Our Father, who Art Blakey

Garrett Lang (bs),Chelsea Baratz (t. sx), Tatum Greenblatt (trp),

Valery Ponomarev (trp), Jason Marshall (b. sx), Stafford Hunter (tbn)

The night started a bit rocky. The room at Sweet Rhythm felt ominous with only a few tables occupied and half the band missing when the downbeat fell at 8:10 this past Monday night. Then everyone but Tatum missed the horn entrance to the opening tune, "Bitter Dose". I was not surprised, the chorus of written bass line out front is deceptive- beat 3 feels like 1 so unless you're counting, you're gonna miss your entrance. My stomach dropped as I felt sympathetic anxiety for being in front of a band that is completely falling apart and resisting the urge to cut everyone off and start again. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Joseph's horn snap to his mouth as he jumped into the horn line from the side line and got everyone back in place. Phew - that was close. And it only got better from there.

As the tables filled, the energy of the players rose and I began to realize I was witnessing something magical. For the second time this month, at coincidentally the same venue, I was truly enjoying the music I was hearing and did not suffer my usual listener's ADD, and did not want the set to end. (The first time this month I had the same feeling, the first in a while, was also at Sweet Rhythm when I heard Jason Marshall's Tribute to the Ray Charles's Hornline, an absolutely soul lifting experience, back on March 13.) The songs were all extended, allowing everyone who wanted to solo (a practice I'm typically not fond of but really worked here), and while the expertise of each player was varied, the simultaneous energy of the band coupled with a chill but respectful attitude toward the night kept my interest throughout the set.

Much of the entertaining aspect of the night I credit to Valery Ponomarev (from whom I stole this blog's title). A former Messenger back in the 1970s, Valery provides a direct link to Art Blakey and his music. Besides still having great trumpet chops, Valery has an incredible stage presence and is simply a lot of fun to watch on stage. He runs his own Art Blakey Tribute Big Band that plays regularly at the Garage and Iridium and carries the same high energy that Valery brought to the night. Check him out talking about playing with Blakey in this unedited video:

The rest of the band was made up of current New School students and alumni. I was really impressed with the trio of students that made up the rhythm section and successfully carried the bulk of the load that night. Pianist Glenn Zaleski played some great solos that managed to keep the current modern aesthetic without disrespecting the artistry of Blakey's hard bop language. With bassist Garrett Lang and drummer Dustin Kaufman the trio really maintained the battery for the night and when guest drummers Carmen Intorre and E.J. Strickland stepped up, Zaleski and Lang were able to keep up and meet the noticeable energy that the pros brought to the ensemble.

In addition to Ponomarev, who was featured on "A Night in Tunisia," the horn line was made of New School student Chelsea Baratz who enriched the ensemble with a nice, strong tenor sound, Jason Marshall on baritone sax and Stafford Hunter on trombone filled out the bottom end of the group and treated the audience to some killin' solos, and doubling Ponomarev on the trumpet part was Tatum Greenblatt, who brought some tasty high notes and 8vas to the music. Organizer Joseph Perez jumped in at times with his tenor to lead backgrounds and took a few solos himself including a ballad feature on "I Waited for You." Keeping with the spirit of the music, the group welcomed many musicians to sit in with them including New School Alum and pianist Ben Healy, the great trumpet player Fabio Morgera, and the aforementioned Carmen Intorre on "Blues March."

The highlight of the first set was with out a doubt the closing tune which featured brothers E.J. and Marcus Strickland on Blakey's "The Core." This tune absolutely burned! E.J. brought so much energy and volume to the group, it almost felt like the place was just going to explode! It was really a shame the two couldn't stick around for the second set because they definitely brought something to the ensemble that took the whole evening to a new level.

The second set was a bit more chill, starting with "Moanin'" and continuing through tunes including "Nica's Dream" and "Thermo" before closing the night as Blakey so often did with "The Theme." Unfortunately the audience was a bit thinner for the second set and the energy of the players definitely dropped a notch or two. But overall, the evening provided an incredible two hours of music.

Art Blakey passed back in 1990 and so I never had the opportunity to hear the Jazz Messengers live. But I really feel that the spirit of the music was fully embodied in last Monday's show. It was shame that Charles Tolliver, who the evening was dedicated to, could not be there. I think he would have been proud of his former students who proved themselves to modern messengers of the legacy of Art Blakey.

Coraline

There are a handful of movies that are actually better than the book. This is not one of them.

Not that this movie is bad. I actually recommend it. But I recommend you see it with the correct intentions.

Watch this movie for the animation. It's beautiful and the 3D is tasteful and subtle. The voice acting is spot-on and the musical score fits the quirkiness of the movie brilliantly. The storyline of a lonely child misunderstood by her parents is one many of us can relate to and the "other" world that Coraline stumbles upon is portrayed as creepy and disconcerting.

But if you want a disturbing story that touches upon the dark side of love and entrenches you in a scarily desirable alternate reality, skip the movie and read the book.

The genius of Neil Gaiman is that he writes these "children's" books with an adult-like directness. He doesn't conceal or water down the eerie, nor make it into a life lesson. He simply does what he does best, tells a story with such uncanny charm that you are haunted for days after turning the last page and it never occurs to you that you just read a book recommended for those aged 8 and up.

The problem with this movie is that it tries too hard to stay a children's story. The bright colors and special effects, while pretty, dilute the chills that should run up your spine as the story unfolds. This would almost be acceptable if the movie was a 100% kid movie, but it somehow manages to keep one foot in the adult genre resulting in a cheese factor that is highly regrettable to a die-hard Gaiman fan like myself.

While A. O. Scott praises the slower pace of this production, I prefer the quicker pace of the book. There was a lack of suspense as the movie reminded the viewers again and again that Coraline felt lonely and neglected. The resolution then felt a bit rushed and anti-climatic, and as mentioned before, a bit cheesy (the audience, all adults, actually started to laugh at one of the key plot points).

It's been a few years since I read this book, and after watching the movie I felt such a flat response that as soon as I got home I grabbed the book off my shelf and started rereading it. I was instantly drawn in to Gaiman's writing and had to force myself to stop reading it so that I could get some sleep. I was relieved to remember how magical this story is, as I felt a little unsure after last night's viewing.

That all said, if you have NOT read the book, the movie is sure to be a different experience and I DO recommend seeing it for yourself. In fact, I say check out the interactive website first (which adds a fun element when you get to watch the scenes you played with online), see the movie in the theater if you can spare the $14.50 for the 3D as the most successful aspect of the movie is the animation, wait a month or so, then read the book. And let me know what you think.

Orfeo ed Euridice

This weekend I had the opportunity to see the Met's production of Orfeo ed Euridice. I was lucky enough to get partial-view tickets to the Saturday, January 17 1:00 matinee. Performing that afternoon was Stephanie Blythe as Orfeo, Heidi Grant Murphy as Amor, and Danielle de Niese as Euridice. Conducting was Maestro James Levine. An all-star line-up to be sure!

This production of the mythological tale of Orpheus and Euridice was unique, appealing to me
with it's celebrity star power collaboration with personal favorite choreographer Mark Morris and designer Isaac Mizrahi. At a total running time of an hour and a half in length with no intermission (is that allowed in opera?) and an on stage chorus of 100 members dressed by Mizrahi to represent historic personalities, this production was perfect for the occasional opera patron like myself.

In a nutshell, the opera follows one of the many myths involving Orpheus (Orfeo), "the father of songs." Orfeo's wife, Euridice dies from a snakebite and through his heart-wrenching songs of grief, Orfeo is encouraged by Amor (Cupid), to enter Hades to retrieve his lost love. The catch is that he may not look at her until they are out of Hades, or tell her why he won't look at her, otherwise she will die a second time and be lost forever. All goes well as Orfeo woes the gates of Hades open with his song and finds Euridice. But as they climb the treacherous path out, Euridice pitches a hissyfit, wanting to know if she is still beautiful and complaining that if Orfeo will not look her, then she would prefer death to a passionless marriage. Orfeo gives in out of desperation, turns to her, and she dies instantly, a second death. He mourns his loss and plans to kill himself. Amor returns, takes pity again, and revives Euridice a second time and they live happily ever after, a true testament that love conquers all.

I would never dare to review or critique the performances of the leads other than to say it sounded good to me! But the New York Times offered a stellar review that as a friend who is in the Met Opera's Lindemann Young Artist Development Program described was so complimentary, it was as if [Blythe's] mom wrote it! As a composer who generally prefers jazz and pop music to her one Renee Fleming CD, I can honestly say that for the most part, I enjoyed this performance more than expected.

To begin with, the packaging for this production made it hard for me to dislike it before I even heard the first strain of the opening overture. As I mentioned before, I am a big fan of the Mark Morris Dance Group and was intrigued to see how it's modern movements would fit into an opera from 1762. I was pleasantly surprised to see the ballet cast do a fairly good job of approximating Morris's choreography and beloved fluid style. The involvement of Isaac Mizrahi I found interesting (I'm sad to say I'm sure I have a least one of his pieces from his Target line a few years back!). The subject matter I was vaguely familiar with, but as a rule I love almost all Greek mythology and fell in love with the synopsis before the show began. Then there was the chorus. The 100 member chorus was on stage the entire production in a three tiered movable set (see pic above) giving the illusion of a forum or lecture hall. But the hook was that each member was dressed by Mizrahi as a figure from history. The idea being that these were the spirits that Orfeo would meet in Hades. When the recitative became tiresome, one only had to scan the chorus to see who was recognizable. I spotted Abe Lincoln, Queen Elizabeth I, Cleopatra, a random pope, and Princess Diana. (the Met website has a really cool key identifying who all of the cast members are portraying)

While the overall experience was enjoyable, there were a small handful of aspects I found disagreeable. Euridice, for example, was almost intolerable! Not the performance of her, mind you; I found Danielle de Niese to be stunning in the role and to my novice ears sang beautifully, but it was the character herself that was insufferable! For an all-female lead cast, the portayal of the only female was not positive. In need of attention the whole time, she came off as a petty house wife from Orange County who could not believe the nerve of her husband for not complimenting her beauty. Never mind the fact that he just brought her back to life from sheer love, why wasn't he telling her how gorgeous she was! This scene between just Orfeo and Euridice, as Orfeo tried to persuade Euridice to hurry as they escaped Hades went on a little too long for my attention span. I seriously just wanted Orfeo to shut his eyes, knock her out, and carry her out of Hades (which he totally could have done without looking!). But instead they bantered back in forth for longer than necessary. When Orfeo finally turns to look at her, Euridice convinces me of her surprise at a second death, but Orfeo seems glad to have the nagging silenced. Despite his song of supposed grief, I felt none of the expected heart-wrenching unrequited love I was so hoping to feel. When Amor returns and brings back Euridice, there seemed to me a lack of drama. As if he was like, oh cool, she came back, hope she doesn't start on the am I pretty again. For such a dramatic exposition of love conquers all, I could have slept through the whole scene (like the guy in front of me.)

This was just par for the complexity, or lack thereof, of the music. While I found the melody and orchestration, especially when the chorus was singing to be beautiful, the music was quite repetitive and not very challenging to listen to. Almost like listening to "pop" opera. According to Wikipedia and the program notes, this opera is the first of composer Christoph Willibald Gluck's "reform" operas, in which the "abstruse plots and overly complex music of opera seria" were replaced with "a "noble simplicity" in both the music and the drama." This resulted in a lack of the sometimes over embellished arias, and a more direct, real time telling of events. Gluck collaborated with choreographer Gasparo Angiolini and librettest and poet Ranieri de'Calzabigi to overhaul the "often stilted conventions of Baroque opera seria." Twelve years later the opera was revised to suit the tastes of the Parisian audiences, changing the role of Orfeo from a castrato (which is why a female usually sings this part) to a high tenor, and adding additional ballet sequences. Modern productions often blend the two versions, but this retelling was inspired by Levine and Morris to stay true to the 1762 version.

With it's modern trappings, short running time, agreeable melodies, and stellar performances, this "pop opera" is an ideal production in which to introduce oneself to opera.

“Orfeo ed Euridice” runs through Jan. 31 at the Metropolitan Opera, (212) 362-6000, metopera.org.

Audience Participation Necessary?

There was a talker again last night. Oh, nothing irritates me more!!!

I was at Dizzy's with Sara checking out Sherrie Maricle & the DIVA Jazz Orchestra, part of the Diet Coke Women in Jazz Festival. We both have friends in the group and felt compelled to support our "sisters in jazz." And I have actually never heard the band before and was curious.

I was quite pleased with the set. The band swung hard and I enjoyed hearing Carmen Bradford sing her heart out. Janelle Reichman is a saxophonist you need to get to know. She was covering Anat Cohen's tenor chair and played her ass off on a Benny Goodman clarinet tune (wish I could remember the name). I also cheered loudly for Nadje Noordhuis's beautiful flugelhorn feature, Deborah Weisz's plunger enhanced trombone solo, Erica vonKleist's short but sassy alto solo, as well as Sharel Cassidy's alto feature.

I was very happy this band did not suck, as it seems to be one of the primary representations of female jazzers right now. But aside from genuinely enjoying the music, I was once again struck by the audience.

My first observation was that it seemed the band was more at ease than the audience. It was a full house, but a very polite house. The band started their first tune hooting and hollering for each other. The girls laughed, smiled, cheered during each other's solos. They behaved as you would expect any rowdy swinging big band to act.

The audience clapped and cheered at the expected moments, but that was it. Overall, they seemed a bit unsure. At one point Sherrie actually instructed the audience that it was okay to cheer whenever they heard something they liked. At another point, the man sitting next to me turned to me and said, "You sure are supportive." Why? Because I was cheering?

Hmm...

I don't think people know how to listen to jazz. And when I say people, I mean civilians. Non-jazzers. Non-musicians, really. I always wonder who the people are at these shows and why they are there. Are they mothers and fathers and friends of the musicians? Are they people that actually enjoy jazz and don't mind dropping $30 for the cover and another $10 for food/beverage? Or are they the dreaded self proclaimed "intellects" who still equate jazz with sophistication and are hoping to appear hip when at the water cooler Monday morning they relay their weekend hanging at Dizzy's?

Surely the men at the opposite end of the bar where the latter. They were the men that would not shut up. Really, how rude can you be?

I know this is not a new issue, the appreciation an audience gives jazz. I'm glad it's not just other jazz musicians in the audience. But I wish they would loosen up and try actually listening to what they are hearing. Not that I expect a "yeah, man" after every interesting statement a soloist makes. This was after all a big band and the audience most likely related to the overall sound of the band rather than the intricacies of the soloing.

But it did make me consider the different ways people listen and show appreciation for what they are hearing. I know I myself am not gonna be that listener that shouts out in the middle of solos when I hear something I like. But I am definitely a head-bobber. And a smiler. If there's a good groove my body is moving and if I like what I hear I am smiling like an idiot. Then there are people like my friend John, who sit there frozen and stone faced, but enjoying themselves nonetheless, usually ready with a complex analysis of the solo. There are also people like my other friend Doug, who back in college used to get so excited he would bust out into girlish giggles and hide his face in a pillow in attempts to contain his excitement over a Cannonball Adderley blues lick.

I believe music is a communication and that involves audience participation of a sort. Maybe Sherrie has the right idea in educating the audience in when to cheer. I know I spend a good part of every class I teach making my kids participate in "Active Listening" which includes appropriate concert behavior and a very basic analysis of what they hear. How else do we expect these audiences, specifically those new to the music, to know how to listen and that its okay, even better, to be an openly appreciative audience?

Two nights of very different music

Sunday Night:

Happy Birthday Mingus- Celebrating 85: Music of Love & Protest

Mingus Big Band & Mingus Orchestra with Gunther Schuller, Conductor
Lincoln Center Out of Doors, Damrosh Park Bandshell, 8 PM, Free

Mingus Big Band:
Saxes: Ronnie Cuber, Wayne Escoffrey, Abraham Burton, Vincent Herring, Jaleel Shaw
Trumpets: Ryan Kisor, Kenny Rampton, Lew Soloff
Trombones: Ku-umba Frank Lacy, Early McIntyre, Andy Hunter,*
Drums: Jonathon Blake
Bass: Boris Kozlov
Piano: George Colligan

*the name of the bass trombonist/tuba was left off the program and I regret I did not catch it during the acknowledgements

Mingus Orchestra
Alto Sax/Flute: Craig Handy
Tenor Sax: Wayne Escoffrey
Bass Clarinet: Douglas Yates
Bassoon: Michael Rabinowitz
French Horn: John Clarke
Trumpet: Kenny Rampton
Trombone: Ku-umba Frank Lacy
Guitar: Jack Wilkins
Bass: Boris Kozlov
Drums: Donald Edwards
Conductor: Gunther Schuller

Sunday night was a beautiful night for outdoor music. Cool and breezy, the sun set gracefully behind the concert shell, which Nadje pointed out, looked with it’s white arc as if it had been removed from the Sydney Opera House and sent north. Sue Mingus emceed the evening.

Contrary to the billing, the Mingus Orchestra played first. Most impressive was Gunther Schuller’s plaid jacket- cool in the 70s, still cool today. Actually, it was very exciting to watch him conduct. I am not too familiar with Mingus’s works for chamber orchestra, but after hearing the 5 or so tunes that they played, three from his acclaimed “Epitaph” (arrangments made of, course, by Schuller) I am most definitley going to check them out.

Highlight: Douglas Yates’s bad ass bass clarinet solo on Pithecanthropus Erectus.

After a short pause and set change, the big band came on. They picked up where the orchestra left off with more excerpts from “Epitaph” before kicking it up with my favorite of the evening, “Freedom.” Ku-umbra Frank Lacy outdid himself on the vocals and while up to this point the concert had been enjoyable, a new energy rippled through the audience during this tune. The set ended with the equally charged “Song with Orange.” Solos by Wayne Escoffrey, Jaleel Shaw and Vincent Herring made me happy.

Highlight: The grayhairs dancing in the audience to “Song with Orange.”

_____________________

Monday Night

Dharmashakti in Heavan

Integral Yoga Institute, 6th Floor, 7 PM, $20

Deian McBryde (Dharmashakti)- voice
David Freeman- percussion
Nadje Noordhuis- trumpet
Christian Pincock- electronics & valve trombone
Ursel Schlicht- keyboard
Adam Simmons- tenor sax, flute, & shakuhachi

Attendance to this show began as simple friend support. Nadje was playing therefore I was attending. However it only took a few chants for me to be fully engaged in this very out, but very enjoyable evening.

Until last night, I was a Kirtan virgin. I didn’t know it, in fact I had never heard the term Kirtan. In fact, I thought I was attending passively a concert of free jazz, not participating in the chanting of Sanskrit. I must say, chanting was a hell of a lot more fun than listening to free jazz for what turned out to be almost 2 and a half hours!

The kirtan was held in a yoga studio in what is technically the West Village (W. 13 St) but may as well still be Chelsea. I arrived early and was herded to the rooftop garden to wait, which I found even more relaxing than the Nag Champa burning in the gift store. Like any good jazz show, this one started a good 20 minutes late. It took another 20 minutes after the first “om shanti” for me to finally be able to look at Nad without laughing.

Overall, I was very much enjoyed the evening of Sanskrit and jazz. Deian did a magnificent job weaving between audience participation with chants and instructional listening (watch the recorder as it is held in front of the person creating the idea for the group improvisation). There were enough solos to satiate my snobby jazzer taste and there was even a tune in which Adam conducted the entire room in a group improvisation (this was quite interesting!). I thought the horn arrangements were great and won’t lie and say I didn’t feel a sense of connection and energy as the entire room engaged in singing (myself included). If nothing else- it was great ear training (when there is a drone going, it’s a constant game of what interval is this?).

One slight inconsistency blocked some of my happy-peace-energy. Deian welcomed the audience with smiles and patience as we responded on the wrong beats and wrong pitches to his undoubtedly deliberately thought out arrangements. But he did not treat the band with the same warmth. You could sense a perfectionist need for control as he communicated sans smiles with the band members. This definitely did not jive with the love yourself and the world vibe he so successfully created with the music.

Note to self: Stage presence is of equal importance, if not more important than the music. Alternatively, love your band members and don’t be afraid to let the music escape your grasp and develop into its own, uncontrolled entity.

Highlight: When Deian asked who in the audience passionately loved free jazz and a few people actually raised their hands!!

…

Two consecutive nights of completely different music; this is why I love NY.

$20 to talk

Last night, I went with Janelle down to Smalls to hear the Gilad Hekselman Quartet. With Gilead (guitar) was Orlando Le fleming (bass), Ari Hoenig (drums), and Joel Frahm (t. sax). Now I'll be honest, I'm not always that into guitar, but I had never heard Ari before and I always enjoy hearing Joel. So I decided that despite how incredibly tired I was from this long week of teaching (more on that soon), I would go ahead and cough up the $20 to hear the show.

We got there at the end of the first set. As we descended the stairs and turned the corner into the bar, we were immediately hit with an insane amount of notes coming out of Joel's sonorous tenor, as well as an insane amount of... talking! Aghast, I scanned the room and sure enough, everyone in the back of the bar was chatting away, completely oblivious to the incredible music that was being created at the front of the room.

As the night went on, this obnoxious behavior continued. Even during extremely sensitive parts of the music, when it was just Gilead picking out a beautiful, melodic arpeggiation, the crowd at the back continued to talk, laugh, and be completely disrespectful. I was not the only one annoyed as several times members of the audience banded together in loud "Shhh"s and evil stares.

I found myself shifting through several emotions as I listened. First, I would become entrapped by the music. It was a really good set. Gilead's compositions were beautiful and it never came close to the smooth jazz line that I often begrudge guitarists for getting too close to. Ari was completely and pleasurably out. I found myself focusing on his playing all the time (even during the sax solos!) trying to anticipate where he'd go next. I just had to try not to look at him too often as, I'm sorry to say, his facial expressions reminded me at times of Steve Martin's portrayal of Ruprecht, the "clinically-barking brother," in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels ("you've been banging on your pots again, haven't you" ...hee hee). Joel, as always, sounded beautiful. I truly love his tone and his ability to not always play the million notes he is capable of all the while carefully inserting his deep-seated blues licks where appropriate. Janelle and I both agreed it was fun to hear him in this non-standard vein and that it was his playing that added a certain element, an aesthetic grounding almost, to this group that would skillfully avoid time, off in their own practice rooms, just to spontaneously (so it sounded) come together and land precisely on 1.

As I became absorbed in the music and my listening became more acute, I continued to pick up the ridiculous amounts of talking in the back. I simply cannot stand talking during live music. I find it to be one of the rudest activities possible. I consider it such an offense that I literally spend the first 10-15 minutes of each music class I teach (with the exception of band) having the kids practice "formal listening." Every class I remind them of the difference between "casual" and "formal" listening and we discuss when it is appropriate to talk or sing along to music and what we should be listening for when practicing "formal" listening. I take it very seriously and lower grades when students talk or act up during the formal listening.

The patrons at Smalls clearly had no understanding of "formal" listening. Try as I might, I just could not mute them out and became incensed by it. How dare they come to a jazz club and spend the whole time talking. I mean, this was not some cafe with recorded music in the background. They had to pay a whopping $20 to even get through the door! And come to think of it, so had I! Now I was getting mad at the establishment. How dare they allow this talking! I did not pay $20 to hear people talk! It certainly made me more appreciative of the clubs that enforce a no talking policy.

Not that this behavior is limited to expensive clubs. It's everywhere. At my elementary school's Spring Concert the talking amongst the parents was insane. It was so bad by the end that Francesca, the director of the Chorus and Advanced Keyboard Program literally stopped her performance and addressed the audience, requesting them, in essence, to shut the hell up.

Why is this such a problem? Why do people pay $20 to sit in the back of jazz club and talk? Why do they willingly attend live music just to not listen? And why must those who are listening be disrupted by these barbaric offenders?

Joy of the Ode

Beethoven again. Last week I went to hear the famous Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, the “Choral” Symphony, performed by the Juilliard Choral Union & Orchestra (my 5th grade clarinet student would be so proud). I had never before heard the work in its entirety, least not in one sitting. I must admit that as I eased into my seat at Avery Fisher Hall, I felt a bit of pressure to like what I was about to hear. It is, after all, considered to be one of his greatest masterpieces. It (supposedly) is the reason for the initial 74 minute length CD. It’s “Ode to Joy” theme is the anthem of Europe! What would it mean about my own musicianship if I didn’t agree with the Big B’s musical choices?

Rather than worry about that, I found myself dwelling during the first movement about society’s expectations in art. One can hardly stand up and proclaim their disdain for the world’s favorite “Ode to Joy” with out being pelted with a few stones for being an arrogant traitor. One would at least expect an extremely well supported explanation for their treachery (see DJA’s Milton Babbit quote in “We’re Separated At Birth”).

Regardless, I was relieved when I recognized and fully enjoyed the second movement. The third movement was beautiful, but I must admit to being lulled into a zone of mindless wondering. This in turn instigated a thought process on my short attention span for concerts. I am SO guilty of this and like the media blame my Nintendo and PC versions of Splinter Cell and Tomb Raider. Actually I don’t blame them at all, but I do wish I had the ability to focus on the intricacies of longer works of music.

I was roused from this reverie as the third movement ended and the much anticipated fourth began. Oh, the excitement in the air! People woke up, leaned forward in their chairs, bodies tense as they waited to hear that famous melody. I realized that I was not actually familiar with this movement despite the melody and was shocked then awed to hear “Ode to Joy” begin in unison cellos and bass. Interesting… I thought to myself. As the line repeatedly moved across the orchestra, I felt I finally understood the terms “genius” and “masterpiece.” It was this incredible development of the theme that made the deepest impression on me. I wasn’t the only listener enjoying this movement; people all around were nodding their heads as if at a rock concert! They LOVED this music! It really was the most surreal experience I’ve ever had at a classical concert.

Of course the question I immediately asked was did they like it because of the high level of musicianship in the performance, or the genius of Beethoven’s writing, or the drama of Beethoven writing it while dealing with his recent loss of hearing, or because this melody is pounded at us in church, commercials, even cell phone rings? And then… did it matter? These people enjoyed the concert. Their day was made better. You could maybe go as far as say their lives were improved. And I don’t think the media’s propaganda of this tune is the sole reason people love it. They love it because it is a well written hook that is easy to sing along with making it accessible to all people regardless of their musical training. Interesting.

One last note about Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony: Only Beethoven could get away with writing a piece that requires over 100 singers to wait almost an hour before getting the chance to sing.