Back in New York, In Full Swing

We are back in New York after an extended period in Vancouver.

The first show I saw was a new piece by the choreographer Pam Tanowitz, whose work we saw last winter and which made me think of her as one of my favorite living choreographers.  The work, entitled, "Sequenzas", was done at the Joyce Theater as part of their "Quadrille" series.  The stage of the Joyce was moved to the center of the theater, and the audience watched from either the remaining existing seats in the auditorium, or from seats on the stage.  Tanowitz's work addressed this idea nicely; it really felt like it was meant to be seen from either side, and it was refreshing to have a change from the normal proscenium viewpoint.  Tanowitz's movement is very much in a post-Cunningham style, both complex rhythmically and quirky and sometimes very witty.  My only problem with the piece was the long stretches with no music, thought the rhythmic thumps of the dancers bare feet were quite fascinating in themselves.  The music was three of Berio's "Sequences" for solo instruments (viola, harp, trombone) and a David Lang duet.  (Tanowitz often favors contemporary music).  The music, however, did not really interact with the movement, but rather served as a kind of background or alternative strand of meaning, in the Cunningham style.   I missed the intricate coordination the movement with the complex rhythms of the Nancarrow string quartets that Tanowitz used in the last piece I saw.   Ultimately, for this musically oriented person, an hour of pure movement was too much for me to keep totally focused on.   I eagerly look forward to her next piece, though!

Vera was not here for this show, as she was in Italy helping a friend.   I also saw/heard another Balanchine-Stravinsky evening at the NYC Ballet, this time with our friend David M from Vancouver.   I tried an experiment this time; balking at the price of the center tickets in the second tier, I bought some very cheap tickets on the side, right over the orchestra.  I missed central perspective of the intricate stage assemblages that Balanchine creates with his large groups of dancers, but there was certainly plenty to see from a different perspective.  And the sound of the orchestra was crystal clear, which at times made me want to shut my eyes and just concentrate on the music.  But my eyes were always drawn back to the stage.   I especially enjoyed the the "Symphony in Three Movements".  The music is one of my favorite pieces of Stravinsky's, and I was struck this time by the similarity in the ways that both Balanchine and Stravinsky use large groups, masses of instruments or crowds of dancers, moving them around, both colliding and dissolving.  The other highlight was "Movements for Piano and Orchestra", a marvel of musical concision and choreographic intricacy which I could watch endlessly if given a choice.

Sandwiched in-between these two dance shows, I heard a concert (also with David) of music of one the 20th century's other great modernists, Duke Ellington.   The Juilliard Jazz Orchestra put on a fabulous concert of all Ellington; the first half was all music from 1930 and before, and the second half all from the now neglected music he wrote after the war.   It was amazing to hear how the arrangers and the Juilliard students managed to recreate the sound of those classic 1920's recordings and bring them to life in live performances.   Ellington had such a brilliant and creative sense of how to compose with his orchestra; each of these short pieces has an astonishing degree of inventiveness.   Banjos and growls aplenty.  And, in the second half, we heard the same inventiveness, although composed with the more conventional jazz orchestral sound of the post war period.   One amazing piece was "The Clothed Woman", which has an extended piano solo which sometimes ventures into Debussy territory, and even, to my ears, 1940's Messiaen.   The students were excellent soloists.  The first half was conducted by Vince Giordano, who has been leading a swing band in New York for many, many years and probably knows more than just about anybody about this music.  (And I do remember back in the 1980's, when Vera and I danced to his band at a party.)

Lastly, it was back to Juilliard at the end of the week to hear a concert done by their new music ensemble. I knew nothing about any of the composers before I went, but sometimes you just have to take a chance to hear what is out there.  The results, were, as to be expected, disappointing.  That's part of the game of going to a concert of new music, though.  I count myself lucky if I hear a single piece on a concert which I really like.  The most striking thing in this concert was that each of the pieces was about 20-30 minutes in length, with no immediately discernible attempt to provide significant contrast and variety;  what ever happened to movements?   It takes a masterful sense of shape and construction to sustain a work over that period of time, and rather what you got  instead were very similar ideas repeated over and over again.  There was one piece for cello and ensemble that had a fairly continuous lyrical line throughout the piece.  At about half way through I realized I had not heard a single staccato or pizzicato note. I wanted one!   I did get some pizzicato in the very last notes of the piece.   I'm being harsh here, but I think all of the pieces could have been much shorter without losing any of their ideas.   Which brings me to a pet peeve of mine, the fact that composers virtually never have editors.   When someone writes a book, there are always (at least there used to be) competent editors who would often get writers to clarify and cut their ideas.  I am thinking of the legendary Max Perkins.  Would that many composers could have the same resources.  Part of the problem, of course, is the nature of the medium.  Complex notated musical scores do not lend themselves easily to sustained advance consideration, and the financial resources available to composers are very slim.  It would be nice if every work was given a rehearsed reading, with the composer then able to return to his or her desk and revise and make an entirely new set of scores and parts.   Operas, though, are often workshopped and edited, perhaps because of the enormous financial resources (and risk) involved in putting on an opera.   But, the music must go on.   There was a healthy crowd on a Saturday night at the concert (it was free, after all), and if people like Joel Sachs (the conductor and programmer) didn't pursue this music, the musical world would atrophy and die.   So I would happily go again, because you never know what you will hear.