Music Review

I Came for Copland. I Will Remember Ray Chen

C. Jefferson Thom — Thu, 11 Apr 2024 23:51:19 +0000

I Came for Copland. I Will Remember Ray Chen C. Jefferson Thom April 11, 2024 - 19:51

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classical music

Appalachian Spring

Seattle Symphony

Benaroya Hall, Seattle

There's a decent chance I just witnessed the most incredible live performance by a violinist I will be privileged to experience in my lifetime. Ray Chen has a reputation for the intense passion that precedes him, but any hype was dimmed by the supernova burst of hearing him live.

This was my favorite of many memorable evenings spent with the Seattle Symphony at Benaroya Hall. Beginning with a dynamic modern composition by Dorothy Chang titled "Northern Star," the fuse was lit for a night of explosive energy. Chang masterfully wields the loud-quiet-loud with a contrast that offers a more extraordinary richness to both ends of that spectrum. This fuse beautifully burned its way to the readied dynamite of Erich Korngold's "Violin Concerto in D major" and Ray Chen's waiting violin.

Chen breathes intensity through the bridge, strings, and bow. He speaks directly through his violin as an extension of himself. If there is a division between the two, it is difficult to see and nearly impossible to hear. He reads the language of Korngold's music, knows it, and shares it as his own with the deepest feeling due to each note. His vibrato resonates through his arm, wrist, and fingers. His double stops sing with a choral unison. His bowing seems endlessly seamless, stretching onward into a continued infinity. His joy and love are ever present, and we in the audience were graciously lavished with wave after wave of passion, playfulness, and pure celebration. If there is something exceptional about being human, moments like these best make a better argument.

Also exceptional was the work of conductor Xian Zhang. Of the many conductors I have seen lead the Seattle Symphony, Zhang coaxes a new level of intensity, bringing this body of musicians closest to dancing on the razor's edge. Aside from having the mastery to answer Zhang's call, the members of the Seattle Symphony should be credited for the adaptability of maintaining their consistent level of play while rotating through so many conductors. Since I began attending their performance in December of last year, I don't believe I've seen the same hand lift the baton twice, but these musicians make that flexibility look effortless.

Closing out the program were the soothing sounds of Aaron Copland. If America were ever to live up to the purity of its professed ideals and intentions, it might sound something like Copland's Appalachian Spring. This is a piece that has brought me to joyful tears many times, and it was this offering that drew me to Benaroya Hall last Saturday night. What a perfect way to wrap up a program of forceful fireworks. The calm after the storm… and how wonderful it was. My heart is cradled in these bars—the quiet which gently builds. The strings work double-time, and the brass supports with sustained notes from below. There is such hope. Such yearning. Such a desire for better. Maybe, like the films of Frank Capra, it's an idealism that stretches too far and sees not so clearly. Still, I have fallen for Copland ever since I first heard what he had to say and getting to listen to his Appalachian Spring played so wonderfully live was a gift, the warmth of which still gives me a little smile.

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Song of the Week: "Wanting and Waiting"

Dusty Wright — Thu, 28 Mar 2024 21:05:36 +0000

Song of the Week: "Wanting and Waiting" Dusty Wright March 28, 2024 - 17:05

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classic rock

The Brothers Robinson (Chris & Rich) are back, albeit 11 years after releasing a double live album, Wiser for the Time (2013), and taking no effin' prisoners. These are real musicians playing real instruments with no auto-tuned vocals. "Wanting and Waiting" off of Happiness Bastards (2024) is brimming with classic Crowes' hard rock swagger with killer guitar hooks and soulful background vocals. They're missing the "thump" of original founding band member drummer Steve Gorman being left out in the cold. It's too bad; my only complaint about the song's arrangement is that they miss his power and energy. (If you've not read Mr. Gorman's memoir, do so immediately.) On tour now; check out dates here.

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How Your Great-Grandma Rocked Out

C. Jefferson Thom — Mon, 25 Mar 2024 00:22:50 +0000

How Your Great-Grandma Rocked Out C. Jefferson Thom March 24, 2024 - 20:22

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jazz

Glenn Miller Orchestra

Benaroya Hall, Seattle

If your great-grandmother wanted to piss off her parents when she was a teenager, she might have slipped into her Keds, pulled on a flared skirt, and danced all night to the risqué sounds of Duke Ellington or Benny Goodman. If she were really into the hard stuff, maybe she would have swung with the Glenn Miller Orchestra, which we were doing here in Seattle this past Friday night… and grandma rocks hard.
It began with a moonlight serenade. God, I love this music! It was so joyous, celebratory, innocent, and contradictory to what was happening outside the venues it first played in. I suppose a decade weighed down by The Great Depression, followed by a World War II chaser, necessitated some cheering up. And so, starting in the late 1930s, the Glenn Miller Orchestra began that effort and has continuously brightened the spirits of audiences up to the present day.

While the begrudging grasp of time has denied us any remaining original members, this manifestation of the Glenn Miller Orchestra is part of a tradition that has carried on bearing its originator’s name for nearly eighty years. Erik Stabnau, the band’s present Music Director and a man with more hands than Vishnu, glides seamlessly through the many hats he gracefully wears. Playing a mean saxophone, singing in a clean and golden baritone, introducing the numbers, and offering a little backstory without turning the music into ancient history, Stabnau makes weaving his tapestry look easy.

The band itself is immaculate. With fourteen dedicated musicians seated behind the trademark stand fronts, these legendary songs are kept alive. The brass section bursts with an exuberant celebration, the drummer bounces the rhythm between the snare and high hat, and the woodwinds wail with a heightened vibrato that makes me miss my grandparents. Listening to these soothing sounds makes it easy to see why people often think life used to be simpler and better and it just made more sense back in the day. While I don’t subscribe to those theories, this music makes me wax nostalgic for times I never knew. The band is joined by vocalist Jenny Swoish, who initially came on pretty strong, verging on the forced, but ultimately backs her swaggering confidence with powerful vocals.

If you have either an appreciation for or a curiosity about the swing era, a living tradition is tuned to scratch that itch. Like Zoroastrian priests tending to the sacred flame of Yazd, the Glenn Miller Orchestra carries the torch of a beautiful moment in music, breathing fresh life into it today. Bravo to the Seattle Symphony for its diverse and diligently curated programming. If you haven’t checked out what they have going on at Benaroya Hall, I highly suggest looking at their calendar to see what’s waiting to draw you in.

For more information and show dates for the Glenn Miller Orchestra:

https://glennmillerorchestra.com/

Seattle Symphony: https://www.seattlesymphony.org/

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Tales of Bad Parenting & A Hatred for Opera

C. Jefferson Thom — Sun, 17 Mar 2024 20:54:34 +0000

Tales of Bad Parenting & A Hatred for Opera C. Jefferson Thom March 17, 2024 - 16:54

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opera

Photo: Brandon Patoc

Bach's St. John Passion

Benaroya Hall, Seattle

The subject of this libretto follows the Passion of Jesus according to the Gospel of John. If I didn't know better, I would think that this God fellow was a kind of shitty father. But what pains me more than the suffering of Christ is the vocal styles of operatic singing.

I didn't do my research and ended up listening to opera. St. John Passion by Johann Sebastian Bach began with forcefully wonderous choral arrangements and the soundings of a scaled-down orchestra. I enjoyed this very much, particularly the duetting oboes; they were so sad and hauntingly beautiful. I love oboes and celebrate their showcasing. I also love Bach. Hence, my haste to hear anything composed by this God of the Baroque, but I forgot that so many of my favorite composers had a far greater appreciation for operatic singing than I did.

I have tried numerous times over many years, and, for the most part, I simply do not enjoy operatic singing. Though I recognize the discipline and mastery of the craft and that opera singers are likely some of the most technically skilled vocalists walking the planet at any given time, my ears just aren’t hearing any of it. It usually sounds like a parody of itself but is devoid of any intentional humor. I respect the ability to reach a large music hall without microphones; that's very impressive, but it's still like getting a super-fast delivery of take-out food that you don't like. It doesn't matter; it’s just lost on me. It doesn't help that the singing is usually accompanied by what I consider cartoonish over-acting. I feel like I’m watching real-life humans do their best impersonations of Disney princesses and villains. With the broad gestures and over-emotive expressions made for daytime television, I can't take it seriously. Unfortunately, this performance of Bach didn't break any of those stereotypes for me. I appreciated the vocals offered by tenor Andrew Haji, finding them to be clean and with a fine balance of vibrato, but that's about what I could take away before tuning out. After the choir and orchestra began supporting the solo vocalists, my ears drifted, and my eyes examined the lighting fixtures. If I had focused on the stage, I would have had to suppress laughing at what I find absurdly comic, and I don't want to be rude.

As a life-long advocate and aficionado of musical theatre, I have often been on the opposite side of this taste argument. Just as I am convinced that those repulsed by the sounds of a showtune and its unique vocal stylings are missing out on something wonderful, I am likely really missing out on opera. I mean, it's been around so long; there has to be a reason people still dedicate their free time to it. While I know this in my head, my heart, ears, and soul do not care. On some theoretical level, I can muster a profound respect for this art, but in practice, I wonder if I wouldn't prefer listening to reggaeton. On second thought, probably not, but did I mention that I really don't like opera?

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Song of the Week: "Floating On A Moment"

Ian Alterman — Sat, 17 Feb 2024 21:01:46 +0000

Song of the Week: "Floating On A Moment" Ian Alterman February 17, 2024 - 16:01

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indie rock

I came very late to trip-hop, but once I did, I immersed myself in it from its beginnings with Tricky and Massive Attack through iterations from everyone from Bjork to Portishead and beyond. [N.B. Although many have disagreed with me, trip-hop found its apotheosis with Amy Winehouse, and what she and others call neo-soul is an amalgamation of trip-hop, soul, and jazz elements. I have considered writing an article on this but haven't found the time.]

In any case, I became a huge Portishead fan as soon as I heard them and a Beth Gibbons fan. I consider her among the most criminally underrated vocalists of our time.

Ms. Gibbons is about to release her first solo album in over 20 years, entitled Lives Outgrown. "Floating on a Moment" is the first single from the album, and it is simply terrific. With touches of trip-hop, soft rock, and "torchy" vocals, its insistent softness is strangely compelling, even at five-and-a-half minutes. Lyrically, its central theme -- that even a single moment can be a journey -- might seem obvious, even trite. But in her hands, it is turned into something far more ethereal and more thoughtful.

The video accompanying the song is one of the trippiest, most psychedelic videos in some time and almost worth the entire price of admission.

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Song of the Week: "Dark Matter"

Ian Alterman — Sat, 17 Feb 2024 20:53:10 +0000

Song of the Week: "Dark Matter" Ian Alterman February 17, 2024 - 15:53

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alternative rock

I am not a particularly huge Pearl Jam fan, though I have a handful of their albums, love many of their songs, and understand their place in rock history (vis-a-vis the Seattle sound). I am also aware of socio-politics and (slightly less often) child abuse and mental health.

This is Pearl Jam sounding their angriest, with a vibe closer to "metal" than even their occasionally strongly aggressive sound suggests. And, as is often the case, Vedder's enunciation and elision of lyrics leave one wondering what the song is actually about. (A reading of the lyrics suggests a socio-political theme, but what, exactly, is not clear.) In other words, this is "classic" Pearl Jam, only even more obscure and aggressive than usual.

Still, for all that, the song is a good one (and remarkably short, but complete, at just over 3:30), and bodes well for their upcoming album, of which the song is synonymous.

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The Old Ludwig Van…

C. Jefferson Thom — Wed, 07 Feb 2024 20:59:15 +0000

The Old Ludwig Van… C. Jefferson Thom February 7, 2024 - 15:59

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classical

photo credit: James Holt

Various Works
The Seattle Symphony
Benaroya Hall, Seattle

It's 7:55 pm on a Saturday at Benaroya Hall. The audience saunter to their seats as a steady stream of musicians trickle onto the stage, joining their tuning colleagues. The lights dim. The acknowledgments about First Nation lands are made. Conductor John Edusei raises his baton. We begin.

Starting with "Con brio" by composer Jörg Widmann, this playfully percussive piece was designed to reference Beethoven's symphonies. Instead of being utilized for accent alone, drums here rule with Eric Schweikert leading from his commanding timpani through a disjointed maze of aggressive rhythms. Amidst the jolting movements, woodwind players blow into their instruments sans mouthpieces (a device called "extended techniques"), adding exciting and sometimes comical textures. Posing a stark contrast to the melodic majesty of Beethoven to follow, it is always fascinating to hear the work of a contemporary composer who is still among us.

Then there was Beethoven, specifically "Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat major" (a.k.a. "Emperor Concerto"). And so enters the heart-wrenching sounds interwoven with the pulse of the human soul. Pianist Steven Osborne demonstrates the strength of a gentle touch. Seething with an energy that wants to explode, Osborne masterfully releases the fire inside him with the intense precision of a steady stream. With the final note of each solo, he physically pops back from the ivory keys as if propelled by an unseen electrical charge. The piano solos work with the rest of the orchestra in a sort of call-and-response manner, with Osborne lying down a theme and the orchestra then offering their interpretation. This concerto lives up to its common name, possessing more grandeur than most of the crowned heads of European history. Conductor John Edusei navigates these three very different pieces with seeming ease and is hypnotizing as he leads with an evident love for the music he cradles.

The program ended with "Ein Heldenleben" or "A Hero's Life" by Richard Strauss. This was the first time I've had the experience of wandering in and out of the music while listening to The Seattle Symphony. I don't believe this was any fault of the musicians, but rather some disconnect between my ears and Strauss. Powerful moments drew me back in, and Concertmaster Noah Geller plays his violin with great force and passion, yet I struggled to remain continually connected. I will leave it at that.

In the end, it was yet another fantastic night at Benaroya Hall, and I remain enthralled with the emergence of this new relationship in my life and all the beautiful sounds it brings.

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My Musical Ear

Ian Alterman — Sun, 28 Jan 2024 03:34:59 +0000

My Musical Ear Ian Alterman January 27, 2024 - 22:34

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pop music

At the risk of sounding self-aggrandizing, I like to believe that I have a particularly well-attuned musical "ear" (14 years of music theory, 50+ years of piano, and 60+ years of music listening will do that), including the ability to hear commonalities between songs. These commonalities can take several forms, of course, ranging from "unintended influence" to "flat-out rip-off" (with several stages in between). I tend to catch these similarities more quickly than most people, and often when others don't pick up on them at all.

For example, when the Cars' song "Best Friend's Girl" came out in 1978, I immediately recognized -- and told everyone I could (lol) -- that the guitar riff used after each chorus was (sorry, Ric) a total rip-off of the guitar riff that George (or Paul) uses on "I Will" on the White Album. Not the kind of connection most people would make, but when you've listened to enough music over a decades-long period, and have an "ear," these things simply pop out at you.

And so we have a new song, released about a week ago by Mumford & Sons & Pharrell, called "Good People." I heard it for the first time on Thursday. It's a nice enough song, but the minute I heard it, I recognized that it sounded strangely similar to a song by Adele. Now, I'm not much of an Adele fan and know very little about her music, so I had to actually listen to several songs before finding the one I was looking for.

The song is called "Rolling in the Deep" and was one of her hits (which is the only reason I recognized it at all). Although the two songs do not seem particularly similar when first listened to back-to-back, the structure (and even parts of the melody) of "Good People" are close enough to Adele's song that it set off my "rip-off" bells.

Pharrell sings the main lines of the song (verses), with Mumford & Sons providing a response to each line. Were it not for these responses -- i.e., if Pharrell sang all four lines of each verse one after the other -- the similarity to Adele's song would be even more obvious. But by breaking up the verses with these choral "interruptions," the song gets away with using the structure and melody of Adele's song without overtly ripping it off.

Still, it was so close that I heard it immediately. And as I do when I find these, I wrote an email to the two radio stations to which I listen, pointing out the similarity to Adele's song. Usually, I get a "thank you" email and even an occasional quasi-validation from the program director.

However, in this case, they must have heard what I did because last night they played "Good People" and followed it up directly with "Rolling in the Deep," with the DJ making a quick comment about the similarity (which, for some reason, was even more obvious when heard on the radio back-to-back). And the station did it again early this afternoon. It is almost as if they are inviting Adele to consider suing for copyright infringement. (This is not my intention, though it is worth mentioning that Pharrell seems to have a penchant for this, given that he also co-wrote and co-produced Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines," which was successfully sued for copyright infringement by the family of Marvin Gaye for plagiarizing elements of Gaye's "Got to Give It Up.")

Whatever happens, it was really nice to have my "ear" validated to such a significant degree. (I always wondered how one becomes an "expert witness" in musically-related copyright infringement claims.)

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What Kind of Fantastic Music Have You Got Playing Around Here?

C. Jefferson Thom — Mon, 22 Jan 2024 18:01:48 +0000

What Kind of Fantastic Music Have You Got Playing Around Here? C. Jefferson Thom January 22, 2024 - 13:01

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soundtrack

Photo credit: Carlin Ma

The Music of Twin Peaks and Angelo Badalamenti - Seattle Symphony

Benaroya Hall, Seattle

That was, excuse me, one damn fine event at Benaroya Hall. I would have been satisfied with the evening's host, Kyle MacLachlan (Agent Cooper in the flesh), just introducing the various compositions of Angelo Badalamenti and then leaving it to the Seattle Symphony to do their musical magic. What actually unfolded was something far greater and more sincere than any expectations I would have ventured to have.

As programming seemingly designed to attract the attention of a younger audience to The Seattle Symphony, this was anything but phoned-in. This was respect. This was love. This must be where Badalamenti compositions go when they die. Threading a needle through the many ham-handed and forced options, MacLachlan and whoever wrote the evening's script worked with deft skill to make it all genuine and land like an inside joke between friends. Somebody put some real effort into curating the excellently selected quotes from Twin Peaks and David Lynch himself, as well as several well-placed winks to favorite quotes from the series. MacLachlan radiated with the joy of being present, embracing his opportunity to celebrate the man who scored some of his most iconic performances.

I learned last Wednesday night that Angelo Badalamenti happened upon David Lynch's cinematic world as a voice coach for Isabella Rossellini on Blue Velvet. From there, he would become the arthouse director's most indelible composer. The challenge for a composer to fulfill the needs of the piece they're servicing while leaving their own unique mark of expression has a paradoxical quality, but Badalamenti makes it feel effortless. He also has a smooth ability to subtly embed quotes from other themes into different compositions. In the Twin Peaks soundtrack, this has the subconscious effect of tying everything together musically and is a masterfully executed trick. Transposing feelings as described directly by Lynch during intimate sittings at a keyboard, Badalamenti had an uncanny ability to fluently speak Lynch's innermost emotions.

Angelo Badalamenti explains how he wrote Laura Palmer's Theme (youtube.com)

Now to address the love & respect I mentioned earlier: The Seattle Symphony and conductor Sarah Hicks offer a passionate embrace of both in their handling of Badalamenti's scores. Cradling the simplistic beauty of his loving sustains and the uncanny tones of his ominous warnings, the musicians of The Emerald City haven't failed my ears yet. There is no better sound system than hearing these vibrations live. These audible feelings wash over you in pulsating waves, rattling around in your soul and enticing your mind to wander beyond the familiar places... It's a powerful drug. A good drug, and The Seattle Symphony deals it out generously.

Among the solo performances, Sarah Tweet stood out with her impassioned rendering of "The Nightingale from Twin Peaks," capturing the haunting beauty of this lonely crooner. Badalamenti's ability to invoke an idealist, 50s-like mood with a contrasting dark underbelly makes it even more natural that he would become Lynch's music man. Lynch was lucky to have found him, and we are all very fortunate to be moved by the results.

When I wrote my last review, I had only been to more traditional events with The Seattle Symphony and had yet to experience their more creative programming. When I suggested aging fans of Rock might like to try their ears on the sounds of Benaroya Hall, I was unaware of the unoriginal nature of my revelation. This Twin Peaks event makes it clear that the idea is beyond conception on Puget Sound; it is manifest, and with heartfelt and well-thought-out performances such as these, one would have to assume a certain lack of imagination not to answer the call. It's just so enticing.

Near the beginning of the evening, MacLachlan went off script, hinting that he hoped this would become the start of an annual event. I am strongly inclined to agree. If you didn't catch it this past time, don't miss it if the opportunity presents itself again.

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What’s It Going To Be Then, Eh?

C. Jefferson Thom — Tue, 09 Jan 2024 18:37:06 +0000

What’s It Going To Be Then, Eh? C. Jefferson Thom January 9, 2024 - 13:37

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classical music

Photo credit Carlin Ma

Beethoven's 9th

Seattle Symphony @ Benaroya Hall

Right, right… it's Beethoven's glorious 9th. And what a triumph it was. Having lived in Seattle for nearly a decade now and never having encountered anyone remotely resembling Dr. Frasier Crane, going to Benaroya Hall for a performance by The Seattle Symphony seemed like one last place he might be hiding. As it turns out… Nope. There were certainly more blazer jackets than one is likely to see wandering the streets of The Emerald City, but Dr. Crane's tuxedo was a poorly represented minority. However, it made up for what the night lacked in fictional TV characters from the '90s with awe-inspiring music.

My only regret is that I didn't catch up with The Seattle Symphony sooner, and my New Year's resolution is to make up for lost time. What a magical experience! To listen to a small army of masterful musicians, all exceptionally accomplished on their instruments, brought together in an agreement of sound by the music Ludwig van Beethoven; sometimes, humanity doesn't suck. All cynicism aside, it's moments like these which make me proud to be a Homo sapien. Though it's been a long time since I listened to a symphony live, I grew up playing clarinet and have taken my place in a pit orchestra several times. I sincerely appreciate the genre, listening to it with some regularity, but this is the best classical music I have been privileged to hear live. My familiarity with Beethoven's 9th Symphony made it all the more exhilarating to hear it vibrantly brought to life. They played the 2nd movement magnificently, building to a powerful culmination with the choral finale of Beethoven's declaration of love for all humankind. Hearing that live, feeling its forceful vibrations pass through you, warming your innards, is a near-overwhelming experience. I think Anthony Burgess said best through the words of his wicked little Alex, "It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now."

I love a song that can make nonsense of gravity, so I returned the following weekend to float through interstellar space again, this time with the sounds of Antonin Dvořák and Sergey Rachmaninov. Now, I had the unique pleasure of listening with virgin ears to both pieces. There's nothing quite like the first time. With Pablo Ferrández playing the title instrument for Dvořák's "Cello Concerto in B minor," the passion was palpable. The dance between Ferrández's cello and accompanying woodwinds, particularly the leading flutist, was utterly enchanting—such humbling and humanizing sounds. Rachmaninov's "Symphony No. 2 in E minor" followed and was an emotional experience with all the rising peaks and titillating troughs that come with a memorable sexual encounter. A truly intimate experience. At moments. I felt removed from my surroundings, and if I closed my eyes, there was only an expansive darkness and my solitary consciousness as it was enveloped in the ranging pulse of human emotion. I like that. I like that very much and want more of it.

As a tail-end representative of Generation X, I find myself in a place of shifting preferences for what to do with a Saturday evening. While a band like Tool still has all the power to galvanize, I find myself with an itch for intricacy that much modern music can't quite scratch. Moreover, sitting down and not having to fight for my place in a mosh pit perpetually has its advantages. As a specific call-out to my fellows of our oft-forgotten generation, if you've never sought musical epiphany in the grandeur of Benaroya Hall, then I highly recommend exploring all the possibilities that await you. Plenty of reasons make living in a big city complicated and sometimes difficult, but having regular access to the caliber of performance presented by the Seattle Symphony is a convincing argument for making it all worth it.