Category: Music

I thought I’d do a rare Sunday post. It’s clear and beautiful here in a so-far-dry late autumn/early winter kind of way. Even the snow flurries at the beginning of the week and the snow squalls on Friday left no lasting traces. Much like my Christmas planning so far: we have a photo and text but no card yet. (Tomorrow.) And I still don’t know if our Christmas tree will light up after this spring’s flood.

But the holiday recordings are out! Well, technically, I didn’t have to pull anything out from anywhere. In the pre-iTunes days, around the first of December I would pull all my Christmas CDs out from the back of the drawer and replace them with the world music CDs, not from any animosity to Afropop but because they were filed right in front of the Christmas discs. This year, all I did was go into iTunes, select the Holiday genre, and command-click to check them all for inclusion in the normal shuffle. Then Lisa and I listened to hours worth of Christmas recordings yesterday, from the Stax Christmas collection and the Blind Boys of Alabama in the morning to the new Sufjan Stevens Christmas box (which rocks, btw) as we made spaghetti amatriciana last night.

So in honor of the season, here’s a random playlist of holiday music for your ass:

1. Bootsy Collins, “Boot-Off (aka Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer)” (Christmas is 4 Ever)
2. Cathedral Choral Society (J. Reilly Lewis, cond.), “Hallelujah Chorus” (The Joy of Christmas)
3. Ella Fitzgerald, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” (Ella Wishes You a Swinging Christmas)
4. Choir of St. John’s College, Cambridge (Christopher Robinson, cond.), “The Lord’s Prayer” (John Tavener, composer) (Christmas Proclamation)
5. Boston Camerata, “Gaudete, gaudete” (A Renaissance Christmas)
6. New York Ensemble for Early Music, “Orientis partibus” (Nova: A Medieval Christmas)
7. John Denver and the Muppets, “Noel: Christmas Eve, 1913” (A Christmas Together)
8. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir, “Joy to the World” (It’s Christmas)
9. Anonymous 4, “Liber generationis” (A Star in the East)
10. The Sixteen (Harry Christophers, cond.), “Drive the Cold Winter Away” (An Early English Christmas)

I got an early birthday present last month when I saw my Mom and Dad, but managed to forget about it until I dug it out of my briefcase last night. (What can I say: things have been a little hectic up in this joint.) It was a documentary on DVD called the Madison County Project, and it was pretty amazing. The documentary goes around my father’s home county in North Carolina and interviews ballad singers, keepers of the oral tradition of “murder ballads” or “love songs” as they’re variously called in the movie, and looks at what happened thirty years ago when academics and folk ethnographers first recorded the mountain ballads. In addition to the DVD, there’s a multimedia website (still technically in beta), and you can download movie cuts in progress, outtakes, and even a low-res version of the final edit of the movie in iPod suitable format from the project blog.

The amazing thing about this music is that it’s still alive and well, as a glimpse of the website of Sheila Kay Adams and her husband Jim Taylor testifies. If the Cold Mountain filmmakers had wanted to do something authentic with mountain music, they could have looked much closer at hand than where they ended up.

Oh, and that Folkways record that they made? All but one track can be downloaded from eMusic, and the full album is available from Smithsonian Folkways along with a bonus DVD of John Cohen’s original documentary.

I was saddened earlier this month to realize that I couldn’t sing in the concert I was most looking forward to in this symphony season, the Boston premiere of El Niño (The Child) by John Adams. I was particularly down because I would be missing the chance to sing with Dawn Upshaw, who has been one of my favorite soloists since I stumbled across her stunning voice on the definitive recording of Górecki’s Symphony No. 3 … wow, twelve or thirteen years ago now.

I’m now sadder because I wouldn’t have had a chance to sing with her in any circumstances. According to a news clip buried in yesterday’s Globe, as well as an earlier alert on the TFC grapevine, Ms. Upshaw is bowing out of the concert and other performances because she is being treated for early stage breast cancer. According to her manager, she plans to be back on stage in three months, so hopefully this is simply one of those things that has been caught in time. I hope I will have many chances to sing with her in the future.

My newest mix, doin’ the outside dance, has been posted to Art of the Mix and iTunes. I’m experimenting with iTunes’ new blog sharing code to put the songs on my site (see below). Unfortunately, only the parts of the mix that are in iTunes show up on the live preview.

The mix is composed of songs that were left over from the last mix… as well as some other odds and ends. I guess that makes it the Amnesiac to the last mix’s Kid A… which hopefully doesn’t mean that I’ll start singing about myxomatosis. It also obeys my informal rule about having songs by Mission of Burma and Big Star on all my mixes.

The deluge appears to have stopped here for the moment, so I can contemplate spending another few hours with the leaves tomorrow, in between painting and other house chores. I figured the few leaves left on our tree wouldn’t be a big burden after I got everything else up on Saturday, but I was wrong, wrong—after Sunday’s rain the back lawn looked like a compost pile. Ah, domesticity. Maybe I’ll get some other stuff done, too; there is at least one mix struggling to be born. In the meantime, we’ll settle for a Random 10:

1. Sam And Dave, “Soul Man” (Soul Men)
2. Kim Kashkashian, viola – Stuttgarter Kammerorchester, Dennis Russell Davies, conductor, “Trauermusik” (Lachrymae (Hindemith, Britten, Penderecki ))
3. The Blind Boys Of Alabama, “Just Wanna See His Face” (Spirit Of The Century)
4. Thurston Moore, “Psychic Hearts” (Psychic Hearts)
5. Pixies, “Tame” (Doolittle)
6. U2, “Stories For Boys” (Boy)
7. Nina Simone, “Mississippi Goddam” (The Best of Nina Simone)
8. Richard Hickox; Collegium Musicum 90, “”Paukenmesse”: IV. Sanctus” (Haydn: Te Deum/Paukenmesse/Te Deum)
9. Elvis Costello & The Attractions, “Shipbuilding” (Punch The Clock [remastered])
10. Monty Python, “Bookshop” (Monty Python’s Contractual Obligation Album)

The recent announcement that Microsoft would share $1 of revenue for every Zune sold with Universal Music Group—because, according to UMG Chairman and CEO Doug Morris, iPod-like devices are “just repositories for stolen music, and they all know it”—sounds familiar. So I went back and found the precedent for this apparently unprecedented business model: the 2004 CD MAP settlement. This madlibbed version of the Zune revenue-share announcement should clarify the similarities:

In 2004, the music companies, including UMG, agreed to share revenue from CD sales with consumers. Forcing the issue were Attorneys General of 43 states, Commonwealths and Territories. UMG refused to admit to price-fixing but agreed to compensate consumers between $5 and $20 per claimant.

“These companies are just repositories for stolen consumer money, and they all know it,” this consumer says. “So it’s time to get paid for it.”

And after pulling highway robbery via price fixing for six years, these guys call us thieves? As Laurie Anderson would say, “It takes. It takes one. It takes one to. It takes one to know one.”

Not really, but wouldn’t that be nice? As Henry Thomas (and apparently Taj Mahal) would say, “Big fish bites if you got good bait.” I don’t know what the hell it means but it sounds profound.

1. Cat Power, “Wild is the Wind” (The Covers Record)
2. New Dominions, “Burning Down the House” (Bon Time)
3. David Byrne, “Dirty Hair” (Lead Us Not Into Temptation)
4. Hilliard Ensemble, “Sanctus” (The Old Hall Manuscript)
5. Mark Eitzel, “Steve I Always Knew” (The Invisible Man)
6. Monty Python, “I’m So Worried” (Contractual Obligation Album)
7. Henry Thomas, “Fishing Blues” (Anthology of American Folk Music)
8. The Rolling Stones, “Wild Horses” (Sticky Fingers)
9. Spoon, “Stay Don’t Go” (Kill the Moonlight)
10. R.E.M., “Burning Hell” (Dead Letter Office)

Two additional Moses und Aron reviews. The Boston Herald review is effusive: Levine’s Moses is stunning, honest to God. T.J. Medrek writes, “But head and shoulders above all was the visceral, virtuoso performance of the Tanglewood Festival Chorus. Called upon to whisper, growl, shout and, yes, even sing, portraying everything from the Voice of God speaking to Moses, from a Burning Bush to orgiastic revelers worshiping a Golden Calf, the chorus excelled and reveled in each unusual opportunity.”

Contrast with this insightful post from Matthew Guerrieri at Soho the Dog, This is Cinerama:

The mob took a while to come into focus. The biggest casualty of a concert, as opposed to a staged, performance of Moses is the protean character of the chorus. In their first big scene, rumors of possible liberation race through the people, factions form and dissolve, and conventional wisdoms are settled upon and then cast aside. With the chorus a massed block at the back of the stage, Schoenberg’s careful delineation of the desperation and fickleness of each requisite group was largely a wash. Hearing the Tanglewood Festival Chorus this past summer in Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder, my sense was that they were struggling to adjust to Levine’s minimalist, undemonstrative conducting style. That uncertainty seemed evident in the first act of Moses as well; thrilling sounds (particularly from the women) were in abundance, but so were lagging tempi and blurry rhythms. But a few minutes into Act II, everything clicked into place, and the chorus suddenly began to peal forth. Their cry of “Juble, Israel” (“Rejoice, Israel”) at the initial appearance of the Golden Calf was filled with a sure beauty as well as a chilling fanaticism.

Who’s right, TJ or Matthew? If I’m honest I have to say Matthew. There were quite a few small glitches in the chorus, which are perhaps attributable to the cause Matthew suggests as much as to the incredible difficulty of the writing.

It’s an interesting point-counterpoint. While the review in the Herald does an excellent job of conveying the overall impression of the concert, Matthew gives a far closer reading and identifies both the true strengths and weaknesses of the performance. A good example of the value of blogs from focused individuals to dig deeply into unfamiliar subjects and provide more valuable coverage.

Posted at Art of the Mix and iTunes. This one took a while to put together but mines some material from some recordings I’ve had forever—a benefit of going back to listen to all of my ripped CDs on shuffle is that tracks like the one from Shu-De surprise you. And then there’s “Red Clay Halo,” which might as well be a family anthem.

The overall may be a little heavy on what someone I know has called “moody man-rock,” but I think it works.

Back from a quick trip to DC (Crystal City to be exact), footsore and tired, but still pleased with what I found in the paper (online) this morning: BSO brings prowling Schoenberg opera to life. Key paragraph (emphasis added):

But of course what gives this parable its weight and power is Schoenberg’s bracing 12-tone score, some of the most urgent and vital music that he ever composed. The part of Moses is written in Sprechstimme, a vocal style between speech and song. Sir John Tomlinson was magnificent in this role, his somber declarations chiseled into the music around him. Aron was sung by the sweet-toned tenor Philip Langridge, who made the giant leaps in the vocal part seem effortless. Sergei Koptchak was a standout among the other soloists , but at the true heart of this performance was the Tanglewood Festival Chorus, which brought this fiercely difficult music to life with riveting delivery and admirable polish. Levine led the proceedings with expert pacing. If the Golden Calf orgy did not pack the visceral punch of other performances he has led at the Met, he made up for it with a luminous ending that held the hall in a deep silence. After everything that had transpired, the moment had an eloquence all its own.

And the best thing is, the performance will only get better, since on Saturday we’re certain to get some of the uncertain entrances that marred last night’s performance from the perspective of those on stage.

Another review from blogger Vana Jezebel: “Last night I went to see Moses and Aron (Schoenberg) at the BSO and it was pretty crazy — an incredible performance.” I’d say that pretty well sums it up.

Boston Globe: BSO’s epic undertaking. The numbers the article provides are fairly daunting even from the outside. But here’s how those hours break down for me, as of this week:

12 rehearsals for the TFC… of which I had to miss four thanks to work, including two runthrough rehearsals.

5 rehearsals this week… one Monday night, one Tuesday, two today, one more tomorrow, constituting…

17.5 hours of rehearsal. This week.

5 product demos for work, to be done in the few remaining hours at the office.

3:45 in the morning on Friday, when I have to get up after the concert the night before to fly to DC for a meeting.

At this point liking the Moses und Aron is largely irrelevant. Surviving it is rather more to the point.

I have a running playlist in iTunes that was destined to be a mix, consisting of odd cover songs that actually work (or don’t). I was all excited to work on it this weekend until I saw the 66 Alt-Rock Cover Songs list on the iTunes Store, which took all the wind out of my sails. Not only did it include some of the covers I was already planning to use for the next mix, it also included some I didn’t know about. “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me” by the Violent Femmes? “Everybody Hurts” by Dashboard Confessional? “Lithium” by the Polyphonic Spree? Oh, it hurts us, precious…

When I read a note on a French Sting fansite that the man formerly known as Gordon Sumner would be releasing an album of classical lute music, I stopped, goggled, then giggled. Then I got depressed. Sting has been going down in my estimation since Ten Summoner’s Tales—a decent album, but with the seeds of his spiral into adult alternative toothlessness sown within. More ominously for Tuesday’s release of Songs from the Labyrinth, an inside page of the booklet featured Sting posing with a lute and looking faintly ridiculous.

Why am I so down on this concept? Let’s just say it’s not new to me. In 2000 when Lisa and I visited London over a long weekend, we took a tour of the reconstructed Globe Theatre, which was hosting a benefit concert later that night. As we emerged into the actual theatre, our guide paused, went ahead, then came back and told us that we were being permitted to sit in on the rehearsal for the event. On stage: Vinnie Jones (of Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels and X-Men: The Last Stand), James Taylor, and Sting, among others. The theme of the day was Elizabethan entertainment, so we got to see Jones play Mercutio in a Romeo & Juliet pastiche; Taylor sang an original but period-influenced tune; and Sting played and sang a Dowland tune. Badly. In his defense, he was clearly not feeling well (it was a little chilly, but he had an orange scarf tightly around his neck and was not doing a lot of moving around), and he gave himself a self-deprecating kick in the ass as he left the stage. The whole experience boded ill.

So now comes the actual album. My Dowland touchstone is probably his “Come, Come Again,” which the Virginia Glee Club regularly performed. The curious should download track 16 of Songs from the Labyrinth, which basically sums up the whole album: odd arrangement, featuring the lute totally dropping out behind Sting’s voice, and deadly vocal performance full of apparently-intended-to-be-emotive diphthongs and toothless fricatives. Seriously, there are vocal lines that sound as though they’re sung through dentures. Worse, there’s no variation to the vocal lines: the performances are note-note-note with little or no vocal inflection and no phrasing. And then there’s the overdubbing: awkward as the solo lines are, they sound like sheer genius compared to the same voice in two part harmony.

Still, the whole thing isn’t bad: there are some interesting solo lute numbers.

After the travel this week, I feel like catching a breath, so I’m going to let the music speak for me. See you on Monday

1. Smithsonian Chamber Players (Marin Marais, composer), “Suite d-moll – Menuet” (Pièces à deux violes)
2. Shu-De, “Shyngyr-Shyngyr” (Voices from the Distant Steppe)
3. The Velvet Underground, “Train Round the Bend” (Peel Slowly and See)
4. M. Ward, “Let’s Dance” (Transfiguration of Vincent)
5. Lou Reed and John Cale, “Forever Changed” (Songs for Drella)
6. Clemencic Consort, “Regina celi letare” (Dunstable: Cathedral Sounds)
7. Joe Henderson, “Teo” (So Near, So Far)
8. U2, “Bullet the Blue Sky” (Rattle and Hum)
9. Soul Coughing, “Maybe I’ll Come Down” (El Oso)
10. Neko Case and Her Boyfriends, “Duchess” (The Virginian)

A few tunes on today’s mix speak to my feeling of total disillusionment with the Senate, particularly the Johnny Cash, the Monk, and the Golden Gate Jubilee Quartet.

1. Johnny Cash, “I Hung My Head” (American IV: The Man Comes Around)
2. U2, “Spanish Eyes” (B-Sides 1980-1990)
3. Thelonious Monk, “Nutty” (Thelonious Monk with John Coltrane)
4. Ed Harcourt, “Black Dress” (Strangers)
5. Golden Gate Jubilee Quartet, “Job” (How Can I Keep From Singing)
6. The Philip Glass Ensemble, “Le Voyage du Père” (La Belle et la Bete)
7. Jesus & Mary Chain, “Sometimes Always” (Stoned & Dethroned)
8. Gewandhausorchester Leipzig, “Fantasia on Hungarian Folk Themse, S 123” (Liszt: Les Préludes)
9. Smashing Pumpkins, “X.Y.U.” (Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness)
10. Moby, “Very” (Hotel)