Too Many Notes

A novice to jazz, I attended the NEC's tribute to George Russell with an all Russell composition performance. I plunked down in a seat on the aisle in the middle of the hall.

The students, all dressed in beat-wannabe black, clomped on stage, but the pianist was smiling a genuine toothy smile, and he didn't appear to be any student! Bradley Hatfield was "subbing" for the scheduled pianist.

And then the music started and I was blown away - literally - by the amped up volume, but also by the must-move beat and rhythms.

Just behind me, a tremulous voice was offering some syncopated running commentary. Very pointed and informed commentary.

I was busy, busy with "getting" the sound - there was some five chime steam engine horn (EXCELLENT AUDIO SAMPLES AND MUSIC REFERENCES HERE) - approaching and leaving/fading. But the tempo wasn't right for it - too frantic.

The students were featured in riffs, and all of them seemed to be in the spirit - smiling, moving, transported in the moment and the music.

The audience was moving, too, and the first half of the performance sped on by - a definite express.

By that time, I learned that the commenter seated just behind me was none other than the composer himself. Mr. Hatfield and the NEC Jazz Ensemble conductor, Ken Schaphorst, came down to have a chat and to say hello. George was asked what he thought of the performance so far.

"Too many notes," he asserted. Then he sang some busy, busy scat to illustrate the busy-ness of the students.

Bradley - seemingly always smiling and diplomatic, covered by responding, "It's the day in which we live, George." "It's a new generation."

I thought about that during the second half of the performance, which was still too loud for my taste, but enthusiastically and genuinely played.

How many of those performers rode trains cross country? How many have heard, listened and paid attention to the sound of a five chime horn, learned and felt the pacing of a train - accelerating, maintaining momentum and deccelerating into a station? How many grew up hearing trains as an everyday event?

They might do well to listen to some soundtracks of steam locomotion and also of riders on horseback, as both of those rhythms, tempos and musical sounds are rife throughout classical and jazz music.

Russell was lauded throughout the evening, but I admired his honesty throughout. Age allows for raw honesty, and George provided it if the students will only hear it.

The program was magnificent:

Cubano Be Cubano Bop
Stratusphunk
All About Rosie
Ezz-Thetic
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
African Game
It's About Time, Part II

George wasn't so bad, either. What luck to have a private tutorial by the master himself.

Take the trains, kids.

If Music Is Played In A Deserted Hall, Does It Make Any Sound?

Jordan Hall is a literal gorgeous music box of a hall. The acoustics are stunning - every seat in the house feels intimate with the performers, and the music washes over and through the audience.

Boston has its share of music venues, but Jordan Hall is special. Its entire program season is underwritten by generous philanthropic gifts, and so the admission price is - zero! The New England Conservatory of Music calls Jordan Hall home, and one would expect to find the not-quite-comfortable - but-just-right-for-staying-alert seats to be filled to overflowing.

One would expect, but one would be very wrong.

Tuesday evening found a two-thirds filled hall of appreciative listeners for the piano and viola duo of Robert Levin and Kim Kashkashian, respectively. They transported us into far away places with JS Bach's Sonate No. 3 in G Minor, BWV 1029; with Benjamin Britten's Lachrymae, Op. 48 (Reflections on a song by John Dowland); with Carlos Guastavino's Se equivoco la paloma, Abismo de sed, Pampamapa, Bonita rama de sauce and La Rosa y el sauce.

While savoring those over the intermission, the chimes rang to call us back for the remainder of the program. We were enchanted by Alberto Ginastera's Triste and cancion a la luna lunanca. Next, Enrique Granados' El majo olvidado and El majo descreto lfew out and around us. Carlos Lopez Buchardo's Oye me llanto and Prendiditos de la mano followed.

Just when it seemed that we were being carried to lands of sun and warmth and tender memories, Levin and Kashkashian gently led us on their magic carpet back to the romance of Johannes Brahms and the Sonata in F Minor, Op. 120, no.1.

The applause was insistent, and the standing ovation was heartfelt. The encore was light, loving and a real gift back tot he audience - what little there was of us.

Wednesday evening, I arrived to find a hall only one quarter occupied. And to those of you who didn't bother to attend, you missed an amazing performance of the self-led (conductor-less) NEC Chamber Orchestra. The began with Handal's Concerto Grosso in d Minor Op. 6, no. 10, HWV 328, changed gears completely with Frank Martin's Etudes for String Orchestra, and then finished the evening with Piotr Ilych Tchaikovsky's Serenade in C Major, Op. 48.

You can enjoy a sampling of Frank Martin's work for yourself, again courtesy of the New England Conservatory of Music.

Thursday evening, the rain kept just about everyone away from the music hall, and this time Boston missed two gems: the composers Peter Child and Barbara Kolb were in the audience. Glass listened to the premiers of his work, Triptych, and Kolb was pleased with the performance of her All in Good time. Charles Peltz got the best of his performers, who are obviously enamored of him.

He began the program with Six Dances from the Dansyre by Tylman Susato, and bang! There we were in the 16th century!

Mozart's Divertimento in E-Flat, K. 166 followed, and one could almost hear the sounds of dining in the Great Hall as we time travelled to the 18th century.

Glass' Triptych whizzed us to the present, and then we hopped a couple of squares back to revisit the twentieth century for Darius Milhaud's from Suite Francaise: Bretagne and Alcace-Lorraine before finishing with a thunderclap of Kolb's All in Good time.

Boston better get with it if it wants to cultivate musicians and classical music.

Money isn't the sole means of supporting the arts. People must attend, learn about the music, the musicians and the aspirations of the venues producing artists.

An empty house is a devastating message to send musicians, faculty and their communities.

Each and every musician, composer, conductor, teacher and supporter deserves at least a modicum of support from its neighbors.

Does Boston no longer field a body of people who appreciate music and the pursuit of it?