The Banal Chew

Sweet Suomi

I am a little obsessed with Finlandia by Sibelius right now. Maybe it's in my Nordic blood. According to some saliva that I spat in a tube, I'm nearly 20% Scandinavian. 

The live performance below, by the Helsinki Philharmonic and Sibelius Academy Choir with Jukka-Pekka Saraste at the podium, is nearly perfect. Sibelius originally wrote the piece for orchestra in 1899, conceptualising a musical narrative of Finland's history and natural beauty. It has since been arranged for many ensembles. Reportedly, the composer wasn't always happy about that, but he did sanction the arrangement for choir and orchestra featured below. 

I am currently arranging the Hymn from the work for woodwind quartet (2 flutes, 2 clarinets). The composer probably wouldn't approve. Sorry, Sibelius. 

 

 

I have had singing

Like many, I grew up listening to the vinyl albums in my parents' record collection. My father was a pretty decent baritone and had a solid collection of albums by prominent singers of his time, eg, Perry Como, Andy Williams and Johnny Mathis. In my bedroom, I secretly played these albums and sang along...when no one was around, that is, for I was told by certain family members that I couldn't sing and should stick to the clarinet.

When my high-school choir director discovered my voice at a musical theatre audition during my sophomore year, she grabbed me by the ear, dragged me to the corner of the gymnasium and hissed sternly, but affectionately, "If you don't sign up for choir next year, I'm going to pull this ear off."

I do as I'm told, and the next year I signed up for choir. Soon, I was singing in nearly every ensemble possible, from choir to pop group. I began taking private voice lessons, and singing rapidly found its place, along with clarinet and theatre, on my shelf of favourite activities.  

My poor parents just shook their heads as they saw me dive right into yet another artistic endeavour that would cost them a good penny to support. I look back in admiration and with intense love for that support, unwavering and nonjudgemental. 

"Jenny", by Johnny Mathis (words and music by Paul Vance and Jack Segal) was the first song I ever sang as a solo at a school assembly during my junior year. When my choir director asked what I wanted to sing and I presented this song, she didn't bat an eyelid. Yes, it was exceptionally anachronistic, and I have no doubt it caused a good bit of head-scratching among the students and faculty. But I had grown up with the song, and it seemed only right for me to sing it. And sing it, I did, trembling and ready to faint at any moment. And at the end of the song, there was applause, from my teachers and fellow students. The appreciation was hesitant, but I was happy to hear it after many years of being told to shut up while singing along with the radio.

To me, it was official. The geek could sing.

 

It's Wet

It rained in Sydney today, and it rained hard. Despite the intensity, the rain is much needed. You'd have to be living under a rock to be unaware of the fires that have burned hundreds of thousands of hectares in New South Wales, some of which were in the suburban fringe of Sydney.

As the rain fell, it occurred to me that, thanks to my luck of having lived in four countries, I know a few different rain expressions.

It's pouring rain.
It's raining cats and dogs.
It's bucketing.
It's pissing down.
Fuck, it's coming down.
't regent pijpestelen. (lit: It's raining pipe stems.)

These I just learned:
It's raining chair legs. (Greek)
It's raining female trolls. (Norwegian) 


Speaking of rain, remember this? I don't, just stumbled upon it. I am really glad I did. Let me know if you also think it is one of the most visually compelling music videos ever. (Pretty cool song, too.)

 

Words

There was a recent article in PinkNews about a 54 y/o man (presumably from the UK) who was banned from Facebook after commenting on a food-related post and photo of the British culinary, er, phenomenon known as "faggots".  He simply said that he likes the dish, but the real crime is that he used that word when he did.  

It gets better.  

The 68 y/o woman who initially posted the photo of the food dish was blocked from Facebook for 12 hours.  Reportedly, there was a "Free Eileen" campaign.

Shake my head.

I understand the cringeworthy word above is definitely a wrong one to use most of the time. The Facebook seems to think no one should ever use the word, and they're willing to punish anyone who does.

In case you didn't already know, I am gay and a geek.  I have had more than a fair share of mean-spirited labels tossed my way.  But I disagree with Facebook on this. 

I disagree because the word in question has a few siblings (homonyms) that are so completely different in meaning that they couldn't possibly be disparaging.  "Faggot" is not, like the N-word, a lexeme that originated as a derogatory term.  Usage of the latter word was begun many centuries ago, and today it ranks deservedly as what Dictionary.com describes "probably the most offensive word in the English language".  (If its usage was not begun in a sadistic context, then it quickly slipped down the slope from inappropriate to hatefully offensive.)  

What are these homonyms?  

Collins (published in the UK) defines faggot in two ways:  1) a bundle of anything, but especially kindling, iron bars or balls of chopped meat with herbs; and, 2) a male homosexual.  What Mr Wilkes was referring to with the comment that got him banned from Facebook was not his love of sticks or of men, but of those fried balls of minced offal that most of us would rather not think about in a mealtime context.

When I was studying and working as a professional tenor, I sang quite a lot of works by Benjamin Britten. One of my favorite pieces to rehearse and perform was his canticle Abraham & Isaac.  This is the biblical tale in which Abraham is requested by God to sacrifice his favorite son, Isaac.  In the story, Abraham agrees to the request.  He collects Isaac and takes him, along with a sword and fire-making items, to the top of a mountain on a "hunting trip".  Odiously, Abraham not only lies to his son, but he also asks him to carry the wood that will soon be his own pyre.  In Britten's setting of the tale, when they reach the desired spot, Abraham says to Isaac, "Lay down thy faggot, my own son dear", reveals the true reason for the expedition and readies the boy for slaughter.  Hard stuff, indeed.  That's the drama of it.

At first, it was odd to sing the word, but after researching the term, I accepted the definition and overcame the urge to be ridiculously hypersensitive.  The really tough stuff came with playing the role of Abraham.  (A duet for alto, tenor and piano, Britten's canticle is not a staged work, but it is some of the most dramatic music writing that exists.  Have a listen and see for yourself.)  It was all I could do to keep emotions from interfering with me vocally.  The theatre of the work most assuredly eclipsed any worry over what the listeners might think by me singing this F-word.

I believe that Ms Perrin and Mr Wilkes were unjustly penalized by Facebook.  They were talking about food, and from what I gather, they weren't even engaging in the tired game of innuendo.  This action by the social media giant only served to bolster the argument that political correctness is on its head.  It also devalues the true need for harsh action whenever hate speech does occur. 

Go with God, Crispy!

 

Today is the feast day of Saints Crispin and Crispinian. I am not a religious man, but I like this day for a few reasons.

First, I like the names very much. I especially love to say them with extra ssssssibilance. It's a gay thang.

And they are the patron saints of cobblers, something I always wanted to be...a cobbler, not a patron saint.

 

I also like the connection the day has with the Battle of Agincourt, which took place on 25 October, 1415. The Agincourt Carol is one of my favorite pieces of historical music. 

 
The Agincourt Carol, performed by Telynor 

 

And then there's the remarkable St. Crispin's Day Speech from Shakespeare's Henry V. 

 
Kenneth Branagh at his very best

Oh, did I mention I really like the name?

 

 

A Sample of My Work

For two years, I had the pleasure of serving as music director of a Sydney-based chamber choir known as Coro Innominata. At that point, I had never worked with a volunteer, but non-professional choir of such a high calibre. I will never forget it.

I am working on my electronic portfolio, and this is the first of what I hope to be a number of endeavours. 

I hope you enjoy listening to this recorded live performance.

Historia di Jephte, by Giacomo Carissimi

Coro Innominata, Sydney NSW
Wayne 'Sandy' Glass, music director

Josie Ryan, Filia
Andrei Laptev, Jephte
Kevin Cousins, Craig Everingham and Katrina Jenns, Historicus
Raymond Harvey, organ
Kate Morgan,violoncello

Coro Innominata is a Sydney-based chamber choir promoting performance excellence, particularly in the area of sacred choral music.

Live recording, November 2010
Greg Ghavalas, recording engineer

 

 

Ravel, Brahms, etc.

I have just returned home from an enjoyable chamber music recital in historic St Stephens Church in Newtown.

The Astor Ensemble offered a highly commendable interpretation of the Ravel String Quartet. This work, which I have to say that aside from the fact that Andrew Kennedy, the clarinetist who I believe organised the concert, and with whom I share some interesting parallels, (eg, both are fine clarinetists who chose at an early age to pursue other avenues rather than professional playing but still return to the horn it as our primary instrument..he much more successful than I at this point, I have to add), was the drawing card for me to attend this musical offering. I simply adore the Ravel Quartet. 

Following the interval, Mr Kennedy joined the quartet for the Brahms Clarinet Quintet, as he put it, the "Van Gogh" of clarinet quintets. Kennedy is a fine clarinetist, and served, as I predicted he may, as an appropriate catalyst to get my small person to Melbourne and rescue my Buffet instrument from hostage and start getting my embouchure back into shape.

A couple of lighthearted delights flanked the program as bookends. They allowed the band to lighten up with artful delight, which they did convincingly and without any need for patronizing smiles from the audience. They did not pander, and that's the important point.

All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable concert, and despite the need for scarves and (possibly) woolen hats, the cool venue proved to be acoustically suitable.  Even the powering jets flying overhead every 30 minutes or so were thankfully (and rarely) overshadowed by the fine playing that had most of us ignorant of any distractions. And that is something that I am elated to say, when it comes to venues in in the Inner West, is a rarity.

A Matter of Taste

I am seeing a flurry of reports that Beyoncé lip-synced her performance of the National Anthem. To me, this isn't such a big deal. It's not like I paid $200 for a seat at one of her concerts.

Heck, even Yo-Yo Ma "bow-synced" on his cello at the last Inauguration. Performance conditions at the Capitol at an event that huge are beyond challenging, especially during the bleak Washington midwinter.

Anyway, I'm only a little disappointed to hear this news. Regardless of whether it was a live or studio performance, Beyoncé sang our anthem very well.

People have disagreed with her improvisations here and there, but even that doesn't bother me. Brace yourselves, dear music colleagues, but in my opinion it was tastefully done.

Our anthem derives from a Renaissance galliard (dance form). During their time, galliards would have been decorated in performance with ornaments and "divisions", which is exactly what Beyoncé did, albeit in a modern, "pop" manner.

Renaissance treatises on the art of musical performance discuss the ubiquitous abuse by singers and instrumentalists when it came to ornamenting a melody, stating it was often done without regard to the rules of counterpoint and, less objectively, taste. That criticism sounds familiar. We have all heard "pop" performances of the National Anthem by artists whose renditions make us cringe. For me, it's not because they're pop artists. Rather, it is their performance choices when it comes to improvisation and style that cause my dislike. To me, Beyoncé chose to add her modern embellishments in a way that did not harm the underlying melody and served the purpose of decoration well, but in, um, a very modern context.

She also sang convincingly, handling the technical challenges well.

To those music colleagues out there gasping in disbelief, yes, it's true. Sandy-Wayne has mellowed out.

Vale Judith

Regrettably fresh on the heels of my post concerning the death of Dietrich Fischer Dieskau, I am sad to compose another, this time commemorating the career of soprano Judith Nelson. She died on May 28, 2012.

Known widely for her work in the field of early vocal performance practice, Judith was one of the American singers who ventured to Europe during the 80s to contribute to the burgeoning interest in historically informed performance of music composed prior to (roughly) 1800. I enjoyed the wonderful opportunity to sing the M.A. Charpentier Leçons de Ténèbres with Judith in the mid-90s. It remains one of my favorite gigs to date.

Here she is singing with Emma Kirkby on their fundamental recording of the Couperin Leçons de Ténèbres.

 

Fahr wohl, Herr Fischer-Dieskau!

I have been so busy with personal housekeeping and moving around Sydney that Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau's death a number of days ago went unnoticed by my eyes. I am sure many music colleagues updated their Facebook status with RIPs. How I missed even that, I am not sure.

As a voice student at university, I spent many hours listening to Fischer-Dieskau's intoxicatingly sublime baritone voice while studying vocal literature and German diction. The impact of his recordings of lieder by Schubert and other composers was (and still is) undeniably huge on the education of young singers.

Years later, as a professional singer, I returned to the recordings of Fischer-Dieskau again and again as a reference point for my own interpretations of German art song. These days, I listen to him for pleasure, but while doing so, I cannot help but continue to pay close attention to the manner in which he takes a texted melody (of any era or language, for that matter) and shapes it lovingly and artfully into something so personal that one is almost embarrassed at times to be privy to the performance.

This is a big loss for the music world, but the many recordings he made during the latter half of the 20th century remain as a testament to the astonishing mark he made in the area of classical music.

 

Fischer-Dieskau and Alfred Brendel (piano)
Der Leiermann by Franz Schubert

 

Fischer-Dieskau and Wolfgang Sawallisch (piano)
Mondnacht by Robert Schumann

 

Fischer-Dieskau and Hartmut Höll (piano)
L'heure exquise by Reynaldo Hahn