Radiohead, Albert Hammond, Mike Hazlewood, arr. Scott Bradlee: Creep

There is a perception that the music of this present generation is a lot crappier than it used to be. Now, I don't stand here professing that all contemporary music is quality, but I will tell you that music has existed for almost as long as humans have walked this Earth and for approximately the same amount of time several of them have made inordinately shitty music.

Perhaps the reason that this reality of music getting worse exists comes from a couple things that can easily be observed.  First and foremost, to quote Winston Churchill, "History is written by the victors."  Our entire cultural music experience is based on the premise that only music that gets listened to will be played.  We tend to look through music history with a lens that filters out all the gunk and tripe that never made it.  A downside to this is that sometimes things written in previous eras get tossed aside, and may remain undiscovered until someone later on can make it relevant to our cultural experience.  Case-in-point: Bach's Cello Suites and Pablo Casals.

The other aspect that is more apparent today than ever before is that music is an easily consumed commodity and much more accessible to the layman to both listen to as well as create. This sea change has created a music industry that frequently focuses on image and marketability over musical talent.  I reference my previous statement in saying that the only music that gets played is music that will be listened to.  In a capitalist society, if it wasn't making money, it wouldn't last long.  

Scott Bradlee (b. 1981) is an American musician, pianist, composer, and arranger from New York and approaches this new world of music creation and destruction with a backward looking glance. He's an incredibly talented pianist and has a natural flair for stylistically motivated arrangements that discover unknown facets of contemporary pop.  His experiment in sound operates on a favorite premise of mine in that if you get enough talent and put it into a box filled with instruments something good will come out.  

He is the founder of the Post-Modern Jukebox, a group of rotating and guest musicians who take various pop songs from different decades and reimagines them in alternate style universes.  He was actually tapped by the game developers of the BioShock series to create tunes that fit into the dystopian world of the game.  His formula usually is to take a tune that is presently popular and arrange it as a top 40 hit from the 30's (or any other decade that makes sense for that particular song). 

What interests me the most is his seemingly uncritical targeting for songs that will fit into his arranging machine.  He has rehashed several examples of pop music from today that would be rejected by the more conservative listening community as examples of the ejecta of the modern entertainment business and a byproduct to be consumed and destroyed- certainly not showcased and performed by ridiculously talented New York session musicians.

The example we look at today features a refresh of a song that can be considered to be part of the modern music "art" scene in and of itself.  "Creep" by the English alt-rock band Radiohead was released originally back in 1992 to a lukewarm reception in their home country.  The song did find a tremendous amount of success in Israel, several Scandinavian countries as well as the US.  In what is somewhat of a paradox, the band's general opinion of the song is somewhat jaded, initially fighting the pressure to re-release the song in the UK after it garnered world-wide attention.  

Postmodern Jukebox originally published their cover of "Creep" back in August of 2014, featuring a popular vocalist in rotation with the group, Karen Marie (who is nothing short of remarkable and hysterically funny too!).  Following a tour in Europe the band re-recorded the arrangement with Haley Reinhart who takes it in a different direction altogether.  

One of the more unfortunate things about the recent trends in popular music is not necessarily the embrace of image and marketability over all else, but more so the loss of musicality as something to be praised and embraced. The advent of autotune and the insane amount of post-processing technology that goes into producing an album allows for a sound that would be unobtainable under normal circumstances.  And before you go trashing Rihanna, et al...

...this sort of technology is present in the classical world too.  The difference between a classical recording today and one 50 years ago is worlds apart.  Sound design has evolved significantly, microphone placement and the sheer number of different microphones available means that in a studio every detail can be accounted for and captured and then processed into the final product.  Such music is also subject to the various edits and cut and pastes that any other music track would endure to be shaped into the final product.  This is just a part of where the music industry has gone with the tools that are now available and just like any other kind of tools you may find, these can be mishandled. 

So I invite you to sit back and put some headphones on and listen to good musicians playing good music. And remember, bad music has and always will exist.  There's nothing to be done about that. But take heart! 

Good musicians will persist and as a result... 

So will good music.

See you next Friday.

-ED

Sources:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scott_Bradlee
http://postmodernjukebox.com/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creep_%28Radiohead_song%29

Johann De Meij: Symphony No. 1 "The Lord of the Rings"

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost. 

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

J. R. R. Tolkien 

Johann de Meij (b. 1953) is a Dutch trombonist/composer/conductor that incidentally we haven't talked about in over two years.  Born in Voorberg, Netherlands he is well known for his love of wind band and Tolkien.  He is a prolific and popular composer, amassing four large-format symphonic works for band as well as a quite a few popular concertos, including the T-Bone Concerto for trombone.

Normally I launch into some diatribe about how historical the composer was or what sort of environment existed to forge the work we're talking about, but this one is pretty straightforward.  de Meij is a low brass band nerd and he really likes Lord of the Rings.

The piece itself is divided into five distinct movements that all are sorts of character studies of the various characters and locations in the LOTR universe.  They are:

1. Gandalf (The Wizard) 
2. Lothlórien (The Elvenwood)
3. Gollum (Sméagol)
4. Journey in the Dark
1. The Mines of Moria
2. The Bridge of Khazad-Dûm
5. Hobbits

The first movement begins with a triumphant, heroic theme that then transitions into another, quicker theme evoking imagery of a breakneck chase across Middle Earth.  These all feel very much like film scoring, with lush, full band sound supporting these massively sweeping melodies. The piece then brings about a hymn-like conclusion to the chase and enters a bit more introspective section that recaps the original 'Gandalf' theme.

If I had to compare it to a specific style in Western-Art Music, I'd say it's a bit like a symphonic poem, but instead of evoking specific imagery of setting, date and or time, this is more of a character study of sorts.  It explores the emotions and actions of the individual characters more so than setting any scenery in the mind's eye.  The exception to that would of course be the 2nd and 4th movements which do explore actual locations within the LOTR universe.  Movement II establishes a sort of curious, but slightly dangerous tone establishing the formal and reserved nature of the elves in Lothlórien with a stately waltz that echoes a Baroque ensemble that transitions to a forest of woodwind-inspired birds.  It concludes with a restatement of the original theme and fades into the darkness.

Gollum is this wickedly twisted, loping galop that effectively sounds terrifying with an alto saxophone solo at the beginning.  Again, de Meij expresses more the quality of the character and his personality rather than specific scenes that take place within the book.  Just listening to this, if you knew nothing else about Gollum, you'd know he's not exactly the sort of person (or thing) you'd want to hang around.

Journey in the Dark captures the tension and anxiety of the ring-bearing party's entrance into the Mines of Moria and the madness of the orc attack following which we hear a brief statement of the Gandalf theme right before things wind down a bit, probably demonstrating some of de Meij's most vivid storytelling through music as we hear Gandalf's famous stare down with the balrog.

In the final movement we again visit not specifically a place, but a archetype of the Tolkien world, the Hobbits.  Introduced by the Gandalf theme, which is befitting as through the books and the movies we're often given to view the Hobbits through the lens of Gandalf, it then transitions to a folksy, upbeat tune that sounds very, well...Hobbity.

My only gripe with this movements is that this movement then goes into what essentially amounts to a slow, "pomp and circumstance"-esque rehashing of the same Hobbit theme. It's very well done, but after almost 40 minutes of music, it's a bit stale.  Like writing, composing tends to have a problem with overstating the obvious and in my humble opinion, this restatement of the main Hobbit theme drags on for a bit too long without saying anything too terribly new.  Perhaps de Meij was pre-editorializing the insanely long ending as described by Peter Jackson.

Despite this, I still really love this work.  de Meij captures a Romantic style and love of a good melody and blends it quite well with more modern compositional techniques for band today.  Not that I don't think Howard Shore did a fine job with the score for the Peter Jackson movies, but I certainly wouldn't have been disappointed had they approached de Meij for the job himself.

Interestingly, he was actually discouraged from writing the work as it was to be his first major work and at that time (in the mid-1980's) there wasn't much wind band music longer than 30 minutes.  This work you will notice clocks in around 45 and despite the protestations of his contemporaries in the early days, de Meij's Symphony No. 1 was the catalyst that launched him into contention with some of the finest composers of this era, gave him the ability to found his own publishing company, Amstel Music, which currently publishes several Nordic composers to this day.  de Meij is a much sought-after conductor and frequently can be found in performances all over the world.

If you've only got a few moments, I'd recommend at least listening to Gandalf.  However, if you're a die-hard Tolkien fan it might be worth it to settle in for the full 45 minute epic.

See you next Friday.

-ED

Sources: 
http://www.naxos.com/news/?op=1063&displayMenu=Naxos_News&type=2
http://www.johandemeij.com/music.php
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symphony_No._1_%22The_Lord_of_the_Rings%22

George Gershwin: An American in Paris

According to Wikipedia, audio compact discs have been commercially available to consumers since 1982. Tragically, my family did not acquire this amazing technology until well into the 90's. Growing up in the era I did was a very interesting time in terms of music technology.  The primary means of sharing music with consumers was either through the newly christened "Music Television" or for those of us without cable (before it was cool to "cut the cord") it was in fact the humble cassette tape.

Know how I know you're old? You still think Comic Sans is a pretty neat font.

Now the cassette tape afforded a unique opportunity to easily and quickly record music directly from the live broadcast of radio stations.  This was illegal, but rarely raised a fuss as the challenge of waiting for the radio to play your favorite song and then have everything ready to capture it was often a difficult endeavor requiring no shortage of luck and patience.  The advent of the CD meant that higher quality music was readily available, but it wasn't as easy to capture songs in the same manner, so it until the internet (and the illegal music downloading game) kicked in people largely remained true to the magnetic storage medium.

Prior to the mp3 and the various codec progeny that ensued, music either had to be shared physically from person to person or you had to actually purchase an album.  Buying the album meant paying for all the songs on the disc or cassette even if you only really wanted to hear one or two tracks.  This is a problem that was alleviated by the "a la carte" methodology introduced by the iTunes store and other music providers as well as the aforementioned illicit music peer-to-peer sharing networks that cropped up like weeds.

As a general rule, I do not advocate the act of illicitly sharing music.  I don't really care if you do or not, but I made the decision a while back that if I really wanted a particular recording badly enough, I'd just buy the damn thing since it's now easier than ever.  The other bit of progress in this realm (and one that has made this site the tepid success that it is no less) is YouTube and it's ever-growing collection of music and recordings of art music as well as pretty much everything else you can imagine before the content scrubbers banish it to copyright hell.  In all the history of LF.com there has only been two times when I've stumped YouTube and had to send you elsewhere in search of music to listen to on a Friday.

Don't worry.  We've got it covered today.

George Gershwin (1898-1937) was an American composer who lived inside and between two worlds. In the early 20th century, Jazz had begun establishing its place in the center of American popular music.  Living in New York, Gershwin had begun performing as a "song plugger" which is essentially what predated those listening stations in the music store.

And next time I'll tell you how Grandpa was banned for life from Sbarro's!

You see, prior to the internet mucking everything up, people actually had to leave their homes to go find music that they liked to listen to.  The mall actually was a place to go and buy such music and not just an indoor walking track for septuagenarians.  Prior to the existence of malls and the like, there still existed music stores, but without adequate (read: affordable) recording equipment, it was particularly difficult to generate interest in new music.  Enter the song plugger.

Gershwin would get paid to sit in a music store and be a human jukebox, playing new music as requested by paying customers in an area of New York known as Tin Pan Alley.  Much of this music was written in the ragtime and early jazz style, as aligned with the popular music of the age. Gershwin, who had enjoyed classical training up to that point imbibed the newer styles and as he would later begin to compose and arrange for Broadway music and musicians it would be a large part of who he was as a composer.  You see, Gershwin never settled fully into the jazz scene however and tried on numerous occasions to learn more of and possibly even transition into the Western art music scene.  He petitioned both Maurice Ravel and Arnold Schoenberg to take him up as a student, but both declined citing the same reason, as Ravel said it, ""Why become a second-rate Ravel when you're already a first-rate Gershwin?"  Proving his point, Ravel's later music can be considered to have absorbed influence from Gershwin's marriage of art music and jazz.

In 1928 Gershwin traveled to Paris, France to absorb the music culture and to study under Nadia Boulanger, a French conductor and composer who Gershwin had been recommended to by Ravel. After listening to 10 minutes of Gershwin's music, she rejected him on the premise that she would have nothing to teach him, but Gershwin would remain undiscouraged as a big part of his relocation to Paris was to find inspiration for a symphonic piece to follow his very successful Rhapsody in Blue. An American in Paris is a symphonic poem that describes the experiences of an American encountering the city for the first time.  It actually employs several car horns, Gershwin himself brought a few taxi cab horns back with him for the American premier (which if you pay attention later you will see the most intense car horn player on the planet).

Following the premier performance in Carnegie Hall the audience response was very positive. However, a few critics held the opinion that the work was a bit too "light" to hold its own within a program consisting of Wagner and Franck, but Gershwin shrugged it off saying, "It's not a Beethoven Symphony, you know...  It's not intended to draw tears. If it pleases symphony audiences as a light, jolly piece, a series of impressions musically expressed, it succeeds."

Gershwin would die from a brain tumor in 1937, vastly cutting short what was expected to have been an increasingly successful career.  He had completed an opera, Porgy and Bess in 1935, which while not initially a commercial success, has become synonymous with the American musical theatre tradition and established itself firmly as a transitional piece between opera and the burgeoning musical theatre scene of its time.

I first heard George Gershwin in the mid-90's after my parents had finally acquired a CD player.  I recall being very excited, thinking that this would be a vehicle for listening to some amazing music and how disheartened was I when my dad came home with a Reader's Digest collection of Glenn Miller tunes, a Pure Prairie League album, and an album of George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue and An American in Paris.  I actually don't remember what I would have preferred to listen to at the time. It might have been during my short stint as a fan of country music.

Those were dark times indeed.

Anyway, being more excited about the new technology to play with than the disappointment of getting exposed to music that would eventually expand my tastes into what they are today, I would play these CD's for hours on end.  At first fascinated that music could come out of a disc of plastic and aluminum, but eventually coming to realize that my limited musical palate was so blatantly ignorant of what the world have to offer that I vowed to continue to explore and discover as much as I could.  

Gershwin, as much as he wanted to be the American counterpart to the Debussy's and Ravel's of France, had created an entirely new genre of which he was the sole inhabitant and would perpetually grapple for his music to be considered "important" in the eyes of the classical music oligarchy.  Despite this and ironically enough, it was he who launched what I presume will be my lifelong love for Western art music as I began to listen to more and more composers and sought out more varied composers and artists to supplement what has become a voracious appetite for the musically creative.  However, I will always hold a special place in my heart for this piece.  As I sit and listen again to our American friend bounce around a busy Parisian street I can't help but feel that this poem could in fact be representative of any stranger in a strange land.  

And speaking of strangers, an interesting facet of this piece, as well as Gershwin's other works too, is the use of non-standard instruments in the orchestral setting.  For this work today, you will hear what amounts to a dance band sitting in the middle of a bunch of strings, extra woodwinds and a tuba player.  This iconic sound would lend itself to the film scores to follow, generations following Gershwin's untimely demise.  

So while Gershwin may not have ever fully realized his dream of becoming a "2nd-rate Ravel", he triumphed in being a "1st-rate Gershwin".

And that, my friends, is something special.

See you next Friday.

-ED




Sources:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/An_American_in_Paris
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Song_plugger

Josh Ritter, trans. Chris Thile: Another New World (Bach: Partita for Violin No. 3, Mvt. 1)

Fractal geometry will make you see everything differently. There is a danger in reading further. You risk the loss of your childhood vision of clouds, forests, flowers, galaxies, leaves, feathers, rocks, mountains, torrents of water, carpet, bricks, and much else besides. Never again will your interpretation of these things be quite the same. 

— Michael F. Barnsley

Fractals Everywhere (2000)

In the strange and curious ways that our minds tend to operate, I often suspect that there are certain sequences of thought that are analogous across various experiences.  Whether enhanced by memory and time or rooted in reality, the first time we experience certain events places some sort of marker in our internal database that makes us believe, rationally or not, that it was the bee's knees.

First time driving a car, first time away from home, first time kissing a girl- all experiences in this "first-time" vein have a tendency to reside in the annals of time as nothing short of remarkable, magical even. The ultimately tragic part of this "newness" is that over time the excitement tends to fade.  What once created a tremendous high will eventually become mundane and ordinary and often we find ourselves scrapping to achieve that initial crest, forever searching the horizon for our Annabel Lee.

In 1849, Edgar Allen Poe wrote the poem Annabel Lee.  He also died that year from causes that have never adequately been determined.  Poe has garnered a reputation for being a master of the written word as it relates to death and the macabre, though some research into his life suggests that this direction was as much a product of his environment as much as it was a conscious decision by the author himself.  Poe was aspiring to become a writer in a time when a lack of international copyright laws gave publishers little impetus to actually pay for anything to fill their journals and publications. It is entirely possible that his focus on such dark topics was partially established to stand out in the discerning press of his age.

That's not to say Poe wasn't an odd duck though.  He did marry his cousin, Virginia, (who was half his age) and whom would die approximately a decade after their marriage from what we're told was tuberculosis.  It is thought that these experiences combined with the considerable alcohol consumption he used to cope with them also played a significant factor in shaping the author.

Annabel Lee is a poem describing the story of a young love so potent that it was ended by the jealous rage of the angels observing it from above.  There is a certain maritime element to the story and Poe uses it as a setting for the poem that describes the presumed death of his love and his perpetual remembrance of Annabel Lee and the emotions that once existed between them.  It speaks to a longing perhaps not just that a man has for a woman, but possibly of the passion that can evolve out of man's heart toward just about anything really.

Even a memory.

In his sixth full length studio album, the singer-songwriter Josh Ritter presented the world with his own poem set to music called, Another New World.  The text evokes several nods towards Poe's work, where we follow a hardened adventurer who has arrived at a precipice of Alexandrian proportions.  Having discovered all the natural spoils the Earth has afforded, he begins to ponder the possibility that the last unexplored region may house another world of inconceivable wonder.

The tale continues that the "Annabel Lee" is a most seaworthy vessel and should any ship crafted by man be capable of broaching the last stronghold of Earth's bounty it would be she.  The captain in Ritter's song possesses a passionate relationship with the ship, where upon leaving harbor to venture into the unknown he muses as his crew-mates are waving farewell to their loved ones, he "never had family, just the 'Annabel Lee'", and therefore no "cause to look back." Ritter establishes the relationship between the captain and the 'Annabel Lee' as two lovers who have conquered adventure after adventure and her captain is assuredly leading her to safe harbor in what must be the last frontier for the both of them to find, together.

However, as in any great epic, disaster strikes and the "Annabel Lee" is frozen in ice as she penetrated the Arctic circle.  Slowly her crew deserts to seek passage home, but the captain remains and eventually finds himself slowly destroying the ship in order to keep a fire stoked to survive in the hold.  The end of the poem brings him home safely, but leaving the ship to her fate while pondering visions he has of her in safe harbor on the top of the world.

There are certain pieces of music that resonate with me to the level that I feel it in the flesh and sinew of my body, as if somewhere deep in my genetic code, there is some sort of familiarity that causes a sympathetic reaction.  It is difficult to predict this reaction, however when it occurs it is quite apparent.  Much time is then expended trying to relive and explore that "first-time" experience as I am careful to analyze it further.

You see, there is a danger in furthering one's knowledge in any subject area.

The quote today comes to me from a geometry textbook I used in or about the 10th grade.  It has stuck with me as it seemed quite profound to my teenage mind at the time.  Part of the danger Dr. Barnsley is implying comes with the understanding that as we grow to learn more of the natural order of things around us, the magic will wear off.  As any educated musician will tell you, 18th century-based music theory is a pretty solid way to reduce music to what is essentially mathematics.  It dissects and lays bare what non-musicians perceive to be "music" and transforms it into something else entirely.  It makes it impossible to simply sit and listen to music without attempting at least a mildly provocative analysis.  At least for me.

The consequence of this is that some music has grown exceedingly boring.

So when I discover something as indescribable as "Another New World"-  I just want to stay and live in that "first-time" listen forever.

The Josh Ritter version is remarkable, but the arrangement I have chosen to share comes from one of my most cherished musicians, Chris Thile (who we've discussed before).  The video is of him performing the work live and at its conclusion he drifts seamlessly into the prelude to Bach's 3rd Partita for solo violin.  Thile's technique and musicality is unmatched.  Listening to him play this work will in fact put you aboard the ship as you brace against the cold spray off the bow. Your hands grapple for stability against the icy, damp wood of the gunwale.  I swear you can feel the grain of the timber under your fingernails if you close your eyes tight enough.

This piece, this poem speaks to me on such a personal level.  It hearkens to a place that I feel all of us at one point or another have mistread in that we seek the unattainable and sacrifice a part of ourselves in the vain attempt to reach our destination, whatever it may be.  It speaks on a love so deep that we'd give up everything to find safe harbor again, and in doing so we inadvertently allow that love to slip through our fingers.  It's almost a bit of hubris, but of an ironic sort as our pride is not for our own consumption, but for our beloved.

And in tragic conclusion our pride is the ruin of all.

The question remains, and Ritter gives it to us to wonder, was it worth it?  To sacrifice happiness for ourselves in the hopes that somehow, against all odds, our own "Annabel Lee" finds her way to the new world?  Or is she adrift, charred and icebound, in the cold, bitter tranquility on the edge of the unknown?

The pairing of the Ritter and the Bach is Thile's own invention, and one I suspect that is directly related to his virtuosic appreciation for the mandolin.  But going a little deeper, and knowing what we do about Bach, I am forced to ponder if this piece would not have resonated deeply with the master himself?

See you next Friday.

-ED

Sources:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174151
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Annabel_Lee
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_Allan_Poe

Percy Grainger: Children's March (Over the Hills and Far Away)

I can vividly remember being 17, it probably was my favorite age so far.  I was still too young to even begin to contemplate that there was a real world beyond the county in which I resided.  I had a job.  I had a truck.  I had no concept whatsoever that this life of mine I led would change so vastly and erratically over the next decade and a half.  Like many teenagers, I had no concept of my own mortality.  I had plans, but everyone has plans.  Guidance counselors make a solid living off of telling youngsters that in order to be successful at life you must have a plan.  So we all made our plans.

So I had my plan, but it didn't seem real. It just was a thing. It was like a print of a renaissance painting you buy at Hobby Lobby to hang in your hallway so your friends think you have a sense of culture.  It was a fad.  It wasn't tangible, but it would become part of my identity and take form as the so-called plan was forged against reality and hewn from the puerile marble of my vision of "adult-land" as I left high school and thus became my first foray into this brave new world laid before me.

One thing I didn't expect was fatherhood.

Percy Grainger (1882-1961) is someone we've discussed before.  A couple times, actually.  Since we usually delve into a bit on the composer's personal history, I'll take most of that as read today and if you're really interested you can click around and find out something on your own through catching up, why not.  I will share a bit about this Children's March piece of his though.  Grainger, as you might know, was a voracious consumer of folk music of his time.  It had become a bit of a hobby amongst his musical contemporaries to find these wonderfully well-kept tunes in the English countryside and transform them into symphonic masterpieces for any number of instruments, voices and the like.  Grainger was well-known as a pianist, so many of his pieces ended up as piano music initially, but in his heart was a special place for the wind band, and some of the finest literature we have for that ensemble comes from good ol' Percy himself.

In 1917, following the entrance of the United States into World War I, Grainger joined the US Army as a saxophonist, but also had a strong will to learn the oboe.  At some point while visiting Denmark in 1904 he had come to know a Scandinavian woman named, Karen Holten.  They corresponded frequently and were romantically involved over the course of a decade.  While in the service, Grainger penned his "Children's March (Over the Hills and Far Away)" and dedicated it to his "playmate beyond the hills", which historians presume was indeed Ms. Holten.

Courtesy of the Grainger Museum (1909)

Now, I proceed delicately because if you know nothing of Percy Grainger, you might be a bit surprised to learn that the man had some issues.  He was into the sadomasochism scene in a large way.  He also had an unusually intimate relationship with his mother, that some claim was incestuous.  I'll leave you to your devices to suss out the truth there, but his relationship with Ms. Holten was indeed hampered by his mother's jealous nature and they remained "playmates", last seeing each other in 1953 when Grainger went to Denmark for an operation for his abdominal cancer, to be performed by her brother.  Karen died that same year.  

Percy and his mother, Rose Grainger (1920)

This piece of music is unique in the fact that it is a Grainger original.  As I stated before, Grainger was renowned for his skill at arranging, but an original melody is a bit of a rarity.  Despite this novelty, it does not disappoint.  He treats it as it were any other folk tune and cycles it through various tonal and textural variations, exploiting the instrumentation of the Army band of which he was a member at the time of composition.  He also wrote the work simultaneously for piano score.

To me the piece exemplifies the innocence of childhood, of first love, of discovering the world about you.  You take so much for granted, you drift from your roots, you aimlessly wander back again and again.  And through it all, it's a journey of self-discovery, of rebirth.  I feel so detached from that 17-year-old, so much so that I feel that iteration of me has long-since expired, replaced by another, supposedly more mature and stoic version that will ultimately be uprooted and replaced.  It's like we're forever in beta testing on our personalities, our existence.  Constantly updating and releasing patches to compensate for our life's sometimes injurious experiences.  Grainger's work here captures a youthful and pristine part of that journey, very near the beginning, but just at the precipice of letting go and beginning our journey over the hills rising in the distance.

I hear my son a lot in listening to this work.  I hear his jubilant exploration of the environment that surrounds him, and it makes me fall back into a similar state of mind.

I wrote what you're about to read a while ago.  It was originally a Facebook post, but I think it fits the message of today's entry quite well:

"Here's my thoughts for tonight. Yesterday, I was putting my son to sleep in a Pack 'N' Play at my mother-in-law's house. We have been traveling a great deal in the past week or so and he had grown accustomed to my wife and I sleeping in the same room as he. Prior to this, he was an absolute piece of cake to put to sleep. Read a few books. Goodnight kiss. Plop him in bed. Lights. Door. Done. Since the traveling, he's gone a bit haywire. I think he misses the companionship of us bunking in the same room. So, to solve the problem, sometimes we will lay on the floor by his crib as he goes to sleep. 

"So yesterday evening, he's all done and we're looking at the same situation. I grab a stuffed toy and use it as a makeshift pillow and settle in on the carpet, trying to make it look comfortable and convincing. After all, he wants to believe I'm going to sleep too. After some initial shuffling and getting comfortable, I can tell he's winding down and begins breathing slow, deep breaths and drifts off to whatever dream land a 17-month-old kid can conjure up. It must be something! 

"I start thinking. It's really easy to do while looking at him. I see the whole of existence in my son. The moment he came into being, was the moment I truly realized that one day I will die. I've said before, his existence makes me realize that mine is finite. Maybe that's the way of things? For so many years as an angst-filled teenager I felt invincible. I took risks, most of them stupid, and endangered my life in so many reckless ways. Not much changed through my 20's until I got a "real" job. 

"In this moment, next to my son, I realize another thing. Something so darkly sinister, I imagine most parents don't dwell on it often or worse just simply shut it out entirely. It's this: 

"No matter how hard I try- I can never completely protect my son. No one can. 

"It's evident every single day! He sprints around like an ant with a sugar crystal. BOOM! Coffee table. 

*Sobs*  

*Kisses* 

*Better* 

*Repeat* 

"If I can't protect from running into the coffee table everyday, how can I protect him from a random act of violence? I think about the parents of the children in Connecticut often. God knows they did their best and more too. 

"Life is painful. It's just so, so utterly, tragically painful. 

"My son starts to stir a bit. He grabs his "Doggy" and pulls it tightly against his little chest instinctively. His breathing settles down, back to the familiar rhythm. 

"I begin to think about a dear friend of mine, whose children are in college and beyond. He's resting at home in an empty house with his wife. I think about the welcome serenity and calm being returned after two decades or more of racing around with kids. I think about that respite in contrast to my present situation with the toddler tearing full speed into large heavy things and falling down a lot. I think about how it will feel, knowing that you can say, "Job well done! The kids did alright!" I think about being alone with the wife. Alone with no kids. 

"But I also think about the journey. Because every station in life is just that, a stopping off point. Nothing ever really stays constant for long. We strive so hard to get to the destination only to find that once we arrive, we're already packing our bags for the next one. Kindergarten. Middle School. High School. College. Job. Family. House. Kids: Kindergarten Middle High College Job House Family Grandkids: Kindergartenmiddlehighcollege  

"Dead." 

"So I'm laying on the floor. And I'm enjoying the moment. I'm taking a picture on the train, because when it's all said and done- I want my memories from the trip."

We can stop the passage of time no more than we can hold back the tides nor fix the moon in the sky.  These are things that come to pass, and will pass.  Again and again.  We control so little of our destiny, but we are given to cherish that which we hold dear while we are able, without a second thought to the erosion of the moment.

Such a beautiful lesson taught so well by someone so small in stature.

Over the hills and far away!

See you next Friday.

-ED



Royal Northern College of Music Wind Orchestra
Conductor: Timothy Raynish
A Chandos Recording

Sources:
http://www.music.utexas.edu/getFile/pdf.aspx?id=2203
http://www.percygrainger.org/prognot2.htm
http://www.percygrainger.org/biograf3.htm
http://www.ficta.dk/Grainger.html
http://grainger.unimelb.edu.au/about/percy_graingers_timeline

Leroy Anderson: A Christmas Festival

In 1950, A Christmas Festival was premiered in the middle of June.  At this time, Leroy Anderson (1908-1975) had been writing frequently for the Boston Pops, having garnered the attention and respect of its conductor, Arthur Feidler, back in 1938.  Anderson had a tremendous capacity for writing relatively short, relatable and digestible orchestra works that could be played by studio orchestras and then broadcast on the radio.  You see, back in the 1950's people would actually listen to orchestral music without having to sit through an action film.

That is, if you call what Hans Zimmer does "music".

A Christmas Festival is like the holiday mother lode.  In Anderson's own words it is not a medley of carols, but a reckoning.  A wholly consummate bible of all that pre-1950's Christmas music could proffer to mankind, hewn together to accommodate the limited technical requirements of his time and place.  In fact, it literally could not be contained by the recording faculties of the era.  To quote Anderson from an interview with Dick Bertel of WTIC Radio, Hartford, Connecticut:

"...when this was done, I think it was in 1950 or 1951, they still had single records as the main part of the market; LP's were just about coming in. so while it was played all the way through, that is, when it was recorded, for the LP, we also had to make a split after four minutes - the Christmas Festival runs about 8 minutes so that meant that when I wrote it I had to make a place in the middle where you could stop...

"... and if I may brag a bit, I defy anybody to find out the exact spot where that occurred..."

Already, this is a piece of music that is bursting at the seams of convention.  I like to imagine the hypothetical conversation between Leroy and his wife Eleanor as they discover that Arthur Feidler has commissioned the work went like this:

~~~

Leroy places the receiver on the cradle of the phone as he reaches for the wing of the large red chair and  slides into it as an untethered pile of bricks slides off a pallet on a moving truck.  His wife enters the room, immediately aware of the change of demeanor as a cold pall fell softly upon the parlor room.

"It was Arthur..." Leroy trails off.
"Yes?" Eleanor replies expectantly. 
"He..." Leroy trails off as he searches the wall to his left for the words that will not come. "He said, 'It's time.'"

Eleanor grows pale as the gravity of realization washes over her like the thousands of Christmas-past before. "It cannot be!  It's much too soon, my dear!  You'll have to call him back and expl-"
"Explain what?  That it's too much to bear?  That it's February?"
"Leroy..."
"That it isn't my destiny?!"
"It's just that..." 

Leroy calms a bit, realizing the brunt of his frustrations laid bare had upset his bride.  "What, my dear, what?" he said calmly, rising to hold her in his arms.
"T-the children..." she stammered.  "I asked Jane and Eric what they wanted Santa to bring for them and...and," she began weeping openly into Leroy's shoulders.  
"What was it?"
"Jane asked for a pair of Hopalong boots and Eric..." she breathed heavily, "He asked for a pistol!  That shoots!" 
She collapsed into his arms like a crushed rag doll, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Damn that Meredith Wilson!  That infernal '76 Trombones' simply wasn't enough for him, now he wants my children!?"  Eleanor was inconsolable, Leroy was galvanized.  "It's time.  I'll be in the study."

~~~

I did take a few liberties there considering that Leroy was probably really stoked to write this work, and it shows.  Also, Meredith Wilson didn't write "It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas" until 1951 and "The Music Man" premiered in 1957, but hey it's artistic license.

One could make the argument that Leroy Anderson was not a serious composer of serious music and therefore somewhat less important an author of music history than others of his time.  I would counter that many dismiss Hemingway on similar terms for his favoritism of short words opposed to the loquacious vocabularies of his contemporaries.  Quantity does not an artist make.

Anderson was a cult favorite for all things in the light orchestral category and one of the best things about that is that his music maintains a certain relevance today.  Since my wife and son are now listening to that Christmas radio station daily, I've heard "Sleigh Ride" about 47 times already this year!

The other side of Leroy Anderson is that his music is still played frequently by Pops orchestras and school bands and orchestras.  A frequent trick to getting kids to realize that instrumental music isn't all lame is to relate it to something that has credibility in their stupid lives of Beats by Dre and pictures of cats.

Or whatever...

It's recognizable and relevant to them because they've heard it on TV and the radio and the movies. It's part of the easily acceptable culture to them and therefore they can buy in without fear of looking foolish.  The other neat part is that it's just a lot of fun to play and to listen to as well.  It's not easy to write parts for specific instruments and make them fun to play for all.  As a trombonist, I can give you hours of music with horrifically boring trombone parts, but Leroy (being a trombonist himself) knew what he was doing.  He spread the love around.

As a special note, this is the remastered original recording.  

See you next Friday.

-ED



Sources:
YouTube
http://www.pbs.org/sleighride/Video&Music/Compositions_CFestival.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leroy_Anderson#Early_life
http://www.leroyanderson.com/biography.php

Chris Thile and Edgar Meyer: Big Top

The first time I heard Béla Fleck and the Flecktones the idea that if you take enough musicians who are ridiculously talented on their instruments and put them into one box, that whatever comes out will be astonishing.  The idea that ability supersedes genre is one that has oft been practiced and proven by Fleck and others that all operate in this land of Neo-Bluegrassish music.  Rather than shunning the different lineages of these instrument groups, we instead try to accept it all for what it is and generate a product that reflects the diversity in texture and sound, assuming that making music takes precedence over form and function.

Such is the case with Chris Thile (b.1981) and Edgar Meyer's (b.1960) new album, Bass & Mandolin.

"Mine's bigger."

It is comprised of ten original compositions by the duo for bass and mandolin (with a few for piano or guitar as well).  It is a whirlwind of technical prowess coupled with risk-taking tonality.  Sitting and listening to it for a few times now I can't help but feel like this is what it might sound like if Paul Hindemith wrote for Flatt and Scruggs.  There is an earthy, human tone to all of it, but each piece can drift seamlessly in and out of the bluegrass genre and drift atonally about without offending the ear. There's a unique combination of harsh dissonance and super-human technical prowess that merges with the characteristic folk and bluegrass harmony to establish a new breed of music that exists somewhere between Bach, Weber, Cage, and Grainger.  

Thile pulls on his appreciation for the Baroque habit of musical ornamentation frequently, creating these elaborate mandolin riffs that leaves one pondering the notion that the instrument itself might actually be restricting to the performer's ability to translate the whole of his ability.  While Meyer reinvents the double bass as a 6' tall fiddle.  There are moments where you just can't help but feel like we're all just showing off for company.

But the moment before it goes off and gets labeled a technical freak show, we are reminded that there is a sense of order to all of this and Bach and Hindemith regain control of the helm.  It's a proper balance of musicality and technicality.  

The piece I most identify with on this album is "Big Top".  It begins with a playful interchange and then a bass melody that moves through keys like a fat kid through cake.  It then works itself into a jazzy, circus-like groove that allows a mandolin solo that takes us back to a minimalist interlude peppered with chromatic runs that break knuckles.  

It's this creative back and forth between two instruments at the polar ends of the frequency spectrum that makes this album work.  It has the feeling of a technical contest without the sense of one-upsmanship.  Both men are competitors to the same end and working toward a common goal.

Thile hails from California and has contributed much to the world by way of the two groups, Nickel Creek and Punch Brothers, both of which have worked to develop this unique brand of folk music. Meyer on the other hand was born on the Bluegrass-homeworld of Tennessee and grew up under the tutelage of his orchestra director father and thus has a firm foot in the classical and bluegrass worlds.  His virtuosic abilities on the bass are noteworthy if for no other reason than it's really freaking hard to play a bass in the manner Meyer has adopted.

Well, damn Paul, I've always thought I was just big-boned.

The thing about this music is that it fills a musical void for me.  As of late I've grown more and more frustrated with the crap that radio stations deem appropriate to blast in our ears daily.  In researching the duo I came across no shortage of news articles praising their current tour.  One in particular stuck out from journalist Joel Francis of the Kansas City Star.

If albums like this had singles and radio had interest in playing anything like this, the enchanting “El Cinco Real” would be on every DJ and programmer’s desk in the country. Instead it will have to settle for a life of NPR bumper music.

Someday I hope we as a society can rise up against the spoon-fed mediocrity of the radio and television, and maybe the internet can be a vehicle for such an act of treasonous subterfuge. In any event, I do sincerely hope you take the time to enjoy what Meyer and Thile are doing for our ears and maybe explore it a little further.

See you next Friday.

-ED

Read more here: http://www.kansascity.com/entertainment/ent-columns-blogs/back-to-rockville/article2258403.html#storylink=cpy

Sources:
www.youtube.com
www.wikipedia.com
http://www.thilemeyer.com/
http://www.kansascity.com/entertainment/ent-columns-blogs/back-to-rockville/article2258403.html