hammerklavier sonata, Op.106. The first was composed in 1954 and revised in 1961, the latter composed in 1818. One common element of both works is the desire of the composers to expand the boundaries of what can be performed on piano. Another is the sheer challenge of playing them. The attempt alone drew a curious audience, which seemed equally split on which piece held the greater interest.

Hodges walked onstage, took a brief bow, sat down at the bench and began to play immediately. This was all business- no show. It wasn't necessary. Klaviersück X is extreme in its demands. Hodges, wearing fingerless gloves, played with his forearms, elbows, and palms as well as with his fingers. Stockhausen repeats nothing in the piece, there is no form in sense the listener may expect to hear (this listener, at least), as in sonata form, but form nevertheless arises amid the chaos and the quiet and the work takes on a definite shape as it unfolds, explodes and finally implodes over 20 some-odd minutes. Most impressive were the reverberations emanating from the piano, which created electronically-tinged sounds I never knew the instrument could make. I've never heard it before, and after hearing it I'm not sure a recording could do it proper justice. I would say it needs to be experienced in a live performance to grasp, at least initially. Having no prior experience with it, I can't say how well it was performed, but I will say unequivocally it was quite thrilling to hear.

The Hammerklavier didn't fare as well for me. This work I know. The Allegro, Scherzo and Largo/Fugue movements were all played incredibly fast. Too fast methinks, as the notes began to spill over one another, eventually starting to land in a jumble. The tempo in which Hodges chose to play the piece isn't the problem for me, but rather the speed caused the piece to lose its one of its most amazing elements- a distinct flow of individual notes which seem to endlessly cascade over one another, twisting themselves into forming melodies and lines they have no right to create. The Hammerklavier is like a Richter painting- it shouldn't really make sense but it's all right there in front of you once the design reveals itself. I didn't get that from Hodges' interpretation, except for the adagio, which seemed bent so far in the other direction, played with such a deliberate slowness, that the it almost seemed on the verge of collapsing at times. Playing all four movements at their margins, Hodges seemed to be choosing style and execution over thoughtful interpretation.

Still, programming like this is to be commended, appreciated, and in the end, applauded. Hodges succeeded in connecting the threads between two seemingly disparate musical pioneers. I look forward to his next Bay Area appearance. This one was part of Cal Performances, who have a ridiculous amount of great things to see and hear this year.

The bloggers were out in force for this one, even though there was a pretty enticing program going on at Davies at the same time. Patrick, Axel, the Opera Tattler, the Last Chinese Unicorn and Joshua Kosman were all in attendance. After the show, Patrick and I repaired to Jupiter for pizza, beer, discussion and debate. One thing we both agreed on: the banality of both Terry Jacks' "Seasons in the Sun" and Pink Floyd's "The Wall."

American Bach Soloists collaborate with choreographer Todd Eckert

If I didn't already have plans to hear Carmina burana and attend the opening night of I Live Here:SF, this would likely be where you could find me-

DANCE PREMIERE AT SHARED SPACE 4


"Celebrate American Bach Soloists in an evolving collaboration between Music Director Jeffrey Thomas and choreographer Todd Eckert November 5-7. Attend the première of this new work Sinfonia, danced to the music of J. S. Bach recorded by ABS. This piece is the first of three in an evolving collaboration that will be presented in its entirety during our July 2011 American Bach Soloists Summer Academy and SummerFest concerts."

Friday, November 5, 8pm, Dance Mission Theater
3316 24th Street, San Francisco, CA 94110
(cross street Mission)

A Serial Killer Harp Teacher and Bratwurst!

Sometimes I like to follow and the Femme Fatale had been itching for awhile to take the lead, so she planned an evening last of places I've never been and probably never would have found out about on my own. We began the evening at the tiny, funky Red Poppy Art House to hear harpist Gillian Grassie. The performance was to start at 7, so I thought "how long can one possibly play the harp?" and figured we'd be out of there around 8 and then on to dinner at a place also of the Femme's choosing.

At eight o'clock Grassie announced it was time for a break. Break? Horrors. I was ready to eat. The Femme however, was not. Nor did I hear anyone else grumbling about this, so I just went outside and talked to a couple of young women who were English majors at Berkeley who were enamored of Grassi so far.  Then it began again, and though Grassie is an interesting and entertaining, anecdote-spewing performer, skilled on her instrument, a two and a half hour performance of music played on a harp proved a bit much for an unfed me. I was grateful when it was over, though it certainly wasn't an unpleasant performance- just a very, very long one.

Afterward, we went for German food at Schmidt's, which was excellent even though they were out of pretzels, there were a couple of large, way too-loud groups, and the waiter totally messed up not only on our drink order but spilled food on my jacket. Still, it was one of those great nights of weird little pleasures in our fabulous City.  Check all of this places and people out, though know that the pics on the Red Poppy site are, um, a bit different than the reality.

Free For All in Berkeley

Cal Performances held their first Free For All yesterday on the Berkeley campus and for a first time event they did a superb job on the scheduling and programming. It was also a perfect day to spend on the campus and the event drew a large, diverse crowd to hear and see a variety of performers representative of the organization's season programming- dance, chamber music, jazz, dance, world music, theater and more. They should do this every year.

We had grand plans to leave San Francisco early and get there in time to see the Kronos Quartet's opening set at 11:00 AM and that plan promptly fell apart with a 9:15 AM text alerting me that someone had just awoken. We ended up making our first stop breakfast and our second stop was to check out Chad Newsome's marvelous new digs at the Uptown in Oaktown. From there we leisurely walked over to Cafe Van Cleef because I wanted to show it to GG and Penelope but it was closed so finally we made our way to the campus, arriving at a packed Hertz Hall too late to see the Adler Fellows perform. Well, at that point it was decided the best thing to do was to drink beer, so we walked back down to the Bear's Lair and had a couple of rounds. The day was disappearing fast but we were having a grand old time.

Finally, we left the bar and made our way over to Zellerbach to see the Mark Morris Group's performance. If I had been paying more attention, I would have known Morris's dancers were in New York and what we were going to get was something a little bit different that turned out to be truly delightful.

Two members of the troupe, accompanied by kind of a pianist, led four large groups of people from the audience onto the stage and then proceeded to teach them movements from L'Allegro, Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato. The people onstage ranged from two year olds to very senior citizens in every size and color and it was great to watch this humanist exercise in creating an instant community through the art of dance. It was hard not to smile through the entire thing and they even had the entire audience learning the "water moves." We were seated in the very front of the balcony and could watch as the audience below us created ripples with increasingly good effect, while still creating our own. It was truly delightful while doubling as a great outreach and educational experience. How many times does that work? By the way, LA Opera will be staging L'Allegro in May and if you have never seen this fabulous work by all means please do so- it's on my list of "best things I've ever seen."

Next we were going to listen to John Santos, but the tent under which he was leading his band was pretty packed so we opted for Yogurt Garden instead, chiefly because Chad was suffering from Cal-nostalgia. I was too, but mine didn't include the food off of Telegraph Ave. Well, three out of four of us opted for Yogurt Garden and an hour later we were regretful of eating so much of the delicious goop as a sugar-induced wave of something began to take us over in the warm afternoon sun.


So we got in line to see Linda Tillery and the Cultural Heritage Choir. Tillery has been a Bay Area presence for a long time, but before yesterday I had never seen her perform before. What a mistake that was. Tillery and the Cultural Heritage Choir are fantastic musicians, beautiful singers and they have a truly deep knowledge and understanding of American Roots music, and African-American Roots music, though I would say the line between the two is a faint, dotted gray.

Imitating instruments to great effect with their voices, while using only percussion instruments, they consistently created perfect harmonies that were intricate and incredibly rich, Tillery and the choir performed a generous, enlightening, hour-long set incorporating spirituals, reggaeton-style hip hop, reggae, Hank Ballard, Bob Marley and the Mickey Mouse Theme song. They were splendid and the perfect way to close out what had been a great day and a weekend full of music. I look forward to seeing them again soon. They have some shows coming up in Canada this October.Do check them out.

Don't blow it- this is your Jerry Springer moment.

I almost don't know where to begin with this post, but one thing is true- the first act of Jerry Springer, the Opera made me laugh until I had to wipe tears from my cheeks- and then I kept wiping them away for remainder of the show. Brilliantly written and designed by Richard Thomas as a true opera, it won all of the top theater awards in England when it premiered and it's now playing through October 16th at the Victoria Theater at 16th and Mission. Musically, it's a weird combination of Handel and Lloyd Weber that isn't going to make "serious" opera fans think John Adams or Kaija Saariaho has a challenger coming up behind them, but it is more interesting and sophisticated than any contemporary musical I can recall in recent years. It requires people who can really sing opera and Ray of Light Theater has found a terrific, all local, cast for this show. It doesn't feel, look nor sound like a show put on by a "small" company and Ray of Light has done an excellent job with this production, which celebrates their 10th anniversary.

Chad Newsome, Cara Louise, DF and I attended the Saturday night performance on opening weekend and there was a palpable excitement in the air, made all the more fun by a faux red-carpet entrance complete with photographers to make the attendees feel like they were going to have their own little "Jerry moment." The first act of the show is like a typical Springer episode but with the sleaze factor magnified tenfold as one guest after another reveals who they are secretly involved with. The chorus, which comments on the proceedings with a wit and energy worthy of Euripides, mocks, threatens and cajoles the guests. The craziness escalates as each guest takes a turn, culminating in Chris Yorro running around the stage in a blue diaper during "Diaper Man/ Montel Cums Dirty." Yes, those are the names of the arias in an opera which also features such wholesome numbers as "I've Been Seeing Someone Else," "Chick with a Dick," "Poledancer" and "Every Last Motherf**ker Should Go Down," just to name a few.

Timitio Artusio, Chris Yorro, Jessica Coker; Rebecca Pingree (front)

Photo by Michah Joel

I won't spoil too much of the plot, but suffice to say that God and the Devil (a terrific turn by Jonathan Reisfield) have a showdown for Springer's soul which includes appearances by the KKK, Jesus, Mary and Adam and Eve. It's offensive as can be, but it's truly hysterical. Patrick Michael Dukeman is spot-on as Springer, pretty much the only character in show who doesn't sing all of his lines. The entire cast is solid, the costumes are perfect and the set by Maya Linke looks just right. The music, led by Ben Prince (Martuni's regulars may recognize him, as well as J.Conrad Franke who plays Springer's Inner Valkyrie), is overly loud at times but the mix can be heard if one pays attention. The volume seems appropriate to the action onstage however, and all of the singers are mic'd of course. We sat in the 2nd row and had no problem hearing everyone, though I've been told the acoustics in the house are very inconsistent. Performances are general seating, so get there early and ask someone is the house where the "sweet spots" are.

Go see this. I really don't want to tell you more than I already have because most of it has to be seen and heard to be believed. I've ever laughed this much at an opera in my life. Nor do I ever expect to again. With the exception of the Makropolous Case- this is going to beat anything at the "real" opera house over on Van Ness, at least until June, when Wagner's 15 hour opus on the perils of incest unfurls (aka Der Ring Des Nibelungen). I can't recommend this show highly enough- and best of all, there are tickets on Goldstar!

One of these people is John Marcher. The rest are waiting for their "Jerry moment."

The Top Ten and a sad state of affairs

Tim Mangan, a classical music critic for the Orange County Register, has been assigned to cover a new beat- celebrities. That's a damn shame because there's already so much of that kind of content in papers, magazines and online, while art music coverage is moving more and more to blogs. Newspaper critics who write about the arts provide value to a community. I obviously don't think they should be the only voices heard when discussing or reviewing a performance, but I do think it's important for a community to have a "voice" in print providing consistent coverage of the arts scene and local companies. Bloggers often can't rely on the pr departments of organizations for free tickets, so we often end up writing about things we really want to see or hear and besides, almost all of us have day jobs which can interrupt the length and  frequency of what we write about, not to mention the quality.

His re-assignment to fluff material is dismaying, but it seems we Americans have a never-ending appetite for junk news that doesn't really change or impact our own lives in anyway. We also like movies and pop art much more than we do things that may require a little bit more effort or knowledge to appreciate. This is true of this blog as well- posts on non-classical or opera performances or topics often have a much greater hit count than those subjects which compelled me to start blogging in the first place.

Below are the top ten posts which have drawn the most traffic to this site. Most of them are not about performances, which makes sense because performances capture a particular moment and aren't something you can get on Netflix, at a store, or the next tour. Interest in them has a brief and fleeting shelf life except for obsessives like me who love to read old reviews of works or performers I may not have yet experienced in person.

A Serbian Film is a Horrific Masterpiece (far and away the most read post, especially since it's only been on about 6 weeks)

1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die, Corrected

KISS, Rock and Roll Madeleines All Night

Carie Delmar Punks the Huffington Post

James Brown Lives, but Record Stores are the Living Dead

Review of the Lepage "Damnation of Faust" at the Met

The T.A.M.I Show!

What Happened to the Ghost Writer's Mole?

Gaspar Noe's "Enter the Void"

tied:

Merola Grand Finale 2009

Nostalgia Trip

As you can see, for an opera and classical music oriented blog (usually), those subjects are covered in only three of the eleven posts listed above. Still, you won't be reading about Tiger, LiLo or a Kardashian here any time soon. I am however, really looking forward to upcoming concerts by Shakira and Lady Gaga when they make their way to the Bay Area. You'll be able to read all about it right here.

The Dude takes a hit off the sheng

This past Saturday night I had my first encounter with Gustavo Dudamel leading the LA Phil. It won't be the last. Although it's difficult not to be skeptical of the dude and form a knee-jerk reaction against the ridiculous hype, I have to admit that it was one of the most exciting evenings in a concert hall I've experienced.

Dudamel walks into his post with some significant advantages- enormous goodwill from the surrounding community, an impressive biography, tremendous press, and most significantly, he's leading an orchestra that may be the finest in the country, thanks to his predecessor Esa-Pekka Salonen. Add to that mix one of the most amazing concert halls in the world, and you may understand why I was saying to myself during the concert "in five years this will be widely acknowledged as the finest orchestra in the country." Hyperbole? Sure it is, but that's the thought that came to my mind.

The concert began with the U.S. premiere of Unsuk Chin's Su (pronounced shu), a joint commission by the LA Phil and and two other organizations. Su is a one-movement concerto for Sheng (a Chinese mouth organ) and Orchestra. The soloist was Wu Wei, known around the world as one of the foremost players of the Sheng, an instrument that looks kind of like a bong made at home by a Tolkien fanatic with a bicycle horn sticking out of it. It has 37 pipes in it and the range of sound Wei created on it was more than impressive- it can mimic many instruments and also sound unlike anything else, with some sounds approximating things usually created electronically- at least in my experience.

The orchestra contained a phalanx of percussion, with a number of instruments I've never seen, including a tom that had three balls spinning around its inner perimeter and a piano whose strings were played but the keys of which I believe remained untouched through the performance. It was quite an interesting piece as the interplay between the sheng and the orchestra didn't follow the usual competition format of a standard concerto but instead became a conversation held in a number of musical languages. Wei's performance impressed me greatly, though having no prior experience with the instrument, I'm responding to it as one might view a talented magician's performance for the first time. The rest of the orchestra responded well to Dudamel's conducting, with the strings especially making a significant contribution to the success of the whole.

After the intermission came Mahler's first, which Dudamel conducted without a score. With the SF Symphony's Mahler project now in its hundredth year (at least it seems like that sometimes), I've grown a little weary of the composer, but Dudamel and the orchestra gave such a vivid account it was like discovering the pleasures of the composer all over again. The first movement was taken at a languid pace, with Dudamel wringing out every sound of nature in the score. A round of applause greeted it's conclusion, which was repeated again at the ending of the second movement. LA may be at the vanguard of going back to the past as far as applause between movements goes, or it may be that Dudamel is attracting a lot of first timers to Disney Hall who don't know they're supposed to sit on their hands until it's all over, but I found the applause to be spontaneous and welcome.

There's viola player in the lead chair that I thought was going to fall out of her seat during the scherzo, she played with such wanton vigor. The rest of the orchestra, while not as animated, followed along with clarity and gusto. The funeral march dragged a bit in the middle section, perhaps with too much solemnity, as if Dudamel wanted to make it as dramatic as possible.

The final movement was taken at full throttle and when the horns rose to their feet there was a triumphant blast I could literally feel in the floor beneath me. It was thrilling to hear (and feel) feel the music performed with such gusto. While Michael Tilson Thomas has recently conducted Mahler with a solemnity and gravitas in most of the recent San Francisco Symphony performances to the point where it feels like time to move on, Dudamel (at least tonight) brought the composer back out into the sunshine.

Dudamel and the orchestra received an ovation the volume of which I have only heard at a rock concert. It was stunningly loud and boisterous and it lasted until Dudamel had to lead the orchestra offstage so they could go home or next door to Patina to have a drink.

There is something special and unique taking place at Disney Hall right now and if you can experience it in person I encourage you to do so. What Salonen did with this orchestra is going to be written about and analyzed for a long time to come, as it represented the transformation of an American orchestra unlike any other. Now this same orchestra is going in a new direction, and the path looks like it's going to be serious fun.

Salonen & Leila Josefowicz Thrill Disney Hall

There's an ocean of ink being spilled over Esa-Pekka Salonen's departure as music director of the LA Philharmonic and if you've never seen this man lead this orchestra you've missed an opportunity to experience music performed at the highest level. Friday's performance of the penultimate program featured Ligeti's Clocks and Clouds, Beethoven's 5th Symphony and the world premiere of Salonen's own Violin Concerto, written for visiting soloist Leila Josefowicz. It was one of the best concerts I've ever seen.

Clocks and Clouds was pure Ligeti- haunting, compelling and strange but beautiful. The Women of the Los Angeles Master Chorale provided gorgeous harmonics to accompany the orchestra's perfect rendition of Ligeti's aural depiction of Dali's melting clocks dissolving into wispy clouds. Or something like that. Salonen, under which the LA Phil first performed this piece in 1993 (six other Ligeti pieces have been introduced during his tenure) was completely in control of this difficult work, guiding the orchestra with fluid hand movements.

Next came the four-part Violin Concerto, written for Leila Josefowicz, which was only completed last month- so close to the premiere the notes on the piece had to be inserted into the program. That Josefowicz committed this hugely demanding piece to memory in such a short time and played it with thrilling brilliance, solidifies my opinion of her as one of today's top-tier musicians. She's in a class by herself.

Salonen's program notes describe this music better than I can, so I'll leave that to him, but Josefowicz was a woman on fire. Her left hand stalked her violin's neck like a tarantula loaded on adrenaline and crack, playing with an intensity that was thrilling to watch and hear. She tore through the fast parts and then the orchestra's strings would answer her in huge sweeping swell of minor chords. The use of a full drum kit in the 3rd movement, Pulse II was an exhilarating addition. The orchestra was marvelous throughout, especially the bass and horn players. The only time I can remember being so enthralled by a new work was at the premier of John Adams' El Nino.

During the intermission I wondered how Beethoven's 5th was going to work after what preceded it. I remembered a performance I once attended in SF where Temirkanov led the SFS through a blazing account on Shostakovitch's 8th, then followed it with the 5th and Beethoven actually seemed puny in the comparison rather than complimentary. The programming worked however. The LA Phil performed the 5th as a kind of straightforward, this needs no fuss from us because it's already perfect showcase of how well this orchestra can play. The tempos were consistent, every nuance emerged but was never fussy or precious. There were no winks, nothing cute. Just musical muscle being flexed. They made Beethoven sound relevant and contemporary.

There were well-deserved standing ovations after every piece. Hopefully KUSC will re-broadcast it and if they do, don't miss it. A lot of the LA Phil's live work is also able on Itunes. This was only third time I've seen Salonen conduct the LA Phil. The previous times were the Tristan Project two years ago and a Beethoven's 9th awhile back. These performances rank among the very best I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

And so a great era concludes this week.

Leila Josefowicz & James Gaffigan with the San Francisco Symphony

Saturday night's San Francisco Symphony concert was the first time I've seen the orchestra led by James Gaffigan. Now I feel like a total latecomer to a great party who arrives just as it's breaking up, for Gaffigan is soon headed for other locales after three years here as Associate Conductor. Gaffigan conducted this performance with control and precision. He's one of those rare conductors whom one can watch and know exactly where the music is headed, without theatrics or ambiguity. I, for one, really like that.

The first piece was Haydn's Symphony No. 52, oddly enough being played for the first time by the SFS. I guess when a composer has more than 100 symphonies to choose from it can take awhile to get to some of the lesser-known ones. I don't consider myself to be a tremendous Haydn enthusiast but I do love the clean, crisp precision of his music. Even pieces I'm unfamiliar with have an almost unmistakable quality about them which make them easily identifiable as being his.

This symphony treads the border between Baroque and Classical styles, especially in the second movement's adante, and thankfully, since I'm not a huge fan of Baroque music it falls more on the classical side. The fourth movement was played with an almost incredible speed and fluidity by the orchestra, yet everything emerged with impressive clarity.

For the second piece Leila Josefowicz came onstage looking, and there's simply no other way to put this, incredibly hot. Thankfully she had her hair pulled into a girlish ponytail, otherwise she would have looked more like a runway model than a musician and I would have been distracted throughout a knockout performance of Thomas Ades' brilliant but difficult Concentric Paths concerto. This three part work, with two fast, short movements framing a slow middle, allows the violinist almost no respite. The slow movement, entitled Paths was the center around which Rings and Rounds revolved. Riddled with a sense of unease and angst, with sudden percussive barks coming at unexpected moments, this music is simultaneously gorgeous and scary.

Josefowicz attacked this piece with intensity and verve. All the more impressive because on her current tour she is performing 10 different concertos by 9 composers ranging from Beethoven to Salonen. She played with fierce dedication. I couldn't help but wonder how she's committed so many works to memory. The SFist has an interesting interview with her where she remarks about her preference for memorizing scores for a performance. Consider me a fan.

After the intermission, Gaffigan led a crystal clear account of Mozart's Symphony No. 39, which at one point had me unintentionally smiling. I looked around the audience to see if I was the only one who was being completely carried away by this performance. I wasn't- I could see smiles throughout the hall. James Gaffigan- best wishes on your next endeavors, and please come back soon.

Anne-Sophie Mutter and SFS perform Gubaidulina's Violin Concerto No. 2- "In Present Time"

Anne-Sophie Mutter is here in San Francisco for the weekend and on Friday night she performed Sofia Gubaidulina's second violin concerto, In tempus Praesens. The piece, dedicated to Mutter, lasts for a slightly more than half an hour and has five sections played as a single movement. It's the final work of Gubaidulina's presented during her two-week artist in residency gig with the SF Symphony and it made me wish I'd attended some of the other performances.

For those of you not familiar with her, Anne-Sophie Mutter is a simply a goddess. She's an incredibly talented violinist who just happens to look (and dress) like a screen siren from the golden age of Hollywood. She's had numerous works for the violin dedicated to her and tours world-wide performing them for audiences who might otherwise be reluctant to listen to the music of contemporary composers. At the same time, she is also a superb interpreter of the classical canon. Her performances of the Beethoven sonatas at Davies a few years ago is something I'll never forget. She also has a foundation to support young musicians and is an active philanthropist. Did I mention she's hot? Gorgeous.

Anyway, enough of my Mutter-blather.

Michael Tilson Thomas came out on stage and told the audience how excited he and the orchestra were to playing this particular piece and to have Anne-Sophie there with them. He then gave one of his little lectures and using a harpsichord, demonstrated the motives in the piece. Yes, the score includes a harpsichord and even though it was amplified it could hardly be heard, thankfully. I hate the sound produced by a harpsichord. Burn them all. Please.

Then Anne-Sophie came onstage in a gorgeous dress that made her look like a mermaid. Her hair is now shoulder-length (sigh). If she wasn't armed with a violin she'd look like a woman ready for the red carpet, not the concert stage.

She begins with the motives MTT previously demonstrated for us and them the orchestra comes in behind her. Some sections sound like a Bernard Hermann film score, others like cicadas on an August night in Alabama. There is one part that has three repeating dark notes that build and build like gunfire into a thrilling climax. She has the only violin onstage and can still be heard clearly even with the large orchestra going full-bore behind her. The score has some thunderous parts for brass and lots of great percussive moments. The moments where the snare drum lead with brisk rolls were particularly exciting. There's a cadenza 2/3 of the way through giving A-SM a couple of minutes to display the score's contradicting brawn and beauty. This was my first encounter with the piece and I would gladly hear it again. I've heard the one recording available, with A-SM and Gergiev conducting is very good. At the conclusion the audience gave a hearty standing ovation for both Gubaidulina and Mutter, who took three curtain calls.

After the intermission, MTT gave us two Ravel pieces, Valses nobles et ssentimentales and La Valse. Valses, a series of waltzes, is pleasant enough music and it was performed nicely, but it was a mistake to program such traditional and pedestrian pieces to follow up Gubaidulina's. In other words it was boring. The same can be said for La Valse, which is wonderful to hear at the ballet, but in a concert setting ultimately made me feel like I should have left at intermission- like the couple beside me did.

Did I mention how hot Anne-Sophie looked?

Two nights at Davies: Dutoit rapes Scheherazade and Glass' Music in Twelve Parts

I attended the Friday the 13th performance of Charles Dutoit conducting the SF Symphony and sure enough, a sexy young woman was brutally murdered on the stage of Davies Symphony Hall. The program started like most horror movies, with an Idyllic opening sequence designed to lull the audience into a false sense of familiarity before the mayhem ensues. Debussy's Prelude to L'Apres midi d' un faune was everything we remember from Music Appreciation 101: bright, warm, inviting as a cool breeze on late June afternoon. It made one remember why it deserves its place on the curriculum. In the hands of a great orchestra it's bullet-proof and this performance was no exception.

Next was Stravinsky's Symphony in C- a work I was greatly looking forward to hearing live for the first time and it was terrific. The call and response between the various instruments, the paired melodies, the way each section of the orchestra (even the basses!) had its shining moment and the lovely closing section was extraordinary. I'm not enough of a ballet fan to know if this piece has been used before, but I would love to see Yuri Possokhov create a ballet around this joyous, driving music, composed during one of Stravinsky's darkest moments.

Little did I know it was to be my last happy moment that evening- kind of like when the kids are listening to "Sweet Home Alabama" on their way to the Skynyrd concert before they pick up the crazy hitchhiker in remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Sorry, I know I'm mixing my horror-movie analogies here.

A sense of unease settles upon me when a conductor takes to the podium without the score. I interpret it as a statement for both the audience and the orchestra: I know this piece inside and out, I've led it too many times to discover anything new in it and I'm going to show you how it's done. The program may as well contain an insert which reads "what you hear tonight will contain nothing illuminating about the music being performed. Sorry- and thank you for supporting the arts."

Scheherazde is a beautiful monster of a piece- its opening is the classical equivalent of Led Zeppelin's most thunderous riffs and its solo violin parts are as soaring as those of the guitar in classic rock numbers like "Layla" or Prince's "Purple Rain." It's so melodic it's almost easy to dismiss it as a lightweight piece, and unfortunately on this night it was treated as one.

There stood Dutoit, sans hockey mask or a chainsaw, but nevertheless the sense of dread was suddenly palpable. Suddenly half the audience leans forward, obliterating the view of the other half seated behind them, thus causing even more movement, and then as the music begins with those huge, awesome and terrible swells, heads began swaying to the melody and suddenly I felt as if I'd been transported to a Celione Dion concert.

Still, for about two minutes it's perfect- the orchestra creates a surging wave of sound for the opening of "The Sea and Sinbad's Ship" and concertmaster Alexander Barantschik plays the first solo violin part with a fluid and delicate beauty.

Then Dutoit proceeds to slaughter the piece by leading it at a breakneck pace that removes all the blood, nuance, tension and melody from it. The soloists, especially the oboe, clarinet and piccolo seem to be doing everything they can just to keep up (and they are terrific despite the speed at which they are being led). The next two movements are so completely disheartening, so taken for granted, it was like attending a fundraiser for the culinary arts and being served a chicken breast with frozen vegetables. Even Barantschik seemed to lose all interest and he's the most serious and intensely devoted musician onstage. The entire orchestra just seemed to capitulate to Dutoit's "let's just get this over with" ethos for the remaining forty or so minutes. The final movement did manage to provide some brief moments of beauty in spite of the orchestra's (and the audience's) complete abuse.

The audience, one of the worst-behaved I have ever seen, of course gave it a tumultuous ovation. I left the hall feeling depressed.

Three nights later, I arrived early to get my ticket at the will call office and found Davies buzzing with the most diverse-looking audience I've ever seen there, all gathered to experience the West Coast debut of Phillip Glass' Music in Twelve Parts.

Fie on San Francisco performances for completely mucking up the will call line and causing about a quarter of the audience to arrive late and shame on them for allowing latecomers to be seated in a steady, distracting stream throughout the first of the evening's four sections.

I thought I was going to be lucky since the seats next to me remained empty until the first imtermission, but then my good luck turned sour when an obese couple squished in next to me. Call me names if you like, but I hate feeling squashed and cramped in my seat because someone can't fit into theirs. Buy a box seat if you can't fit into a regular one- you have no right to a third of mine. To make matters worse, they smelled terrible. I actually had to go find another seat to prevent the rest of the evening from becoming an endurance test of nausea and resentment.

Oh yes, about the music.

Music in Twelve Parts, composed between 1971 and 1974, is normally performed over three evenings and represents a summation of Glass' technique and thoughts on composition at that point in his career. It is considered a highly influential landmark in 20th century music. This performance was the first time the work was to performed in its entirety on the West Coast, broken up into four hour-long movements of three parts each with an hour break for dinner. That's right- a five-hour long minimalist marathon.

But it was anything but minimalist. The Phillip Glass Ensemble is comprised of seven musicians- three with keyboards(including Glass), three who alternate between assorted winds and horns, and one amazing vocalist (Lisa Bielawa) whose stamina was beyond belief. Starting with a base melodic structure that appears deceptively simple on the surface, the musicians constantly develop it into new variations and directions until it gradually transforms into another melody entirely, one note change, one slight shift in tempo at a time. It requires constant attention to follow and it would take me too long to find the right analogy to aptly describe it. The result, however, is fascinating and compelling. The listener is drawn into the sound while trying to follow and identify everything going on within it- and there is a lot going on in this music of surprising depth.

Lisa Bielawa's vocals were an integral part of the whole, and for me, the anchor to the entire work. During the two or three sections she sat out to rest (well-deserved, I might add) the intensity of the sound was noticeably diminished for me and became less interesting. Others disagreed with me, so I'm willing to attribute this opinion to my interest in voice. I have to say that her performance was unlike anything I've ever witnessed- akin to singing the last act of Siegfried and then all of Tristan and Isolde in one concert. She was incredible.

For me, Twelve Parts was one part too long, as the final part lacked Bielawa's vocal and I could no longer follow the subtlety of the variations. I was just too full to have another serving.

It was an interesting, often mesmerizing, intense musical experience- the kind of rare opportunity we to get experience regularly simply because we live here in San Francisco.