The Intersection of Music, Life and Death

Sometimes we think of music as an art form that remains aloof from the dust and grime of everyday life--almost as a refuge from reality rather than a means of illustrating it. Yet music can join the fray of controversy just as surely as the visual arts and literature. This month Opera Theatre of St. Louis proves that assertion with its staging of John Adams' 1991 opera, The Death of Klinghoffer.

Adams has already brought recent history to the opera stage through such works as Nixon in China and Dr. Atomic (chronicling the work of Robert Oppenheimer, one of the chief researchers in the quest for nuclear fission). However, no other work of his seems to have struck such a raw nerve as Klinghoffer. The opera is based on the murder of Leon Klinghoffer, an elderly disabled American Jew, by Palestinian terrorists in 1985, when they seized the cruise ship Achille Lauro as Klinghoffer and his wife were enjoying a cruise to celebrate their 36th wedding anniversary.

How can a frank portrayal of the grim facts of terrorism be considered controversial? Perhaps the answer lies in the fact that in our twisted modern world we have lost sight of who is a victim and who is an aggressor. Have you noticed how the word "terrorist" has pretty much disappeared from journalistic vocabulary? We are no longer allowed to label evil as evil. Rather, we use such terms as "militants", or even "independence" or "freedom" fighters--or perhaps "insurgents"--as though words can alter the stark reality of what terrorists do.

Even those who feel sympathy for the Palestinian cause--and, by extension, believe that Hamas and Hezbollah can be trusted as viable "peace" partners--surely realize that violence cannot ultimately win over hearts and minds. Today, sadly, terrorism runs rampant in the world, yet we are loath to recognize it for what it is: a crime against humanity and human values. The recent murders of five members of the Fogel family in Israel, in which a three month infant was brutally stabbed to death by terrorist monsters, or the death of a 16-year old student on a school bus, or the almost daily bombings in Pakistan--all are constant reminders of the battles we must wage on behalf of good and evil.

Adams' music is visceral and pounding. Listeners need no further proof of the power of music to move us and express the entire gamut of human emotions. The minimalist repetition of musical phrases, far from driving the listener to numbness, instead forces the audience to continually confront the action onstage. The libretto to The Death of Klinghoffer was penned by Alice Goodman, herself born Jewish, but who has since converted to Christianity and been ordained an Anglican priest. The family of Klinghoffer was at first furious with what they felt was moral equivalency expressed in the opera. In response, Adams and Goodman revised certain portions of the work. One thing must be remembered though: through the writing of this opera, and its presentation, the memory of Klinghoffer, and all victims of injustice, is kept alive. In an era in which sometimes we fail to remember even the victims of 9-11, the miracle of music ensures that we will not forget. And perhaps remembrance is the first step to healing and the creation of a different world.

The Death of Klinghoffer opens on June 15, 2011, at the Loretto-Hilton theatre, the home of Opera Theatre of Saint Louis.

Teaching by Example

One of the maxims from Aesop's fables tells us that example is the best teacher. There is also the rather cynical dictum: "Those who can, do; those who can't, teach." Last fall I had the opportunity to attend a performance of the Webster University Symphony Orchestra, directed by Paul Davis. Afterwards I reflected that this fine ensemble is a vehicle for both doing and teaching.

Although the WUSO was established as an opportunity for student players at Webster University, a sizable percentage of the orchestra's personnel is composed of professionals, some of whom are members of the St. Louis Symphony. To observe and work with seasoned professionals offers an unmatched opportunity for students to learn precisely what it truly means to be a musician. Such learning does not take place in a lecture hall; it occurs during personal conversations before and after rehearsals, or at sectional rehearsals, or in the efforts to match the accomplishments of more experienced performers.

The audiences likewise learn, by hearing professionals and amateurs alike. It is one thing to study the life of a great composer in a book, but it is quite another to actually hear the musical thoughts that streamed from the composer's mind. Those who peruse the program notes are able not only to hear the music, but also learn about the historical, cultural and geographic context in which it was written.

The soloist in the concert I heard was pianist Daniel Schene, performing Chopin's Concerto No. 2 in F Minor, programmed in commemoration of the bicentennial of Chopin's birth in 1810. As artist in residence at Webster University, Schene maintains a busy teaching and performing schedule. By virtue of wearing both hats, he not only instructs students about Chopin, but is able to demonstrate Chopin's music.

Some purists actually decry teaching by example, claiming that it discourages personal creativity in artistic fields and leads to robotic imitation. Thankfully, we don't have similar qualms when it comes to teaching medicine or mathematics. Who would want to be treated by a physician who had never observed medical procedures, or be waited upon by a store clerk who had developed a "creative" approach to computations? For musicians, hearing a demonstration of execution and interpretation provides an aural example of what they should aspire to, and may actually inspire rather than limit personal creativity.

The Webster Symphony is, fortunately, one of many outstanding ensembles sponsored by academic institutions. At a time when standards in American education have been dangerously reduced, they are raising the bar by presenting a polished end-product. This is an example that shows education designed to train doers, not bureaucrats or methodologists.

Of Music and History

On the weekend of November 19-20, 2010, the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra presented the epic cantata Alexander Nevsky, by Sergei Prokofiev. Originally conceived as a film score to accompany the great director Sergei Eisenstein's 1938 movie of the same title, the music and the story it tells were designed to inspire and encourage the already war-weary Russian people as their greatest threat, World War II, loomed ahead, in which 22,000,000 Russians would lose their lives. Alexander Nevsky was the 13th century prince, warrior and, eventually, saint who guided Russia in its struggle against invading Swedes and Germans, sanctioned by the papacy. The Russian victory at that time demonstrated that victory is possible even in the direst of circumstances.

It is difficult to imagine an emotion not conveyed in Prokofiev's music: fear, bravery, grief, the rush of battle, the thirst for freedom, the stirrings of love, the thrill of victory, and, ultimately, happiness--all are present. SLSO Music Director led the orchestra and chorus through the visceral and fiery passages heavy with the thunder and fireworks of percussion, brass, bells, massed strings and woodwinds. With such a feast for the ears and eyes, the visual imagery of the the film, magnificent as it is, seemed almost unnecessary. Russian mezzo soprano Elena Manistina, marking her debut with the SLSO, added yet another layer of sensuality with her earthy and heartfelt outpouring of emotion for the fallen.

Who wouldn't want to experience a concert as magnificent as this? And yet the hall was far from filled. Could it be our present economic situation? (Symphony concerts don't come cheap.) Or have we been dumbed down to the point where we remain unmoved by poetry, history and musical skill?

How many students today know something of the events of the 13th century--or of any century other than the present one and the closing years of the 20th? It was only last year that a Ph.D. "educator", acting in an official position for the state of North Carolina, recommended that American history in public high schools in the state focus only on events from 1877 to the present. Yet the people of Russia reach as far back as the 1200's and earlier to study the exploits of their people and heroes.

Our school officials constantly tell us that they could deliver a quality education if we would only give them more money. Yet just recently we learned that the public schools of Newark, New Jersey, to cite but one example, are already spending in excess of $23,000.00 per student per year. (See my earlier post on this matter.)

There are still a lot of excellent teachers and schools in the US, but we must be ever-vigilant about what is being taught, what is not taught, and how it is delivered. Should we be demanding more? At this point, we simply cannot rely on "experts" to guide us.

Thanks,
Gary

What Do Superintendents Do?

Nearly all public school systems in the US employ an uber-administrator usually known as the "superintendent", occasionally known as the "chancellor". These jobs are generally demanding, but offer excellent benefits and perks, sometimes including automobiles, expense accounts and early retirement packages that often outdo the actual salaries. Compensation is almost always at least $100,000.00 in a district of any size, and sometimes rises as high as $250,000.00 or even higher. That's nothing compared with what CEO's of sizable companies earn, but still not bad. The superintendent normally works in a separate office not connected with a school building, and usually is attended by a large staff of underlings, which would include secretaries, social workers, tiers of assistant administrators, service workers, grant writers, and, in the district where I live, a PR person. The assistant administrators usually likewise earn a six-figure salary. Meanwhile, each individual school, particularly high schools, will be staffed with its own small army of head principal, assistant principals (up to eight in some large schools), social workers, counselors, etc. If would behoove each of us to find out just how many non-teaching personnel are employed in the school districts in which we live. Sometimes you have to make repeated phone calls and dig for the information. The number of individuals thus employed, and their salaries, might amaze you.

And yet, with this vast army of administrative persons on duty throughout our nation, why do test scores keep falling? Why are the superintendents unable to effect the improvements necessary? If these administrators were able to produce the results, they would be worth their present salaries and much more, but by now we have all borne witness to the decline in literacy and general knowledge all about us.

It is easy to point fingers; teachers blame parents and administrators, parents blame the high taxes that force both parents to work too hard to have sufficient time for their children, administrators blame teachers and parents, and politicians add spice to the mix. Meanwhile, we all have to deal with the problems caused by illiteracy. Is it possible we have too many chiefs trying to running our schools and knocking into each other as they do so?

Generally a superintendent is hired by a school board, who review his or her background and philosophy. Superintendents are generally expected to implement a new set of policies and methodologies--which, after all, is what leaders normally do. The trend across the country increasingly seems to be that superintendents do not hold their positions very long. They are an itinerant group for the most part. Their contracts are often terminated early by disgruntled school boards, but usually a lucrative golden parachute is awarded, and the dismissed superintendent is free to seek a new job somewhere else.

So why aren't our schools doing better? And what can we do to produce real improvement?

Thanks,
Gary

Education at What Price?

Recently Mark Zuckerberg, the founder of the internet social networking site FaceBook, announced that he would be making a donation of $100,000,000.00 to the public school system of Newark, New Jersey. According to figures obtained from the groups School Watch and Excellent Education for Everyone, the Newark public schools spent an unbelievable $23,141.00 per student in the academic year 2007-08. In spite of that expenditure, student achievement remained abysmally low. Students who were unable to meet eighth grade standards were still allowed to receive diplomas through a flawed and controversial "Special Review Assessment" process. Mr. Zuckerberg evidently feels that throwing yet more money to the Newark public schools will somehow succeed where previous efforts have failed.

Many questions immediately come to mind: How will the hundred million dollars be spent? Will it hire more administrators, more consultants, more administrative assistants? Will it be spent on meaningless programs that obfuscate the real issues and mask failure? How will the effectiveness of such a large donation be assessed? In short, we need to know just how this money will impact students.

Today vast segments of our population (and not solely the young) struggle with illiteracy, have limited awareness of geography, are unable to perform simple mathematical computations, have little or no awareness of foreign languages other than what they grew up speaking, and, sadly, repeat the mistakes of history, having not learned its lessons. It was just a short time ago that a Ph.D. educational supervisor in North Carolina advocated sweeping changes in the teaching of American history at the high school level that would omit systematic study of events prior to 1877. What can we do to change this?

Yes, we still have many fine schools, but we must guard them carefully and keep a careful watch on them to make sure they are not targeted by "reforms" that would eviscerate the education they offer. We should also study not only what makes a good school, but, more importantly, what makes a good teacher. More on that soon!

What do you think?

Thanks,
Gary

Satori in the Heartland

The Zen master D. T. Suzuki once wrote: "In Zen there is nothing to explain by means of words....Do not remain silent; nor be discursive." Performance artist Tom Brady, in his new work Emozioni Ricordati (Recalled Emotions), presented by ANNONYarts, has constructed a collage of forms without form that evoke primeval memories and glimpses of what we once were, are and are becoming.

Brady's three-movement work spreads itself--and him--throughout the aptly-named studio and performance space he has created in St. Louis' Grand Center Arts District, Satori: An Artist's Space. He utilizes basic shapes common to our three-dimensional reality--an oblong box, ascending stairs, pegs on a wall--as a backdrop for his lithe movements that jab at our neglected awareness of ourselves and our environment and remind us that we are physical beings mired in physicality, yet blessed with a spirit that embodies seeking, yearning, exploration and evolution. As we pause to reflect, the flash of insight is akin, perhaps, to the renewed and clarified vision we experience when we achieve satori, the initial step to enlightenment.

As a performance artist, Brady's creativity in this one-man show embraces movement, sound, poetry, structure and visual effect. Like opera, performance art is comprehensive, and involves all art forms. Brady created the atonal music that creates a wall of sonority that frames each movement of his work, assisted by percussionist Rich O'Donnell in the first work. The music is flowing, organic and electronically fortified, yet rhythmic, and seems to ooze like seeping water into the performance space. The costumes run from a close-fitting amphibious body-suit to a red-turbaned gymnast to a white-plumed creature flirting with flight. Mark Raeber's lighting is sparse and sufficient throughout.

The opening section of Emozioni Ricordati is entitled "Man in the Box", and begins with Brady emerging from a coffin-like oblong box, replete with a dark spirit underneath played by assistant Laura Murphy, who performs double duty as stage manager. Like a nascent life form rising out of primordial substance, Brady's nebulous spirit begins to explore its environment and take account of itself, ultimately re-alighting on the box from which it came. In the second segment, "Crescent", Brady winds his body about a black staircase, ascending to wherever the viewer's imagination would see it go, accompanied by Brady's narration constituting a reflection on the meaning of being present and being not-present, perhaps somewhat like a meditation on the impact of our beings on ourselves and others. In the concluding movement, "Sore/Soar", a nameless anthropomorphic creature, swaddled in stoles made of white plastic ties, strives to free itself from the earth.

In the discussion which followed the performance, Brady was asked if there was a unifying theme to the three movements of the total work. Brady, in true Zen spirit, did not dictate what the theme or themes might be, but felt that a theme could emerge after considering the work in its entirety. Although it is probably best to allow each viewer to make up his or her own mind, some of the words and descriptors that come to mind would include "evolution", "exploration", "effort", "reflection", "desire"--just to name a few.

A review of a work such as this should not focus on whether the performance was "good" or "bad". Rather, it should ask the question, "Did the performance make the viewer think?" I would say the answer is a definite yes. The meaning that we draw from this work is personal to each of us, and should not be dictated. Perhaps the best compliment we can pay to Tom Brady is that he allows his audience to become co-creators as they discover his work and develop their own meanings.

For more information about Annonyarts and its consortium of artists, call 314-652-3003, or visit their website at www.satori3003.net.

Russians in the Heartland

Recently the St. Louis Symphony kicked off its 2010-2011 season with an all-Russian program, marking the inauguration of its season-long Russian Festival. The selections consisted of the rarely-heard Symphony No. 1 in G minor by Vasily Kalinnikov (1894-95), the Lieutenant Kije Symphonic Suite by Sergei Prokofiev (1934) and the Violin Concerto of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1878), with Joshua Bell as soloist. Music Director David Robertson conducted.

This concert was not only a pleasure to the ears, but was educational as well. Although I had studied a bit of the Russian language in school (amazingly, it's not nearly as difficult as you might think), had read several novels and stories by Russian authors, and had waded through a bit of Russian history, hearing so much Russian music all at once made me stop and reflect on what this people has endured across the centuries. Invasions, repressive monarchical regimes, disease, revolution, excesses of the communist era--all are part of what this people has borne. How many people realize that the Russian death toll in World War II was as high as 22,000,000? Yet through it all their musicians have performed brilliantly, and their composers have produced beautiful music that breathes melody in and out, right to the present day.

Perhaps what struck me most of all as I listened was the sheer melodic quality of the music. Every piece we heard, although rhythmic and often gymnastic, still sported singable, haunting melodies that we all carried home resonating in our ears.

Even now I find myself recalling the opening themes of the symphony by Kalinnikov. His short life of less than thirty-five years (1866-1901) was a constant struggle with poverty and poor health, but his music is heroic, ebullient and free. His work is a reminder that greatness can overcome all obstacles.

The suite from Lieutenant Kije, based upon a comic movie about soldiers creating an imaginary officer, reminds us that people everywhere have faced the challenges of bureaucracy, boredom and feelings of powerlessness. Prokofiev's imaginative and sparkling score, however, transforms the mundane world into something much more magical.

The Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto needs no introduction to aficionadoes. It is filled with dizzying leaps and bounds, peaks as high as Everest, careening slides on the violin strings--but also with introspection and pathos. Joshua Bell is a supreme virtuoso. We often speak of a musical instrument working almost as an extension of a master performer's body, but Bell took this image to a new height; it was virtually impossible to tell where his arms and hands stopped and the wood and strings of the violin began. Watching a great musician is like watching the greatest of athletes.

The physical location of Russia is thousands of miles from the American Midwest. Yet on this September night Russia seemed to have opened its heart and soul in St. Louis.

Thanks for reading.
Gary