Wu Wei

Thoughts (and music) for the cold weather

The cold weather was quite a shock last week in Brussels, where rain and grey skies are the usual complaint about the weather.

But for me, a bigger shock was the number of homeless sleeping rough on Rue de la Loi, the main windy street whose buildings house the European Commission.  Of course, we callous Brits with our Anglo-Saxon economics and politics became used, under Thatcher and later, to people sleeping in sleeping bags on cardboard in doorways.  Even "cardboard cities" grew up under railway bridges.  And charities set up extra soup kitchens  in cold weather for them. 

True, I haven't been to Brussels for a long time, so the growth of the homeless sleeping rough near the Commission may have been gradual. But for me it was a shock that here in the heart of Europe, this is what we have already come to, with years of austerity still to come.  Perhaps the only thing to be thankful for, is that the main austerity economies are in the south, so sleeping rough is not exposed to such extremely cold temperatures.

And here is another chilling tale, full of sound and fury, signifying something at least.

I was listening with half an ear to Mezzo this morning, when some ghoulish singing stopped me in my tracks and locked me in front of the TV.  Afterwards I rushed off to google "Cold Song" by Purcell to find out more about this haunting music that sounded like the teeth chattering of the homeless. It was actually Andreas Scholl singing on Mezzo, but this alternative recording by Klaus Nomi in costume is far more shocking and moving.

 

It's from the opera King Arthur by Purcell.  Here are the words:

———- Purcell’s Cold Genius ———–

What power art thou, who from below
Hast made me rise unwillingly and slow
From beds of everlasting snow
See’st thou not ( how stiff )2) and wondrous old
Far unfit to bear the bitter cold,
I ( can scarcely move or draw my breath )2)
Let me, let me freeze again to death.3)

from Roger Bourland's notes here.  Bourland makes it even more poignant by pointing out that Nomi died  afterwards from Aids related complications, and his gaunt appearance from illness only adds to the music.

Listen and weep.  I would say pray, but to whom?  Such heartless gods in Europe at the moment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Technophobe about earphones

Despite having all the kit, I have never managed to get used to listening to music on earphones.  So I almost never use my iPhone or iPad for listening to music on a plane.  I have proper speakers with a dock at home and the sound is much better. 

For the same reason I can't really ever get on with podcasts.

I didn't realise why, until a friend said he didn't like stuff in his ears, and I have to say I feel the same.  I guess those big ear muffs might be better, but I don't like the idea of going round with boxing gloves on my head.  Nor do I like feeling it's a bit dangerous not to hear what's going on in the background.

Am I really missing something?

Culture vulture in Vilnius

I overdosed on culture last night: two Bach Passions in one night.

I went to the first, the Passion according to St John, not expecting anything different for the usual serious stuff.  Edward Lucas* may complain that Vilnius is boring these days, but he obviously doesn't go to the opera. I found myself sitting down with a curtain depicting a vulture in a tree looking out over a plain.  That should have told me something was up.

The curtain rose and it was clear we were getting a lot more than the usual soloists and choir facing the audience.  I should have realised this from the programme but somehow it didn't sink in, though I did wonder a bit where the part "solo dancer" came from.

It started with the Evangelist in black and the solo dancer in white walking very slowly across the stage and when they met they turned and continued walking backwards slowly away from each other. This was quite a feat for the dancer as she was pulling a train (attached to her dress) which in length was half the width of the stage.  Eventually the soloists appeared in minimalist costumes and sang their stuff.  At the same time, the stage was mainly lit from the back curtain, where what looked like 3 railway sleepers at curious angles moved diagonally across the backdrop, in a very distracting way.

Everyone was very slow in their movements which were designed to look either like shadow puppets moving against the light background or Egyptian sideview stereotypes.  The dancer spent rather a lot of time walking very slowly back and forward at the back in profile. Everybody except Jesus spent a lot of making rather threatening gestures in profile.

The chorus were dressed in cream tents and caps which made them all flat-chested and fairly indistinguishable except by height and width.  They moved as a group like Daleks.  I did find it rather disturbing that the chorus was one minute praising God and sounding God-fearing and the next minute baying for blood, but that's the way with choruses.

The soldiers were rather impressive, all in black with spears and huge black helmets.  As they marched in profile they looked very much like Balinese shadow puppets.

Finally at the moment when Christ died on the cross, a silver blue fluorescent light appeared (diagonally opposed to the railway sleepers) and pointed the way to heaven.  Unfortunately the wires hanging the light were rather more visible than those hanging the railway sleepers, so some of the effect was spoiled.

I'm sure you can tell that I was rather distracted from the music.  There were subtitles in Lithuanian, but my 3 years of lessons never needed me to read the bible, so my Christian vocabulary was a bit lacking.  However  several years of church-going in my youth did mean I was familiar with the plot, though I doubt if my kids are.  I realised also that the music was more unfamiliar than I expected.

So a rather strange performance altogether, from the direction of Robert Wilson (USA), with a mostly German cast, who came only for the first performance and we got mainly substitutes on the second night.

After that I got home and found that there was still time to watch Passion according to St Matthew on Mezzo TV, which was the classical performance standing on a stage with no acting.  That was much more familiar and I enjoyed it more.  

It's been rather a cultural two weeks.  Sloph and I went to more opera to see how they managed Anna Karenina falling under a train, to a Kazakh film in the Vilnius Film Festival, and to hear Edward Lucas.

*Edward Lucas (Eastern European correspondent of the Economist) was in town to address the British Chamber of Commerce on the occasion of the 20 year anniversary of Lithuania's independence.  His talk included telling the Lithuanians they had now become boring, but this was not a secret weapon they could use against the Russians, so true to his New Cold War book, he told them to hurry up and buy more tanks.  The Cabinet of Ministers turned out in force to hear this, and the Defence Minister must have been very pleased, though quite what they will pay for them with, is not clear.  Also just at the moment there are a few more priorities than defence.

In a ceremony at Vilnius Airport Lucas handed over the first Lithuanian visa numbered 0001, to be preserved for posterity.  It seems that Lithuanians didn't expect many other visitors if only 4 digits were required.

Hearing Klezmer in Vilnius

During my moving in, in August, I spotted a 4 day festival of Klezmer Music in Vilnius, so off I went. It's good to see Jewish life coming back to Vilnius. What is Klezmer? Go here (wikipedia) and here for when I met it by chance in Oxford.

A friend pointed out that it was being held in a courtyard very close to where the Jews had been rounded up in the war.  But obviously this was a much happier occasion, with good weather, lots of young people and kids (skinheads clearly didn't understand what klezmer was), and there was food and beer.  

The first night there was a home grown Klezmer band, plus an American trumpeter.  It was mostly dance music and everybody hopped around on the grass.  There were seats but they had long been filled. It was really good.

The second night was not so lively, mostly rather formal singers singing in Yiddish rather seriously. In the photos, you can see a rather small man, paired with a rather tall woman.  The songs were funny, but the pairing made it even funnier.  But at the end a Russian woman singer was very good at working the crowd and had us singing along anyway. By then it was more like a Saturday night in a Russian restaurant where everybody sang popular songs.  Photos here.

The third night was some new composition in the style of modern music, too modern for me.  The US trumpeter ended by saying that the piece had been the most difficult he had ever played.  I left early.

I had to miss the fourth night,  which was a shame, when the band of the first night came back. 

More Divine than Human

This was the rather pretentious title of a concert I went to in Oxford, last time I was home.  It was  held in Christ Church Cathedral, featuring the choir of the same Cathedral.

             

I thought it  best to make the most of the choral music while I could, since it is one of the specially English things I like and haven't really found it done anywhere else.  I also like early music* and the programme promised Music from the Eton Choirbook with two works from the 15th century, so I was even organised enough to book a ticket in advance.  Unfortunately the seat I got did not have a very view (hey it's music, what does that matter).  Nevertheless, between the pillars I got an amusing view of the choristers in their red surplices,  because the only two I could really see, were such a contrast: one, tall with blonde hair, old enough for his voice to be breaking soon, and the other, clearly half his size, Japanese, with a shock of black spiky hair; both of them singing soprano.  Yet more cultural diversity.

The conductor's introductory  remarks were also interesting.  Mark Stevenson had himself been a chorister at Christ Church Cathedral  and contrasted his own experience with complex modern music when he was young an, the more simple music he now preferred,  with the complexity of the period just before Henry VIII came to the throne (when the music for the concert had been written) with the simplicity that came to church music with the Reformation.

Certainly the music was fabulous, in that rich polyphonic style also famous in Georgia (though I haven't heard any church music, only ordinary people singing traditional songs).  In the interval I rushed out to get the CD.

I was more sceptical about the second half which promised to be modern.  It was Howard Goodall's Eternal Light - A Requiem. At first, I was not impressed.  The explanation that it was a combination of choral music and dance confused me.  The Latin and English muddled me. But then I got drawn in:  the single voice singing:

I have to believe
That you still exist
Somewhere,
That you still watch me
Sometimes,
That you still love me
Somehow.

I have to believe
That life has meaning
Somehow,
That I am useful here
Sometimes
That I make small differences
Somewhere.

I have to believe
That I need to stay here
For some time,
That all this teaches me
Something.
So that I can meet you again
Somewhere.

was just so beautiful in the church.  Even apart from the religious meaning, there are so many other meanings as well: parents, work, lost lovers.  I found the humility in "sometimes I make small differences somewhere" so moving.  

The music continued with an arrangement of Lead Kindly Light which took me back to my hymn singing days as a child: my grandfather, a churchwarden, frequently sang hymns in our house and we children were all sent to church and Sunday school.

It followed with a Lachrymosa

Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there - I did not die. 

And near the end, another single voice:

Drop, drop, slow tears
....
Drown all my faults and fears
Nor let his eye
See sin, but through my tears.

I was so moved I forgot to buy the CD.  But then I'm not sure church music works well away from the church environment.  Listening on an iPod in an aeroplane does not have the quiet still atmosphere of a church.

*While working in Kiev I discovered that early music there began with Purcell, who was unknown apparently. It was a bit disappointing to someone brought up thinking Purcell was, well not exactly modern, but certainly not meriting the title "early", when I was expecting something from maybe the 14th century.

Mezzo doesn't get it

Mezzo "your favourite music tv channel" offers a free newsletter. 

Today (24th) I got the March version, advertising programmes on 19, 22 and 24 March.  Eventually I found the only programme I could probably watch on 27.

Surely if you are going to bother having a March newletter it should be sent out at the beginning of the month not the end.

Theremin

Got back to Tbilisi at 4 and slept till 1.  Got into my usual weekend listening to Mezzo and reading the Economist.

Today Mezzo doesn't seem to be having its usual repeats.  I looked up to see what looked like an arthritic hand conducting the music. But at the back of the octet,  it wasn't in the right place for conducting, and it kept flicking it's fingers about as if it was playing an invisible stringed instrument.  Eventually the camera panned to show a young woman attached to the hand, with another hand doing similar but different strange movements. Finally I connected this with the part of the music that consisted of  high pitched eerie sounds, but rather expressive, and not really "electronic".

You can read about the theremin on Wikipedia here.  It seems it was the first electronic musical instrument and is still popular now, though I must say I had never heard of it.  It was invented by a Russian, know as Leon Theremin in America, who has his own curious story.  He died this year on November 3.

Here is how it works (from Wikipedia)

The controlling section usually consists of two metal antennas which sense the position of the player's hands and control radio frequency oscillator(s) for frequency with one hand, and volume with the other. The electric signals from the theremin are amplified and sent to a loudspeaker. The theremin is an electrophone, a subset of the quintephone family.

To play, the player moves his or her hands around the antennas, controlling frequency (pitch) and amplitude (volume).

The theremin is associated with an "eerie" sound, which has led to its use in movie soundtracks such as those in Spellbound, The Lost Weekend, and The Day the Earth Stood Still. Theremins are also used in art music (especially avant-garde and 20th century "new music") and in popular music genres such as rock.

Back to more usual subjects soon.

Technorati Tags: theremin, electronic music

A visit to the Opera

I'd been trying to get a moment to get tickets for the "International Festival" of concert music last week in Tbilisi, but had been exhausted by non-stop training of bank officials and journalists.

So on Monday when one of my local colleagues asked whether I wanted to go to a concert, I said yes, even though he described it as some sort of end of term concert for some students, of which one was a member of his (extended) family.

So I arrived at the Opera with him, his mum and dad to sit in a loge (since I never sit in boxes in theatres in England, I always think of them as loges, or perhaps I should spell it lozhes) overlooking a completely full house, at the final concert of this "International Festival".  My colleague was also surprised at such a grand occasion, instead of a school concert.  Had he known he would have chickened out, especially as he hates classical music, opera and sitting still for hours.

The music was Mozart and Rossini, but the conductor, orchestra, chorus, and soloists were all Georgian.  Does  playing Mozart and Rossini make it international?  Maybe I missed something.

The students survived the ordeal and gave quite presentable performances.  My colleague's brother in law did the bass solo and we all applauded him. His five year old daughter enjoyed getting dressed up in her beautiful new dress and practising her two words of English. 

I asked about the conductor, (for once not a family relative) Vakhtang Kakhidze, as he had his own rather striking way of conducting.  One of the soloists had to back off rather as one of his stabbing gestures to the first violin nearly stabbed her. Even more remarkable was his coat.  It was too long to be a jacket and certainly no tail coat.  In fact it was a mixture of an academic gown, but fastened at the front, and an artist's smock, with special shoulder pleats to allow for violent shoulder and arm movements I suppose. It looked like it had had rather a lot of wear. On the opera website here his photo shows him younger and less grey, a bit like his coat must have been originally.

It seems he is very famous.  For me it was his coat not the music that made him famous.

What is it about music festivals and mud?

Glastonbury mud seems to have nothing on this music festival in Russia:

Technorati Tags: music festival, mud, russia

Ashton's ballets in Tbilisi

So today I went to the ballet for the first time. Well first time in Tbilisi, I'm not quite that uncultured.

Connections got us a front seat at the 1st loge.
It was billed as Frederic Ashton's ballets, and since none of us were ballet buffs we weren't sure what that would mean in practice.

The opera and ballet theatre has seen better days, and seats are still cheap. Although the auditorium is quite quite small on plan it has 5 galleries of seating above the stalls, so holds quite a few people. It was practically full for the last day of the 3-day performance. It was a matinee, so full of children reasonably well behaved given it wasn't a children's programme.

We got "A Birthday Offering" in Act I, pas de deux from Thais, Sylvia and La Chatte in Act II and the full Marguerite and Armand in Act III.

Thais was very sexy, as required by the story of a religious fanatic who tries to rescue a courtesan. Sylvia more classical, as a Nymph of Diana, accompanied by a more down to earth male dancer. He dispensed with tights revealing nobbly knees, not enhanced by supposed hunting kneeboots of an unfortunate purple and beige colour, making them look more like rugby socks. A hairy chest revealed by a modification of the tarzan costume, (no leopard skin but the usual one shoulder exposed) did not improve the impression. In La Chatte, a rather appealing cat stretched and prowled but was let down by a late arrival (it seemed to me anyway) of the radar controlled mouse. In order to keep up with the music, she had already leapt on the chair and "screamed", eventually jumping down in a tizz when the mouse finally appeared. The mouse got a special "bow" from the rest of the cast at the end. In case you are wondering why this was necessary, the full title is La Chatte metamorphosee en femme.

The theatre outside the auditorium is very dark and dull: no photographs of previous performances, no proper bar, nowhere to promenade, to see and be seen. Although it was a matinee, we managed to find a bottle of wine, but when we went back for more, it was the only one, so one of us had to go without. Not recommended!

The third Act was Marguerite and Armand, originally written for Nureyev and Fonteyn. It seemed it had "died" with them and only recently been revived for other artists. I can't say what it must have been like with the originals but Nina Ananiashvili and Vasil Akhmeteli were fantastic.

The performance's only bad point was when I got home and found my phone had vanished. I dashed back with a colleague and eventually got in round the back way involving coming on stage, back into the auditorium. Luckily the phone was still under the seat. On the way out again we found the photo exhibition on a wall backstage (a funny place to put it).

Checking facts on the internet to write this, I found this interesting snippet about Frederic Ashton here:

He had a sense of humor in person to match the one he displayed on the dance stage, and among those who enjoyed it was Queen Elizabeth II, whom he once taught to dance the tango. Ashton could mimic various well-known British personalities including the queen, who, it is said, retaliated with an Ashton imitation of her own when she heard about his routine.

Technorati Tags: ballet, Frederic Ashton, Tbilisi