Ian Maksin (Cello) – Fourth Presbyterian Church Noonday Concert – April 20, 2018

Maksin was introduced and sprinted to the front of the room, cello in hand, sat down, and immediately started playing, without a word. The program listed his first selection as a Bach suite, but even to my unsophisticated ear it didn’t sound like Bach. Phew, I was right. When he finished the selection, he stood and said yes, the audience was right in thinking it wasn’t Bach. He had added something of his own to the program based on some music he had recently heard in Turkey.

He also added a new composition of his at the end of the program that included an electronic element. I would have preferred it played acoustically.

In between, Maksin played a couple compositions by friends and three of his own, one of which included nine variations on a Russian theme, which he described as a journey through geographic regions. This reminded me of the great Victor Borge, who famously played his nine variations of Happy Birthday, as if played by Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Brahms, Wagner, Beethoven, Strauss, Mozart, Berlin, and Shostakovich.

In addition to his musical abilities, Maksin has an engaging personality, but Borge was a classic (and an excellent musician). Do yourself a favor and watch and listen to his Happy Birthday variations at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hkkHz8xq7lE.

Maksin seemed very much to lose himself in the music, as evidenced in part by him closing his eyes (or so it appeared from where I was sitting) during much of his playing. This took me back to violinist.com once again, this time for a discussion about playing with eyes open or closed (http://www.violinist.com/discussion/archive/4385/). The key takeaway from my perspective is, don’t play with your eyes closed unless you know the music by heart (Maksin did).

Adult Seminars (Classics of Comedy and Wonderful Town II) – Newberry Library

As Justice Potter Stewart might have said, I may not be able to define comedy, but I know it when I see it (or hear it, or read it). And I’m quite certain I know what is meant by a classic. So I was somewhat taken aback when the instructor for the Newberry winter seminar on Classics of Comedy picked as our first reading a short story no one in the class had heard of, by an author none of us (or the internet based on my search) had heard of, and that wasn’t funny, except to the instructor.

So it didn’t come as a shock when the instructor informed us that the author was a friend of his who, the instructor (and presumably the friend/author) believed, hadn’t received the recognition he deserved. Now that’s classic, but not why I enrolled in the seminar. So I left during the break of the first class to claim a refund of the registration fee. I imagine the instructor didn’t think that was funny, but I did.

I also enrolled in a Newberry winter seminar called Wonderful Town II, about music from New York in the 30s, 40s, and 50s. What a difference. The instructor, Guy Marco, has an encyclopedic knowledge of the music of those years (which he experienced first hand, as he is 90 years old), from Broadway to classical to pop to opera. When I asked him how many rooms his music took up at home, he answered “all of them.”

He even made the mercifully short operatic selections tolerable (which is saying a lot coming from me) with his detailed and humorous analyses, such as his observation in one instance that there was no way to determine from the story line why a particular character had died. And he signed off the last class doing his best Benny Hill impression. His dry wit led me to think that he also should have taught the Classics of Comedy seminar.

Hee-Young Lim (cello) and Kuang-Hao Huang (Piano) – Chicago Cultural Center – April 4, 2018

For the first time at any of the Dame Myra Hess Memorial Concerts I have attended, some people, despite the caution in the printed program, applauded between movements, in this case after the second movement of Shostakovich’s Sonata for Cello and Piano in D Minor. I can’t say I blame them for their enthusiasm.

The allegro movement featured a rousing section of head bobbing and resulting hair tossing by Lim as she poured all her considerable talent and energy into rapid bowing and fingering in a section of the music accurately described in the program as “churning cello accompaniment.” I think Lim may have been getting as good a workout as I did in this morning’s Pilates class.

As I read the program description, it reminded me of a wine review. Compare “aromas of rich dark currants, nectarine skins, and gushing blackberry, but lots of fragrant tobacco, rich soil, white flowers, and smashed minerals; medium-bodied and saucy but racy acidity that stabilizes the wine nicely with the robust tannins” with “after a repeated note codetta, the exposition is repeated; then the development section commences with an impulsive discussion of the first theme, ominously underpinned by the repeated-note idea in the piano.”

The program also noted that the piece by Offenbach was dedicated to Arsène Houssaye, like I would know who that is. (He turns out to be a French novelist, poet and man of letters, which I believe my blog now makes me.)

After watching Lim and Huang walk off stage and back on between selections, I finally got around to searching for a satisfying answer as to why classical musicians do this. I found a good discussion on violinist.com.

The best answer for me was that you don’t want to be onstage when people stop clapping. So, musicians finish, bow, acknowledge the audience, and exit gracefully, which gives the audience a chance to stop clapping without being rude. One other possible explanation related to the Weak Bladder Marathon Highlights.

Jasmine Lin and Joseph Genualdi (violins), Paula Kosower (cello) and Bradley Opland (double bass) – Chicago Cultural Center – April 2, 2018

There’s a long tradition of classical musicians wearing black (see http://www.classicfm.com/discover-music/musicians-black-concert-dress/), so I’m used to seeing all the members of an orchestra, or string quartet, dressed in black (as they were today), but I started thinking more about it when Opland entered for the second half of the program, wearing not only a black suit, but also a black hat, which together made him look like he’d just come from a gig with the Blues Brothers.

Though I like the suggestion that wearing black reduces the need to clean the clothes, I also like that idea that black clothes limit the amount of distraction, but not for the obvious reason. I think it should be done out of consideration for anyone in the audience who has chromesthesia, and thus perceives colors from sound (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chromesthesia). If the musicians are dressed in other than black, the chromesthesiac (?) may see colors based upon the music that clash with the color of the clothes.

Continuing the “what are they wearing” theme, I noticed that none of the musicians had on wedding bands. That got me to wondering again about custom, which led me to a web page that includes a conversation among violinists about wearing or not wearing rings while playing their instruments (http://www.violinist.com/discussion/archive/13515/).

The music itself was beautiful, my favorite part being when Opland, who plays with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, was given a bass solo during the allegro movement of Rossini’s Sonata #6. He extensively tapped the instrument, and though he was clearly improvising some of it (not your typical classical program), it led me to wonder about notation for tapping, which led me to a user’s manual for the orchestra, which, unlike most user’s manuals, is reasonably intelligible (see second item down on http://andrewhugill.com/manuals/bass/extended.html – be sure to watch the video).

Near the end of his solo, Opland permitted Lin, after some back and forth playfulness, to pluck one of his strings (not a metaphor). I’m relatively certain that there’s no notation for that.

The Nerdologues Presents: Your Stories: Cast Away Edition – American Writers Museum – March 30, 2018

We missed some of the Nerdologues program out of fair-weather fan loyalty to the Loyola basketball team, watching the entirety of their defeat at the hands of Michigan. I didn’t mind showing up late, as the Nerdologues program was scheduled to last three hours, which seems like too much of anything, except Lawrence of Arabia, which flawlessly clocks in at 3 hours and 48 minutes. (How did Peter O’Toole not win the Best Actor Oscar?)

We got to the program at intermission, which was perfect timing. It gave us a chance to have a conversation with Kevin Turk, one of the founders of International Tom Hanks Day (ITHD), which was being celebrated by the Nerdologues in this special edition of their weekly podcasts.

Kevin gave us the history of ITHD, how it started as a college keggger, an excuse to drink and watch movies all night. Four years in, Hanks found out about it and the rest is history, as the event has turned into an annual charity fundraiser. The night’s raffle prize was a DVD of Saving Mr. Banks, which the Nerdologues made fun of, but I admit I liked, which must put me on the extreme edge of nerdom.

Attendance was sparse, probably due to the mystical convergence of Holy Saturday, Passover, and the Final Four. Instead of hearing serious stories handed down from generation to generation for thousands of years (or in the Loyola Ramblers’ case, 55 years), we heard four storytellers, three of whom were very funny as they related first-hand experiences of ramblin’ man road trips and raunchy parties (the fourth merely rambled on incoherently).

We also heard a few songs, including one that included a nice Roy Orbison impression, and one that featured someone playing a melodica, a wind-powered portable keyboard instrument that looked like a tricked-up hookah (see picture).

Rachel Lee Priday (violin) and David Kaplan (piano) – Chicago Cultural Center – March 21, 2018

As promoted (and mentioned in last week’s blog), this concert was streamed live on Facebook, in furtherance of which cameras were positioned around the room, but no camera operators, not even robotic ones as has been the trend in television for some time (see https://www.thebroadcastbridge.com/content/entry/823/cost-cutting-boosts-the-use-of-robots-in-television-studios).

This wasn’t a basketball game, where the camera has to follow the action. Here there was static action. Okay, that’s a contradiction (though I like the way it sounds). I mean the musicians didn’t run or jump around the room, but their fingers, hands, and arms moved, and quite skillfully I might add, magically creating music were there had been none (only notes on paper), as beautiful as a three on two fast break ending in a thunderous dunk or a last second Hail Mary (or in Loyola’s case, hail 98-year-old Sister Jean Dolores-Schmidt) shot that drives another nail into my March Madness bracket coffin.

This week I went back to sitting on stage left, concerned that last week’s sheet music incident (see blog on Patrycja Likos and Yana Reznik) may somehow have been my fault, caused by my having sat stage right for a change. Moving back was the first step in my attempt to apply the scientific method to determine causation.

The Dame Myra Hess Memorial Concerts are produced by the International Music Foundation. Following the concert, I introduced myself to the foundation’s Executive Director, who, I assume, in the spirit of P.T. Barnum (there’s no such thing as bad publicity) and Oscar Wilde (the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about) welcomed the idea of my continuing to blog about the concerts, which is what I do. So here I am.

Patrycja Likos (Cello) and Yana Reznik (Piano) – Chicago Cultural Center – March 14, 2018

Just when I thought I might not have anything more to write about the weekly Dame Myra Hess Memorial Concerts, a previously unseen episode of Sid Caesar’s Your Show of Shows broke out part way through today’s performance.

The first piece went smoothly, as did the beginning of the second. Then Reznik reached up with one hand and made a minor adjustment to the way the pages were sitting on the piano’s music stand (cause or effect, I don’t know) and then, as the page turner executed his next maneuver, the pages starting unraveling every which way, fanning out in a slapstick fashion that seemed likely to bring the performance to a crashing halt. But, as the page turner tried to restore order, sprawling akimbo like a man playing Twister, Reznik, contorting her neck to the side to read a sheet of music that was now at a 45-degree angle, played on, amazingly, seemingly flawlessly.

The fuss was such that Likos turned her head around, while also not missing a beat, and looked to see what mayhem was taking place behind her. Then, after what was probably at most 10 seconds, but seemed like an eternity, someone from the front row of the audience rose up and came to the rescue, getting the sheets under control on the right side of the piano as the page turner held up his end on the left. The audience then held its collective breath until the end of the piece.

I have seen Reznik before and she is wonderful (as is Likos), but this performance was above and beyond. How does one prepare for such mishaps? It made me think about Tiger Woods and how his father used to scream in Tiger’s backswing to enure him to the distractions he might experience on the PGA tour.

I have been asked on occasion to inform readers about future events. This is the perfect opportunity to let everyone know that next week’s concert will be streamed live on Facebook. If you can’t make it in person, you might want to check out the broadcast. Who knows, perhaps an episode of McHale’s Navy will break out during the performance.

Avalon String Quartet – Chicago Cultural Center – March 7, 2018

I arrived a few minutes earlier than normal, hoping to get a seat stage right for a change, so I could see the pianist’s hands at work from behind. Too bad I hadn’t remembered that it was a string quartet playing, not a pianist. No wonder I could get the seat I thought I wanted, as the other regular attendees scurried stage left, where the quartet was to be positioned.

One advantage to sitting on the right side, I initially rationalized, was that I was near the little booth where Dave Schwan sits each week to host WFMT’s live broadcast of the program. Of course, during the music, he just sits there, not doing or saying anything. So it really wasn’t that special for me to be sitting near him (or for him near me, I imagine).

The Avalon String Quartet led off with Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes from Florence Price’s Five Folksongs in Counterpoint. That mouthful takes almost as long to say as the four minutes it took the quartet to play it. The selection reminded me that it will soon be St. Patrick’s Day, when no one will be drinking only with their eyes, although some will undoubtedly be blind drunk.

The second selection was Beethoven’s beautiful String Quartet No. 9 in C Major. I could see that at least one member of the quartet was using a tablet, instead of paper, to read the music. Beethoven surely didn’t see that coming, whether or not he was drinking with his eyes. (For an interesting article on issues related to this use of tablets, see https://www.inverse.com/article/10176-can-classical-music-escape-sheet-music-only-if-tablets-can-keep-tempo)

We Three: Loud Her. Fast Her. Funny Her. – Steppenwolf Theater – February 27, 2018

We Three is a tall, talented, and talkative trio. When Meghan Murphy, Danni Smith, and Cassie Slater are on stage, singing and having fun, it’s hard not to have fun with them, so everyone in the audience just smiled, hooted, and laughed along.

The show started a half hour late due to what was described as a wardrobe malfunction, which turned out to be Meghan (aka Big Red – see my blog on Big Red and the Boys) having forgotten to bring her performance dress with her from home. Really? What else did she need to remember?

A couple sitting in front of us came to see the show because they wanted more of Meghan (she’s everywhere, but fortunately she manages to remember her lyrics, if not her clothes), whom they had just seen as Fräulein Kostin in Cabaret (in a show getting rave reviews) in Aurora (Aurora!) at the Paramount Theater (Aurora!), one of the great old theaters, built in 1931, and on the National Register of Historic Places (but Aurora!). I’ve been to Aurora, but for something really important – golf. It’s far and it’s Aurora!

There’s no drink service in the room (the 1700 Theater, an intimate 80-seat cabaret-type space), which seems odd. One has to go to the adjoining room, the cleverly-named Front Bar. I thought I might miss the start of the show (before hearing about the delay) because the bartender apparently wasn’t in class the day they taught how to open a bottle of wine. I almost impatiently jumped over the bar to help, but then remembered that I can’t jump.

Eight other people in attendance came, directly or indirectly, based upon on my prior blog about Meghan. So, after 27 frustrating years working for a very not-for-profit association, I finally feel like I’m providing a public service. My blog is reaching people numbering into the teens.

Narek Hakhnazaryan (cello) and Noreen Cassidy-Polera (piano) – Chicago Cultural Center – February 21, 2018

Narek and Noreen beautifully played several selections, including one by Robert Schumann, who, according to the program, lived to be 146 years old (1810-1956). Although I know that listening to music is said to provide numerous health benefits, I was pretty sure that his date of death was a typo (it should have been 1856).

Of the Dame Myra Hess concerts I have attended, this was the first time a pianist had a page-turner. (I guess the previous musicians had better memories.) I noted that the page-turner sat on the pianist’s left (upstage, not blocking the audience’s view) and used his left hand, crossing over his body, to accomplish his task. For those looking for a “nerve-wracking” way to see concerts for free, I recommend reading a blog about the fine art of page-turning, which says that the left hand should be used (why?), but shows a picture of someone using her right hand (if I know my left from my right).

Narrow and Noreen (but not the unknown, uncredited, unappreciated(?) page-turner) briefly left the stage after each of the first two pieces. Is this to milk more applause? Or stretch legs? Or clear heads? Or make sure flies aren’t open? (see my blog on Franklinland)

As the music proceeded, I gazed around the room and made note of the famous names carved into the ceiling arches, which included Shakspere (sic – spell check fought me on this one). According to Wikipedia, “(I)n the Romantic and Victorian eras the spelling “Shakspere”, as used in the poet’s own signature, became more widely adopted in the belief that this was the most authentic version.” So why did it get changed after that? Four hundred years from now will historians change the spelling of my name? (This assumes that someday I will be known as the Bard of Blog.)