Cantus – 10/10/09

Cantus, a men’s vocal chamber ensemble, performed at the Discovery Theatre last night. The 700-seat hall was sold out, and an outreach event the previous night at Our Lady of Guadalupe was also extremely well attended and successful. Clearly, Anchorage has a thing for choirs.

Cantus was formed in the early-mid 1990s at St. Olaf College by a group of men who wanted to continue singing in a men’s vocal ensemble after their mandatory time in the Viking Chorus (freshmen men’s chorus) was up. Cantus is unique in several ways. The Minnesota-based group rehearses for five hours a day, five days a week, and members of the group also do all the administration, arranging, rehearsing, and performing required of a world-class touring vocal ensemble.

Last night’s performance was the premier of Cantus’ touring program for the 09-10 season, entitled “Elemental,” and based around themes involving the four elements (earth, wind, water, fire). The concert opened with “There Is a Meetin’ Here Tonight,” which gave the audience a first taste of Cantus’ vocal virtuosity and incredible ensemble singing. This was followed up by Eric Whitacre’s “Lux Aurumque,” which was gorgeous. I love Whitacre. I usually also love the choral works of Zoltan Kodaly, but found my mind wandering during his “Mountain Nights I.” A work on the first half that the audience was buzzing about during intermission was Malcolm Dalglish’s “Little Potato,” that featured Aaron Humble playing a toy piano a la Schroeder and Paul Ruodi singing solo. The song is written from a new father’s perspective about his offspring and is cute, although it seemed a little weird (too cute, maybe?) in concert.

My (and my companion’s) highlight of the first half was a work called “Songs of the Ancient Sea,” by Estonian composer Veljo Tormis, that kept the members of the chorus busy doing everything from imitating wildlife to providing a powerful bass line with a mariners’ chant that sent chills up my spine.

The second half opened with a piece for boomwhacker ensemble by Cantus member Timothy Takach. Boomwhackers are pieces of tubing of differing length that boom when you whack them (Cantus sat in a semi-circle and whacked the boomwhackers against their legs, mainly). This work had no singing, but did include comedy and deft handling of the boomwhackers and was pretty awesome. An audience highlight on the second half was Lerner & Lowe’s “They Call the Wind Maria,” from Paint Your Wagon. A perennial favorite of mine is “Loch Lomond,” which brought tears to my eyes. (And, in a bizarre coincidence, I had been singing Loch Lomond earlier in the day while tromping up an overgrown trail on Turnagain Arm after a fallen branch caused a “you take the high road, I’ll take the low road,” comment.) The Sacred Harp Hallelujah was one of my two favorite pieces on the second half. Deceptively simple music and rhythm and ever so powerful. Cantus’ version of Sweet Honey in the Rock’s “Wanting Memories” was absolutely gorgeous. The words and melody were so well-suited to being sung, and the subject matter tugged at the audience’s collective heartstrings.

The final piece on the program, “Miagete Goran Yoru no Hoshi o,” by Izumi Taku, seemed like a really weird choice to end such a varied and interesting program. It’s a pretty piece, but I expected something more rousing for a finale. Cantus did come out to perform an encore of an African-American spiritual, which left me pretty happy. All in all, it was a delightful evening, and I’m thrilled Cantus finally got to visit Alaska. The folks in Fairbanks are in for a treat tonight.

Sitka Autumn Classics – 9/27/09

The final concert of the Sitka Summer Music Festival Autumn Classics series was this afternoon at Grant Hall. The first half featured Phillip Bush playing Bach’s Partita No. 4 in D Major for Piano Solo and Brahms’ Six Pieces for Piano, Op.118. Admission: I’ve never been the biggest fan of music for solo piano. Even though the range of harmony and counterpoint available on a piano is greater than that on pretty much any other instrument, the timbre and tone of the piano by itself don’t move me as much as, say, strings. Bush did a fabulous job, though. I love the way Bach’s music tends to couple an intellectual workout with moving music, and Brahms really knew how to write for a piano. I enjoyed the Brahms more than I expected to. Most of my five companions also favored the Brahms, but at least one can’t get enough of the Baroque stylings of Johann Sebastian. It was great to have such a varied appreciation of the music among my compatriots.

The second half of the program featured Taneyev’s String Quartet No. 6 in B Flat Major, Op. 19, and was definitely the highlight of the afternoon. Paul Rosenthal, artistic director of the Festival and violinist in the quartet, confessed to this quartet’s being his favorite of the Taneyev works and one of his top three favorite string quartets ever. I wasn’t sold by the first movement, but the second movement was gorgeous, and the development part of the third movement, a gigue, was divine. The four performers seemed to be sharing a brain, which is only natural after such a long lead-up to a project that culminated in today’s performance. The way the instruments played off and with one another’s melodic and supporting lines was seamless and a real joy to behold. I can’t wait for the Winter Classics concerts coming up in February.

Dar Williams – 9/26/09

The songs of Dar Williams were a near-constant soundtrack to my teenage years, yet somehow I drifted away from her work over the past decade. When my friend Erynn suggested we go see her, I was surprised but immediately agreed. I’m so glad I did. By the end of the show I was practically giddy with remembered – and renewed – enthusiasm for this amazing artist.

Emily Kurn, a songwriter billed as being from Southcentral AK, opened tonight’s show. I wasn’t particularly impressed by her. The songs were clever, but not more than that, and her voice and guitar technique were somewhat sparse.

When Dar Williams took the stage (after a too-lengthy break), the power of her voice and depth of her playing were almost breathtaking. Most of the songs Williams played were new to me because of the unintentional break I’ve taken from her oeuvre, but a couple were old favorites. To this former die-hard teenage fan, the best part of seeing Williams live may have been getting to hear her talk about her work and her life between songs.

Of course, the songs were pretty fantastic. Of the two I remembered, “The Babysitter’s Here,” never rated as my very favorite, but “The Christians and the Pagans,” which hadn’t crossed my mind in years, seems to be aging well. Williams’ newer stuff is melodic, contemplative, and personal, and the range and variety of her voice and playing are as unique and beautiful as ever. I think I still want to be her when I grow up.

Esperanza Spalding – 9/25/09

Esperanza Spalding lived up to her hype, which is saying something. “Everyone” is talking about her as being “the next big thing,” “up and coming,” “cool,” etc. She’s played at the White House twice and is about to play for Obama again at the Monk Institute (October 11, I think she said).

Spalding and her band arrived on the Discovery stage about 15 minutes after curtain was supposed to be last night, but once they started playing all my annoyance was forgotten. The band, including keyboards, drums, guitar, and Spalding on bass and vocals, gelled really well, although weren’t quite as telepathic as groups that have been playing together forever. This didn’t detract from the performance at all. As much as my absolute favorite musical experiences involve watching and listening to the ease of masters who have dedicated their lives to their various art forms, hearing really talented newcomers is definitely refreshing.

I don’t actually know what songs she played other than “Wild is the Wind,” which was a nod to Nina Simone’s version of the song (which I absolutely love). Spalding’s interpretation of this song was light on lyrics and heavy on improvisation, which she does brilliantly. Both vocally and on her bass, her improv is unique, interesting, and melodic enough that a listener doesn’t lose sight of the song being performed.

Spalding has the ability to connect with an audience that makes performances great, and I thoroughly enjoyed the show last night. (Except for one jarring moment in the second half when the keyboardist turned from the piano to some kind of electric thing and proceeded to make lots of noise.) She has clearly immersed herself in the jazz canon and taken the best of what history has to offer while making her own music. This is particularly cool because she’s not striving to be different at the expense of listenability, she just seems to have the talent and work ethic to understand what those in the jazz world might want to hear right now.

Sitka Summer Music Festival Autumn Classics – 9/18/09

I’ve always enjoyed chamber music – playing more than listening, but these days, I’ll take anything I can get. The musicians of the Sitka Summer Music Festival are extremely talented, and gave a performance tonight that, while not exceeding my high expectations, was all I could have hoped for.

APU’s Grant Hall is an intimate setting for chamber music, although the accommodations leave something to be desired (particularly when it comes to backstage areas). The small size of the hall makes chamber music seem more vibrant than chamber music performed in cavernous concert halls, and was perfect for tonight’s renditions of Saint-Saens’ Piano Trio No. 1 in F Major, Op. 18, and Taneyev’s String Quartet No. 4 in A Minor, Op. 11.

Phillip Bush (piano), Armen Ksajikian (cello), and Paul Rosenthal (violin) did a nice job with the Saint-Saens. I can’t decide whether I like the piece as a whole or not, but I really like the second movement – the theme was rhythmically and melodically unique, which is always a pleasant surprise.

The Taneyev, in which Ksajikian and Rosenthal were joined by Agnes Gottschewiski (violin) and Roland Kato (viola), was an instant hit. The first movement dragged the listener in and didn’t let go. I tuned out a bit during the third movement, but once I started paying attention again in the fourth movement it was clear that thematic material was being interwoven throughout the entire piece in new and exciting ways. All four of the instruments seemed to be playing almost constantly, which made for more sound and activity than one often associates with chamber music. I really enjoyed this, and felt it marked Taneyev as one who really knew the capabilities of string instruments, both individually and as a group.

I can only make it to two more of the six total concerts in this Autumn Classics series, but each of the six features one of Taneyev’s six string quartets and would be well worth attending if only to be introduced to a composer who might become a new favorite.

Lion King – 9/4/09

It seemed incongruous heading to the ACPA on a gloriously sunny day, particularly after the amazing summer we’ve been enjoying here in Southcentral Alaska. Nevertheless, the performance season is in full swing again, with the long-awaited (by some), six-week run of Disney’s The Lion King. While most Anchorage residents are a) sick of and b) amused by the excessive advertising for The Lion King (limited engagement? really?), tickets are reported to be selling at a brisk rate.

I was lucky enough to get second-row mezzanine tickets for last night’s “opening night” performance. (The first three performances, one on Wednesday and two on Thursday, were technically “preview” shows and, as such, cost $2.50 less per ticket than other standard night shows.) I saw the show on Broadway when I was at school in New York, and remember enjoying it, but it’s been long enough since then that I was prepared to see it again with fresh eyes. (Also, the Atwood is much larger than any Broadway theater I’ve been in, which brings a different perspective even to familiar shows.)

Sometime last spring, the folks who brought Lion King to Anchorage (West Coast Entertainment and Walt Disney Theatrical Productions) had a gala preview sort of event, where news crews and various locals were invited to a special presentation about the Anchorage run of The Lion King. We were treated to a brief documentary about the costumes (much was made of Julie Taymor, who along with Michael Curry designed the costumes), a couple of songs from the stars of the touring cast, and, best of all, free wine in the middle of the day.

After that preview event, hype abounded around town about how the ACPA’s Atwood Concert Hall had to undergo minor renovations to accommodate this show. The word on the street was that the elephant costume wouldn’t fit through one of the entrances into the house, which was bad considering the show opens with an animal procession up the house aisles. A couple of weeks ago, the windows of the ACPA were emblazoned with Lion King logos. Then the trucks arrived, also sporting the logos, and have been parked at the loading dock on G Street since.

My point with all of this is that we denizens of Anchorage are clearly expected to think this run of The Lion King is a Big Deal. And it kind of is, if only due to the fact that most of the Broadway touring shows that come through here stay for an eight-curtain run, 13 at best.

If the first number of the Lion King is anything to go by, then the show is absolutely a Big Deal. The opening scene involves, as I mentioned, elaborate and elegantly designed animal costumes, a procession up both aisles on the orchestra level of the theater, and what seems to be the entire cast all coming together in a visually and aurally stunning rendition of the famous “Circle of Life” song. There was one other number that really moved me, and that was “Shadowlands.” This scene happens towards the beginning of the second act when the adult Nala, Rafiki, and the lionesses gather to send Nala off on her quest to save the totally decimated Pridelands (because, as everyone knows, these sorts of difficult tasks always fall to women). The actress playing the adult Nala (Marja Harmon) was a real standout, and the actress playing Rafiki (Phindile Mkhize) was also impressive.

Many other scenes in the show seemed incongruous compared to the gravitas conveyed by the two I just mentioned. Even Mufasa’s death at the end of the stampede scene didn’t move me as much as I expected. Timon and Pumbaa, the meerkat and warthog that were so amusing in the movie, provide comic relief that seems unnecessary in the stripped-down stage version. (Of course, there is a possibility that I think this because I am now an adult and was not when I first saw the movie.)

The stage version of the show does a good job of emphasizing themes of responsibility, power, and betrayal that would be more at home in ancient epics than in a feature-length cartoon, but the pacing leaves much to be desired. (My companion seemed to be napping during a good chunk of the second act.) The songs that were written for the stage show aren’t as catchy as those everyone knows from the movie, and the dialogue-only scenes seemed to drag on forever.

The real genius of this show is in the costumes and staging. Whole worlds are created with a very minimalist set, some of it provided by actors in costumes evocative of grasslands or similar environmental features. I also have to wonder if the show would hold together as well as it does without the original Disney cartoon being such a major cultural touchstone.

Blind Boys of Alabama – 6/10/09

The Blind Boys of Alabama shuffled onstage at the Wendy Williamson tonight, the four blind members of the band guided by the three sighted members. I got to the show early and, as a result, ended up in the fourth row, which meant I was about eye level with the performers, but which also meant I had to suffer through the commentary of the man next to me for an extra 20 minutes. As soon as the first wave of sound hit the audience I forgot about the man next to me, because I was in tears.

I cried through the first three numbers, which were more spiritual-style gospel songs (although one of them might have been “Down By the Riverside,” which was on their New Orleans album). I was practically sobbing during the fourth (“Spirit in the Sky”), which I put down to my being a WASP and having very few alternatives for emotional expression. After this, the Blind Boys took the show uptempo for a few numbers, which helped me calm down.

Even though the Blind Boys are (and identify themselves as) a Gospel band, they are comfortable in many different styles. Their songs were infused with the blues, New Orleans and straight-ahead jazz, spirituals (aka folk hymnody), and funk, among other genres. Of the Boys who are actually blind, three are singers: Jimmy Carter, Bishop Billy Bowers, and Ben Moore; and one, Eric (Ricky) McKinney, is the drummer (who also sings). The other band members included Tracy Pierce on bass, Joey Williams on guitar (who also exhibited a pure tenor voice), and an excellent keyboard player who also may have been blind and whose name I didn’t get. I love it when keyboard players make me think that the piano is really better utilized in jazz than in the many interminable and boring concertos the classical world has to offer. This keyboard player definitely made me think so.

The instrumentalists were fantastic, and the singers were excellent and charismatic, each filling a specific role. There is a quality about musicians who devote their lives to practicing their art that I really appreciate, and it just grows as the musicians’ lives lengthen. I don’t know how to describe it, exactly, but the Blind Boys (young and old) had this in spades.

When I wasn’t crying or totally entranced by the music, I was thinking a lot about how heavily I rely on visual cues when playing with a group, be it a string quartet, jazz band, or even symphony orchestra. To play music this well and be so completely in tune (I mean this on a spiritual as well as harmonic basis) while only relying on your ears and sense of touch (which also includes feeling the vibrations that come from music and movement) is phenomenal to me.

Carter as emcee was fun (other than his incessant plugs for their CDs – which were actually funny, as he meant them to be). The man could have been literally jumping up and down and screaming (also, I think the man can circular breathe considering how long he held some notes) three seconds earlier, and then the song would end and he would suddenly look very much the venerable elder, folding his hands in front of him and saying, “well…,” in a measured way.

The show reached its apex during a number that started out as a more traditional jazz-style number, with each instrumentalist getting an improvisational solo, and wound up into a super-charged version of “Free at Last.” Of course I cried, but I was also clapping and screaming – perhaps even hollering. (I don’t even CLAP gratuitously, as a rule.) This song moved straight into what the chatty man next to me proudly identified as “House of the Rising Sun” from the opening bars. The Blind Boys had a few tricks up their sleeves, though, and set the lyrics of “Amazing Grace” to the tune. Most of the audience seemed to be die-hard fans, so they would have known what to expect. To me, the intersection of these two great songs was brilliant.

The final number probably had lyrics, but I’m not sure what they were, because this was the kind of endless (and, possibly for the first time ever, I mean that in a good way), energetic, religious romp that I imagine to take place at Pentecostal churches in the Deep South. The audience members were on their feet. Bowers and Moore were jumping up out of their chairs so often that Williams had to keep re-positioning them. Eventually I realized it was part of the show, because as soon as Williams had seated one, the other would pop up a la Whack-a-Mole. It was great. Then Williams took Carter down for a stroll on the floor, in front of the audience. I had an excellent vantage point. When the song finally wound down, the audience was in a state of complete uproar. McKinney even passed out a drumstick to each of two women in the front row on his way offstage.

Of course there was an encore. Also, I’m sure Carter would like me to convey how powerfully he believes that God is in control even in these dark times, and that there IS a place where there is no suffering. As of right now, I have not changed denominations, but I was INCREDIBLY moved by this music and these performers. The show was way more than worth the time spent indoors on a warm, beautiful June evening.

ASO’s “Showmanship” – 4/11/09

The Anchorage Symphony had a banner night tonight.  Guest conductor Robert Moody made a great impression as he bounded onstage in a three-piece suit complete with frock coat (okay, it wasn’t a full Prince Albert frock coat, but it was a long tuxedo jacket with a definite waist and lots of movement).  The coat, Moody, and the orchestra were all shown off to great effect in the opening number, Arturo Marquez’ Danzon No. 2. Marquez, as Moody told us during a scene-change break, is a living Mexican composer who was inspired by Cuban dance music to write this symphonic work.  The ASO sounded a little tentative at first, but by the end of this energetic yet sultry dance tune, the musicians were into it – a few audience members even stood up to applaud.

Moody’s conducting was arresting.  I’ve never seen a conductor who uses so much of his body in such stylized and occasionally unorthodox ways – he really looked like he was dancing, and yet he was so focused on his work that it added to the overall performance.

The second number on the program, Handel’s Suite No. 2 in D Major from Water Music, was totally out of place.  The greatly-reduced orchestra looked forlorn sitting amongst abandoned chairs and music stands, and no one seemed quite able to muster the considerable psychic energy it takes to move from Cuba to the Baroque.  Moody explained that all three composers on the first half had taken inspiration from cultures not their own, but that’s a thin argument when it’s applied to Handel and England.  While everyone played well enough, the music just didn’t fill the stage or move the audience.

The third piece, Hindemith’s Symphonic Metamorphosis of Themes by Carl Maria von Weber, was absolutely my favorite.  This was actually a little hard to bear – realizing I like Hindemith more than I like Handel reminds me of realizing I liked Dickens more than Shakespeare when I was 15.  I feel like I’m betraying an originator of the genre.  Nevertheless, the Hindemith was phenomenal.  The orchestra was totally together (obviously well-rehearsed), the strings were passionate, the winds and brass were in-tune and on-time.  Karl Pasch did a great job with some tricky clarinet solos, the brass sounded particularly good in the jazz-inspired licks in the second movement, and Roxann Berry performed a jaw-dropping rendition of the infamously difficult flute solo in the third movement.  The exceptional playing of these and the other members of the orchestra, coupled with the jubilant antics of Moody, made my evening.

The second half featured Juliana Osinchuk, local (since 1992, anyway) piano virtuoso, playing Tschaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor.  The piece was extremely well-received by the audience, which clapped long and loud after the first movement (and no one seemed to mind!) and stood en masse at the end.  I’m actually not the biggest fan of this concerto – it feels like Tschaikovsky just threw together as much sound as possible into the form of a showpiece, at least in the (endless) first movement.  Osinchuk’s percussive, passionate style of playing is well-suited for such a piece, although she seemed to hit a lot of wrong notes, particularly in the first movement.  A pianist friend of mine once explained this phenomenon by saying “well, we have more notes to play than you [string players] do.”  Hmm.

The second movement is my personal highlight, as it showcases some of Tschaikovksy’s melodic genius and allows the soloist to make the music her own.  There were several occasions of a slight lack of coordination between soloist and orchestra that became more pronounced as the piece wore on.  All in all, Osinchuk’s performance was good.  It amazes me that a person can play such a physically demanding piece from memory while making it look natural.

The encore was a pleasant surprise. Osinchuk told the audience it would be brief, talked about her pride in the state of Alaska, dedicated the piece to the memory of Bill Tobin (newpaperman, Alaskan, and symphony supporter) who died last week, and proceeded to play an original set of variations on “Alaska’s Flag.”  The variations were clearly written by someone who knows a piano intimately, and the audience loved them.

Hamell on Trial – 4/3/09

For those of you who don’t know Hamell on Trial, you’re missing out on an amazing artist.  Ed Hamell’s one-man, acoustic punk band, is not for the faint of heart, but oh, what a show.  When I heard Hamell was back in Alaska, I planned on going to see him at the Snowgoose on Saturday.  When some friends offered me a ride to his show at Vagabond Blues in Palmer on Friday, I thought it sounded like fun so took them up on their kind offer.

A singer-songwriter named Anais Mitchell opened the show.  I’d never heard of her, but I really enjoyed her performance.   My favorite piece of hers was a song based on the British Isles song tradition – a simple, sad story with certain repetitious phrases and a beautiful melody.  I was blinking a lot by the end of that one, trying not to cry.

Mitchell is also working on a kind of modern oratorio based on the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, called Hadestown, and she played a couple of songs from that.  I didn’t pick up on the O & E story from three songs, but I really liked the songs – particularly one about building a wall to keep a people safe (when in reality the wall was being built to keep a people down).  The songs showed a wide range of influences and compositional styles.  The album, including Ani DiFranco as Persephone and other guest artists, should be out sometime this year and I’ll definitely keep my eye out for it.

This was the fourth time I’d seen Hamell, and was probably my favorite show overall.  I’ll never top the “Hamell moment,” that takes place a few minutes into the first time you see Hamell, when your jaw just drops with the realization of what this man can do and what you’re in for, but this show was just different enough from the others to be superior.  The last time I saw Hamell he was in the Sydney Laurence (smallest theater at the ACPA) and the venue was all wrong.  This time, between Vagabond Blues (it was still light out, and the place is located in old Downtown Palmer across the street from “Just Sew” and other delightful emporiums) and the fact that the artist seemed to be going through some personal turmoil, was unique.

Artist in turmoil, as Anne Marie pointed out, are often more moving and better at what they do than when they’re particularly happy.  Given the state of some of Western culture’s most beloved writers when they wrote their masterpieces, I think she’s right.

Hamell’s music is not for everyone.  His song about shooting Pat Robertson (with a very pretty chorus of “his brains on the cross behind him”) still makes me cringe.  I LOVE Hamell’s drug-inspired songs – he tells a story about smoking kitty litter because of the possibility that it might have been a crack rock (this is at 4 a.m. after a three-day bender) that always cracks me up because it’s so very real.

Hamell played his “You Tube sensation” (I had no idea it was such) “inquiring minds,” about lying to your kids about your youthful indiscretions, which is always a crowd pleaser.  He played “Don’t Kill,” which is always appropriate no matter what’s going on in the world.  He also played “Halfway,” which has an audience participation portion where everyone in the room gets to yell “fuck it!” and the top of his or her lungs.  As Hamell says, how often does one get to do that in a room of like-minded people?

Hamell does really cool spoken-word riffs, often times poetic, often times more straight-up storytelling, much of which I’ve heard before.  He tried out a new poem on us, reading from a comp book, which was kind of cool.  Hamell was at the top of his game, including the obligatory face solo, and when we walked out into the cool (but not freezing) Valley night that smelled like spring, I was energized yet pacified.  Good times.

Jake Shimabukuro – 3/29/09

After all the Artsnob hype, I did manage to see Jake Shimabukuro rock his ukelele in the Atwood on a Sunday afternoon a while back.  Jake was good, but I don’t get the cult-leader/rock-god status certain circles award him.  Most of the tunes on the first half were original compositions, and I liked one in particular that was based on a Japanese folk tune originally played on the koto.  He also did a Beatles cover (he seems to do a lot of these) and more original pieces (opening with a flamenco-inspired number that went on too long).  The sound was WAY too loud where I was sitting, on the orchestra floor, and I actually left at intermission becuase I wasn’t feeling well.  Perhaps being sick lessened my enjoyment of the evening, but really, the guy plays the ukelele and his between-songs banter with the audience isn’t compelling.  In fairness,  I have to say I that when I mentioned these opinions to some of my coworkers they looked at me blankly, that “Jake is awesome” glaze over their eyes, and said, “well, YOU liked Lynn Harrell.”  Of COURSE I liked the Lynn Harrell concert we had here in December.  The man is a musical genius!  A practiced craftsman with decades of experience under his belt!  Not some young upstart with a two-octave range!