WMV Music Web Log

Listening to the final portion of Steve Reich’s 1966 tape loop piece "Come Out" in the car today and my mind jumped right to cicadas. I was hearing the same kind of oscillating drone and clicks from Reich's out-of-sync tapes as the chaos of cicadas have been thrumming.

What would Come Out sound like run backwards? Could you start with cicada sounds and work them backwards into an arbitrarily chosen phrase or sentence?

Rehearsed Brahms songs with Karyn Friedman today - her voice really does have "surprising resonance" and "naturally emotes", so I guess Grace Jean did some accurate reporting there. Karyn's husband, Gary Poster, is a terrific bass singer who will be singing with us in the fall. I unearthed Maurice Saylor's wonderful AE Housman songs ("Alta Quies", I think they are called) for him; we programmed them about five years ago, and it would be great to do them again with Gary. Maurice Saylor is a very skilled composer with a unique musical "vision." We were lucky enough to be present at the premiere of his "Hunting of the Snark" a few weeks ago - it is a powerful masterpiece, well performed by Gisele Becker's Cantate Singers and the "Snarkestra". We will also work up the song cycle by Stephen Paulus for piano trio and bass voice, "The Long Shadow of Lincoln," on Carl Sandburg's poetry about the Civil War. Performing some war related texts would help us feel like we are living in the real world, even if sometimes we might rather be somewhere else. Their one year old son Bran was here too, pointing to Marilyn's art and babbling and even holding himself up to stand and taking a few steps.

Marilyn and I have these great discussions sometimes when we take walks, or sit at breakfast over coffee (the coffee definitely contributes!). I often think we should record and transcribe them the way we did for her Masters thesis many years ago, because at the least they would make great blog entries. We covered the state of art in Washington, a usual topic, discussing Lenny Campobello's recent blogs, and the abysmal galleries we visited in Bethesda recently. Marilyn walked into one, started choking and had to walk out right away. I said, this must be what they want here, otherwise they wouldn't have it. Pretty upsetting, but no more so than looking at the blank pasty white faces of the typical passersby. I kept saying to her, "but these are our people!" I thought she might hit me. Next week is our 30th anniversary, but we have lived together since 1969.

Mike Strand writes:

Hi, Carl!
About your concert at the Czech Embassy:
I was thrilled to have been sitting so close to such skilled and enthusiastic music-making. My wife Linda expressed pleasure as well - she prefers the small chamber settings to the large halls.
All of the music was new to me, and the Schulhoff piece has me re-thinking my past negative feelings about so-called "modern classical" music. It really can be lyrical, folksy, rhythmical, etc.! The closing bars, which I enjoyed, reminded me of stampeding horses, yet organized and musically excellent, not chaotic.
Martinu's tango blew me away - he takes this music form into new territory while remaining faithful to the form itself (something Astor Piazzolla also aspired to, but some of his best stuff is not really tango, in my view). I tend to the traditional and am happy when I can write something decent, but it's good to hear the work of a master who brings originality and insight into a familiar structure.
It was a hoot watching Mr. Mitsumoto conduct - he made the suite all the more satisfying to witness.
My father's mother, Judith Hellstrom Strand, from Sweden, was an enthusiastic amateur mezzo-soprano who enjoyed drama. She would have loved hearing Karyn Friedman sing the Mahler songs!
The Dvorak trio has symphonic proportions. Strong feeling expressed expansively with clarity and beauty ("Truth is beauty, beauty is truth"). The scherzo reminded me of one by Beethoven.
Recently I've been listening to Phillip Glass's music. I even started a new tango "El matema'tico (the mathematician)" as a sort of tribute to him and to my own vocation, but the music is not going anywhere right now. I tried starting from chord progressions (with "fractured chords" that resolve to diminished chords), but I think I really do better when I have tunes and motifs in mind before I start.
With your indulgence, here is a list of music l plan to send to you after June 5:
Ragamuffin - a piano solo in honor of Scott Joplin
Patas arriba (Topsy-Turvy) - piano solo
Amada difunta (Beloved Deceased) - piano solo
El cartero (The Mailman) - a duet for piano and soprano instrument
En una tetera (In a Teapot) - duet for piano and flute (or sax, if it can be made to sound like a whistling pot). Written while trying to keep warm during the big snowstorm of Feb. 2003.
Pasos gatunos (Feline Steps) - duet for piano and soprano instrument.
I would be grateful for any time you could spend trying them out.
Best of luck on June 5!
Mike

PS: Wow to both the May 26 Post review (positive but kind of shallow) and to May 24 at the embassy.

It's hard to imagine that the next concert is a week from Saturday! This one is assembled from widely separated parts: Joel Herskowitz is coming down from Boston, Betty Hauck from New Hampshire, recorder player Marty Taylor from Baltimore, and mezzo Karyn Friedman will come up from Fredericksburg. None of these people have ever met one another! I guess it will be a week of "getting to know you." Joel is a guy with unique and eccentric musical passions, utterly confident in all that he does. I have known about Joel's musical talent since University City High School, when we played together. He and his late brother Ira collaborated on the DOUBLE talking HELIX blues, published as a childrens book with cassette by Cold Spring Harbor Press. Joel also wrote a very striking and wonderful song called "Tell it Again", which got airplay on NPR. It is a song for children, to encourage them not to give up trying to communicate to a responsive adult if they have been a victim of abuse. (Joel has a day job as a pediatric neurologist in Boston).

I have been trying to get Betty and Karyn together for a couple of years to perform the Brahms viola songs - they are the two people that I know who are most likely to do justice to this beautiful masterpiece that is so close to my heart. They are both responsive players, which is what is needed for what is essentially a trio with mezzo voice. The translations are a bit of a problem - I have tried more than once to translate the poems, but they still sound silly.

I hope Betty will also help me out with the viola obbligato on Art Jarvinen's "Gymnopedie for John Lennon". We also need someone to play two high pitched bells which punctuate the lines, maybe Marty. It is a piece of sad and elegant simplicity, a really touching elegy for Lennon. I have also been working on Art Jarvinen's "Four Rosicrucian Preludes" - Satie was a member of the Rosicrucians for a while, and he also had a love affair with the painter Suzanne Valadon, who painted a surprisingly soft and tender portrait of him. Life is much more like it really is than like it seems, don't you think?

I think what bothers me about the review in the Post, which was positive after all, is that it is so Washington. Music is a frivolity here, and determinedly so.

Arthur Jarvinen's work has given me a greater appreciation of what Erik Satie achieved. It is another very good example of how the work of a contemporary composer allows one to better understand the work of the past. Jarvinen has built on Satie's innovations, written genuine Gymnopedies, a form which did not exist before Satie, and which Satie himself did not explain. Jarvinen understands the metaphysical basis of the form, and its serious intent - that time is the content, that it is an address to the enigma of time.

Mike Strand writes some more about Bach and tango:


It may seem odd or irrational to others, but I feel lucky to have found connections between some of Bach’s music and tango. I only felt or sensed the relationships at first, without trying to explain them. I came to realize that the connection is largely a personal notion, not easily shared. But I’ll try.
Beyond the obvious similarity in tempo and the use of the traditional “Western” key signatures and harmony, what is it that makes these Bach pieces and tangos listed below sound similar? (The tangos can be heard on www.todotango.com.):
1. El amanecer –
Roberto Firpo; Roberto Firpo 1928
2. A la gran muñeca –
Jesús Ventura; Carlos Di Sarli 1951
3. Fugue No. 2 in C Minor –
(Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II)
J. S. Bach; Jenő Jandó 1993
4. La cachila –
Eduardo Arolas; Carlos Di Sarli 1941
5. Fugue No. 8 in D# Minor –
(Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II)
J. S. Bach; Jenő Jandó 1993
6. Comme il faut –
Eduardo Arolas; Carlos Di Sarli 1951
7. Fugue No. 20 in A Minor –
(Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II)
J. S. Bach; Jenő Jandó 1993
8. Por una cabeza –
Carlos Gardel; The Tango Project 1992
9. Prelude No. 22 in Bb Minor –
(Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II)
J. S. Bach; Jenő Jandó 1993
After all, the tangos here are more like two- or three-part songs, with repetition of the parts (often with melodic if not harmonic variations), while in the Bach fugues, themes (“subjects”) are repeated but not large sections. There are differences in rhythmic or bass emphasis: The tangos tend to maintain deep bass accompaniment and accent particular beats more than Bach does, even though the underlying tempo is the same. Also, the tangos tend to use “signature” combinations of note durations, more syncopation, and less counterpoint.
So what do these tangos share with the Bach pieces? To me, it’s the mood. The tangos may be more melodramatic than the Bach pieces, but the underlying mood is essentially the same. I hear sadness and melancholy, but expressed for the most part with nobility, dignity, grace, and courage - wailing or complaining here and there. The A minor fugue, maybe the most obviously like tango, also expresses anger, I think, but in the context of sadness. You can dance tango to all of these pieces as a means of expressing a feeling of loss or regret with grace and calm. Or you can simply walk slowly and steadily to all of these pieces. The slow, smooth walk is the basis of tango dancing (solo or with partner) and beautiful, if done well – like a panther, gliding, stealthy, with no stomping or bobbing up and down.
About the odd sounds in “El amanecer”, (“Dawn”), a vintage 1928 recording: I can imagine early morning on a farm, with chicks, a cow, etc. Someone has just come back to the farm from a night partying that had not gone so well. I especially like the fact that this particular performance is led by the composer, Roberto Firpo, who is also the pianist. In tangos 2, 4, and 6, the orchestra leader Carlos Di Sarli is also the pianist. Like much of our own popular music (“Blue Moon” pops into mind), these tangos exist in many arrangements and have been recorded by many groups but still maintain their individual identities.
I like the way the piano is used in these tangos, both bass and treble. You may also notice how the melody is often plucked or played staccato for percussive effect – which accentuates the rhythm, adds energy, and contrasts well with the parts where the melody notes are extended (sung fully).
In “Nuestro Señor” I tried to preserve some of the mood of Bach’s original chorus – in this case, not sadness as much as supplication, awe in the face of mysterious grace and power, and incipient hope.
Best regards,
Mike

This upcoming concert at the Czech Embassy could be our strongest yet. We rehearsed there yesterday, working on everything but the Mahler, which we rehearse here later today. We've performed all of this before (again, with the exception of the Mahler). I am deeply moved by the quality of these musicians. I was thinking about Amy recently - we were talking about the cicadas, and the sound that everyone agrees is like outer space or science fiction. Whenever Amy walks into my house she says something about a sound she hears - once it was the clapper on our wind chimes hitting the house on a gusty day. Or the cicadas yesterday. The worried look on her face reminded me of the story of the Princess and the Pea: I could recognize a true musician by how much sounds affect her! Masa when he conducts is practically like a child - he dances, sings, and shouts in four languages, smiling the whole time. Chris, Ben, Hasse, Rhonda, Karyn - they are all so astonishingly good, I keep expecting them to be snatched away into stardom. It is such a privilege to work with these people - it almost convinces me that I am one of them (but that is another story). Hasse and Amy are string quartet "survivors" - that is, their long term committed successful professional string quartet (the Coolidge Quartet) disbanded last year. They bring consummate rehearsal skills and deep chamber music experience to the Dvorak Trio - rehearsing with them is an experience at the very highest level of detail and sophistication. I say "survivor", because it is clearly traumatic not to be in a quartet for them - they are very reluctant, for instance, to consider playing a string quartet on one of our programs, because it could not be rehearsed on the level that they became accustomed to. I could go on and on about each of these players, Chris Royal, Rhonda Buckley, Ben Greanya, Karyn Friedman, but I will stop and get back to the piano. One more thought, however; I was reading some music criticism in the Times, of pop and rock - I wish I'd saved it - the writer talks of scanning CDs and radio in search of music which moves him deeply. That's what we aim for, and it has several components. The score must have something to say; the musicians must understand it, and have something to say themselves; and they must have the skill and have worked hard enough to deliver a transparent message. We have put all that together for this program. Don't miss it!

We are working on the Lieder Eines Fahrenden Gesellen of Gustav Mahler, to be performed at the Czech Embassy on Monday May 24. I programmed the Mahler with some trepidation, fearing that the Czechs might not consider him "Czech" enough. I found this paragraph on the web (I forget the source, sorry):

"Mahler was born in Kalischt, Bohemia, on July 7, 1860. At the time, Bohemia
(later to form a major component of Czechoslovakia, and later the Czech
Republic) was part of the Austro-Hungarian empire, then enduring its final crumbling
decades, and the region where Mahler spent his youth was strongly associated
with the Czech independence movement. However, Mahler also was a Jew, and Jews
in the region were associated by ethnic Czechs with Germans. Mahler's famous
quote is: "I am thrice homeless, as a native of Bohemia in Austria, as an
Austrian among Germans, and as a Jew throughout the world. Everywhere an
intruder, never welcomed." "


Mahler was a Czech composer, born in Bohemia - one has only to listen to the
opening of the "Lieder" to know that he was Czech. Why is he not claimed as a
Czech composer by the land of his birth? For one thing, whereas half the
composers in Czechoslovakia were Jewish before WWII, only one or two of them survived
the war. In the Czech Republic today, there are very few Jewish
composers, who might be expected to draw inspiration from Mahler. The fact that he
wrote in German and was a friend of Brahms does not distinguish him from Dvorak.
The fact that he lived as an expatriate for most of his life does not
distinguish him from Martinu. Why do the Czechs not claim him? I'm afraid to know the
answer.

I have become interested in the music of Arthur Jarvinen, who I encountered through the Randy Hostetler Living Room. He writes about his new works called "SUMO":

Arthur Jarvinen's, "Sumo, I - VII"
SUMO, I-VII (2002) is a recent work in progress, with seven installments so far. It addresses some of the practical matters of a composer's life, in particular time management, as well as bringing together in an amusing way some of my personal interests.

I have found myself inordinately busy of late, and been frustrated with the scarcity of time for composing. I hit upon the idea of Sumo as one solution to this problem. I decided to write some very short pieces, each a thing in itself but all related by a common theme, composing directly on the computer. In Sibelius, I just throw some notes up on the staff and start improvising. I have a set instrumentation of tenor saxophone, electric bass, piano, and drums, because I currently play in such a group. The pieces in Sumo have no formal structure or system. The only rule is to keep them short, to the point, and to capture if possible, in a purely intuitive and subjective way, the feel of a sumo match - the tight focus, intensity, particular rhythms and energy. Oh, and I like to throw in little snippets of "Tiny Bubbles"; I'm not sure why.

I have found this project very satisfying in that I can, in one short sitting, create a piece that stands as complete, not just a few bars of something bigger. I don't have to get back into the mind set I had before or remember what I was doing three days ago. I can start from scratch and actually finish something. Yet each piece belongs. Like sumo matches, each is different, but all exhibit a similar style, surface quality, and internal feeling.

Compositionally, Sumo addresses the idea of the miniature, while at the same time continuing my recent practice of building large-scale structures out of small independent units. As sumo matches are highly formalized events, with a standard opening and well-defined victory maneuvers, it would make perfect sense to devise corresponding musical ideas, i.e. set motifs and cadences. I decided to keep it free of such baggage and just have fun. It also occurs to me that other art forms have specific models in which to work on a small scale; in fiction we have the short story, in poetry we have haiku. We have the three panel comic strip, in comedy, the one-liner. But to my knowledge no such recognized forms exist for the musical "miniature". Composers make their own rules for such works. Mel Powell had his "overnight pieces". Now I have Sumo.

Sumo also addresses the relationship between music and sport. Other than sumo, I don't have much interest in sports. But I do have a long-standing enthusiasm for surf music, which is, to my knowledge, the only genre of music to have emerged specifically in celebration of a sport. Who knows, perhaps other composers will join in my celebration of sumo, and a whole new genre of music will flower. Probably not, but if it were to happen, Southern California would have been mother to both. Then we'd have two up on you, New York!

Further ideas about jazz and classical music:

Jean Dubuffet, in his book "Asphyxiating Culture" lays out some ideas about art and creativity, in which he compares art to plants that need dirt to grow. Jazz is "dirty" - that is, wrong notes don't matter, regularity is discouraged, intonation is bent, and all kinds of mistakes are interesting and used to stimulate the imagination. Whereas, classical, especially in the recording era, aspires to "perfection": mechanical perfection, and even superhuman perfection, absolute cleanliness of sound, intonation, rhythm, ensemble, an absolutely mistake free performance. This is a recipe for sterility and boredom. Jazz refers to the domain of the body, whereas classical has claimed the domain of the mind. Interestingly, the romantic period of European music, pre-recording, was focused on the domain of the heart.

Mike Strand writes about the connection of Bach to tango:

About your April 21 blog, I understand the tendency of a musician to listen to a recording analytically, if that is partly what you meant. With your permission and indulgence, I would like to send you some music that you might primarily enjoy just listening to. But if this doesn't work, they're also great for study, in my opinion.
The recordings I want to send to you are of tangos I especially like and also of some Bach pieces from Book II of the Well-Tempered Clavier that remind me of tango. Actually, since I knew and loved these Bach pieces long before I really acquired a liking for tango, it might be more accurate to say tango reminds me of some of Bach's music. I hope you'll see and hear some of the connections that I do.
In case you are curious, the Bach recordings from Bk II WTC which I'm talking about are of: Fugue No. 2 in C Minor, Fugue No. 8 in D# Minor, Fugue No. 20 in A Minor, and Prelude No. 22 in Bb Minor (called by some his best prelude). All are performed in this case by Jeno Jando (1993), who may not have been aware that his interpretations lend themselves to dancing tango - especially obvious with the A Minor Prelude.
As for the tangos, they all include the piano with other instruments. The piano provides embellishments and strong bass support (strong bass effects), as well as melody. The bass support is important, because tango traditionally does not use "real" percussion instruments yet still projects strong rhythm.
As further evidence of my Bach/Tango mania, I recently adapted a portion of Bach's Chorus No. 1, from the St. John Passion, as a solo piano tango. I have loved that chorus since I first heard it about 20 years ago, and now I've rediscovered it. It has a pace and emphasis in the bass that is a good accompaniment for dancing Argentine tango. No sacrilege meant - I respect the hope and faith the chorus portrays. I also think tango can and does (at least many of them) depict spirituality. I would like to send you the piano score for this, again for your potential enjoyment (or at least as a warm-up exercise).

Mike Strand

Speaking of looking backward, I would like to post an article I wrote around the time we first started Washington Musica Viva in 1998, in response to a questionnaire from the Washington chapter of the American Composers Forum; it foreshadows some of what we have done over the years (it's been on the website, but apparently no one reads it):

Thoughts on New Music:
Why are you involved in, or concerned about, new music?

My own personal belief is that one cannot fully understand old music without being actively involved in the creation of new music. At Washington Musica Viva, we are engaged in a project to bring the creative process closer to people's lives, and to create an environment in which creative work can thrive and grow. We gather composers, musicians, visual artists, poets, and other performing artists together with an audience whose only expectation is that they will be present at something culturally alive and of the very highest quality. Eventually, we would like to develop a sort of ensemble in residence, which would take advantage of our venue, reliable audience, and access to area composers, poets, and artists to present ambitious works, "hot off the press."

What are the three to five greatest needs or challenges facing performers of new music in the Washington area?

New music is much harder to program than old music, because audiences are cautious about it, to say the least, particularly in Washington, where there is no cultural risk taking, and everyone is so formal. Scores are hard to obtain from publishers, and handwritten scores are difficult to read. New music requires much more rehearsal time than old music, so that musicians must be paid more per minute of performance time. ASCAP and BMI costs (and paperwork) are prohibitive for a small new music ensemble or series, and there are few sources of real support. Academic music departments show very little interest in what is happening outside their institutions. Venues are extremely scarce, and the existing halls are wrapped up by ongoing series.

What are the three to five greatest obstacles we face in engaging the public with new music?

The naïve public is less fearful than the "educated" public of new music. The semi-educated public fears new music and has to be coaxed, tricked or seduced into listening to it. The naïve public doesn't really know the difference between say, Ives and Chadwick, or Weber and Webern. So if you just get them into the room, people will listen pretty much without prejudice. No one can really complain about the harshness, strangeness, discordance, or chaos of new music anymore, if they have raised teenagers and been subjected to contemporary HardCore or Rap. New music is not hip to the hipsters, however, and seems to be in a state of chronic isolation from other creative groups, with the exception of dance, perhaps.

A serious problem facing composers is the perception by the public that there is room in the world for only a few "great" composers. Where in the world did we ever get such a ridiculous idea? It must be effectively refuted and replaced with the idea that there are innumerable valuable composers in every generation, all with something unique and wonderful to say.

Why is it important or worthwhile for non-composers to be aware of new music?

As stated above, I believe one cannot fully understand old music without being actively involved in the creation of new music. Furthermore, only new music can address our present perception, the issues which grip us now, what it means to be alive at this time. In general, the arts give us "head room," without which we cannot really think effectively. Obviously, this is a large topic, and deserves much more attention.

What are some of the obstacles to public engagement with new music, and how could they be addressed?

I think there is a noticeable lack of civic pride about our composers, living and dead. The American composers of the last 150 years are largely neglected, with a few exceptions. This could be addressed directly, and through the political process, starting with arts councils and local government. Local living composers could be placed in the context of the local composers who preceded them, like Leo Sowerby, Esther Ballou, Russell Woollen, Mary Howe, Robert Parris, Dorothy Moore, and many others. It also needs to be addressed by generating enthusiasm through effective performance. This means that musicians must take these works as seriously as any classic; otherwise, the performance hurts more than it helps. If the performance is ineffective, people conclude that the piece is ineffective. I have heard whole programs of excellent new works, to which no naïve audience member would grant a second listening, simply because the performances were chaotic or boring. Composers need dedicated performers, audiences, and writers. They need writers because an appreciative writer can generate public enthusiasm and interest in new work. I think some bridge making could be engaged in with pop, jazz, and ethnic musicians without compromising artistic integrity. I would be particularly appreciative of scores which incorporate elements of popular culture, mainstream and ethnic.

Well the 2003-4 season is rolling to its conclusion, and it's time to look back on what we did, and then begin to plan 2004-05.

In September 2003 we did a program in the BannerArts Kensington studio of music by Russell Woollen, Masatoshi Mitsumoto, and Walter S. Hartley, all of whom have connections to the Washington area, and a local poet, Linda Pastan, who had just been awarded the 2003 Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize. We performed her "Songs of Eve" poems, set to music by Russell Woollen; Russell's widow Margaret Woollen was present to talk about him. Walter S. Hartley came down from Buffalo to introduce his "Dance Suite," and Masatoshi Mitsumoto introduced his "Songs of Innocence." Our saxophonist, Rhonda Buckley, had just been featured as a "person to watch" in that month's Washingtonian magazine. She performed the Hartley, and a work by the late Robert Starer, who as it turned out had been a friend of poet Linda Pastan. It was a small world/big world event.

In October 2003 we performed the dream quartet program postponed from February at the Ratner Museum series due to a severe snowstorm. David Teie, Mahoko Eguchi, Lina Bahn, and I performed two of the greatest works of the literature, the Brahms C minor and the Mozart Eb quartets, along with David's brilliant duo for cello and piano. This time it was without a hitch, except that we had to replace Claudia Chudacoff with Lina Bahn, since Claudia had another performance that day. Both Claudia and Lina are among the finest violinists in the Washington area, so you can't lose with either of them.

November was a solo piano program at the studio, including Chopin Mazurkas, Schumann's Papillons, a Joplin Rag, and a Mozart Sonata, along with three poets and two artists. A significant feature for me was the new approach to the Mazurkas, which I have concluded are too improvisatory to be prepared and practiced like other works. My practice consisted of playing them differently every time.

December was another old dream come true: an all-Martinu Program, on his birthday, at the Czech Embassy. It was daring stuff, too - the third cello sonata, the Piano Quartet, and a set of songs, with mezzo Karyn Friedman. Amy Leung wowed everybody with the cello sonata, and the ensemble of Amy, her husband Hasse Börup, and violist Philippe Chao was superb in the Quartet. That's not a program you hear every day! (So why didn't anyone from the press show up?)

In January we began the EVOLUTIONS series with Erwin Schulhoff's Hot Sonata, John Harbison's San Antonio, Libby Larsen's Four on the Floor, and Walter Hartley's Dance Suite. It was a strong case for the influence of jazz on chamber music, and the audience was the largest we had ever brought in Washington. (The second concert was even bigger!)

In February we performed, at Libby Larsen's invitation, a program of her work at the Cosmos Club. Karyn Friedman sang her "Love After 1950", Jodi Beder, John Hughes, and Mark Stephenson played "Four on the Floor" with me, and Rhonda Buckley and I did "Holy Roller." Libby introduced each work, and she was electrifying. We had the pleasure of walking up to Raku with her before the concert, and heard her talk about her work as a Kluge Fellow at the Library of Congress. She is an artist with a lot to say.

We had two programs in March, both wonderful, but the beginning of the exhaustion from which I am still recovering. David Teie, Mahoko Eguchi, and I played a trio program that we all dream of: Brahms Op. 8, Schubert Bb, and a favorite Mozart (E major). Once again, the lights went out in the middle of the Schubert, and the audience held flashlights, provided by Phil Ratner, to get us through the concert. It was a great event - the music couldn't have been stronger, and everyone was intensely engaged.

Then we had the second EVOLUTIONS concert at St. Columba's. This was an ambitious program. I put together a "Revue de Cuisine" ensemble (violin, cello, trumpet, clarinet, bassoon, and piano), with conductor Masatoshi Mitsumoto (experience of an earlier performance convinced me of the need for a conductor). I also substituted saxophone for the clarinet part - why? Because I wanted Rhonda Buckley in the ensemble, and she can do it. Karyn Friedman sang Libby Larsen's songs again, to even better effect than in February. And we got to repeat the Paul Bowles "Music for a Farce," this time using Marty Knepp on drums, borrowed from the Afro-Jazz Explosion, along with Rhonda on saxophone, and the great Chris Royal on trumpet. Using a jazz drummer and saxophone instead of clarinet was certainly in the spirit of EVOLUTIONS. The concert was a tremendous success; more than 175 filled the hall, and Karren Alenier wrote a really nice review.

In April Betty Hauck came down from New Hampshire, preoccupied by her brother's illness (he passed away last week), but enthusiastic about playing at the studio as usual. She had been suggesting a Satie cabaret piece for a couple of years, but I wasn't familiar with it, and couldn't understand how we would do it. It is in French, and published by Dover in Satie's own florid but difficult autograph. Well we finally performed it - and it was a gas! She and Robbie Merfeld had worked it out together years ago at Apple Hill, with Satie's biting and hilarious words carefully and effectively integrated into the music of the 19 piano pieces. Rehearsing it was a lot of fun, and Betty was very expressive as an actress. We also did some sober Bach, consistent with her mood. I got to try out my new realization of the keyboard part, in which I had added a voice to fill out the harmony - it worked! And then another brilliant idea - getting Betty together with Rhonda to play Mozart's famous "Kegelstatt" Trio. They both loved the idea - the piece has become hackneyed played in the old way, and saxophone doesn't have literature from the period before its invention. We heard real Mozart in that piece for the first time in a long time. And the best thing was - they really like each other. I also played two solo works - Mike Strand's "To Native Americans", and Andrew Stiller's "The Water is Wide, Daisy Bell." It is something of a novel idea to me still, that I can take a new solo work, learn it, and perform it, just like that. Mike was there to talk about his work - he and I have been corresponding regularly. The audience was very responsive, and the intermission and post-concert discussions were among the wildest yet.

Which brings us to the third and concluding EVOLUTIONS concert, still burning in my ears. The Kamman work was the most significant innovation - he composed a jazz piece in which a classical piano trio is "embedded," retaining its identity, but compelled to follow a jazz beat and esthetic. I think it was tremendously successful, on several fronts: first of all, we all needed to learn to communicate across that divide, just in order to rehearse effectively. Second, the sound was new and wonderful and exciting. Third, we all had a ball, rehearsing and performing. And finally, the audience loved it. Sally McLain and Jodi Beder were miraculously flexible, enthusiastic and accurate. Jodi is an experienced jazz cellist, but I didn't know that Sally could do it. The Milhaud "Création du Monde" was lots of fun, especially because the string quartet was so superb - Sally and Jodi were joined by violinist June Huang and violist Kim Buschek, who are exciting discoveries for me. And the Martinu "Fantaisie" was a long time dream fulfilled - I really wanted to know what that piece was all about, and I finally have some notion about it. But I will blog about that some other time. The use of the lap steel guitar for the theremin was one of those playful, "why not?" experiments. It turned out to have some drawbacks and complications, but between John Kamman, Masa, and a very professional small orchestra, we managed to work out most of the kinks. The sound of the electric guitar in duet with Robert Lemon's wonderful oboe sound, and with Kim's viola, was just about as beautiful as I could have wished. Rhonda and I were looking forward to Holy Roller, because we had done a pretty good performance of it at the Cosmos Club in February. I had some new ideas about it, also, which I had tried to work out. Although Rhonda played superbly, and the audience liked it, I was a little disappointed with my end. Sometimes my logistical responsibilities collide with the artistic ones, and I think the Larsen was a casualty - my fingers felt like sausages, and I wasn't able to move them fast enough. Oh well. The main thing was that the EVOLUTIONS experiment is one of those ideas that works, and when I recover from the exhaustion, I think I will feel very good about it. (See Karren Alenier's review, below).

We have one more concert at the Czech Embassy this season, on May 24. Hasse and Amy just happened to have Schulhoff's Duo in their repertoire (reminds me that Jodi knows a Haba work!), and they are sure to do it well. We dusted off the Dvorak g minor Trio, with which we opened the Czech Music Series almost six years ago, and it shines even more brightly. Karyn Friedman's gorgeous mezzo voice will be perfect for Mahler's Lieder Eines Fahrenden Gesellen (yes, Mahler was born in Bohemia in 1860), and we will repeat the Revue de Cuisine, the way it is supposed to go. Jana Kalimonova has finally taken over as cultural minister, and she is very supportive, enthusiastic, knowlegeable, and has good ideas and connections. It will be very exciting to plan another season at the Embassy with her. Mary Fetzko turns out to be a master graphic designer and public relations person - the pr for this concert is the best yet.

In all, the 2003-4 season has been intensely rich, crowded, and productive. Until yesterday, there were three to go - daunting! However, on advice of counsel, we have postponed the June 22 concert. Now there is basically just the May 24 Czech Embassy concert and finally the June 5 event at BannerArts Kensington studio. That one will be an apt epilogue to a great season. I'll tell you about it later.

Poet Karren Alenier's review of the third EVOLUTIONS concert from Saturday night:

The third and final Evolutions: American Chamber Music Meets Jazz program took place May 8 with pianist Carl Banner & his Musica Viva guest ensemble in collaboration with composer-guitarist John Kamman and his musical partners. From the beginning of this series, this program promised to demonstrate what this blending of classical and jazz composition meant to these two musical ensembles and indeed they exceeded expectations with the best-integrated program of the three.

Guitarist Kamman with bassist Alan Lewine and drummer Marty Knepp opened the program with five jazz pieces. The first "In Walked Bud," an engaging jazz embroidery, was by Thelonius Monk and featured the outstanding showmanship of Alan Lewine. Kamman wrote the remaining four compositions "Sweetleigh," "Meth'n'all," "Clementine," and "Johnny¹s Blues." There was lots of pleasing musical sound variety in these compositions. This reviewer particularly liked the subtle dialogue created between guitar and bass in "Clementine," which had both a sweet and sophisticated sound.

The middle section of the program highlighted the always accomplished performances of the Musica Viva performers. The selections included Libby Larsen's "Holy Roller," Darius Milhaud's "La Creation du Monde," and Bohuslav Martinu's "Fantaisie."

"Holy Roller," a duet between piano (Carl Banner) and alto saxophone (Rhonda Buckley) provided the evening's theatrical voices. Composer Libby Larsen based this composition on an early 1900s three-year revival meeting in Los Angeles. It's a difficult piece to deliver because piano and sax alone must create the entire tent church environment and this reviewer will testify that Banner and Buckley's talents more than rose the occasion. Buckley played sultry and sexy to Banner's basso boogie in the ivories. One knew as muted pianos chords of "When the Saints Come Marching In" played to the sax intro that you would be swept up in this number!

Sheer physicality characterized the performance of "La Creation du Monde." As the five movements composition opened, violinists Sally McLain and June Huang, violist Kim Buschek, and cellist Jodi Beder provided a visceral buzz while Carl Banner played a run of single notes. Kim Buschek, whose feet kept losing contact with the floor, said Milhaud's work was a lot of fun to play and certainly the audience could feel the energy. This reviewer was particularly struck by the third movement which sounded something like George Gershwin's "American in Paris," a piece written five years after "La Creation" composed in 1923. Milhaud, a French composer who was grouped with the composers Jean Cocteau called Les Six, was much admired by Virgil Thomson (deemed by many, the first composer of opera with an American sound). Milhaud, who taught at California's Mills College starting in 1940, taught Dave Brubeck, Burt Bacharach, and Steven Reich.

John Kamman playing a lap steel guitar and oboist Robert Lemon joined the string players and pianist Banner for "Fantaisie." Masatoshi Mitsumoto conducted this surreal sounding final classical piece, an engaging segue to the final work of the evening, Kamman's "Chamber Jazz Sextet."

"Chamber Jazz Sextet," in three movements, featured Kamman on guitar, Banner on piano, Lewine on bass, McLain on violin, Beder on cello, and Knepp on drums. Those who had attended all three concerts could see how this piece developed from the improv jazz sessions featured in the first two Evolutions programs. The "Sextet" offered an elegant jazz sound with the syncopated Kamman phraseology that had been developing in each concert. It was a highly satisfying culmination of what Kamman and Banner deemed an experiment.

Reviewed by Karren L. Alenier

OK, a plug for the next concert, May 8 at 7:30 pm at St. Columba's Church: This is the last and most experimental and ambitious concert in the EVOLUTIONS series. It has cost us some anxious moments, but it has turned out in ways to be the most satisfying. First of all, it really does what we said we were going to do, without hedging or compromise, and that is exciting: we have mixed up the genres, styles, and personnel from our jazz and classical music groups and have come up with a "New Species." We'll see if it has legs, as well as other necessary limbs and organs, but so far it sure looks promising.

Rehearsing John Kamman's Chamber Jazz Sextet Tuesday night in Alan Lewine's basement was an eye-opener. None of us knew exactly what we expected, but to me it sounded just spectacular. Sally McLain and Jodi Beder managed to stay in the saddle over an astoundingly complicated beat from Marty Knepp and Alan Lewine, with John's guitar skittering glibly over it all. I kept up only by stamping my feet constantly and gesturing wildly with my hands when I wasn't playing. The Kamman Sextet sets an outside peg, a context, for the program, which allows the rest to breathe more easily. Milhaud in 1926 and Martinu in 1944, (as well as Libby Larsen in 1990) were doing the same thing, creatively and playfuly combining the tools of European classical composition with the esthetic tradition and technology of American jazz. As poet Karren Alenier reminds us, "Be there, or be square!"

An idea for a piece, from listening to Scott McLellan's White House press briefing - there is the theme, which is his prepared message, which gets attacked, needled, distracted, pushed etc by the press corps, but he stays doggedly on track with the single theme, the single message, occasionally getting bent into actually responding to something or letting some actual information slip out. What a neat chamber music piece - I would score it for a soloist who can take a lot of abuse, surrounded by a diverse and wild crowd of aggressive instruments. I think I would write the solo part for myself, come to think of it, and it would require extensive improvisation - or rather, the resistance to improvisation. Maybe the idea would be to try to get the soloist to make a mistake, and then have to cover for it by clever improvisation.