Mongolian Pop Music and Pink Telephones

Well, all the Budapest bloggers are sharing this little YouTube item, so I figured what the heck….

Despite the truly terrible music heard here, this video combines my two favorite things: Budapest and weird languages. It’s a Mongolian music video shot for some reason in Budapest. I can make out enough Cyrillic to tell that the title has the word “Budapest” in it.

Who knew Mongolia was turning out music videos? Anyway, there are some lovely shots of Budapest (and some not so lovely), and the language is certainly interesting to listen to, if you can stomach the music.

P.S. – Yes! The payphones in Budapest are all pink, since Deutche Telekom a.k.a T-Mobile owns a big stake in the former state telephone company.

P.P.S. – Stick with it, because it get’s really silly in the last ten seconds. (OK, not fair: If I understood the lyrics it might make perfect sense.)

Bulgarian Rhythms

Roger Bourland recently linked to a video of the Bulgarian State Women’s Chorus, which reminded me of my latent obsession with Bulgarian folk music. Check it out, (and read the comments for your daily dose of surrealism).

Years ago, during a very short stint as the vocal director of a folk ensemble, I had the pleasure of preparing that first song in the video, which is called “Ergen Deda”. The rhythm of the piece is a fast 7/8 Šopska dance (from the Šop region of Bulgaria; Šopska is also a tasty salad).

These 7/8 dances are so fast that the notion of “7/8″ fails to really capture it. It’s really just a matter of “short-short-long”. In Bulgarian (and Greek and other Balkan) music all kinds of interesting combinations of “short” and “long” are used, and we’re forced to notate them with awkward 11′s and 13′s.

See if you can figure this one out:

CD Release Heads-Up: TIME PIECES

One of my earliest pieces, American Standard for clarinet and piano, is included on an upcoming CD of American works for clarinet and piano on the British label Clarinet Classics.

Performing on the recording are clarinettist Peter Furniss and pianist David Leiher Jones, both good friends since our Budapest Liszt Academy days a really long time ago. (They taught me all about Marmite and how to curse properly in English.) American Standard was originally written for Peter, who’s performed it numerous times around the world.

The disc also includes a magnificent performance of the Bernstein Sonata as well as works by Victor Babin, James Cohn, Robert Muczynski and Richard Dudas, another Budapest cohort.

The release is scheduled for June, and I will, no doubt, crow about it again here at that time.

More From the Trunk

And now, another song from The Ghost of Wu. “The Ways of the Young” is a bit more of a comedy number, although I’m afraid it might only be funny on paper.

By early in Act II of The Ghost of Wu, Wu Chao has succeeded in becoming Empress, having removed the Emperor’s first wife from the picture. But she is not satisfied. She’s been trying to convince her husband to decree that upon his death, Wu will assume the powers of the Emperor herself, instead of their son.

Kaozong insists on checking with his Confucian advisors, whom Wu views as stuffy and out of touch. In “The Ways of the Young”, we see the Confucians from Wu’s point of view: as foolish old men with nothing useful to say, and certainly no solutions.

Between verses of the song the Confucians toss coins and consult the I Ching for guidance in this matter. The answer, it turns out, isn’t particularly helpful.”

A word about the lyrics. This song, written in 2001 or so, marks the beginning of my journey from fixing other people’s lyrics out of sheer necessity (usually for musical reasons) to actually calling myself a lyricist and taking it on myself, which is a fairly recent development. In this case, a lot of the best material is from the original given to me by my playwright collaborator Donna Kaulkin, but that version lacked formal cohesion that I needed, so I fleshed it out a bit. Mainly, I claim the final verse, which I wrote because I felt the song needed a coda. It’s pretty flawed, but I like the way it ties everything up. I’ve gotten better since then.

The lyrics and MP3 can be found on the song’s own page. Check it out here.

The Richmond District

Pianist Jeremy Denk describes my neighborhood in San Francisco more eloquently than I ever could….

When the concert ended, a Chinese man drove me back to my hotel in a large black Towncar. All the way down Geary. There were Russian bakeries, Dim Sum joints, gas stations, spas, the whole beat hybrid of San Francisco deciding, block by block, whether it is a city or not.

It’s all true. The cultural mishmash along Geary Boulevard makes the Richmond District a fun place to live. One New York friend’s reaction to a cab ride along Geary: “Oh, I get it. You live in Queens.” Except, one thing Jeremy, if I may: San Francisco is a city, and that was decided a long time ago. Only a New Yorker would question that.

(via The Rest Is Noise)
Photo Credit: Kenn Christ

John Adams: A Flowering Tree

Last year I was very hard on John Adams’ opera Doctor Atomic. I wanted to like it, but, while I admired the music, I was disappointed in it as drama. Having now seen the San Francisco Symphony’s semi-staged production of Adams’ new opera A Flowering Tree, I’m very happy to say that it doesn’t share most of the problems I found in Doctor Atomic. I was an Adams early adopter, and an obsessed fan in the 80′s, so I was relieved.

This is a beautiful and admirable work, and it’s the first of John Adams’ theatrical works that actually “works”. I think the reason must be that this is the first one that has, you know, a plot. The music is rich and colorful, and chock full of delicious Adamsy goodness. The music is so effective, and yes, dramatic, that I wasn’t nearly as irritated by Peter Sellars’ staging as I would have been otherwise. Much has been made, with good reason, of Adams’ musical depiction of the main character’s transformation into a tree, which occurs four times in the opera. In each case, the context is different, and Adams paints each transformation in a different way, the final one being a literally spectacular payoff at the very end of the piece.

Painting. This is what Adams is extraordinarily good at in his operas. The final tree transformation joins the hair-raising arrival of Air Force One in Nixon in China, The “gymnopedie” depicting Klinghoffer’s slow-motion descent in The Death of Klinghoffer and the final moment of Doctor Atomic as great examples of how Adams’ can create music that, when combined with staging and lighting, tells a story that words cannot.

Again, this was a “semi-staged” production. About a third of the stage in Davies Symphony Hall was dedicated to staging, with a platform cleverly placed above the orchestra for some of the action. The staging used an interesting, and sometimes very moving, convention of having a dancer shadow each of the characters. Unfortunately, there are several long orchestral and choral passages that were, I guess, unstageable. During these passages we’d have the singers standing or sitting motionless and the dancers doing very little. It’s still unclear to me what the significance of some of these passages is in terms of the storytelling.

A Flowering Tree also makes use of a narrator, which can be problematic when it comes to staging. What do the characters do while the narrator is singing? Like Doctor Atomic, whose libretto was slapped together from “found materials”, this suggests some sort of fear of having to actually write for the characters, which I find puzzling and disappointing. But in this case, Sellars handled this fairly well, I thought. I guess there was so little happening anyway, so the narrator fit in somewhat naturally.

The use of a narrator and the many how-on-Earth-do-I-stage-this moments had me thinking that this might be a better oratorio than opera, but in the second act as the story unfolded I became increasingly convinced. Whereas Doctor Atomic had no plot to speak of, and we never heard from the characters in their own words, this piece has an appropriately simple plot. We understand what the characters want, and we’re routing for them. Given this foundation for the first time, Adams shows what he can do dramatically.

Sondheim, Shakespeare and Andy Dick

Two items:

1. Am I the only one who didn’t know that Stephen Sondheim composed incidental music for the Public Theater’s current production of King Lear with Kevin Kline. (Thanks for the tip, Mom!)
2. Set your Tivo! Sondheim has a cameo in this Sunday’s episode of The Simpsons. It’s possible there’s something wrong with a world in which Stephen Sondheim and Andy Dick are on the same list of credits.

Meet EROS AT BREAKFAST

In the last two posts, I alluded to the musical I’m currently working on and expect to finish within a few months. The musical adaptation of Robertson Davies’ one-act play Eros At Breakfast began almost by accident about two years ago when playwright/performer Janet Roitz mentioned the play in the course of a conversation we were having.

It turns out Janet had long been an avid fan of Davies’ work in general, and had wished for a long time to stage this play. As she described to me what it’s about, my wheels started turning almost immediately, and we both came up with the idea of adapting it.

Eros At Breakfast is a fantasy set in the solar plexus of a young man. The play envisions the various components of the human body as departments of some big bureaucracy such as the military or a big corporation. As changes seem to be on the way in this man’s otherwise unremarkable life, the various departments are affected in different ways and amusing conflicts come about.

In the preface of Four Favourite Plays, Robertson Davies describes how he got the idea for Eros At Breakfast. He remembers that at his school they used to put on what were known as “health dialogues”, which were meant to teach lessons about hygiene and good health habits.

I was impressed as a child by a health dialogue the scene of which was laid in a human stomach. Various characters appeared there, of which some were quarrelsome and harmful like Piece of Pie and Slice of Cake, and others were of a noble and uplifting nature like Fresh Vegetables and Whole-wheat Bread. The hero and heroine were handsome young Mr. Apple and Miss Glass of Milk … How delightful, I thought, to have a play going on inside somebody.

In Davies’ resulting play, the characters are Chremes and Aristophontes, the heads of the Solar Plexus and Intelligence departments, respectively, along with Parmeno, an envoy from the heart and Hepatica from the Liver. It’s a very funny play, and has just the right level of simplicity so as to lend itself to musical adaptation. Janet has written an absolutely hilarious draft adaptation. I’ll be happy if my lyrics are half as funny as Janet’s dialogue. There isn’t enough music yet for me to say much about it here, but I will discuss that soon.

“Musical” ≠ “Broadway”

I get into such trouble with this stuff: I’m a classical composer who wants to write musicals; I’m a theater composer with Uptown training whose music is weird, unpredictable and unnecessarily difficult.

In classical circles, it’s OK, actually. As far as I know, I haven’t been judged negatively because there are musicals in my bio, but in my head at least, there’s the danger of that. (You’re judging me right now, aren’t you!)

But dealing with theater people has been a tricky dance. Actors tend to like my stuff, but they look at it kind of sidewise and treat it as an oddity. They don’t complain about how difficult it is, but they do make a topic of it. In one case I was turned down by a playwright because my music wasn’t “tuneful” enough. He knew what he wanted and had a valid point, although I was baffled at the time. I think my music is very lyrical and reasonably easy. But what do I know? I can take 4-part dictation, so my idea of easy has nothing to do with it. I’m still learning on that front.

Here’s the problem: Most people equate “musical theater” with “Broadway”. I do not. Broadway has turned into something that I’m not particularly interested in being a part of. There’s still a place for Sondheim there, because he’s Sondheim. Put someone else’s name on Passion or Sunday in the Park With George, and they’ll show you the door pretty quickly.

So where do I fit in? No really, I’m asking.

Given the nomenclature available to us now, I have two choices: it’s a “musical” or an “opera”. Eros At Breakfast doesn’t quite fit the average person’s idea of either of these. It’s clearly not an opera, because, for one thing, it’s not all sung. It’s written with actors in mind, not singers. Singing actors, yes, but actors. That’s why I call it a musical.

But the music is conceived much in the way of an opera. It’s not lead-sheet tunes to be scored for reeds, bass and drums. The accompaniment helps tell the story; the composition is often driven by counterpoint, and not by chord progressions. Some songs don’t end, because the character is interrupted, so there’s a contiguous feel similar to most contemporary operas.

So, no, this isn’t intended for Broadway, although of course I would be delighted. Maybe someday Broadway will go back to being about theater more than it’s about money. For now, I can think of numerous regional and local theater companies around the country that have done very well with this sort of thing.

(But they’ll still think it’s weird.)

Switching Gears

It seems likely there will now be some changes in the nature of this blog, at least for a while. Some readers may lose interest. I hope not, but it’s probably inevitable. Perhaps new ones will come along.

When I started blogging in August of 2005, I was in the middle of writing an orchestral piece, and that’s what was on my mind, plus related things like the whole Hungary thing. So that’s mainly what I wrote about.

I have mentioned in passing from time to time that in addition to being a “classical” composer, I also write musicals. This was my original path into composition, and what I think I’m really good at. At the moment I’m in sprint mode to finish Eros At Breakfast, a musical that’s been on my plate for what must be a couple of years now. With crazy plumbing and technology crises behind me, I’ve made rapid progress over the past month, and I can really see this thing being finished now. I’m shooting for the Spring.

So, for the time being, many of my posts will deal with what I’m working on. While wearing my musical theater hat, I also write lyrics, I’m finally ready to claim, so I may be discussing that as well to some extent. If you’re one who shrugs or winces at the thought of a “musical”, I hope you’ll keep reading anyway, or at least checking the headlines. If not, I understand.