Os explico a qué viene este post. Como sabéis, en verano todos aprovechamos para hacer las cosas para las que no hemos tenido tiempo el resto del año. Leemos, viajamos, o simplemente paseamos por nuestra ciudad y tomamos una cervecita en una terraza.

Son muchas las actividades que se pueden hacer, y muchas las ideas para el tiempo libre, pero yo voy a proponer una que en particular a mí me fascina. A lo mejor soy reiterativo y un poco pesado, porque en el post anterior ya hablé de esto, pero bueno, perdonadme, que merece la pena.

Yo, en verano, aprovecho para escuchar las músicas que he ido acumulando durante todo el año. El verano pasado hice una inmersión en Stravinsky, quedando por completo fascinado (desde entonces soy un devoto admirador de su obra). Hace dos veranos le tocó el turno a Bruckner, y tres años atrás recuerdo que pasé horas y horas escuchando Khachaturiam. Éste verano, como habréis podido observar en el anterior post, le toca el turno a Mahler. Hasta ahora sólo conocía su quinta sinfonía, una maravilla, sin duda. También había escuchado varias veces un cuarteto con piano, y algunos de sus lieder, en especial "ich bin der welt abhanden gekommen", de los Ruckertlieder. Llevo dos meses escuchando todas sus sinfonías, y he llegado a una conclusión. El final de la sinfonía octava es uno de los momentos más impresionantes de toda mi pequeña experiencia musical. En ocasiones se abusa de la palabra alucinante, y a mi no me gusta emplearla excepto que su uso esté totalmente justificado. Y éste lo está. Os dejo esta perla, el final de la octava sinfonía de Mahler, dirigida por Simon Rattle. Disfrutad de la potencia de sonido de esta obra, y luego me decís si se os han puesto los pelos como escarpias y la carne de gallina.

En la música, el uso del silencio es esencial, pues un descanso en una sucesión de sonidos es agradable, y un momento de silencio tras un acorde de tensión es increible. Como primer ejemplo del uso del silencio, pondré a mi muy admirado Beethoven. En su novena sinfonía, en la mundialmente conocida parte coral del último movimiento, la sucesión de melodías, y el camino que sigue el maravilloso poema de Schiller, nos lleva a un momento culminante: se trata de un acorde monumental, en que la orquesta y el coro, al unísono, gritan la palabra "Gott" (Dios). Es un inconmensurable acorde tenso, en el que los pelos de los oyentes se ponen como escarpias, y la piel se vuelve de gallina, mientras los escalofríos recorren de arriba a abajo todo nuestro cuerpo. Pero no es ese acorde lo que produce la increible sensación de poder que trasmite Beethoven. Ese acorde no sería nada si al momento se produjera una resolución del mismo, una relajación tras la tensión. Beethoven, como gran maestro no solo de la música, sino de los entresijos del espíritu humano, supo que lo que más podía mellar en los corazones de los hombres era el silencio. Ese monumental silencio después del monumental acorde hace que la tensión resuene en nuestras cabezas.

Pero el silencio en la música no debe estar exigido por la partitura exclusívamente. Los que vamos con asiduidad a conciertos, observamos una práctica muy poco respetuosa con la música. Cuando el último acorde de una obra aún resuena en los auditorios, sin que su vibración se haya apagado, sin que haya hecho aparición el silencio que hace que siga sonando en nuestra cabeza, un clamor lleno de aplausos, vítores y "bravos" llena la sala sin dejar disfrutar al público del proceso mediante el cual el sonido se apaga.

Yo lamento profundamente esa actitud, pues en muchas ocasiones he querido disfrutar de la grandiosidad del acorde final, o de la sutileza de las últimas notas en un final suave. Me gustaría poner como ejemplo de buena práctica del público esta grabación del final de la tercera sinfonía de Mahler, dirigida por el maestro Abbado. El público espera paciente a que el direcor baje sus manos por completo, mientras disfruta del majestuoso acorde difuminándose en la sala. Tomemos ejemplo.

Una amiga alemana, pianista, me dijo una vez que le encantaba como denominabamos en español a esos pequeños periodos en los que el sonido no existe. En alemán los llaman "pausas", nosotros "silencio".

Rencontre 2

Après le grand succès obtenu avec la première rencontre, nous continuons de plus belle avec cette deuxième rencontre qui, quelle surprise, laisse à peine entrevoir le penchant naturel de Thomas pour les cuivres (et le mien pour la musique de Stravinsky!). Sans mentionner notre penchant pour le chant choral bien sûr, qui est dignement représenté cette semaine par la très belle pièce Litanies à la vierge noire de Poulenc.

Voici donc la liste complète des pièces jouées aujourd'hui:

1. 5^e symphonie, 1^er mouv. (Gustav Mahler 1860-1911) -Thomas
2. Litanies à la vierge noire (Francis Poulenc 1899-1963) - Louis
3. Gesang Der Geister Uber Den Wassern (Franz Schubert 1797-1828) - Thomas
4. Concerto in E flat major "Dumbarton Oaks"(Igor Stravinsky 1882-1971) - Louis
5. On the Sunny Side of the Road (Duke Ellington 1899-1974) - Louis
6. Jam with Sam  (Duke Ellington 1899-1974) - Louis

Comme vous pouvez le constater j'ai tenté d'introduire un peu de jazz vers la fin de la rencontre, dans l'optique de progressivement amener Thomas à mieux apprécier ce genre musical que j'adore. Ce fut malheureusement sans succès: mon collègue est bien trop attaché à ses symphonies! Moi qui m'imaginais l'amadouer avec ces deux pièces de Duke Ellington...c'est un trompettiste quand même ce Thomas! Un peu de solidarité que diable!

More recently, RCS Plus has expanded the festival to include more intimate concerts in the hall across campus, off-campus concerts, and a movie + recital series. I sang at the final At The Movies recital last Wednesday, where I was reminded what a wonderful experience it can be to view a movie with a crowd.

It is encouraging to see the improvements SMCM is making to its campus. In recent years, it seems one part of campus is inevitably under construction. But the annoyance and ugliness has paid off. The campus has more than a few brand-new buildings and new signs, which may not seem important, but they are what I first notice whenever I visit. The campus center is truly a central place on campus, the fitness center has an olympic-sized swimming pool and rock climbing wall among other amenities, there are new suites to house the expanding student body, most of whom live on campus, a new boathouse, and several new classroom buildings. Sadly, the music program seems to be at the bottom of the funding list. The new gym is the only on-campus venue that can accommodate concerts that include the full choir and orchestra. The acoustics are OK, but it lacks the proper ambiance. A new project will move the RCS near the music building, where an outdoor arena will be created with a terraced seating area filling what is now occupied by a rather hideous mound. It is a campus I would be happy to inhabit, though I harbor some nostalgia for the way things used to be which is only natural, I think.

The soloists for Gustav Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde (Song of the Earth) were mezzo-soprano Olivia Vote, and tenor Jason Collins, both of whom did a fine job. I have known Olivia since she was in high school, and it has been wonderful to watch her career over the past few years. She was a New England regional finalist of the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions this year. Having just finished a degree at Yale Opera, she covered "Nicklausse" at Opera Theatre of Saint Louis earlier this summer and will begin studies at the prestigious Academy of Vocal Arts in the fall. It was satisfying to hear her large voice sing such a meaty work, and by the last movement I had goosebumps. She was self-effacing afterwards, thanked me for coming, and sighed that she has "messed up." A bona fide child of St. Mary's, she was barefoot as soon as she left the stage. I have never been a Mahler fan, but I may have to reconsider that position.

Mr. Collins was equally as humble when I met him at the reception. He attempted to make friends with Kipling, which won him immediate brownie points in my book. We traded rescue dog stories, and then it was time to take pity on Kipling (who had spent the evening alternately cowering under my lawn chair and attempting to eat our picnic dinner), and head home.

Die Haftstrafe war zunächst auf 6 Monate festgesetzt, wurde dann aber in einem Berufungsverfahren durch die Oberstaatsanwältin auf 9 Monate erhöht. Während des Verfahrens sagte eben diese Staatsanwältin (Cäcilia Cramer-Krahforst), dass es ihr einen gewissen "Respekt abnötige", dass Mahler für seine Überzeugungen ins Gefängnis geht. Schwerer Fehler!!!!1!! Denn wegen dieser Äußerung verlor die Frau ihren Posten als Leiterin der Abteilung zur Verfolgung politisch motivierter Straftaten bei der Anklagebehörde Cottbus.

Die Frau, die dafür gesorgt hat, dass Mahler länger in den Knast kommt.. Mal ganz ehrlich wie beschränkt sind wir denn in Deutschland? Man kann die Frau nun wirklich nicht in den Verdacht stellen mit rechtsextremem Gedankengut zu sympathisieren. Im Gegenteil - für seine Überzeugungen einzustehen und auch in den Knast zu gehen ist richtig und wichtig für eine Demokratie - mehr hat sie wohl auch nicht gesagt.

Ich hab darüber schonmal geschrieben - Ich finde mit solchen Aktionen hilft man den Glatzen eher ihr Aussenseiterimage aufrecht zu erhalten. Wunderbar :(

So, we went to my brother's SYMS concert (he made the Johnson concert and jazz band. I'm so proud... *sniff*). They played Mazama, Clouds that Sail in Heaven, and A Galop to end all Galops. They were all great, especially for musicians that young. I'd have to say that like Mazama the most, the percussionists really pulled it together on that one, as it required everyone to play a single staccato note at the same time, but no one was late or early! It surprised me! I was like "sweet!" Oh yeah, there was also a tornado warning, which required everyone to go into the cellar. My dad, brother, and I just stayed above ground and watched the lightning. :-)

Other Stuff ~ Unattended, my origami shelf has kind of died, it's now populated with car keys, hearing aid batteries, science museum passes, and nail clippers. So I've started and Origami Stairwell, where I'm hanging origami around our stairs. I'll upload a photo when I don't feel lazy.

I'm struggling with the Marathon problem that I have to do for my AP Chemistry summer work. I think I set up the equation properly but I'm still getting a g/mol ratio below one, which obviously isn't right...

This summer I've been listening to way more music than I usually do. Here's the list of what I listen to, and when I listen to it:

Classical (if I feel "clear")

• Bruckner
• Mahler
• Vivaldi

Brass Band (if I feel tuba-ish)

• Grimethope
• Empire Brass
• Innovata
• Canadian Brass
• Black Dyke
• Youngblood

Low Brass Solos (if I feel very tuba-ish)

• Roger Bobo
• Patrick Sheridan
• Arnold Jacobs
• Roland Fröscher
• Harvey Philips
• Gene Pokorny
• Øystein Baadsvik

Rock

• Dream Theater (if I feel anything)
• Trans-Siberian Orchestra (if christmas is coming)
• Pink Floyd (if I feel mellow)
• Metallica (if I feel rebellious)

Techno

• Infected Mushroom (if I feel philosophical)
• 8-Bit People (if I feel nostalgic)
• Weeble's Stuff (if I feel crazy)
• OC Remix (if I feel nostalgic)

Navaras/Nauras is a Sanskrit word that, when broken down, refers to the nine ("nava") emotional states ("rasa") that are exhibited during music, drama, and the visual arts, the experience of which bring about a state of transcendental bliss.

The nine different states are as follows:

• Love - Sringaram
• Comic - Hasyam
• Pathetic - Karunam
• Furious - Raudram
• Heroic - Viram
• Terrible - Bayanakam
• Odious - Bibhatsam
• Surprise - Adbutam
• Tranquility - Shantam

If you are reading this in England, you might want to go and check your email for a moment and come back in five minutes.

We left a very wet Stansted Airport at 9am this morning, and landed 3 hours later at Palermo airport. If you are enjoying the English summer of rain, I have to tell you that it is 30 degrees and very sunny here. It is a huge contrast to the concert earlier in the week in St Pauls where we concluded the Mahler cycle with number 8. It rained a lot that day. If you missed the concert, you can still hear it on the BBC website or if you go over to St Pauls, you can probably still hear the reverberations. Or you can wait for the CD release later on in the year,

Anyway, back to Italy. We are here to do two concerts with Daniel Harding, playing Brahms 2, Don Juan and Firebird. After arriving at the hotel we had a quick lunch, fortunately, being in Italy, it is culturally relevant to have a quick bowl of pasta, and it always tastes better than in England, I expect its the rain-sorry to rub it in.

We drove straight past the concert hall, I hadn't read the schedule, as it turned out that we were playing outside. Now I have a soft spot for outdoor dates as I spent every summer of the first 5 years of my career in muddy fields with the Bournemouth Symphony-happy days. We played on an open air stage with no roof, no chance of rain you see. Sorry! I was concerned at the ambient noise during the rehearsal, the stage was surrounded by Cyprus trees full of crickets who felt the need to join in. However, I am happy to report that they stayed quiet for the show. Sadly the local dog population did make their presence felt during the quiet bits in the second half.

Its always strange playing outdoors as the lack of reverberation makes it feel like you are playing in a dead box. It is quite difficult to judge how loudly or quietly you are playing as well. Rather disconcertingly, the applause was very quiet, although as it was fairly prolonged, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Even the dogs and crickets.

We began with a hot and steamy performance of Don Juan with a beautiful oboe solo from our guest principal oboe, David Theodore. Wearing tails is never my outfit of choice, but in the humid Italian evening it was almost unbearable. So as the opening of the Firebird competed with an offstage mobile phone ringtone, a cool breeze drifted in from the east, physically and musically. Most welcome. Almost as welcome as the cold beer after Brahms 2.

At the end of a very long day, most of the band drifted into the centre of town in search of a quick bite to eat. My small group managed to find a lovely little place down a small side street which it turned out had a kitchen 5 minutes walk away, not a good sign especially as the pizzas arrived two by two over a 30 minute period. Always being sensitive to local custom and traditions, and having had pasta at lunchtime, we all decided to eat pizza.

It was the worst thing I have ever eaten in my life. Probably the equivalent of an Italian having his first roast beef and Yorkshire pudding in one of those reheated carvery/refectory places. Next time I pass the one near me and see some tourists, I'm going to take them round to my mums for a proper roast dinner.

Still apparently there is an outdoor pool at todays hotel. And still no rain.

I'll let you know how we get on.

Some very good things on this year’s Proms. It’s a pity that they haven’t really taken off on the Vaughan Williams 50th anniversary. I think a missed opportunity here, for example, no Sancta Civitas, no Dona Nobis Pacem. It’s good that other RVW compositions are being played, e.g. Flos Campi.

It’s a shame that a wind band is not performing, because that would be ideal for RVW’s English Folksong Suite to be played, etc., maybe c/w Holst’s Hammersmith Prelude etc., or suites for military band and some contemporary music too, which abounds with some very good pieces indeed.

Doing my shopping chores at Tesco, this morning, I saw that the Proms 2008 brochure was on sale for £4, instead of £6 r.r.p. And points, too, of course!

Having had just a cursory glance so far and (probably) not having time to go to very much, I must say the programme looks better than it has for some years – perhaps those who thought Roger Wright’s takeover would cast the Proms into the depths of dumbness will be pleasantly surprised. I’m not sure I’d be able to sit (let alone stand) through Saint François, but a whole day of Stockhausen, and no Britten – what’s not to like?

More Stockhausen in Prom 48: Gürzenich Orchester.

When I saw that triple-decker programme I thought it must be a sort of “retro” tribute to William Glock and the 1960s/1970s Proms. It’s soooooooooooo 1970s. I was thinking of growing my hair in tribute. He and Robert Ponsonby used to do a lot of these with various “bonkers” juxtapositions just to see if they worked. I might just dig out a few programmes.

Personally I’d leave after the Stockhausen, not because I don’t like the third “half” but because the first two would have given me quite enough to think about. I’d be interested to hear how having the Mahler first would affect the perception of the Stockhausen. I remember another Mahler/Stockhausen concert where Stockhausen’s Jubiläum (as close to a curtain-raiser as he ever wrote, I’m surprised it isn’t played more often) was followed by Mahler 5, which sounded distinctly odd – sparse, staccato and even somewhat monochrome in comparison to Stockhausen’s luxuriantly dense textures. It was a highly thought-provoking experience.

As a footnote to this, here is Steven Wells’ rant against the Last Night of the Proms, “The Proms pomposity and patriotism I love to hate”.

Cuando Gustav Mahler compuso su Sinfonía trágica nuestro delicioso posromántico había pensado incluir tres golpes de martillo en el último movimiento de la partitura; pero al final, hizo lo que todo buen supersticioso hubiese hecho enfrentando una situación semejante: justo cuando los violines anuncian la tonalidad de La Mayor, el sabio compositor, raudo de corcheas, con decidido lirismo eliminó la tercera y fatal intervención del martillazo.

No olvidemos que entre los músicos, munícipes estéticos, el golpe del martillo es una metáfora sonora que nos manifiesta el insondable poder del destino. La figura del destino aparece en el universo polifónico a partir de que Beethoven compuso su Quinta sinfonía. Desde entonces, desafiar al destino que llama a la puerta se considera como algo muy peligroso, sobre todo porque Beethoven advirtió que lo hacía a cuenta y riesgo propios: “Lo tomaré del cuello y le daré pelea, no importa que al final me destroce”.

Mahler, más prudente quiso encarar al destino en pequeñito. Alma, la esposa de Mahler escribió: “En los Kindertotenlieder, al igual que en la Sexta, (Mahler) anticipó su propia vida en términos musicales. También él hubo de sentir los golpes del destino, y el último le derribó totalmente”. Al mencionar los Kindertotenlieder, Alma se refiere al hecho de que mientras su apasionado esposo componía esa obra, unas Canciones a la muerte de los niños, ella tenía miedo de que el músico estuviese condenando a muerte a alguna de sus hijas; cosa que por desgracia, sucedió con la pequeña Mariana. Mahler nunca olvidó que Alma se lo había advertido.

Tras la fatal experiencia, el precavido Gustav Mahler decidió dejar de tentar al inescrutable destino, y en su Sinfonía trágica, a pesar de que en esta obra sombría el hombre es el gran derrotado, pareciera que no le va tan mal: gracias a un certero plumazo falta un martillazo estentóreo.

http://www.coromusica.com/

Por supuesto os animo a escuchar la sinfonía entera pero por lo menos os dedico este trozo de su cuarto movimiento, el adagietto, que para mí es una de las más bellas músicas escritas para orquesta sinfónica. No está completa pero he preferido poneros este montaje porque se puede apreciar la belleza de Tadzio y comprender la historia que cuenta la película del compositor que se enamora de la belleza perfecta e inalcanzable de Tadzio.

Podéis encontrar en la red versiones distintas de la pieza. Hay varias de Zubin Mehta dirigiendo a distintas orquestas (enlace aquí), pero para mi gusto a la versión de Mehta le falta un pelín de la fuerza -romántica y descarnada- que tiene la versión de la banda original de la película que es la que os pongo.

Espero que os sintáis conmovidos por la belleza, por la belleza física del joven y sobre todo por la belleza que llega al alma de esta música.

Unfortunately, Brasilia's Teatro Nacional Cláudio Santoro has never been a replacement. It is a large theatre amazingly uncomfortable for the audience, famous for its impressively poor acoustics and also the home of the Orquestra Sinfônica do Teatro Nacional - OSTN (I  refuse to write OSTNCS - who had anyway the brilliant idea of adopting such a long and unpronounceable abbreviation?!). Despite everybody's good intentions, this orchestra's performances were amateurish at most (I remember a particularly embarrassing performance of Orff's Carmina Burana) and I only decided to see the all-Mahler concert today because it is really rare to find a performance of Das Lied von der Erde anywhere. Fortune favours the bold - the event proved to be an unforeseen good surprise.

I knew that the orchestra has a new musical director, Ira Levin, whose concert performance of Wagner's Die Walküre (act I only) with Violeta Urmana in São Paulo caused me a very positive impression last year - but I didn't know he is one of those conductors who have the talent to build the sound of an orchestra. Of course, the OSTN is light-years away of world-class standard, but at least it can now claim the status of a serious professional orchestra. Thanks to Mr. Levin, the OSTN has finally left its childhood and made its first steps to adult life. I hope it is not only the good results of a new acoustic shell in wood, but for the first time in my experience this orchestra was capable of producing full tone in loud dynamics and to retain tonal quality in softer passages. More than that, it is now capable of producing consistently accurate phrasing - even the brass section was relatively catastrophe-free during the whole concert. Considering how fast the improvement has been produced, I can only believe that Ira Levin's tenure is going to be the beginning of a new era for Brasília's classical music scene.

Having all that in mind, I think I can allow myself to say tonight's was a truly acceptable performance of Mahler's Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen and particularly Das Lied von der Erde. Levin wisely decided to play safe, opting for considerate tempi, softer orchestral sound and preferred strife for polish to excitement. Sometimes the result were rather well-behaved than impressive, but again no wise conductor would aloofly force an immature orchestra into calamity all in the name of genius. I can also say Mr. Levin has a good ear for soloists. In the Gesellen songs, Homero Velho was more correct than inspiring - his baritone is forward and focused through the whole range and he can relax to produce piano singing, but the overall impression is a bit stiff and not entirely smooth in the ear. His best moment was Ich habe ein glühend Messer, when the edge in his voice fits the vocal lines better. The soloists in the second part of the program would offer performances of higher caliber. I will speak of the tenor first.

I had seen Brazilian tenor Martin Mühle's Tamino maybe five years ago in Rio and I will not beat around the bush - it was awful. His voice had then an annoying bleating quality and his sense of pitch could only be described as "random". I don't know what he has done since, but I cannot believe this is the same singer - he must have worked really seriously in his technique in the meanwhile. Although he still has some minor pitch problems around the passaggio, his voice has developed into something like a bright and firm jugendlich dramatisch tenor with really golden full-toned top notes. One could see he was a bit tense in the impossible Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde, but even in the less smooth patches his voice was always cleanly and richly produced. This was indeed a most satisfying performance, more compliment-worthy considering the difficulty of this piece. 

Although Denise de Freitas describer herself as a mezzo-soprano, her voice has an undeniable contralto-ish tint about it. I had seen her only once in Humperdinck's Hänsel und Gretel many years ago and found her very very good, but I have the impression her voice had a lighter colour then. In any case, it is a slightly-veiled voice, rock-solid and finely focused. The basic tone made me think of Iris Vermillion (in Sinopoli's studio recording), the differences being: Denise de Freitas is more comfortable to produce mezza voce, but darkens too much her vowels, what results less than clear diction and a more perilous break into chest voice. Sometimes the sound around the passaggio was somewhat hollow and overplummy. This was definitely a problem in the fast low phrases in Von der Schönheit such as Über Blumen, Gräser, wanken hin die Hufe. I also wished she refrained from the occasional resource to portamento, which sounded a bit unstylish to my ears. That said, this is a singer with extraordinary charisma, imagination and concentration. Her Abschied offered a valuable sense of story-telling and emotional development. 

I am writing this in my hotel room in Cologne as we tie up a few loose ends from the last tour. We are playing Bruckner 6 and Schubert Unfinished with Sir Colin. Last night we were in Dusseldorf in a concert hall which looks like a cross between the London Planetarium and Guildford Borough Council Chambers. I'm sure you can picture it perfectly. We actually got on a bus after the show and came to stay in Cologne. It made for a very long day as we had checked in at 8 am in terminal 5, but it did mean we all had a very welcome lie in today.

Now those of you who follow our travels, will probably be smiling at the thought of the entire LSO losing their luggage in terminal 5, much like when the instruments didn't arrive in Dijon. I am happy to report that this time, everything went smoothly, although despite my previous experience of Gordon Ramsey in NY, his full English at £16.50 lost out to a coffee and sandwich in a well known chain.

Of course, as I didn't have to get up this morning, I woke up bright and early and went for a run along the river in the ever increasing temperature. Its amazing how many people from the orchestra you bump into, running on tour. Mainly the thin ones of course, but with so much sitting around on planes, trains and woodwind sections, it certainly does help blow the cobwebs away.

Sadly any good I did was destroyed by a visit to the Chocolate factory here in Cologne, and the shop. There is a long line of machines which do various things to chocolate and finally spit them out into bags which a little old lady ties up and packs away. Rather disappointingly, she was a normal old lady, didn't sing and there was no river of chocolate.

Sir Colin is on fine form once again and once again he coaxes a sound out of the orchestra which is unique. Someone asked me last week, why different conductors make the orchestra sound so different. The answer is that I really don't know, and to be honest I don't want to think about it too much. I'm sure somebody knows why Sir Colin, Haitink, Previn and Gergiev all make us sound different, but don't tell me, I'm enjoying the magic.

Besides, I've already discovered that umpa loompas aren't real, and the river is made of water. I can't take anymore revelations today. I've got a concert to do.

Arnold Schoenberg, an Austrian-American composer of the twentieth century, described the “curse” as follows: "It seems that the ninth is a limit. He who wants to go beyond it must pass away. It seems as if something might be imparted to us in the Tenth which we ought not yet to know, for which we are not ready. Those who have written a Ninth stood too close to the hereafter."

Of course, there are also many exceptions to “the curse of the ninth”, notably Dmitri Shostakovich, who deliberately avoided writing a momentous ninth and went on to compose a total of fifteen symphonies.

Remece Gustav.

Tuve la suerte de que a mi novio le gustara tanto como a mí. No sé si el estómago se le conmueve como a mí, jajajajaja, pero le gusta. Alguna vez comentamos la película, aquella película.

En Frutillar me fui a los ensayos de Titán y después hice una treta para no viajar a La Unión y quedarme a escuchar la obra completa en la noche. El concierto fue estremecedor y eché de menos a Rodrigo para habernos mirado a la salida (aunque se cortó la luz justo en medio de las interminables ovaciones) y habernos puesto la cara que nos habría dado la impresión (speechless, no me demoraré en explicar lo inefable).
Sí escuchamos juntos la quinta en marzo, para el comienzo de esta temporada de la querida Sinfónica. Ahí si nos pudimos expresar con los rostros lo speechless.

Porque Mahler en vivo es todo lo vivible que se pueda pensar.

Nada comparado a lo que se siente en un mísero mp3.

Entonces me bajé las sinfonías porque tenía muchas ganas de escuchar el movimiento dos de Titán. Error. Subí el volumen pero seguía sin distinguir los sonidos que estaba añorando.
Vino a mí una plasta de sonidos que solo me dejó echar más de menos la ejecución en vivo.
Siempre que vamos al teatro (debemos agendar una visita urgente, lo extraño) pienso y le comento a Rodrigo: “Quizás cómo eran estas obras cuando las pensaron los tipos. Qué rastro extraño será lo que estamos escuchando”. Pero no hay caso, preferible la interpretación de las anotaciones de un compositor por parte del director que la repetición aplastada de las partituras en un intangible e inmaterial mp3.
La música se convierte en no sé qué que no me gusta ni me convence. Entonces R. me dice: “Es preferible a nada”. Y sí, pero es triste cuando hemos tenido la otra experiencia. Y no nos pasa con el rock, porque nació para los discos y no para los teatros o los salones. El rock en vivo es enriquecedor o como las pelotas, cuando la acústica del lugar o la pericia de los ingenieros son determinantes. La maestría de gentes como Mahler viene porque pasa por los siglos de los siglos, como la música tradicional, je. Ahí está la partitura y aunque esté el mp3 no será modelo a seguir para quienes lo vayan a interpretar sea aquí en Baquedano o en cualquier otro sitio del mundo. Ya sé, pero la música del llamado folklore no tiene partituras, pero es una especie de traspaso parecido y que nada tiene que ver con la música de la industria cultural, son otros modos de traspaso a través de los años.
Más se parece cantar una canción del campo a interpretar una partitura sinfónica que a hacer un cover de banda de rock. Las dos primeras expresiones tenían como su base el “en vivo”. Y así por los siglos de los siglos.

Por eso cuando escucho a Mahler en mp3 me da un heartbreak. Lo que escuché en Frutillar o algunas veces en el Teatro de la Universidad de Chile podrá no haber representado bien la intención del señor allá en el siglo XIX pero es mucho mejor que una masa de sonidos despojados de su entereza a través de los parlantes de mi computador o de mis audífonos. Todos los mp3 aplastan las composiciones pero con esto de la música clásica queda en evidencia.

Mahler en mp3 no me dio nada en el estómago, solo un susto que espero que se me pase luego, aunque lo dudo. Y me dan ganas de poder escucharlo en vivo mucho más seguido... por mientras, como peor es nada, sigo con el reproductor abierto y con los parlantes y su gesto débil, sonando.

But there is an extraordinary quality about the unity of these grand moments of resolution that always manages to create shivers down my back. Perhaps the audience felt it too. In my two years playing in this orchestra, we've never had as long of an applause at the end. Again and again they clamored for Barbara and the soloists to come back out onto the stage. This was the power of Mahler's music.

I wanted to post a video of Debussy's Reverie in honor of the creation of this blog. But I think I will post this symphony's finale instead. The conductor is Claudio Abbado. Welcome to my blog.

Next week brings a couple more days of recordings for Naxos. I can't remember what it is we're doing, and the schedule is in the kitchen, so I can't see, but I've heard that the conductor is a reject from the Royal Ballet, which means he must be awful! Wednesday will reveal all, and I don't mean that in an Addams family way.

Until then...

Next week is her final one with us as principal conductor, and despite what many say, I have rather liked her.

I'd never played or even heard Mahler 9 before monday, and as someone who thought he quite liked Mahler, it came as a bit of a blow to find that this piece is pure madness. Not just the usual self-indulgence of Mahler, but stark staring mad; running down the street in your underwear waving an axe mad. A caustic member of the viola section said that it's only a short step from writing music like this, to locking your daughter in a cellar for decades and having 7 children by her, and there may be something in what he says.

The first piece is a percussion concerto by Christopher Rouse , and it's rather good fun. Basically a racket,  but  it seems well written, and  it's nice to see the  percussion section having to work for a living for once!

The concert is being broadcast on radio 3, but not live I don't think.

The evening began with a piece by Locklair entitled “Phoenix”, a piece originally composed for organ but transcribed for orchestra at the request of Robert Moody, the PSO’s new conductor. The piece was full of overly clean intervals and chords, had very little in the form of dissonance, was lacking in counterpoint, and was steeped in a tacky repetition. Basically, it sounded like an organ piece transcribed for an orchestra. The piece is probably decent on the organ, but not really translatable into the orchestral setting.

The shining moment of the night was, of course, Mahler’s first symphony. The piece began with all the tranquility we’d expect from a piece about the forest, perfectly executed by the talented PSO performers, and energetically conducted by Robert Moody. He even danced in some sections, really trying to pull every facet of emotion out of the performers. I can see him becoming a real draw for audiences; seeing him twice now he has already managed to make the concerts that much more exciting for me that I feel comfortable being there rather than young and out of place. I hope this aura brings more young concert goers to the PSO, a trend I saw tonight in much of the audience. My only complaint about the performance was the weak attacca between the third and fourth movements. A critic’s review of one of the original performance’s of the piece mentioned the woman in front of him losing her hat at this point, and all other performance I have listened to or seen on DVD have had such a “Jumpy-horror film effect” that left me a little disappointed tonight when no one fell out of their seat. The moment ended up being extremely subdued in favor of another point a few minutes later in the piece. However, the end made up for it with a very strong finish. When the horns, trumpets, and trombones all stood and gave their last resounding blasts at the audience, the entire piece reached the fevered pitch it had avoided the whole way through. The performers all did an amazing job, my personal favorite being the double-bass soloist.

The funny moment of the night was between the first and second and the second and third movements. A little girl in the audience began clapping feverishly, and part of the audience slowly joined her. The “more-experienced” concert-goers all sat in awe, not sure whether to try to quiet them or join them. It was one of those moments in which it was clear that the taboos and rules surrounding classical music are breaking down, most likely for the better. The less these trivial “codes of concert conduct” scare people away from the music the better. Really though, it was just cute to see an audience take a cue from a small child.

The work, coined the "symphony of a thousand", was first premiered in Munich, Germany on September 12, 1910. Comprised of 850 choristers and an orchestra of 171, the work was the first of it's kind as it marked the first "choral symphony" ever written. Unlike his other symphonies (2 & 3) this symphony utilizes a chorus and soloists through it's entirety.