Noxious Naxos

The record label Naxos is fantastic. They sometimes seem to be the only record company recording anything anymore. And they're recording almost everything ever written. From the most familiar warhorses to stuff so obscure, I sometimes think they're making it up. It's amazing and something to be truly commended.

But why, oh why, do their CD covers have to be so hideous? Yes, they try to keep their costs down by recording with lesser known orchestras. And I understand they're using a common template for their covers to be efficient. But good design doesn't have to be inefficient. A well designed template for their basic line of recordings would be well within their means and just add a beauty and polished look that would match the quality and creativity of their product. Right now they look like an administrative assistant is putting them together in Word.

Please, Naxos. Please hear me. I just bought 3 of your CDs, I promise to buy more in the future, but please hire an actual graphic designer to put together a few handsome templates for you to use from here on out. Pleeeeeeze? I can suggest several tasteful fonts other than Times Roman, you might like to know about.

What not to wear when playing

Kanako Ito is the concertmistress of the Kansas City Symphony. Last night I tried to sign her up for the TV show, What Not to Wear. However, after entering my birth date, the site told me I was too young to submit an entry. I may not be old enough to be dining at 5:30 p.m. yet, but I'm definitely old enough for that site. Maybe not smart enough though to figure out what the hell was going on with it. At any rate, at the concert this weekend it occurred to me that someone new to the symphony would have thought that that last violinist wandering onto the stage was just probably some college student wearing some frumpy black slacks and a tight-ish long-sleeve velour top that she probably picked up at TJ Maxx. And I don't even know what to say about her hair. Except that it might be good to schedule a nice trim and style more than twice a year.

Okay, okay, okay. Men have it easy for concerts. Either it's the tux with black tie or the tails and white tie. Done. The poor women. Some wear dresses. Some wear slacks. Some wear jackets. Some wear simple blouses. Some sparkle. Some are drab – even for black. Actually I seriously thought it would be interesting if all the women in the symphony were given a group makeover. I've never seen that on cable TV.

I know Kanako Ito is probably a darling woman committed to her music. And I honestly say all this with love and respect. (And a teeny, itsy bit of cattiness.) And maybe, just maybe, she thought just a little about what she was going to wear and what to do with her hair. And I'm sure the same goes more or less for the others. But when you sit in a concert hall listening to Mahler for an hour and a half, you tend to have a fair amount of time to look at the people on stage. Don't tell me you haven't scanned the stage to see who's doing what, wearing what, and stressing about the next bit of music. So give me some glitz. We all paid lots of money for our tickets. And you, dear Kanako, you sit right there at the front of the stage. You're as close to the audience as anyone. You're the one Michael Stern always shakes hands with. The soloists always shake your hand. You are in the spot light. You've got the talent. Now bring on the bling. And if you're not sure how to go about it, I bet there are a few salons and boutiques that'd be happy to help you out in exchange for a little credit in the program.

"Hair and makeup by _____ Salon and Spa. Wardrobe by ______."

News anchors do it. You deserve it. Surely someone on that symphony board knows someone. Well, someone chic maybe. Maybe. Anyway, treat yourself. Treat us. Remember, we sit in the dark. You're the one on stage.

Mahler and The Horn Supremacy

I hate titling these posts. Sigh. Sorry.

Anyway, I attended last night's Kansas City Symphony concert.

[Note to self: Never, ever, ever get seats again in the lower balcony. The seats and rows are not constructed for anyone taller than 4' 6" with knees. I am 6' or 6' 1". I'm not sure. But that's another story. Shockingly uncomfortable. Yikes. Seriously, from the front edge of the seat cushion to the hard back of the seat in front of me was no more than six inches. Fortunately my concert-going partner got us aisle seats and that's where I stuck my legs for the entire concert. Lyric Theater – I shall not miss you.]

The concert started off with a piece by the young composer, Adam Schoenberg. Born in 1980. Titled "Translucent Thoughts," it was an interesting piece, about 10 minutes long. Lots of dissonant orchestral sounds. I sat through the whole piece under the mistaken impression the title was "Translucent Night," (excuses: the light was dim, I was trying to speed read the synopsis, my brain is going) and kept thinking to myself, "Yeah, that's a good description. Sound like nighttime in some sort of film noir world." The closing moments were the most lovely I thought. Well the only moments that could be remotely called lovely. But they were -- with atmospheric strings that couldn't help but remind me of the film scores of Thomas Newman. Afterwards, the composer came out on stage for a bow in his corduroy sport coat looking even younger than his program photo.

The concert then shifted into what a good chunk of the audience was there for: Lots of French Horn goodness. There were 150 or so members of the International Horn Society were in Kansas City for the Mid-South Horn Conference. I never knew there was such a thing. And I played french horn from junior high into college. This really skewed the audience age down a couple of decades. But even aside for them, the audience seemed to be the youngest crowd I'd seen at a concert in a long, long time. Anyway, Eric Ruske was the guest soloist for Mozart's Horn Concerto No. 4. Beautiful sound, but I'm afraid it wasn't the most confident performance. He seemed to struggle a bit with his upper register. But still it was an engaging reading and I always enjoy hearing a concerto not built around the usual piano or violin.

I actually enjoyed his "encore" piece more. (Does it count as an encore if you announce it before you play the first piece?) Dukas' Vilanelle for Horn is a truly delightfully rich pastry, and it was a definite treat to hear this in the concert hall.

Finally, the big finale of the evening was Mahler's Fifth Symphony. I find Mahler's symphonies truly exciting in concert. To me, they seem like epic mini-series. With drama, comedy, battles, romantic liaisons, elegies, pageantry -- just everything you'd have in a big sprawling historical novel. And I thought Michael Stern and the Kansas City Symphony handled it all magnificently. It all sounded assured and noble and perverse -- whatever was required of that moment of the piece. I thought the brass sounded particularly fine in their prominent parts. And the audience responded with explosive appreciation. One man, in fact, evidently had a "BRAVO" bottled up inside for quite some time. His outburst come barely a half beat after Stern's final downbeat. I'm sure it made more than a few people jump.

Great concert. Highly entertaining. Aided by a young enthusiastic crowd. One weird moment: Before Ruske played the Mozart, he announced that because of the KU NCAA Basketball tournament game results, he'd play the Dukas piece. "Huh?" was I think everyone's response. Then he and Sterns traded some whispered comments which finally ended with Stern, half-turned to the audience, saying "KC lost." Again, "Huh?" Um, Michael. I know that KU basketball isn't probably on the top of your interest list. But even then, a little gentleness when announcing something that important to so many people in this area, please. And get it right. KC is not KU. And again, the way Ruske announced the piece, seemed more like he was going to announce playing either the KU fight song or a mournful elegy. Awkward.

Figaro, no!

Damn! I can't believe it. I tried to get tickets to the next Met Opera Goes to the Movies for this Saturday – their new production of The Barber of Seville. It's sold out. This early in the week? Who are all these people wasting their Saturday afternoons to sit in a movie theater? This is the second time that's happened to me. Last time, I didn't try to get tickets until the same day, so I thought I'd get them earlier.

Not early enough, I guess. No Juan Diego Florez for me, this weekend.

So I went ahead and got tickets for the next live broadcast at the end of April, Puccini's Il Trittico. THOSE were available. Sheesh. So much for my opera fest. Instead, I'm now looking forward to the Kansas City Symphony's concert this weekend, which includes one of my favorite composers, Mahler and his Fifth Symphony. Plus one of Mozart's Horn Concertos – something close to my heart. Or nerves, as I had to memorize parts of them when I studied French Horn in high school and a couple of years in college. Oh, the anxiety of the city and state solo/ensemble competitions.

Opera, opera, opera, Mahler

I seem to be in the midst of a personal Opera Fest. Last week, I saw the re-broadcast of the Met's HD broadcast of The First Emperor at a movie theater. This week was a live performance of The Barber of Seville. And next weekend is another one of The Met Opera Goes to the Movies HD broadcasts. This one will be their new production of The Barber of Seville directed by Bartlett Sher, the director of Broadway's The Light in the Piazza – a musical I caught in New York and thought one of the most lovely stage production's I've ever seen. So it'll be interesting to compare these two Barbers. And probably unfair. But I'm interested to see how much shtick this Met production feels like it needs in order to be entertaining.

And then I'm sure I won't feel a need to see The Barber of Seville again for quite a while.

Also on tap for next weekend is the Kansas City Symphony and Mahler's Fifth Symphony. I'm fascinated by Mahler's symphonies and usually take advantage of any opportunity to hear any performance of them. At some point I'll post some things that will demonstrate just how obsessed I am with Mahler. Just wait. You'll see.

The Big Shtick of Seville

I went to the Friday night performance of Kansas City Lyric Opera's production of The Barber of Seville. It was like a three hour Looney Tunes. But with pretty amazing singing. I think. I mean, there was so much going on at any given moment during this production, I rarely had a moment to consider the music. Especially that moment when the whole audience gasped as everyone collectively feared for a couple of seconds that the whole front wall of Dr. Bartolo's house was going to fall flat and squash Almaviva. Things got better after that, because the whole wall went away, once the scenes shifted to the interior of the house, and that wobbly wall never came back. The set was much more interesting and attractive at that point. Its quirky angles and color added to the cartoon feel as it felt like a background from Bugs Bunny's What's Opera, Doc? It did look at it's best when the lights were lowered. The seams and rough edges weren't as apparent then. But again, that wasn't as big of a distraction as all the "business" the director had all the performers trying to cram into each scene. I'm all about making music entertaining, but this was hammy to the nth degree.

Now, I admit, I was most definitely in the minority in my opinion here. The audience Friday night ate it all up. And the singers were pretty amazing, singing with surprising ease and style in spite of all the shenanigans going on. But in the end, for me this production was catapulted way, way over the top.

National Philharmonic of Russia

Just attended an afternoon concert with Vladimir Spivakov conducting the National Philharmonic of Russia at the Music Hall. For an orchestra that evidently hasn't been around a long time, this group sounded fantastic. This might have been the smoothest sounding orchestra I've heard in a long time. They opened with Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet, and I thought that I've never heard a more lush version. Plus, there were the pair of college students sitting right in front of me that probably could have just shared the same seat. The girl must have had some condition that required the boy to keep at least one hand on her at all times. In fact, when he moved his left hand from her bare knee, she took his right hand and put it back on her knee. It was adorable. Except for the smacking kisses. And the hideous shell necklace with a ring attached that he wore. And the fact that they kept it up through all of the following piece, Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. Adorable no more, they began to sicken me.

Fortunately, onstage Olga Kern was knocking the Rhapsody out of there. Olga was quite a striking figure as she entered the stage in her slinky rrrrrrrred dress. I thought she was quite a dynamic performer. Posture may not have been her strong point, but it was fun and engaging to watch her hands even when they weren't playing (which isn't very often in this piece) as she kept them aloft, almost posing for a hand lotion photo shoot, following particularly busy passage. At the very end, she actually rose off the piano bench to finish the last couple of bars in a half-standing position.

In other words, I loved her playing. The orchestra was just as lush, if not more so than before, in this piece. Perhaps too much. I could have stood just a bit more bite and passion in a few key moments. And this goes for the final piece on the program, Rachmaninoff's Symphonic Dances. As rich and lush as a lot of Rachmaninoff is, it also needs some visceral passion. I thought both Rachmaninoff pieces needed this. But still it was a gorgeous thing to hear. Really marvelous. Plus, the audience really seemed to respond to everything. Olga gave us one encore. And after the Symphonic Dances, Vladimir and his friends gave us three showcase encores: 2 excerpts from Swan Lake and one from Kachaturian, I believe. The orchestra seemed to enjoy playing these war horses and seemed like they were really having a good time.

I noted that the orchestra members covered quite an age range – from apparent veterans to a couple that looked like college kids. And quite a few women, too. I'd say over half the violins were women. I only mention all this because I've seen some European orchestras that were almost all men or had a much narrower range in age. I just think it's interesting.

Three odd concert things:
• At one point, Olga was so hunched over the keyboard so far, that it truly looked like her fingers were going to get tangled up in her hair.
• During the last movement of the Symphonic Dances, a man who looked like Leonid Brezhnev and was seated on the other side of the older women sitting next to me, leaned over to her and whispered, "We should have left at intermission." I hate him still.
• Check out the pic of Spivakov. For the longest time I couldn't figure out what the hell he was wearing. He had a tux on, like all of the orchestra's men. But unlike all the black bowtie-wearing guys, it really looked like from my second row balcony seat, that his shirt was open/unbuttoned with no tie. At first I thought he had on a crooked, weird white tie – I mean it was hard to catch a glance. Ninety-five percent of the time he had his back to us, afterall. But now I see in all his press photos, this high collar, no tie thing, is his look. I'm sure it looks just smashing close up, but from the balcony, it sure looked like he was going for the casual Sunday look.

Aisle Say, The First Post

One of the first classical music records I enjoyed featured the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. “Concertgebouw” seemed like a wonderfully fantastic name for an orchestra. Not just a city name – yawn. But a tricky-looking word that felt pretty fun practicing saying it out loud. I was in 8th grade or so.

So last year, I visited some friends in Amsterdam. My dear friend Karen took me to concert at the home of the Concertgebouw Orchestra. Now the Concertgebouw were out touring in Japan (damn them), so instead, we heard a pretty good concert by a Romanian orchestra. But while we were there, it suddenly dawned on me that the wonderfully sophisticated sounding word “Concertgebouw” actually means little more than “concert building.”

That was kind of a let down. But it also reminded me that sometimes classical music has a veneer of pretension and a wall of terminology that nudges – if not shoves – lots of people away. Whereas so much of classical music, opera and other arts can be enjoyed as ordinary everyday entertainment. So much of it was created as the popular music of its time. So much of it can be listened to, or watched and enjoyed without any preconceived notions. Of course, understanding and enjoyment can be more deeply appreciated with some information. Just like we enjoy reading interviews and articles in Entertainment Weekly, Spin, and People or watching them on Oprah, or the Today Show, it’s often more fun knowing more about the actors, musicians, and directors who create the entertainments we enjoy.

I’m not saying that classical music and other arts shouldn’t be considered extraordinary – much of it is unbelievably extraordinary. But I’d just like to suggest that we keep things grounded. Let’s not be exclusive with the arts. Unless you’re a scholar, let’s keep discussions about whatever we’re discussing, light, accessible, and yes, even informative.