I also have marveled at James Fallows’ word count, particularly when I’m looking for the inspiration to generate both the quality and the quantity of typing that blogging seems to demand. So tonight I will play the “picture equals” card and cheat by drawing your attention to a video clip:
Yes, yes, silly, ha-ha, but you might be willing to admit that there’s a
little bit of parity in here related to the broader implications of
museum culture in the performing arts–and how audiences stop by to gawk
a bit and wander around and then go home and watch another episode of
“Law & Order.” We come, we look and listen (at least a little), but in the end do
we take away or do we cross off as “accomplished,” in the dental cleaning or “20 years since my last confession” sense?
***
I had the chance to hear the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra play not one
but two Beethoven symphonies last week, with a fantastic violin concerto
by Thomas Adès sandwiched in between. I give Baltimore mad props for an
entire season stuffed with the names and faces of living composers, and
in this case, Adès actually served as conductor for the entire evening’s
program as well. Though it wasn’t a flawless performance, it was
something more–awake. The hall was very full and vocally
appreciative.
Still, it was a gluttony of Beethoven. I confess I was quite distracted
towards the end and I found myself looking around and wondering if I
would catch the wandering eyes of any other similarly stuffed patrons.
(As it turns out, a few rows back Anne Midgette was asking herself the same questions I was, but on
a deeper level than I could muster.) It’s been almost a week, and I
haven’t figured out why we were listening to so much Beethoven yet either. I
wasn’t sure that anyone else in the crowd could have told me, but I was
wrong. I’m not any less uncomfortable now that I have an answer,
however. I mean, if a big name on the marque is what it takes to get ’em in the door, can I at least get a backbeat for
a little something unexpected?
And then this morning I stumbled on Mark Swed’s piece in the L.A.
Times which, to be honest, only takes “dummy consumption” as its
jumping off point. Still, it got me with a line. He writes, “The Atlanta
orchestra takes pride in sending its listeners home happy, having been
given a big sonic hug and assured everything will be all right.”
I don’t always know what I want out of performances when I go
these days, but I don’t arrive looking to be cuddled. If I think it over
now, I want it to push me around a little, just like that professor in
undergrad who never followed the syllabus and gave us extra books to
read at the last minute–and we read them, too, and hung around after class, even though we were already overwhelmed by how much we had to do, just like those cheesy movie plots. Teacher shows delinquent children the path to brilliance and self-actualization!
But then again, the BSO’s performance wasn’t about me or my self-actualization, it was about us in the city of
Baltimore. I got the chance to hear Adès in my new hometown. While complaining about gluttony, perhaps I was the one getting greedy.
Speaking from experience, I would hesitate before programming two Beethoven symphonies. I’m a big fan of diverse concert rep, and my most successful concerts include a variety of music. Was there any stated rationale for the repertoire?
“Sonic hug” may address the type of ending that seems both safest and most logical. Orchestra concerts tend to conclude with some kind of major symphony; maybe that’s what Swed meant.
There was a season-long practice of pairing the works of living composers with Beethoven symphonies, but if you came into the game late and attended just this concert, as I did, you might have missed that.
I don’t mean to imply that the BSO’s strategy here isn’t a good idea–it may even be a great idea! I was just wondering (as in thinking, not judging or condemning) for *myself* why we were listening to a Beethoven double bill and what I could take away from it. And then when I stumbled on that comment from a patron suggesting that “anything an orchestra can do to get feet in the door is a good thing” I started thinking about how no matter what the orchestra intends, many people will simply carry their own reasons and perspectives to the event, ignoring any context the ensemble provides short of what is shouted from the stage (in this case, nothing, which I don’t think was a mistake).
Since I’ve played many of the Beethoven symphonies and had heard Ades’ piece several times before the show, I’m sure that contributed to my own unusual take on the evening. Like I said, I got greedy–after the concerto, I was hyped and wanted another Ades track in the mix, not Beethoven Symphony No. 4. Admittedly, I was probably one of only a handful, so for the BSO, that would not have been a good choice.
Some of the BSO programs have been a little more coherent than the Ades program was – pairing a funny modern work with the 8th, or works with nature imagery with the 6th. Those made for interesting compare-and-contrast exercises, as well as fine performances. John Adams conducted the 7th, which apparently didn’t actually go that well (I wasn’t there) but was at least an interesting idea.
I believe it was Alsop taking the leading role in programming these concerts, FYI.