19. April 2011 · Comments Off on Read Online · Categories: Read Online

It’s this stranglehold on the future of classical music that Barenboim says he is trying to break. The impromptu concert at Tate Modern – a short recital in an unfamiliar venue – is one tiny example. Within three days of the free concert being announced, 8,000 people had applied for the 400 seats, while 700 more watched a live relay in the hall below. When he was finished, the 1,100 people gave him a standing ovation.

As if to illustrate his point, there was a bitterly divided critical response the following day. One critic was struck by the spell he cast, how no one in the throng stirred as he played: “Sixty years on, he still plays the piano with boyish curiosity, as if the instrument had just been invented.”

Another critic expended 900 words sneering at the “legions of crazed fans . . . there to witness their Messiah.

“Mention his name in pianophile company,” continued the lofty wordsmith, “and it is quickly dismissed”. He concluded: “We were . . . wrong to attend last night’s recital.”

… it seems that we classical music lovers can battle over just about everything, and cause even more alienation. Woo hoo to us!

I read that and more here.

I know everyone can be snarky — it’s not just classical music folks. But we sure seem to excel at it better than nearly anyone else. Or maybe I’m just grumpy today.

… and maybe you can, but maybe you can’t tell me. But there is music that just hits me in a way I can’t even express.

It could be a section from bohème … like when Rodolfo comments on how Mimi looks in the light of the moon … “O soave fanciulla … o dolce viso di mite circonfuso alba lunar in te, vivo ravviso il sogno ch”io vorrei sempre sognar!” That moment — and even the line Marcell sings, “trovò la poesia”, right in the … part there — well, it just hits me in that wonderful way that music can do! How can we know exactly why something hits us that way? I’m not sure we can! But how wonderful to get to be playing bohème again!

Music can be so wonderful and make me weep buckets. I love that.

And the slow movement of Mahler 5? Or the Mozart Gran Partita slow movement? I mean … no words …

But it’s not just classical music that does this to me. And maybe I’m just sappy, I dunno, but this piece below just hits me the right way. Of course the guy could be singing something from a phone book. How would I know? But I love it and so I’m sharing it with you. Because I’m that kinda girl! (Yes, this includes a couple of guys who were in the earlier ACappellaTuesday™ video I put up today.):

19. April 2011 · Comments Off on FBQD · Categories: FBQD · Tags:

first time playing oboe and i run my stupid teeth into the reed OTL

This is the group A Filetta. They sing traditional Corsican music, something I’m entirely unfamiliar with. This piece is composed by Jean-Claude Acquaviva, so I’m not sure I understand what makes it, then, “traditional”. But I can tell you I’m in love with it! Maybe you won’t connect with it … but I sure do!

19. April 2011 · Comments Off on Zhou Long wins Pulitzer for Madame White Snake · Categories: Opera, Videos

You can read about all the winners here.

When the composer says “bass bassoon, contrabassoon” is he just clarifying the former with the latter? Anyone know?

I find it interesting how concerned the librettist is about the music being worthy of her words. I’ve usually thought in the opposite direction — more concerned about the libretto not being up to snuff. Go figure!

Here’s some music, although not with orchestra:

19. April 2011 · Comments Off on TQOD · Categories: TQOD

Kroger is playing an oboe concerto over the speakers. This is strangely comforting as a decide which ice cream flavor to buy.

19. April 2011 · 1 comment · Categories: Books

In Davis-Gardner’s version, the Pinkertons return to America with 4-year-old “Benji,” who’s explained away as an orphan adopted from the streets of Nagasaki.

With his Japanese features atop blonde hair, Benji is fated never quite to fit in either of his two worlds.

Fatefully, they decide to settle on the Illinois prairie, where Pinkerton has inherited the family farm after his father’s sudden death.


For some reason I can’t picture Pinkerton as a farmer!