Coughing Mayhem…ahem…

In September 2008, I visited the subject of how to attend classical music concerts.  During recent internet research surfing, I ran across a fun essay at Theatlantic.com by Erik Tarloff entitled A Few words about Coughing.  Tarloff describes a concert of Mahler’s Ninth Symphony he attended at Lincoln Center and the uncanny focus of audience coughing during the quiet passages of music.  I’ve noticed this phenomenon, also.  Of course, louder passages would drown out the coughing. 

What is the reason for the coughing?  Here in Minnesota, the usual reason is the common cold or flu.  Tarloff, however, posits a theory concerning audience engagement with the music that also makes sense to me.  The amount of coughing correlates to the level of lack of interest in the audience member. 

Do you cough regularly at classical concerts?  If so, and you’re not sick, check your level of engagement in the music, how closely you’re listening to the music and watching the musicians.  I find it interesting that Tarloff noted people don’t usually cough during movies (no, they talk or text message on cell phones).  I attend plays at the Guthrie Theater on a regular basis and don’t ever recall hearing disruptive coughing during a performance.  Not like the hacking that Tarloff describes and I’ve heard during concerts at Orchestra Hall.  (I’ve also heard loud snoring in Orchestra Hall, but that’s another issue….)

With flu season almost upon us, and certainly novel H1N1 flu has been upon us since last March, I hereby review how to muffle a coughing fit until you can exit the concert hall.  Please, please, cover your mouth!  Please use a real cloth handkerchief (if possible) because the cloth absorbs the sound better than tissue.  Or, if no handkerchief is handy, do what public health nurses and other officials have been encouraging: cough into your elbow.  Easy.  And please, if you’re sick with the flu, whether seasonal, H1N1 or the notorious “flu-like illness,” please stay home, rest, drink lots of fluids and protect the rest of us from the illness you have.

Thank you for your consideration!

Minnesota Orchestra Has a New Pops Conductor

Last week, the Minnesota Orchestra announced their choice for their new Pops conductor — Sarah Hicks. She was the first ever female staff conductor, and has moved into what appears to be the niche she’s chosen for her conducting career.

More info here.

Also, there was an “exclusive to the Sunday paper” story yesterday in the Minneapolis Star Tribune that included much more about Hicks and her views about Pops, about classical music, and on the Minnesota Orchestra. My favorite quote of hers: “I can’t conduct Bruckner. I don’t get it, and I never will.”

How can she say she “never” will? Sometimes a composer and his voice in music does find its way into the heart after living through more experiences….

What Music Makes You Cry?

Last night, Osmo Vanska and the Minnesota Orchestra performed Peter Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony on the second half of their concert at Orchestra Hall.  I love this symphony.  As I listened, I started thinking about how richly emotional Tchaikovsky’s (or Tchaik’s) music is, and yet, it does not move me to tears.  Not even the Sixth Symphony, which probably should, but doesn’t.  Sometimes Tchaik’s music detours into melodrama, and feels like watching someone else going through wrenching emotion.  Plus, I detect an undercurrent of anger in a lot of his music.  Probably just me, but I’d swear it’s there. 

Stephen Hough, the marvelous pianist who performed with the Minnesota Orchestra the previous two concerts, asked on his fun blog “What Music Makes You Cry?” which resulted in over 50 comments, some quite heartfelt.  His blog post came back to me last night, as I thought of how Tchaik’s music does not make me cry, and began musing on what music has made me cry.  Often it depends on the mood I’m already in when I come to the music.  Usually, I cry during: The opening of the second movement of Samuel Barber’s Violin Concerto — that oboe solo is so exquisitely beautiful, it hurts.  The last movement of Verdi’s Requiem, especially if Susan Dunn is the soprano soloist.  Somewhere from West Side Story.  Robert Schumann’s Fantasy in C for piano, first and third movements.  The second movement of Johannes Brahm’s First Piano Concerto.   The second movement of J.S. Bach’s Concerto for Two Violins. 

And then there was the time I cried at the Finale of the Shostakovich Fifth Symphony.  Shostakovich’s music has not induced tears in the past but often fear, sadness, anger, and awe in me.  But the first time I saw Osmo Vanska conduct the Minnesota Orchestra, the Shostakovich Fifth was on the second half of the program, and I was so moved by the last third of the finale that I was almost sobbing, trying to hide my tears from the other audience members around me.  The power of my emotional response astonished me.  Why had that performance affected me so deeply?  I know this symphony well, and I’ve heard it countless times.  But never before had I cried.  After conversations with music-loving friends and much thought, I decided that Osmo Vanska’s attention to detail in the performance of this score, especially the dynamic detail, had had a cumulative emotional impact on me, so that the last third of the Finale, the build-up to the timpani at the end, took on a stark almost hopeless resonance.  It has always reminded me of soldiers goose-stepping in a parade, but this performance felt like I was under their boots.  I’ve heard the Shostakovich Fifth several times since that concert, and no other performance has moved me in the same way or as deeply.

During the final movement of Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony last night, I mused on Evan Quinn and music as a tool for character building and development.  From the beginning, I’ve thought of music as Evan’s outlet for emotions and emotional expression.  Music kept him sane.  Certain composers, certain works, would have a specific emotional resonance for him, while other works would reveal his character to the reader as he conducted them.  But conductors must control their emotions in performance and concentrate on the music.  So Evan is also pushing the emotions away, whether he’s conducting or playing the violin.  I found that inner conflict way too interesting to ignore. 

What music makes Evan cry?  That question popped into my mind and jolted me.  I hadn’t thought of it before.  I hadn’t thought about his personal taste in music, either.  So, now I have a new avenue in Evan’s character development to pursue perhaps in the later novels….. 

(And what music makes YOU cry?)       

The Pianist

Virtuoso:  1. an experimenter or investigator especially in the arts and sciences; 2. one skilled in or having a taste for the fine arts; 3. one who excels in the technique of an art, especially a musical performer.

Working as a writer, “virtuoso” is one of those words I prefer to use rarely, if at all.  Marketing personnel tend to throw it around a lot, especially those working in classical music because they believe it will sell tickets, which threatens to dilute its true meaning.  A virtuoso appears not every other week but every other generation for any given instrument.  The Minnesota Orchestra excels at playing orchestral music and could be considered a virtuoso orchestra.  They have worked diligently and hard with Osmo Vanska to reach the level at which they currently perform.  So, it’s not only talent that makes the virtuoso, but how that talent is nurtured and developed. 

Pianist Stephen Hough is a genuine virtuoso.  I love his playing.  Often, it steals away my ability to speak, or my brain to form words.  Listening to him play the Tchaikovsky Concert Fantasia last night with the Minnesota Orchestra took my breath away.  Rarely performed in concert — I don’t know why –  It’s a wonderful piece of music — I’d heard it only once before on the radio, played by Stephen Hough at the Proms in London this past summer.  To say Hough’s technique is excellent is an understatement.  I’ve heard him tame the Brahms Second Piano Concerto, also, as well as Tchaikovsky Piano Concertos last spring.  He’s a slender man, of slight build but powerful at the piano, with  straight blonde hair and a flair for fashion.  Next week, he plays Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto with the Minnesota Orchestra.  And the beauty of these performances will be available on CD at some point in the future.  So everyone can hear Hough’s clarity, precision, warm musicality, and imagination.  I will be able to listen to his performances over and over.   

Those recordings may well accompany work on the Perceval novels.  In the first book, Evan befriends a young Russian pianist whose passion for music enriches his passion for life.  If those passions infuse a pianist’s technique and performance, we’d hear them in Vasia’s, as they are in Hough’s.  Conductors have soloists that they love to work with, soloists who share their musical vision, fearlessness and goals.  Evan would work with Vasia, possibly helping his career.  Stephen Hough’s career needs no help at this point.  May the patron saint of music, Saint Cecilia, watch over him and protect him so we will be able to hear his performances for many years to come. 

A welcome back to the Minnesota Orchestra and Osmo Vanska who has signed a contract extension through the 2014-15 season.  I look forward to next week’s concert and Hough’s performance.  And his encore!  Last night, he played the most luscious encore.  It began with the opening chords of Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto, and after 3 or 4 measures, riffed into a haunting, bluesy rendition of “Moscow Nights,” ending with the Rachmaninoff chords again.  Awesome!  I loved it.  Hough’s blog informs and entertains as he offers a glimpse into his life as a professional concert pianist (research for me for Vasia’s character). 

Next spring, pianist Yevgeny Sudbin returns to record Beethoven’s Fifth Piano Concerto with the Minnesota Orchestra….