Alternatetakes2

~ My fouffy blog by Lewis J Whittington

Alternatetakes2

Monthly Archives: November 2008

notes

29 Saturday Nov 2008

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Verizon Hall

Philadelphia Orchestra. Wagner/Beethoven/Brahms program

The program notes that Schoenberg wanted the strings out from under the virtuosity of the piano passages of Brahms’ Piano Quartet No. 1. Result is both captivating and frustrating because you yearn to hear those piano scales with all of their diamond hard clarity. But, this is a musical tryst to remember. Loved the clamorous sonic drapery of the 2nd movement.

MaestroAndrey Boreyko builds the drama with beautiful detailing, not completely evading some sloshy symphonic soup. The Intermezzo is ponderous even for Brahms.
But, what a first rate 4th movement rondo, played with such character style and thrilling tempi. The flute and string roulades that broke into a rowdy Hungarian dance.

gyro 3v.

28 Friday Nov 2008

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In an undisclosed location.
There are also roused diseases like
Ebola shaken
Out from under the tropical canopy
These diseases,
if disturbed enough
Can transmutate to human.
Something that astounded virologists
until they admitted they
were behind the science, again.

C’est la vie
Microbes, microbes
And we all fall down
I’m thinking that I will eat shit.

:Gabbros excavated from
The Pacific Ocean floor
West of Costa Rica
Were formed from
Magma that boiled out from the core
15 million years ago
Now pebbles that
Are extra pieces:

diary entry

28 Friday Nov 2008

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My cable is off, so I’m hearing just the headlines on NPR, but in a lot of ways that is better. Hearing the news from India, it’s hard not to hate those who destroy others in the name of their own politics, beliefs, country or religion. Hard to stay involved with life really, because it is so ugly at times. But we must fight any impulse to be passive and we must stand for peace in the world.

Milk it

27 Thursday Nov 2008

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Deflected invitations for Thanksgiving and wasn’t able to drive to see my mother, so I played holiday hooky- ignored dls, went to Sweat, then to see Sean Penn in Milk. A great part for him and he milks it with everything he has. He’ll get the oscar for this one. Operatic in its intensitity and full of the stations of the gay cross. Absolutely loved it. Beautiful performances from Mr. Penn and James Franco who plays Milk’s his first lover Scott. Kept forgetting that Mr. Franco isn’t the reincarnation of another James. Josh Brolin is hypnotic as Dan White, should snag him an oscar nod.

Not holding the tears back at reliving what GLBT America lost when Harvey Milk was gunned down. Harvey’s speeches still resonate today.

upcoming poss.- C I Mag

26 Wednesday Nov 2008

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CI or Cave-In:
Reference of appearance or behavior that provides evidence that said person has
imploded, whether they acknowledge it or not. (Me out in a blizzard, clutching a box of wine, in desperation for a drink would be an example. Multiple face-lifts would be another.) Might have to use roman a clef to avoid lawsuits.


Speaking of cave-ins- can you believe that gasbag Rush Limbaugh is still emitting megamethane into the atmosphere. What will it take for him to go away.

Bernstein bill and a little Lenny

26 Wednesday Nov 2008

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Carnegie Hall, 11/14

At the Metropolitan Opera’s final performance of Dr. Atomic, if you were seated in the side balcony, it was hard to take your eyes off of conductor Alan Gilbert, he was so connected to every aspect of the performance, commanding in every detail.

Not that he is dancy or lording over the pit and audience, rather, he maintained a steeled exactness delivering John Adam’s seismic score. It was so interesting to see him in front of the New York Philharmonic the following night at Carnegie Hall.

On this occasion Gilbert was hopping around trying to coax expression and control out of his orchestra celebrating the music of Leonard Bernstein. Bernstein would have loved his the brutal wiliness of Dr. Atomic, but perhaps would have been less thrilled with the waywardness of this program.

Bernstein’s score to ‘On the Waterfront’ may have been a rough cut for the composer in Elia Kazan’s classic film, but it is nonetheless a compelling narrative work for the concert hall. It can evoke images and drama from the movie, but can be cut free as well. The Philharmonic is relied on the cinematic narrative progression, was tentative instead of subtle. The jazz structures, are completely dimensionless as played; the city fanfares just loud, when they should be driving. It bloomed more cohesively in the back half. There is even eloquence, as the orchestra thunders during the end passages, you could see a bloodied Brando (if not Bernstein) making his was through the crowd.

The most interesting work on the program is Serenade (after Plato’s Symposium) with violinist Glenn Dicterow. The entrance solo by Dicterow, posing Bernstein’s philosophical questions, is beautifully essayed by Dicterow. From there, the Philharmonic is scrambled in the more ponderous enclaves, all the more jarring because they play some pretty tight passages. Dicterow settles in to an academic performance, that frequently framed muddy orchestral hand-offs.

Perhaps it seemed more glaring with such fresh memory of the thicket of colliding ideas in Dr. Atomic that Gilbert effortlessly controlled the night before. Last month, Loren Maazel conducted the NY Philharmonic in an all Tchaikovsky program in Philadelphia that was erratic in similar ways.

Who doesn’t love Bernstein’s score to ‘West Side Story’ but on this night it came off as completely gratuitous, teetering on being a crashing bore. Soprano Ana Maria Martinez and tenor Paul Groves left any chemistry offstage for their stiff duets in Suite No. 1. Groves was all goofy earnestness singing ‘Maria.’ The singers fared better on ‘One Hand, One Heart’ with moments of gorgeous vocal blending that was marred by their clunky body language. They sang ‘Somewhere’ like an art song, instead of a communal manifesto.

‘Suite No. 2’ had more life thanks to New York Choral Artists. Martinez loosened up for the always treacly in concert ’I Feel Pretty’ helped by three spirited women from the chorus. There is such charming faux swagger by the men for the ‘Jet Song’ but fellas, a little more vocal threat wouldn’t hurt. But what do I know, Gilbert obviously connected, and the audience begged for more, which fortunately kicked the concert into Bernstein cruise control.

Sheryl Staples, concertmaster, cues the orchestra for ’Candide’ with the conductor’s stand vacant, in tribute to Bernstein. Presto, Lenny’s glitter and sarcasm was all in place. The fun remained in spades for ‘Mambo’ the orchestra both bongo cool, the chorus rowdy and the hipsters really airing out Lenny’s best imitation of Basie.

upcoming

26 Wednesday Nov 2008

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the holiday vortex

The Philadelphia diaries

26 Wednesday Nov 2008

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Diving back into articles and other projects to fill out the writing year, but a little concerned that I am written out. Want to finish ‘The Ladies of Newport’ and have done, but cannot settle on that fait a compli otherwise known as the third act.

Talked to Mark Wolverton about his new bio ‘A Life in Twilight’ about J. Robert Oppenheimer’s years in unofficial exile. Getting a crash course on Oppenheimer with Dr. Atomic last week at the Met, reviewing the upcoming PBS documentary ‘Wonders are Many: The Making of Dr. Atomic’ and reading Mr. Wolverton’s book.

LOTD- Nuclear Wagner

Ode to Dorothy Parker

26 Wednesday Nov 2008

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Is that the city sinking?
I heard it sink before
When I walked home from your
Hospital room
unable to face the morgue
Is that my mother crying?
I thought I recognized that song
She whispered it in a lullaby the night her grandmother was gone.
Is a vanquished soul with me tonight
As the rumble becomes clear
Will I live with them in the after night
when the depth remain permanently unclear

Is that my mind approaching
I think I recognize its fate
That piteous fear awakened the consciousness escaped

Is that our bodies
Wrestling to permanently encoil?
(A thought of pristine emotion)
Or the sweaty descent to the boil.

Is that my breast beating
Or my mother’s breast
No, the streets are gone again
Still vanishing in
Your full silhouette.

writers united

25 Tuesday Nov 2008

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Final moments with nea writer’s group. Nov. 18
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All poems by Lewis Whittington unless otherwise noted

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