Thursday, 19 September 2019

Tofino, British Columbia

We took a short vacation with family to the town of Tofino, which is on the Pacific Ocean shores of Vancouver Island.  It's a remarkable place, surrounded by wilderness, and two hours drive through the mountains to the nearest major town.   It features both a temperate rain forest, and long stretches of beaches in Pacific Rim National Park.   It had no road leading to it it until 1959, and it still feels very far removed from the rest of the world. Now it's a bit more developed, with a few high end resorts.   It's also Canada's surfing capital (is there anyplace else to surf in Canada?).   So it has a kind of surfer, alternative culture vibe to it.   And it rains a lot.  Really a lot.  Including most of the time we were there.   But seeing the ocean on long deserted stretches of wide open beach is something special.  And walking through the portions of the rainforest that have not been logged and seeing thousand year old trees is truly magical.

Here are some pictures.

Beaches and waves:





































On the beach:





















Forests and trees:































































Family on the ferry, and a sign in Tofino:







Concerts and Dance, Winter 2019

I went to to hear orchestral concerts at Juilliard three times in quick succession, each entirely different.  The first concert was Juilliard 415, the original instruments performing group, playing an all Mozart program.  It was directed from the first violin by Monica Huegette.   I have never heard this group before, and I was very impressed.   Hearing Mozart's" Jupiter" Symphony performed by this group in the relatively compact Sharp Hall far surpassed any previous performances I have heard by the lumbering NY Philharmonic in Geffen Hall.  The strings were beautifully articulated, and the wonderful sonorities of Mozart's wind writing were a delight to hear in the original instruments.  They also did the Piano Concerto in C Minor.  Unfortunately, it was was done with an "authentic" pianoforte.   I have never been able to get myself to like the pianoforte; it always sounds very thin and tinny in the treble register, and, to my ears, lacks the rich tonal palette of the modern piano.

I was back two weeks later to hear the Juilliard Orchestra perform an all contemporary program.  It was wonderful to hear Ligeti's "Lontano", written in his micropolyphony period in the late sixties.   It's a beautiful piece; you could really hear his juxtaposed sounds in the clear acoustic of Alice Tully Hall.  No recording as yet can give you such clarity of textures as can be heard in  aconcert hall space.   And Ligeti had such a clear sense of time and structure, so that the continuously evolving sounds never stayed longer than they should.   There was also a piece by Betty Olivero entitled "Tevot".  It had intriguing ideas, but, to my ears, lacked a larger sense of shape.  The biggest piece on the program was Michael Tippett's second symphony, written in the late 1950's.   I have never really warmed up to Tippett's music; it has always sounded both too traditional and astringent at the same time.   But hearing the whole symphony, I was often intrigued by his sense of juxtaposition of rhythms and by his intricate counterpoint.   And I especially liked the parts that sounded like Stravinsky.   And what a pleasure to have the chance to hear such a piece performed live.  

A week later, we heard Barbara Hannigan conduct the Juilliard Orchestra in an interesting program, with Salome's Dance, Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin Suite, and a Haydn symphony among others.  Hannigan is one of the most amazing singers of contemporary music who has both an extraordinary musical talent and fearless commitment to whatever as he is doing.   She is now expanding into conducting.   Hannigan does conducting her own way; with intense energy, and the Juillard students responded with equal commitment.  I enjoyed the concert immensely, but, at the same time, I feel she really needs to let up a bit at times.   Or, as a friend put it, "I wish she didn't conduct everything".    Though it's certainly possible that she felt the need to inspire the students as much as possible, and perhaps with a professional orchestra she would be a little less over-the-top.   Though she is really at the beginning of a conducting career, and I am sure if she continues, she will produce extraordinary results.


Leon Botstein's orchestral training orchestra, "The Orchestra Now", was performing a free concert at the nearby Symphony Space.  The theme was Russia-France interactions around the the beginning of the twentieth century.   It began with a short, Russian impressionist piece by Liadov entitled "The Lake".   Liadov's main claim to fame is that he was the composer hired by Diaghilev to compose the music for the ballet "The Firebird".   When Liadov procrastinated, Diaghilev was forced to take a chance and hired a young, untested composer by the name of Igor Stravinsky.   In any case, the piece was a nice, evocative little tone poem.   Stravinsky's Firebird suite followed.  At this point, I think the Firebird is really being overplayed.   I know both the NY Philharmonic and the Philharmonia orchestra are playing it this season, along with several other visiting orchestras.   It's too much.  Can't they find some other Stravinsky to play?  Ravel's "La Valse" followed that to make for a long first half. I have to say that, although the orchestra played well, Symphony Space is really not a good place to hear orchestral music.  The sound is pretty bad.    And add to that all that comes with a free concert (babies crying, people coming and going, etc.).   So I left after the first half.

We were looking forward with great anticipation to hear Yannick Nézet-Séguin conduct Debussy's opera "Pelleas and Melisande" at the Met.  I thought the performance was excellent; Vera was a bit disappointed.   For her, it did not reach the heights of the performance we heard conducted by Simon Rattle eight years ago.   Pelleas is one of my all time favorite operas, and seems to become more so every time I hear it.    It's a symphony opera; much of the drama is in the orchestra.   In fact there are no great arias for the singers in the traditional sense (no singer has ever performed any bit from Pelleas in any concert that I know of).    In addition, the opera begins with a Symbolist air about it, with vague and ambiguous dialogue.   But what struck me this time is how traditionally dramatic the opera is, especially in the fourth act.   It has all the traditional operatic tropes; a love triangle, jealousy, doomed young lovers, murder, etc.  And the music is very dramatic, too.  The intensity of the orchestral interlude between scenes in Act 4 made me think of Berg and Strauss.   And all this drama was very powerful in Nézet-Séguin's conducting.


I went to hear Don Giovanni at the Met.  While the production got pretty poor reviews in the press, Don Giovanni is truly an operatic wonder, and is always worth hearing.  It's the same production I heard a few years ago, with a set that is very close to the front of the stage, and allows the singers to be heard clearly.   The singers were for the most part, very good, and the acting lively and convincing.   Don Giovanni is an endlessly intriguing drama, and anything I could say here could hardly compete with the any detailed and eloquent discussions that have been taking place since the opera was first performed.  All I can say is that it is convincing evidence of Mozart's extraordinary genius, and I will happily go again to hear it soon.

Speaking of genius, we went to hear and see the NYC Ballet's performance of the Stravinsky-Balanchine "Agon".    If I am counting correctly, it is the seventh time I have seen it in the last eight years.  I will happily keep going every year of my life if I can.   Each performance brings new discoveries, and maybe in another seven years I might really get to understand it.     The program also included two other Stravinsky-Balanchine works, "Apollo" and "Orpheus".   Though I like the music for each ballet, both of them have their roots in story ballets, and I like them less than "Agon".   Orpheus tells the famous story, but somehow it doesn't really come off, at least to me in the two times I have seen it.

I heard the Mivos String Quartet in a "pop-up" concert at Miller Theater.   It was a free concert, with free wine or beer(!) and took place at 6 PM.  The musicians and audience were seated on the stage at Miller Theater.   Unfortunately, I arrived to late to get a seat on the stage, so I was seated in the regular seats, with no view of the musicians and a somewhat diminished sound.

We saw Verdi's comic opera "Falstaff at the Met; it was a delight, both musically and dramatically.   The opera is filled with intricate and witty musical episodes that had me laughing; the singers were uniformly superb, and the orchestra, as always, was excellent.  The opera is atypical for Verdi's works; there are few sustained aria like episodes; instead we are constantly moving quickly through all kinds of musical ideas.

We heard William Christe's "Les Arts Florissant" Ensemble in a program of minor works by Rameau at BAM.  The program was entitled "Rameau: Maitre a Danser".   I love Rameau's music; even in his light works, there are moments of wonderful inventiveness, in particular with the orchestra.   Unfortunately, the production we heard was originally designed for alternative, smaller spaces and not for proscenium theaters.  So the orchestra was in the back of the stage, and the dancers, vocal soloists, and (dancing) choir were in front of the orchestra.  At times, parts of the orchestra were hidden by hanging cloths, as well.   This did not make for a good sound; the orchestra, especially the strings, sounded very muted.  When the singers and choir were singing, you could barely hear the orchestra.   Other than that the performance was a pleasure to hear and see.

We heard Sanda Weigl perform at the Neue Galerie's Cafe Sabarsky.  She has an amazing voice and stage presence, and did a wonderful program ranging from Kurt Weill to Edith Piaf to Leonard Cohen.  (It was also a thrill to see the legendary German actress Barbara Sukowa at the table next to us, since we had recently watched her incredible performance in Fassbinder's "Berlin Alexanderplatz", filmed in the 1980's.)  The evening involves a dinner and a show, and while the place makes a big deal about being Viennese, the food is not so Viennese, and quite mediocre.
We also had an evening of dinner and a show with Eric Comstock and Barbara Fasano, at an Upper East Side place called the Beach Cafe.  The food was also mediocre and overpriced, but Comstock and Fasano put on a fabulous show (as always).  Aside from their musical talents, they are brilliant in their ability to put together a show, with just the right amount of in between song patter and jokes, and they always seem to find new songs and different ways of doing old songs.

I had been looking forward to hear the Vienna Philharmonic perform Mahler's 9th, with Michael Tilson-Thomas conducting.  Alas, I came down with a terrible cold; and I did not want to having a huge coughing fit in the middle of the very quiet ending.  Vera said the performance was fantastic.    Instead, I had to make do with Philharmonia Orchestra perform Bruckner's 7th, with the amazing Essa-Pekka Salonen conducting.   To be honest, I don't really like Bruckner very much, even after a hearing an excellent performance.   The music is too rhythmically square for my taste; and he frequently uses sequential repetition to excess to my ears.   But enjoyed hearing Bruckner's wonderful writing for brass; the 7th features 4 Wagner tubas along with the regular brass instruments, and the sound of the lower brass, heard live, was truly awesome, both in very loud moments and very quiet moments.    Bruckner's instrumentation is quite unusual, in that he uses 18 brass players, but only 8 wind players, so that the sound really is brass heavy.

We don't go to the theater very often, but we went with my sister Rebecca and her husband John to see the Broadway play "The Ferrymen", written by Jez Butterworth and directed by Sam Mendes.  The play had won every possible award in London when it premiered.   It's about the "Troubles" in Northern Ireland in the 1980's, focused on a the traumatic effects the clashes have on a large family.  It was certainly involving; I don't go to the theater enough to be jaded by the production values of a first class Broadway production of a serious play.   And, mind you, there was a live goose and a live baby among other attractions.   But the play itself is problematic; indulging itself in every possible cliche about the Irish.   And, in addition, the cast was largely American, speaking in Irish accents that came and went.
Given the battleground of today's culture, I found myself wondering how the Irish might feel about their story being told by a British playwright and acted by American actors.
Though normally I think that those who write and create should be allowed to use their imagination in whatever way they see fit. I can't help but wish that Irish actors could have played the parts, to say the least.