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TO DIE FOR: THE MUSIC ONE CHOOSES AS THE LIGHT GOES OUT

Thursday, October 31st, 2013

by Albert Innaurato

I visited my doctor yesterday. He looks like Santa Claus. He eyed me and said, “Yo!” (he’s from South Philly), “No trick or treats. You’re a fatty.” I thought of Luke 4:23, where The Nazarene is mocked, “Physician, heal thyself” (Cura te ipsum as the nuns used to scream at us after they had thrashed us without mercy.) Doctor Santa then gave me a flu shot, and I had visions of dying from it. I thought, “what music would one chose for one’s last moments alive?”

A number of people have mentioned the second movement of the Schubert Quintet. It is one of the most celestially beautiful pieces of music ever written in the West. It was written two months before he died, and shrugged off.

Schubert Quintet in C, Stern, Casals

But there is a lot of music one loves in a lifetime. Bela Bartok for example. He saved me from Johann Sebastian Bach. I was a hapless six year old fighting the Inventions, too stupid to count them. A new teacher suggested Bartok. And though rhythm was never my strong suit, in life or music, I fell in love. As the flu shot worked its way toward my throat to close it, I thought of this memorial to Bartok by Gyorgy Ligeti. This is early Ligeti, but throughout his career he composed beautiful and moving music. It is played here by the great pianist, Pierre-Laurent Aimard.

Musica Ricercata number 9. Bela Bartok In memorium

But of course, if one wasn’t too out of it, one would want real Bartok. I’d ask to hear at least a movement from one of the six quartets. As I felt flu vaccine flood my lungs, I thought of Number Five. It uses elaborate Bulgarian rhythmic patterns (one might want a taste of the authentic as, with one’s dying eyes, one made out the white light — either The Eternal or the impatient orderly who wants to dispose of one’s body). The Adagio is strictly structured to have three subjects, one following another, ABC, then those subjects return. Not only does Bela invert the order in which they return but the subjects themselves. It’s sublime music to hear but also to count off as these small miracles of invention occur up to one’s final shut eye.

Bartok: Fifth Quartet, Adagio; Julliard Quartet

However, I was torn. The flu shot had entered my abdomen and pumpkin pie looked good. The Third Piano Concerto was written by a dying Bartok. Not Jewish, he’d fled to America to escape Fascism (funny that, today). The Piano Concerto was a birthday present for his wife; it’s a work of great beauty and the second movement is the last Bartok finished. (Tibor Serly completed the concerto). Dying, Bartok evokes the night sounds of his native Hungry, the universal spirit of late Beethoven, the famous Tristan chord. a homage to love in death perhaps as he thought of his wife, but unlike Wagner, Bartok resolves the chord on an affirmative C.

Bartok: 3rd Piano Concerto, Schiff, Rattle

I am not religious but Olivier Messiaen was devout. Perhaps, dying, one might want to bargain a bit just in case…? My belly was shaking — flu shot or pie? One piece in memory of Messiaen by Tristan Murail, one of his students (born 1947), might do. And, after all, Murail is part of a movement, which has an element of ghostliness in it, the “spectral” style. This is his beautiful homage to his master: Cloches d’adieu et un sourire (Bells of Farewell and a Smile), played by Marilyn Nonken

Murail: Cloches d’adieu et un sourire 

But I would try to hear all of Visions de l’amen. In college, my only friend and I would play this two piano piece at parties, and then wonder why no one liked us.  Wretched playing, maybe. It’s a wonderful piece, all about The Nazarene’s misfortunes and promises but wildly theatrical. That’s especially evident in this sweaty performance by Messiaen and another devout Catholic, the great Yvonne Loriod, with whom he was having an adulterous affair.  This is No. 5, The Amen of the Angels, the Saints and the Songs of the birds — hey, there are worse things to think about when dying!

Messiaen – Visions de l’Amen no. V (Messiaen/Loriod)

If my dying moments stretched a bit, I would want to hear something by John Adams. Several composer pals agreed we were less fond of Nixon in China than the works he composed around the same time. My favorite is Harmonielehre. Arnold Schoenberg used the title for his book on music theory (lots of fun to read). I’d choose the second movement, The Amfortas Wound, a reference to Wagner’s Parsifal but a summation of music that Adams had loved. Especially striking is the way he works in the amazing 12 note chord Gustav Mahler uses in the Adagio of the Tenth Symphony he died writing. There is a combination of sorrow and mind-energy, which just perhaps survives cessation in this deficient dimension.

John Adams, Harmonielehre, Part 2, Barnett Newman

But the shoulder wound made by Dr. Santa’s needle had healed, and seeing if there were a Family Guy episode on, I realized that I might want to laugh at death. Maybe the dread secret is that it’s funny at the final second. This is something chirped by Nellie Melba in 1910 from a useless work by Massenet that always makes me laugh. Trick or Treat!

nellie melba massenet-Don cesra de Bazan “Sevillana”

 

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Oh, Canada!

Thursday, October 31st, 2013

By Brian Taylor Goldstein, Esq.

Dear Law and Disorder:

I represent a performance group from Canada who will be touring the United States. Three of the members are Canadians, but two are not. I have applied for a P-1 visa. Because the group is from Canada, can they enter the US just with the approval notice or do they first have to go to the consulate and get actual visas in their passports?  

There more to Canada than just poutine, health care, and HM The Queen on the currency. Canadians are also the only folks who are not required to have physical visas to enter the US.

Canadian artists must still file visa petitions with USCIS and be approved for either O or P visa classification. (Like artists from the rest of the world, Canadian artists cannot perform in the US as visitors—even for free!). However, once the visa petition has been approved, a Canadian artist does not have to go to a US Consulate, pay a visa application fee, and receive a physical visa in his or her passport. Instead, a Canadian artist can enter the US with only their passport and a copy of their USCIS visa approval notice. (Technically, a Customs and Border Patrol (CBP) officer can verify the approval through the USCIS database and does not need a copy of the approval notice. However, for obvious reasons, do NOT rely on this. Artists should always bring a copy of the actual approval notice, as well as a copy of the visa petition itself, just in case.

This unique privilege only applies to Canadian citizens. It does NOT apply to Canadian permanent residents (aka “Canadian landed immigrants”) or anyone who just happens to be passing through Canada en route to the US.

So, in your case, if the three Canadian members of your group are Canadian citizens, then they can proceed directly to the airport or border-crossing and enter the US with only their passport and their visa approval notice. The other 2 members of your group will need to make an appointment at a US Consulate and go through the visa application and issuance process. Apply early…US Consulates in Canada are notoriously backed up!

_________________________________________________________________

For additional information and resources on this and other GG_logo_for-facebooklegal and business issues for the performing arts, visit ggartslaw.com

To ask your own question, write to lawanddisorder@musicalamerica.org.

All questions on any topic related to legal and business issues will be welcome. However, please post only general questions or hypotheticals. GG Arts Law reserves the right to alter, edit or, amend questions to focus on specific issues or to avoid names, circumstances, or any information that could be used to identify or embarrass a specific individual or organization. All questions will be posted anonymously.

__________________________________________________________________

THE OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER:

THIS IS NOT LEGAL ADVICE!

The purpose of this blog is to provide general advice and guidance, not legal advice. Please consult with an attorney familiar with your specific circumstances, facts, challenges, medications, psychiatric disorders, past-lives, karmic debt, and anything else that may impact your situation before drawing any conclusions, deciding upon a course of action, sending a nasty email, filing a lawsuit, or doing anything rash!

 

 

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Posted in Agents, Artist Management, Arts Management, Law and Disorder: Performing Arts Division, Touring, Visas | Comments Closed

Valery the Variable

Thursday, October 24th, 2013

By Sedgwick Clark

“He’s so variable.” That’s the first thing critics say about Valery Gergiev. He conducted his Mariinsky Orchestra three times at Carnegie Hall in an eight-day period early this month, interrupted by four Met performances (two on Saturday) and runouts to Newark and Washington, D.C. Even when he was busy at the Met, the orchestra was moonlighting under the leadership of Ignat Solzhenitsyn. Evidently, the man and his musicians never rest, to wit this link listing his next month and a half of concerts:

    http://mariinsky.us/performances/valery-gergiev-performance-schedule/

Stravinsky
Each of the three Carnegie concerts was devoted to a single composer: Stravinsky (10/10), Shostakovich (10/11), and Rachmaninoff (10/15). Gergiev seems to me most unpredictable with his own orchestra, the Mariinsky, which by all reports is subject to his rehearsal and programming whims. His performing of Stravinsky’s first three ballets in order of composition was a great idea but in practice overly ambitious. The Firebird (complete) was best, right up with Boulez/New York Philharmonic (1975) and Dutoit/Montreal (1986) as the best I’ve heard in concert—dramatic, dynamic, gorgeously played, with a sparkling color palette. But Pétrouchka (1911 orchestration) was thickly textured, monochromatic, often too loud in quiet passages, and, most alarming, humorless. The Rite of Spring’s huge dynamic range was squashed, with the fat forte of the opening winds—Stravinsky’s “awakening of nature, the scratching, gnawing, wiggling of birds and beasts”—totally without mystery. The Mariinsky players were exhausted, and it showed in their spotty ensemble. When Gergiev returned to the stage for his second bow he turned to the audience, announced that it was Verdi’s 200th birthday, and proceeded to conduct an electrically charged overture to La Forza del destino! Who says they were tired?

Shostakovich
Gergiev’s shattering performance of Shostakovich’s wartime Eighth Symphony left me shell shocked. Only four times before have I been so emotionally wrung out in a concert hall: a Bernstein/NYPhil Mahler Ninth in September 1970, Colin Davis’s Beethoven Missa solemnis with the London Symphony two years ago this week, and Rostropovich’s Britten War Requiem in January 1979 and Shostakovich Eighth in April 1986, both with the Washington National Symphony.

It took me a couple of movements to get into Gergiev’s interpretation. It’s dicey to impose extra-musical interpretations onto symphonic works, but the confluence of Shostakovich’s life and the often pictorial episodes in his music are difficult to ignore. Whichever stance one takes—music as pure expression or a reflection of the composer’s experiences—Gergiev struck me as understated in the first movement climax. I fancifully imagine the Nazis marching into Russia at this point, which will seem overly literal to some. Rostropovich’s players peeled the paint off Carnegie’s walls with their fortississimos, and the sudden, gut-clutching plunge of tremolando strings from fff to sfpp, after 34 pages of ear-splitting onslaught, induced audible gasps from Rostropovich’s audience. (Perhaps Gergiev’s cozying up to Putin is a liability when measured against the sensibility of a man who grew up during the Stalin purges.) Gergiev’s brisk tempo in the second-movement Allegretto skated over its Mahlerian grotesquerie, but the mechanized power of the third movement had its full effect, climaxing with brutal timpani and the grinding dissonance of the first movement. Throughout Gergiev’s fourth-movement Largo, one could hear the proverbial pin drop. Woodwinds strike up a perky tune in the last movement, but optimism is short-lived and the violent attacks from the first movement return. The coda—a vision of the abyss—is one of most unsettling passages in all of music.

An interview with Shostakovich about his Eighth Symphony, quoted in Laurel E. Fay’s biography, Shostakovich: A Life (Oxford), was published a month before its premiere: “I can sum up the philosophical conception of my new work in three words: life is beautiful. Everything that is dark and gloomy will rot away, vanish, and the beautiful will triumph.” Huh? I doubt that anyone in Carnegie Hall’s audience would agree, for they sat through the work with uncommon attention. Gergiev stood still for half a minute after the final double bass pizzicatos had died away, and I felt as if everyone—performers and audience alike—had communed in the infinite.

Rachmaninoff
The 1954 edition of Grove prophesied that the music of Rachmaninoff would be forgotten. Not if performances like Gergiev’s are around. The knife-edged drama of the old Kondrashin recording remains my touchstone in the Symphonic Dances (1942), but Gergiev may have surpassed his fellow Russian in the nostalgic Lento assai in the third dance, luxuriating in Rachmaninoff’s luscious melodies to a degree that makes me glad he’s away from home so often.

Russian Rambo
Gergiev’s taste in pianists is not mine. Where once he trotted out the frenzied Russian-American Alexander Toradze, on this tour he brought the muscle-bound Russian Rambo Denis Matsuev to pummel Shostakovich’s early, delightful Concerto No. 1 for Piano, Trumpet, and Strings. Loud and fast are the primary weapons in his arsenal. Oblivious to this work’s nose-thumbing Rossinian wit, this 1998 Tchaikovsky Competition winner plowed through the last-movement’s parodistic cadenza of beer hall songs and folk tunes with harried determination. Rarely have I felt myself at such odds with a soloist.

His take-no-prisoners view of Rachmaninoff’s Third Concerto eschewed lyricism, poetry, and tonal beauty, qualities well apparent in the composer’s own ancient recording. Matsuev doesn’t bang, really, he’s just repellently forceful, even when playing pianissimo, and he only plays notes instead of phrases. To no surprise, he opted for the heavy chordal cadenza in the first movement. The small cut in the finale (the Meno mosso two bars after 52 to the a tempo at 54) is often made and does no harm. Gergiev’s accompaniments were strong and supportive—some of his most reliable conducting in these three concerts. In December he performs the Shostakovich concerto in Paris with Daniil Trifonov, an impressive young competition winner with a notably colorful tonal palette; now that’s a performance I’d love to hear.

Gergiev at the Met
A final word on the two operas Gergiev conducted at the Met: Shostakovich’s The Nose and Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin. It’s always best to attend Gergiev performances toward the end of a run, whether at the Met or the Philharmonic. Nearly all the reviewers complained about slow tempos at the opening of Onegin; I caught his final performance (10/12) and couldn’t imagine more effective, naturally flowing tempos. The Nose (10/8) was even more fun than in its first go-around, two seasons ago. There aren’t any big tunes to whistle on the way home, but the production is a hoot. One wonders how Shostakovich’s political satire got through the censors.

Looking Forward
My week’s scheduled concerts (8:00 p.m. unless otherwise noted):
10/24 Zankel Hall at 7:00. Tetzlaff Quartet. Haydn: Quartet in C major, Op. 20, No. 2. Bartók: Quartet No. 4. Beethoven: Quartet in A minor, Op. 132.
10/26 Metropolitan Opera. Britten: Midsummer Night’s Dream. James Conlon (cond.); Kim, Wall, DeShong, Davies, Kaiser, Simpson, M. Rose, Costello.

Posted in Uncategorized, Why I Left Muncie | Comments Closed

Swings, Mimes and Flying Meteors: Parsifal in Poznán

Thursday, October 24th, 2013

By Rebecca Schmid

Whether Parsifal is a supremacist scripture or a mystic journey, we are used to seeing at least one appearance of the Holy Grail or Spear. Wagner, a man of the theater as much as a composer, left clear indications in his libretto about when and how these objects should be deployed in his “consecration” of the Festspielhaus stage in Bayreuth.

Danish directing team Hotel Pro Forma, whose new production of Parsifal premiered at the Poznán Opera, in western Poland, on October 18, sets out to spurn the notion of Art Religion and reframe the opera in more immediate, human terms. Despite some inspired touches, the concept goes so overboard as to obscure the story’s fundamental interpersonal relationships.

While Parsifal, dressed in a mod, eighties-style jumpsuit, his fingertips lacquered in white paint, is assigned a Doppelgänger who mimes his lines in sign language, Kundry—an unemotional, bourgeois apparition—is represented by a dancer in different guises. In the climatic seduction scene of the second act, the singers barely make eye contact. Instead, Kundry’s powers are implied with the dancer’s brief undulations in a leotard.

After the Pure Fool foresees redemption for her—Erlösung, Frevlerin, biet’ ich auch dir—a crucifix is erected in the background, draped with a white coat, while he stares into eternity. Upon the return of the warlock Klingsor, there is no spear. Instead, a giant meteor descends, crashing the metal skeleton of a non-descript house.

Presumably, this represents the magic garden which disappears when Parsifal waves the spear in the sign of the cross. Or is it just the power of the supernatural.

The disorienting visuals at times served to propel the action through what are arguably long-winded passages. Pro Forma Director Kirsten Dehlholm, staging Wagner for the first time, set the narration of the knight Gurnemanz during the first act to tableaux vivants such as the image of businessmen huddling on one side while modern women facing downstage gave the Hitler salute on the other.

One would have wished for more from the flower girls of the second act, here set in drab yellow dresses (costumes by Henrik Vibskov) above moderately interesting video projections.

Dehlholm takes a near surrealist approach to the character of Titurel, father of the wounded knight Amfortas, casting him as a black-faced, spandex-clad ghost from the very beginning (he is in fact still alive in the first act). The unveiling of the grail in the final scene is represented by extras hanging on swings above lowered stage platforms—a vision of innocence and new beginnings (with expert lighting by Jesper Kongshaug).

The production, despite its far-fetched symbolism, was not out of tune with the vicissitudes of the score, such as with a mass of people marching in darkness during the tolling bells of the final scene. The orchestra under recently-installed Music Director Gabriel Chmura, a surprisingly young group of musicians, struggled with the sustained, shimmering lines of the opening act only to improve steadily throughout the evening, bringing clear dramatic intention and vigorous energy to the score’s intricate melodic fabric.

In the cast, German tenor Thomas Mohr gave a polished, penetrating performance of Parsifal even as he lost himself in the sea of Regie. He was well-matched by the dark, resonant soprano Agnieszka Zwierko in the role of Kundry; one can forgive her at times harsh timbre and tendency to go flat in their heated exchange of the second act.

Mario Klein was a suitable Gurnemanz—although he at times struggled to end his lines audibly above the orchestra despite Chmura’s excellent balance—and Mark Morouse gave a touching enough account of Amfortas, trapped in a wheelchair until he is healed by a piece of asphalt (picked up by Hotel Pro Forma from the giant construction site that currently engulfs the center of Poznán). Jerzy Mechliński was a strong voiced Klingsor, shrouded enigmatically behind primitive, black make up, and Krzystof Bączyk made for an athletic Titurel—perplexing as it was to see him dressed in a unitard.

It is something of a milestone for the house to have staged Parsifal with an international cast and a production as unconventional as that of Hotel Pro Forma. Despite the direction’s admirable attempt of transforming an opera with potentially lethal ideology into a universal allegory, Dehlholm also found herself subject to its mythic weight—leading the audience down the road of her own bewilderment.

rebeccaschmid.info

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The Band That Stood Up To God…and Lost

Thursday, October 24th, 2013

By Brian Taylor Goldstein, Esq.

Dear Law and Disorder

We recently has a situation where one of our groups showed up at a festival, but just before they were to go on stage, the police shut down the event due to an approaching electrical storm. The presenter had given the group a deposit for 50% prior to the event, but is refusing to pay the balance even though our booking agreements have a specific clause that says that, in the event of cancellation, except for Acts of God, the artist gets the full fee. The presenter signed the agreement. The band showed up and were ready, willing and able to perform. Aren’t they entitled to the full fee? They need this money to cover their costs for flying, driving, and internal costs. Isn’t the presenter supposed to get event insurance to cover these sorts of things?

When you say the band was “ready, willing and able to perform”, are you saying that, had the police not shut down the event, they would have performed anyway? In a lightning storm? Seriously? While I am solidly rooted in the “show must go on” tradition, you’re either representing the industry’s most desperate band or the most reckless—or both. Had lightning struck the stage, injuring either a band member or a member of the audience, the band would have been facing some significant lawsuits and liability for gross negligence.

An “Act of God” is an unexpected event or occurrence that is beyond the control of a party. If a party breaches a contract because of an “Act of God”, then the party is not liable. Concerts cancelled due to severe weather are among the most common “Acts of God.” The fact that, in this case, the police shut down the event as opposed to the actual hand of the almighty descending from the clouds and cancelling the event with a host of celestial trumpets does not change the fact that the presenter did not cause the lightning storm and had no choice but to cancel the event—literally, given that the police ordered the event to be closed. Thus, the presenter is not liable for the cancellation and the band is not entitled to the full fee. In fact, assuming the presenter let the band keep its 50% deposit, the band actually got more than it was entitled to.

As for whether or not the presenter was supposed to get event insurance to cover weather related cancellations, you seem to be under the impression that, had the presenter obtained such insurance, then the band would have been paid its full fee. Not necessarily. Unless your contract obligated the presenter to purchase an insurance policy and name the band as an additional insured, then the presenter’s event cancellation insurance policy would only have covered the presenter’s liabilities and expenses. As the presenter isn’t liable to pay the band its full fee, the insurance policy wouldn’t have paid it either. On the contrary, if the band regularly plays outdoor events and concerts, and wants to “ensure” that it losses are covered in the event a concert is cancelled to due weather, then the band should consider getting its own event cancellation insurance policy. Or you could always just pray.

_________________________________________________________________

For additional information and resources on this and other legal and business issues for the performing arts, visit ggartslaw.com

To ask your own question, write to lawanddisorder@musicalamerica.org.

All questions on any topic related to legal and business issues will be welcome. However, please post only general questions or hypotheticals. GG Arts Law reserves the right to alter, edit or, amend questions to focus on specific issues or to avoid names, circumstances, or any information that could be used to identify or embarrass a specific individual or organization. All questions will be posted anonymously.

__________________________________________________________________

THE OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER:

THIS IS NOT LEGAL ADVICE!

The purpose of this blog is to provide general advice and guidance, not legal advice. Please consult with an attorney familiar with your specific circumstances, facts, challenges, medications, psychiatric disorders, past-lives, karmic debt, and anything else that may impact your situation before drawing any conclusions, deciding upon a course of action, sending a nasty email, filing a lawsuit, or doing anything rash!

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Posted in Acts of God, Agents, Artist Management, Arts Management, Contracts, Insurance, Law and Disorder: Performing Arts Division, Liability, Presenters, Touring, Venues | Comments Closed

A Master Concertmaster

Thursday, October 24th, 2013

By: Edna Landau

Dear Edna:

I am a violinist with a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree from a major American conservatory. I have won top prizes in some competitions and have always expected that I would be able to attract management and enjoy a solo career. As of late, I have begun to have my doubts about that as it seems that managements are only interested in signing immediate moneymakers. I have been told that I stand a reasonable chance of winning a concertmaster position with a good level orchestra. I did serve as concertmaster in my conservatory orchestra but I am not sure that experience would suffice to qualify me for a professional concertmaster position. I have also regularly played chamber music but I am not sure how relevant that is. In addition, I am hesitant about going the concertmaster route for fear I would have very few solo opportunities in the future. What advice can you offer me? – H.P.

Dear H.P.:

Thank you for your fine question which gave me the opportunity to speak to two wonderful concertmasters: the eminent and greatly respected leader of the New York Philharmonic,  Glenn Dicterow, now in his 34th and final year with the orchestra (after the longest tenure of a concertmaster in the orchestra’s history), and the 29-year-old very well-liked concertmaster of the Pittsburgh Symphony, Noah Bendix-Balgley, who joined the orchestra in 2011 with many solo accolades, including his title of Laureate from the 2009 Queen Elisabeth Competition. Both assured me that serving as concertmaster with an orchestra does not mean bidding farewell to solo and chamber music performances. A concertmaster is in the best position among orchestral players to negotiate for free time beyond what might be included in the general master contract. Furthermore, many orchestras, such as Pittsburgh, have relatively light summer seasons, thereby affording their players the opportunity to participate in summer festivals.

Glenn Dicterow reminisced with me about his young years as associate concertmaster, and then concertmaster of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, with whom he had made his solo debut at age 11 in the Tchaikovsky Concerto. Prior to assuming those positions, he had no experience playing in an orchestra — only chamber music. He had won numerous awards and competitions, and the assumption was that he would go the soloist route. However, he realized that he was not the type to thrive on living out of a suitcase and moving from city to city, never knowing what his concert schedule might look like from season to season. He was attracted to the stability that came with a secure orchestra job. He was also well aware that such great musicians as Gregor Piatigorsky, Alfred Wallenstein and Leonard Rose had all occupied first chair positions in orchestras. Once he became concertmaster in Los Angeles, he felt comfortable leading because of his frequent and regular chamber music activities. Noah Bendix-Balgley elaborated on this point with me. He explained that his experience playing first violin in quartets contributed greatly to his comfort level within the orchestra. He cited the visual cues, regular eye contact, having ears constantly tuned to what others are doing, and having the confidence and flexibility to adapt to them. He further explained that “playing chamber music makes you think for yourself, come up with a musical opinion and be able to defend it. These abilities are essential to a concertmaster as well. It’s just a different scale.”

I asked both gentlemen how much time they were able to devote to solo and chamber music repertoire and neither of them felt shortchanged. There are, of course, regular opportunities to play solo with their orchestras. In addition, they have had guest appearances with other orchestras and opportunities to participate in summer festivals. Mr. Dicterow has performed with his own string trio and piano trio over the years but he did admit to me that it can sometimes be challenging to match up dates offered by presenters with the open times in his New York Philharmonic schedule. Mr. Bendix-Balgley said that this drawback was more than compensated for by the many new connections he has made in the music world since joining the Pittsburgh Symphony as concertmaster and touring with them internationally. He has been introduced to institutions where he may someday want to teach or perform more actively, and he will explore those possibilities further when the time seems right.

I also asked both musicians about the qualities that characterize a successful concertmaster. Mr. Dicterow spoke of humility, the importance of positive thinking and respect for others, and the ability to play and think as a member of a team. He mentioned the public relations aspect of being able to convince others of the right way to do things and the esprit de corps to be a conduit between orchestra and conductor in a way that leads to unity. He added that solo moments should be so well prepared that they compare in quality to any guest artist visiting town. Mr. Bendix-Balgley also said that always being prepared and always sounding good are the first steps toward true leadership (advice he received from Alexander Kerr, former concertmaster of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra). He added that he thinks of himself as a leader among equals. “There are 100 or so amazing musicians in the Pittsburgh Symphony and each has a different role. I try to appreciate that role and treat them all with respect.”

Last night, in the course of a public interview entitled “The Quintessential Concertmaster”, which was part of the Insights Series jointly presented by the New York Philharmonic and Lincoln Center, Mr. Dicterow spoke about the rich life he has enjoyed with the orchestra under the batons of four music directors:  Zubin Mehta, Kurt Masur, Lorin Maazel and Alan Gilbert. His insight, humanity, sensitivity and sense of humor which contributed to making him a great leader on a personal level were all very much on display.  He knows that he will greatly miss his friends and colleagues when he moves to California at the end of this season to more fully assume the position of Robert Mann Chair in Strings and Chamber Music, at USC’s Thornton School of Music, but the chapter he is closing is a brilliant one indeed. He is truly leaving the New York Philharmonic at the top of his game and he will be very much missed. I hope that if you decide to pursue a position as concertmaster,  you will experience some of the same joy and fulfillment that have characterized his journey to becoming one of the world’s most pre-eminent concertmasters.

© Edna Landau 2013

Posted in Ask Edna, The Orchestral World, Uncategorized | Comments Closed

NORMA ABNORMAL

Monday, October 21st, 2013

by Albert Innaurato

I went to Bellini’s Norma at the Met on Friday. I was late to the party, Sondra Radvanovsky’s Norma has been praised as a throwback to greatness by many of the easily enraged hard core  — and some of these people have been seeing international performers of this huge role for 60 and more years! But just that morning, there had been the dress rehearsal for Nico Muhly’s new opera, Two Boys. For a moment it had looked as though I might go to this but I’ll have to wait and see how Muhly’s opera is received, and most importantly, whether it can be one of the baby steps crucial to whether opera can walk again.

The arts we inherited from the 19th century are dying in America. A large group of successful new works would be one prong of a survival strategy, saving opera, for example, from seeming merely bizarre. Funding is another prong. Arts are subsidized in Europe and don’t appear to be in such trouble, but the Not for Profit system in America has failed badly. All the arts are charities, all artists, beggars, and as our society gets poorer, losing its middle class, the demands on that 1 or 2 % with money to spare are enormous. Does one give to cancer research or the Metropolitan Opera, to feeding Americans or to the ballet, to desperately backward schools or the symphony? And how does anyone persuade those two or three multinational, profit besotted hydras determined to control what everyone thinks and knows to add any of the arts to multi-channel cable systems on a regular, easily accessible basis, knowing that at first, few people will watch?

But it’s easier to focus on this instant, knowing as one who is terminally ill knows, that things end, that America is a nation jammed with the uncaring, the indifferent and the stupid (sorry, I mean those with “low information”). We old timers cry: “let us sit in a circle and download the old days and if that fails, let’s hold hands and remember!”

Miss Radvanovsky is that currently rare thing, a professional singer of the highest standard for whom no excuses need be made. She has a strong technique, excellent coloratura, a very wide range with rafter shaking high notes when she wills, a glistening, easily controlled pianissimo — a very soft tone that still fills the huge opera house. She is a musician, she is tasteful. She was boring.

But can Norma, a great opera, no doubt, a high water mark of early romanticism, adored by nearly every important musician of the time, an influence on Richard Wagner (“without Bellini there would be no Wagner” he said) as well as Verdi, and Chopin and Mendelssohn and Schumann and on and on, rip our hearts out today as Bellini intended? Well, not in the sort of performance the Met gave, proficiently but unimaginatively conducted by Riccardo Frizza who evidently didn’t coach the singers in the style, or as the only native speaker in the production, get them to pay attention to their words (Bellini certainly did). Not with an Adalgisa who forced a small voice and lacked command in her difficult moments, and not with a clueless, bullish Pollione, and not with an ancient Oroveso who just stood around while his world fell apart, as indeed it does in the last scene.

Years ago (and yes, I was there years ago), Norma would have known that in the crucial moment where she decides not to sacrifice her innocent rival, Adalgisa, but to reveal herself as the villain in the eyes of her people and says simply, “son io” (“it is I” — who have betrayed you), that this was a moment to be seized for us to see the agony in this heroic woman as she fights within herself; and painfully, slowly, with profound sorrow and even fear condemns herself to death. The pain, self revelation, shame and grandeur should stop one’s heart. But Radvanovsky didn’t know how to do that, and in the whole great opera house, there was no one to tell her.

She is too accomplished and intelligent a singer to be damned with faint praise; the last twenty minutes, a massive challenge, were sung with remarkable command. But where does the instinct to perform these roles with the essential emotional commitment come from? Is a technically expert but generalized performance another symptom of how opera is dying?

Let’s hope the gifted Muhly, writing about how we live now, with singers who understand their characters implicitly, has managed a work and gets a performance that shocks and thrills and moves real people through music. And let’s hope that the remarkable Radvanovsky finds someone to stimulate her into the intense personal connection to those grand old roles that she did not have.

Alberto rages rather than babbles at http://mrsjohnclaggartssadlife.blogspot.com/

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In Your Face, Astrid

Thursday, October 17th, 2013

Astrid Varnay by Maurizio Anzeri

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: October 17, 2013

MUNICH — Spirograph needlemaniac defaces legendary (and conveniently deceased) Brünnhilde. And so on.

Bavarian State Opera’s anticipated additions to its portrait gallery went public yesterday, their twenty-one victims — er, honored subjects — being depicted in various media by twenty-one visual artists. Scattered docent notes:

• Anja Harteros – toner light
• Astrid Varnay – best in person
• Brigitte Fassbaender – high treason
• Christian Gerhaher – sun shines out of his … mouth
• Diana Damrau – per pietà
• Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau – cluster analysis
• Edita Gruberová – background material
• Fritz Wunderlich – for Hasselblad‎
• Hermann Prey – about to …
• Hildegard Behrens – Dietrich? Garbo? both?
• Jonas Kaufmann – David? Cellini? finished?
• Júlia Várady – ready for her close-up
• Klaus Florian Vogt – Brabant H.S.
• Kurt Moll – a wash
• Lucia Popp – monochrome Sophie
• Margaret Price – unmasked!
• Peter Seiffert – got THaT rigHt!
• René Kollo – eye, nose, mouth, eye
• Waltraud Meier – Broadway-bound
• Wolfgang Brendel – every inch the Bavarian
• Wolfgang Koch – unhappy camper

The needleman in question is Maurizio Anzeri, a London-based Italian whose stock-in-trade is embroidered photography, much of it stunning though not usually intended to depict a specific person.

Anzeri likes to cover a face, spurred on perhaps by its energy. It is unclear why, but the Freunde des Nationaltheaters München e.V. chose him to portray soprano Astrid Varnay, and he has overcome the obvious hurdle by recourse to a diptych (shown). Whether he listened to her work for inspiration or direction, or has sensed what she achieved, is anyone’s guess.

Raised in New Jersey, Varnay debuted at the Metropolitan Opera at the age of 23 singing Wagner’s Sieglinde and, days later, Brünnhilde. After successes in the 1950s at Bavaria’s Bayreuth Festival as well as at Bavarian State Opera, she settled in Munich and is buried here.

Photo © Bayerische Staatsoper

Related posts:
Portraits For a Theater
Petrenko Preps Strauss Epic
A Complete Frau, at Last
Petrenko Hosts Petrenko
Poulenc Heirs v. Staatsoper

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Agents and Artists: Who Controls the Money?

Thursday, October 17th, 2013

By Brian Taylor Goldstein, Esq.

Dear Law and Disorder

I am considering working with an agent, but almost every agent I speak with wants to collect my engagement fees on my behalf. Why can’t I collect my fees and just pay the agent? If an agent collects my fees, should I ask for a separate bank account? What about statements? Is it reasonable to ask for monthly accountings? When do I get paid? What’s standard?

As the artist’s representative, its quite common for an agent or manager to accept fees on behalf of an artist. Among other reasons, it allows you to focus on your performances, especially when touring, while allowing your agent to follow up on contracts, payments, and other logistical issues. However, just because a practice is “common”, that does not make it mandatory.

Should you agree to permit a representative to collect fees on you behalf, agents and managers are subject to state “agency laws” which impose certain obligations and duties. (Agency laws should not be confused with “licensing” requirements. Agency laws govern any relationship where one party acts on behalf of another and apply regardless of licensing requirements.) Pursuant to most state agency laws, when an agent or manager accepts fees on your behalf, its your money, not theirs. They must hold the money “in trust” until it can be turned over to you. As such, agents have a fiduciary obligation to treat that money separately from their own. If the parties mutually agree, the agent can deduct his or her commissions, as well as any other expenses, but the balance of the money belongs to you and the funds must never be co-mingled with the agent’s own money.

While an agent is not necessarily required to keep an artist’s money in a separate bank account, it’s a highly advisable business practice for an agent to maintain a separate trust account to hold the fees collected on behalf of all of the artists on their roster. This protects both the agent as well as the artist. For one thing, an agent is legally required to account for all money collected and held on behalf of an artist. Placing the money into a separate trust account not only makes such accountings easier, but also helps to ensure than an artist’s money doesn’t accidentally get co-mingled with the agent’s own money. For instance, when an agent collects an engagement fee, the fee should go into the agent’s trust account. If the agent is owed a commission, the agent can transfer the commission from the trust account into the agent’s personal account. This is especially important in the case of deposits. In the event an engagement is cancelled, a deposit may need to be returned. Having the money held in a separate trust account ensures that the funds are not prematurely dispensed, for which both the artist and agent could be liable.

As for whether you should demand your own, personal trust account, that’s probably overkill. Even attorneys are not required to do that. Provided the agent keeps accurate books and records, its perfectly acceptable for an agent to have a single trust account where all of the fees collected on behalf of agent’s artists are kept separate from the agent’s own business accounts. It’s then a simple matter of bookkeeping to determine which money belongs to which artist.

As for whether you should ask for monthly accountings, you should definitely ask for accountings as agents are legally required to provide them. Whether or not “monthly” is reasonable depends on the specific circumstances. If you are performing monthly, then monthly may be appropriate. Otherwise, quarterly may be more reasonable. Many agents will provide an accounting each time you are paid, as opposed to at fixed intervals.

Always remember: nothing is “standard.” Agents and managers work for you, not the other way around. You have a right to ask for whatever terms and conditions you want. Of course, that doesn’t mean they have to agree, but being able to post questions and have your concerns respected and reasonably addressed, even if you don’t get the answers you want, is key to determining whether or not to pursue an agent relationship.

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For additional information and resources on this and other legal and business issues for the performing arts, visit ggartslaw.com

To ask your own question, write to lawanddisorder@musicalamerica.org.

All questions on any topic related to legal and business issues will be welcome. However, please post only general questions or hypotheticals. GG Arts Law reserves the right to alter, edit or, amend questions to focus on specific issues or to avoid names, circumstances, or any information that could be used to identify or embarrass a specific individual or organization. All questions will be posted anonymously.

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THE OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER:

THIS IS NOT LEGAL ADVICE!

The purpose of this blog is to provide general advice and guidance, not legal advice. Please consult with an attorney familiar with your specific circumstances, facts, challenges, medications, psychiatric disorders, past-lives, karmic debt, and anything else that may impact your situation before drawing any conclusions, deciding upon a course of action, sending a nasty email, filing a lawsuit, or doing anything rash!

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Who Am I? Is This the Asylum?

Wednesday, October 16th, 2013

by Albert Innaurato

Well, Alberto (that’s me) does babble on a lot. And that reminded me of a little known Rossini Opera, Ciro in Babilonia. Poor Ciro does have his problems, though talking too much isn’t one of them (on the other hand, in my case, …). It’s one of the happy/sad realities of a troubled time for the arts, that we can fairly easily encounter Ciro on DVD and CD; a score has been prepared that is fair to Rossini. And we can find out by reading that score, or experiencing one of the DVDs that Ciro is fascinating, phenomenally orchestrated, and full of great tunes. Ciro’s enemy even gets one of the great tenor mad scenes in opera.

That’s happy because it’s a fine opera. That’s sad because it’s not new, just unfamiliar. It’s a very old opera, in a very old style with a very old story. Art is about us, now. One shouldn’t have to be like a soldier fighting battles, to believe that arts that can’t renew themselves die.

I always wanted new sounds. When I was studying music (for eighteen years) I always wanted to know what was being created right then. And then I took a wrong turn (probably) and began to write plays. I got to Broadway and Europe and even to Asia and everything was new; my life was about my creating, and about my measuring myself against what others were creating.

It’s not that I didn’t love older plays. And I was never indifferent to the stratagems of Beethoven and Debussy and crotchety old Johann Bach. It’s just that discovery was always just as thrilling. Even if technology has given us a way of reconstructing virtually the entire past of Western music, and great masters are always being uncovered, someway has to be invented to persuade those under thirty, said to be watching three screens at once, to pay attention. And in some sense it has to be, however subtly or indirectly, about the new kind of lives they are living now.

And as for opera, well, let’s be frank, it’s a mental illness. I have it. Electroshock won’t help. But the most thrilling evenings in my life were seeing Lulu for the first time, or Nixon in China or L’amour de loin. It’s not a contest; great operas have been written from the beginning, but the remarkable new is always more thrilling than one’s fiftieth exposure to a MASTERPIECE from a fast receding past.

I have the voice sickness too… I’ll be chattering about those things. But who even knows about  much of this, really? I know I’ll be babbling to many. One thing’s for sure, I’m a tenor!! Bring on the mad scene!

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