The Cleveland Orchestra's 100th Anniversary on blu-ray

I did not attend the Cleveland Orchestra's 100th Anniversary concert.  But I bought the blu-ray and have reviewed it for Amazon.  Full review here.  

Lang Lang, pulling faces

Pollini plays Chopin, Opp. 55-58

My latest review, of Maurizio Pollini's recording of Chopin's Nocturnes Op. 55, Mazurkas Op. 56, Berceuse Op. 57, and Sonata Op, 58, has been published.  Sadly, this is the weakest Pollini recording I've ever heard.  Full review here.  

A December Caribbean Cruise

Dan and I enjoyed our previous cruise along California’s coast, during which we learned that the destination and journey were equally interesting.  For this year’s cruise, December seemed like the ideal month to escape the stresses of life and the Cleveland winter and head for warmer climes.   Not wanting to be away too long, we chose a five-night Caribbean cruise on Royal Caribbean’s Majesty of the Seas, with stops in Key West and Havana, Cuba. 

After a half-century long economic boycott, which utterly failed to advance America’s strategic interest and was ended by the Obama Administration, Cuba is once again a legal and increasingly popular destination for American tourists.  As Havana’s port cannot accommodate today’s gigantic mega-ships, Majesty of the Seas was our means of entry.  Majesty is among the oldest of Royal Caribbean’s active fleet of over two dozen ships, and among the smallest.  As I’d read negative reviews of this ship on Cruise Critic and other sites, I did not have high expectations.  But I was pleasantly surprised by several aspects of life on an older, smaller ship.  First, the crew to passenger ratio allows for more personalized service.  The ship’s tour we took on our second day made clear that even small ships require constant care and meticulous planning.  Our room attendant, Herman from Nicaragua, made sure our small cabin (7546, with an ocean view) was kept clean and orderly.

At dinner each night, we had the same waiter and assistant, Cany from India and Shandy from the Philippines, in the Starlight dining room.  The food there was never less than very good and at times excellent, if a bit mainstream.  Each course was delivered with optimal timing – we were neither left waiting nor feeling rushed.  The Windjammer buffet was about what one would expect of a mid-level buffet restaurant.  We only used it for quick breakfasts and our initial meal after boarding.  Again, the attentiveness of the service will win over all but the most jaded.  There are a few more options for the hungry: Sorrento’s offers nearly round the clock pizza of middling quality; Compass Deli has Continental breakfast, lunch sandwiches (including about the best egg-salad sandwich I’ve ever eaten) and light desserts; and Johnny Rockets – a 1950s style burger joint which costs extra.  I would not recommend the latter.  

In the end, I thought of Majesty as akin to an old pair of leather shoes: a bit scuffed, maybe resoled a few times, but familiar, and comfortable to walk in for miles. 

Dan and our transportation

Most cruises schedule LGBT+ mixers and this was no exception.  But the location, the rather loud Schooner bar, was not suited and an enterprising cruiser (we never found out who) posted a “friends of Dorothy” mixer in the Viking bar, where we made some interesting new friends.  This was an opportunity to meet people of similar interests, without resorting to a chartered gay cruise, which tends to be ridiculously expensive, decadent, and would not appeal to Dan or me. 

After a full day of cruising Tuesday, we docked in Key West early Wednesday morning.  The only previous time I’d been in Key West was 1979 – when I was 12 years old.  I visited with my father, his mother, and my sister.  Over the years I’d heard and read much about Key West, but never got around to visiting.   Dan and I disembarked from Majesty at 8:30, made a quick trip to CVS to pick up a few supplies, and then headed to the Little White House.  Our tour guide, Bill, was knowledgeable as he showed us around the house.  It was charming to see how modestly earlier Presidents vacationed as opposed to current times.  The tour included a documentary video about President Truman’s numerous visits here – I was surprised to learn he’d returned to Key West as late as 1969.  (Less welcome was the large amount of Trump oriented items in the museum gift shop.  Anyone who claims Truman would be a Republican or would have supported the likes of Donald Trump has no grasp of history or of Truman’s political views.  The 33^rd President was so far to the left economically that he would align closely with Bernie Sanders.  He was for nationalized health care (aka Single-Payer), called for a broad-based Civil Rights bill, desegregated the military, and favored a top tax rate of 90%.  He almost lost the election of 1948 for the above positions.  He was also strongly against Russian expansionism and would be aghast at the way many Republicans are now catering to Vladimir Putin and his oligarchs.)   

At the Little White House

By the time our tour had completed, stores were beginning to open and we stopped for a quick snack at Glazed Donuts & Red Buoy Coffee.  Then we walked the length of Duval Street and saw some interesting, as well as disturbing sights. 

Key West is a popular LGBT destination, but many ways represents a crasser side of gay “culture” that does not appeal to me.   Dan and I strolled by T-shirt shops featuring clothing we’d never wear in public, and saw a rather pathetic old man in a bizarre S&M Christmas getup.  I’ve been out of the closet since I was 18, am unafraid to hold my husband’s hand in public, but have no desire to cater to the lowest common denominator – no matter the location. 

After a bit of shopping, it was time for lunch.  Our initial selection, Sloppy Joes, was overly crowded, so we found a nearby Mexican restaurant, Amigos, where we enjoyed lunch before heading back to the ship in anticipation of our cruise’s main event – 90 miles south.

On Duval Street

I was too excited to sleep much that night, and by 5:30am I was on deck as our ship quietly made her way into Havana Harbor.  There was very little traffic on the Malecon, save for a classic car which honked at us as the driver waved.  I waved back.  After snapping some pictures, I went to grab breakfast with Dan before we encountered numerous instances of “hurry up & wait”.  We made our way to the theatre, then waited at least a half-hour before we departed the ship.  The lines at Sierra Maestra terminal moved at a reasonable pace, the border agent stamped my passport, took my photo, and welcomed me to Cuba.  Dan and I changed our money for Cuban CUCs – the currency designated for tourists.  (To get a better rate, before leaving Cleveland, Dan had changed his money for Euros and I changed mine for Canadian dollars.)  Then it was more waiting until we boarded our tour bus and met our guide, Daily (pronounced DYE-lee).  She was very knowledgeable as she guided us to the Cristo de la Habana statue, La Cabaña fortress, Colon Cemetery, San Jose market (where the vendors can haggle like born capitalists), and the Plaza de la Revolución.  Although by now the official tour was complete, Daily offered to extend it, and those of us who opted to stay on were driven to La Moneda Cubana – one of the private restaurants that have sprung up in Cuba in recent years.  Meals there run about $20 per person, and Dan and I enjoyed about the best meal we’ve ever had at that price point.   To top things off, we were even treated to live music.  Truly an experience!

Entering Havana Harbor

Havana's statue of Christ - who looks like 

he's holding a cigar in one hand and a mojito in the other

The meal at La Monda Cubana - about to be consumed

Dan with our tour guide

My overall impression of Havana was that of a city which has definitely seen better days, but that’s on the mend (new construction and refurbishment of existing structures were happening all around).  The infrastructure was not as bad as we’d been told, and some of the roads are in better shape than their Ohio counterparts.  The most disappointing site was the constant presence of litter, and I saw several people – not tourists – tossing wrappers to the ground.  Nonetheless, the Cubans we encountered were nice to each other and to newcomers alike.  We plan to return.

Our time in Havana was originally scheduled to run from Thursday at 8:00am until Friday at 1:00pm.  Owing to weather conditions, that was not to be, and we left Thursday at 6:30pm.  So, Dan and I were unable to sample Havana’s nightlife or explore the city much beyond our scheduled tour.  On the other hand, there were those whose tours were cancelled.  The weather diversion turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as the Majesty’s sister ship, Empress of the Seas, also diverted, undertook a rescue operation that saved the lives of two sailors who’d been lost for 20 days. 

After a windy Friday at sea, Dan and I disembarked Saturday morning.  As our flight wasn’t scheduled until 9:00 that evening, we had plenty of time to kill.  On the advice of our fellow gay travelers, we decided to check out Wilton Manors, known for its gay community.   What was intended as a diversion became some of the most enjoyable time of our trip.  Our first stop was Java Boys for some coffee and pastries.  Then we stopped at Georgie’s Alibi where we enjoyed drinks and a performance by some very talented drag performers.  Unlike some gay men, Dan and I are not hung up on ourselves and our masculinity is not threatened by the drag scene.  I don’t think I’d ever be happy in a place like Winton Manors.  Variety in all its forms – food, surroundings, leisure, people – has always been the spice in my life.  But it’s a lovely place to visit.

With some new friends

Our flight home was delayed, giving us extra time to conclude that Fort Lauderdale has about the worst airport this side of La Guardia.  Terminal restaurants are generic fast food.  There was one charging station which was out of order.  I’ll never complain about Hopkins again.

20th and 21st Century American music at Severance

Leonard Bernstein once declared “Music is never about anything – music just IS.”  Granted, this was at one of his Young People’s Concerts and perhaps he was simplifying to make a point.  But his statement was as absolutist as it was counterfactual.  The literature contains a panoply of music in which a program is either implied or explicit.  Last night at Severance Hall, composer John Adams and violinist Leila Josefowicz presented an evening of explicit program music from the 20^th and 21^st Centuries.

Adams has been referred to as a minimalist composer, but I feel that label is limiting.  While Short Ride on a Fast Machine, which opened the program, lightly wears a minimalist garb, the composer applies the method as a means to an end.  The perpetual motion that characterizes the work allowed each section of the orchestra to shine – in particular the brass and percussion.

Aaron Copland’s Quiet City was in marked contrast to Short Ride, a study in stillness.  Michael Sachs trumpet and Robert Walters English horn floated above the orchestra without calling attention to themselves. 

Adams presented the Suite from Appalachian Spring as the ballet score that it is, stripping it clean of the treacly schmaltz too many conductors have foisted upon the work.  The orchestra responded with wonderfully transparent strings, spiky balances, and bracing rhythms.

As much as I adore the music, I am as appalled by the program behind Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade as John Adams noted in spoken remarks.  His response is Scheherazade.2, a symphony for violin and orchestra which owes nothing to minimalism - in which the character takes control of her story, struggles for, and attains freedom.  Violinist Leila Josefowicz did more than perform the work, she inhabited the title role as an empowered version of the story teller.  Josefowicz did more than navigated the work’s technical challenges without any sense of strain, she convincingly brought forth the work’s emotional content.  Adams and the orchestra furnished a collaboration – not a mere accompaniment – which made the work more than the sum of its parts.  In particular, percussionist Mark Damoulakis’ mastery of the vibraphone and Chester Englander on the cimbalom provided for some atmospheric color.  The audience’s silence during the performance and sustained ovation afterward were earned.

Kabeláč, Stravinsky, and Shostakovich under Hrůša at Severance

During the early 1940s, George Szell was one of many musicians displaced by the war in Europe and living in the United States.  Arturo Toscanini, by then a living legend and head of the NBC Symphony, invited Szell to guest conduct his orchestra in 1941.  Szell led two concerts, one of which can be heard here.  The rehearsals for those concerts were fraught, as Toscanini did not approve of Szell’s rehearsal technique and let Szell know in explosive terms.  But the quality of the NBC performance under Szell speaks for itself.  Contrast that with Szell’s own behavior two decades later.  By then, Toscanini was dead, Szell was music director of the Cleveland Orchestra and had raised their standards to the point that Cleveland was considered to have the best orchestra in the United States – perhaps even the world.  Leopold Stokowski, as much a living legend as Toscanini had been and a polar opposite to Szell musically, visited for a series of guest concerts.  Szell was present at the first rehearsal as the mercurial conductor began altering balances and encouraged the strings to bow freely.  The orchestra manager, sitting next to Szell, feared Szell may explode much as Toscanini had done in 1941.  Instead, as Stokowski began conducting a Cleveland Orchestra that suddenly sounded like the pre-1936 Philadelphia Orchestra, Szell looked toward the manager and smiled.  In Szell’s smile was the implication that “his” orchestra could turn on a dime and serve the musical needs of any conductor. 

Last night’s concert, under guest conductor Jakub Hrůša and dedicated to 20^th Century music, proved the Cleveland Orchestra can still turn on a dime when needed.  Whether the results were to the advantage of the music depended on the composition and listener’s taste. 

The first work, by Czech composer Miloslav Kabeláč, was entirely new to me and new to the orchestra.  Mystery of Time is essentially a mood piece, beginning quietly and slowly and building in volume and speed until a raucous conclusion.  Parts of the work reminded me of Howard Shore’s score to Silence of the Lambs which was, of course, composed decades later – so Shore may have been influenced by this piece.

The Hamburg Steinway was then brought on stage for Stravinsky’s Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra, featuring soloist Emanuel Ax – a genial and welcome presence here.  I’ve only heard this work once before, in a less than convincing recording under Robert Craft’s direction with soloist Philippe Entremont.   Hrůša and Ax brought a more unified conception to the work – which can sound disjointed in the wrong hands – which sacrificed nothing in terms of spontaneity and wit.  The performance was warmly received and Ax gifted the audience with an encore: Chopin’s Waltz in A minor, poetically played.

The second half of the program was dedicated to Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony – a work which the orchestra has played since it was “hot off the press.”  The story of this work’s composition is so well known it hardly needs repeating, but here it is:  Shostakovich’s previous works, Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District and The Limpid Stream, were met with official disapproval, which in 1930s Russia carried significant threat.  He set aside his Fourth Symphony, then in rehearsals, and began composing on the Fifth, which was touted in the state-controlled press as “a Soviet artist’s creative response to justified criticism".  The work’s premiere was triumphant and restored Shostakovich’s reputation among Soviet power-brokers.  It is a work of the most profound suffering, with every appearance of major key relief a trap-door into more heartbreak, until the finale where there appears to be a sense of victory – at least on the surface.  It wasn’t until decades later that it was revealed that the symphony’s “triumphant” coda was intentionally hollow – a depiction of a man being told he’s never had it so good while being savagely beaten.  The work’s conclusion is thus, in many ways, similar to the protagonist’s “love” for Big Brother at the end of George Orwell’s 1984 – after being brainwashed into believing that love is hate, and vice versa.

Hrůša’s interpretation was one that emphasized the work’s extremes.  I’ve never heard the Cleveland Orchestra play so quietly or loudly: softly enough that they were barely audible even on the main floor; loudly enough that some players were pushed beyond their normal tonal capacity.  While this served to bring out certain elements of the piece, in particular the jingoism of the second movement, there were a number of wrong notes from woodwinds and brass, as well as faulty balances.  On the other hand, there were elements of the scoring that I’d never heard before, in particular during the climax of the work’s searing Largo.  Further, Hrůša emphasized the dissonance in some of the part-writing that other conductors, in particular Stokowski and Bernstein, glossed over.  This was not a heartfelt Shostakovich Fifth, of the sort led by Stanisław Skrowaczewski in 2015, but a raw performance which uncovered the brutality of Stalin’s Russia.  It was one of many legitimate approaches to this complicated work, which held the audience’s attention and roused them at the end.

The Myth of Artistic Insight Into the Human Condition

Recently, I unfriended someone on Facebook.  The person was a pianist of limited ability who had sent me a friend request - which I accepted because we had several virtual friends in common.  When it comes to Facebook, I accept about half of the friend requests sent to me – either on the basis of mutual friends, mutual interests, or geography. 

I unfriended this person as the result of his misogynistic rant where, in the crudest terms imaginable, he railed against Dr. Christine Blasey Ford and other members of the #MeToo movement.  For the record, I believe Dr. Ford’s claims were credible and warranted a thorough investigation.  Brett Kavanaugh’s unhinged reaction to the claims was an indicator that he is not emotionally fit to sit on the high court – regardless of how one felt about his judicial philosophy.  The Senate thought differently, unfortunately.   But my virtual ex-friend’s response made Kavanaugh seem like a paragon of balanced impartiality.  His explicit references to several sexual acts made it clear he had been thinking, and likely fantasizing, about these acts for some time.

I would never have accepted this person’s friend request if I’d known he held these views, that he was so immature and possibly unstable.  While I certainly have friends, both online and in real life, who are Republicans – he crossed a line that I would not stand for.  Indeed, I ceased contact with a relative for this very reason (sadly, I expected this to happen, as he’s been a bully since childhood).

There was a time when I thought people with certain characteristics were likely to be of higher sensitivity, intelligence, or insight.  I’ve never believed that held true on a racial or ethnic basis.  But when I was young, naïve, and coming out of the closet, I labored under the false notion that, for example, LGBT persons were more disposed to be open minded based on their coming out experience.  Then I encountered LGBT people who were racist, trashy, vulgar, and downright stupid – and that notion was put to rest.  For a longer period, I though the same applied to Classical musicians.  Again, that notion has gone the way of the dodo. 

The incidence of classical musicians engaging in behavior once thought more the provenance of the most decadent popular stars has been on the rise – or perhaps it’s merely that this behavior is finally being reported.  The Cleveland Orchestra was in the headlines recently due to accusations against two players – who have since been dismissed from the orchestra.  The accusations centered on behavior that George Szell would certainly not have tolerated.  But the question arises – in the atmosphere of the 1960s, would Szell and orchestral management even have known about such behavior?  Doubtful, judging by how Szell was clueless about the behavior of his protégé James Levine.  

Of course, the sexual escapades of Classical musicians from Liszt, to Toscanini, to Arthur Rubinstein have become the stuff of legend.  Whatever their faults, these were sophisticated, well-read men.  But there are a good many classical musicians who, I’ve learned from experience, are racist, trashy, vulgar, and downright stupid.  Some may be intelligent, but entirely blinkered within their careers and the center of their own world.  And even those with artistic insight are too often lacking insight into the human condition.

Take, for example, Wilhelm Furtwängler.  The conductor’s decision to stay in Germany after the Nazis took over the country has been the fodder for debate, some of it vehement, for 80 years.  I’ll skip that overly discussed topic for now.  Seldom mentioned is that, outside Furtwängler’s obvious gifts on the podium, his was an entirely provincial mentality, shuttered to matters outside music – and his musical insight was mostly confined to that of his home region.  Nowhere is Furtwängler’s provincialism clearer than in his desperate letters to Bayreuth during the 1930s, objecting to the presence of an Italian conductor (Toscanini) at the high temple of German music.  While there are Classical musicians who are evolved people gifted with general intelligence, the list of those who are socially inept, politically obtuse, and just plain stuck in their own world is easily as long.  I would suspect the percentage of evolved versus devolved popular musicians – or performers of other genres – is approximately the same.

Another music blogger* has opined that “Classical musicians are artists, popular musicians are performers”.  That sweeping generalization – arrogant, ignorant, and errant – is pure elitist balderdash.  But it brings up the question: What constitutes an artist?  I don’t consider performers – whether dancers, instrumentalists, singers, or actors – to be artists.  If these performers had a hand in creating the work they are performing, that would be exceptional.  But when it comes to classical music today, few performers could be correctly termed artists, any more than a museum curator who decides on a frame for a painting.  Over the course of music history, there were those who were both creators and performers – including Mozart, Beethoven, Liszt, and Rachmaninoff.  While some performers, including Stokowski and Horowitz, were more creative with the source material (i.e., the score) ultimately, they were still performers.  Partially as a result of faulty, pedantic conservatory training, the dividing line between performer and composer has become starker and less permeable in recent decades.  Creativity within the bounds of performance has been banished – although there are a few performers today, like Arcadi Volodos, who are more imaginative than others.  But it’s small wonder that many classical musicians cannot improvise, cannot learn even the basics of a composition without the score, who perish at the thought of an onstage memory lapse – the notion of composing a cadenza to, say, a Mozart Concerto, is anathema to them.  When all they are doing is reproducing the dots on a page, how can they possibly call themselves artists?  In reality, they are glorified manual laborers.  Lest that remark seem needlessly dismissive and even cruel, let me point out that I was once a manual laborer in a piano factory, and while the brochures advertising our hand-built pianos touted the builders as “artisans”, I doubt even the most pretentious among us would have considered ourselves “artists”. 

* This was the same blogger who began latching onto Kanye West when the hip-hop star voiced his support for Donald Trump – so it’s utterly transparent where this blogger is coming from.

Debussy, Pintscher, and Ravel at Severance

Last week, Matthias Pintscher served as guest conductor at Severance.  This week, Pintscher was present in spirit if not in body as one of the featured composers.  More on that in a moment.  This week’s guest conductor was Alain Altinoglu, the featured soloist the orchestra’s principle flautist, Joshua Smith.  The hall was nearly sold out, no doubt mostly due to the popularity of the program’s final work, Ravel’s Bolero.

The program opened with Altinoglu’s own suite from Debussy’s opera Pelléas and Mélisande.  The orchestra has some familiarity with this, one of the composer’s least played works, having performed the complete opera two seasons ago.  They also recorded excerpts in the 1940s under then music director Erich Leinsdorf.  Some have complained that Pelléas and Mélisande lacks a hummable tune, which is valid as far as it goes – it eschews many of the features some opera lovers thrive on: epic spectacle, stratospheric arias, elaborate plot twists.  But the composer’s stream of consciousness creation has benefits for those who are willing to listen on a more elevated level.   The suite – partly based on incidental music the Debussy had to write at the last moment to cover for stage changes – was convincingly presented by Altinoglu.  The transparent, shimmering textures alone were a delight, along with the most delicate tone painting.

Pintscher’s “Transir”, a de-facto flute concerto, was even more challenging.  While there are those who did – and some still do – regard Stravinsky’s music as avant-garde, the Russian composer used the orchestra in a rather conventional manner.  Not so with “Transir”.  Numerous instruments were altered to some extent, including the use of paper clips in the strings to create a unique sonority.  Further, each string player often had an individual line to play, which would challenge any ensemble.  To say nothing of flautist Joshua Smith’s task, who’s technique included “multiphonics” (creating multiple notes at once), tapping on the instrument, “jet-whistle”, flutter-tongue, and breath effects.  Everything that could be perceived as unusual for both soloist and orchestra.  I simply had no idea a flute could be made to sound this way – yet it remained musical.  Altinoglu proved an excellent collaborator, with the orchestra demonstrating its mettle in a highly detailed, but mostly quiet accompaniment.  Smith was rightly awarded with a standing ovation.   

The program’s second half was dedicated to Ravel.  The Spanish Rhapsody featured sensitive use of dynamics yet seemed somewhat sectionalized.  Pavane for a Dead Princess was beautifully paced and somewhat muted – a grief observed rather than experienced.  What can one say about Bolero that hasn’t been said before?  It’s probably the best example of an orchestral crescendo this side of Rossini.  Altinoglu established a sensible pace, kept the balances in check, and let the soloists do their thing.  The individuality of various solos, in particular a flirtatiously sexy saxophone solo from Steven Banks enhanced, but never distracted from, the musical line and inevitability.

My enjoyment of Bolero was dampened by a woman in front of me humming along with the main tine, and several audience members trotting out their cell phones to tape parts of the proceedings – in defiance of Severance’s strict policy against doing so.  The head usher tried to intercede several times but eventually gave up.  Poor man.