Tuesday, November 11, 2003

Berlin Philharmonic Notes: Mountain Laurel

THE COLOR OF MUSIC

The Berlin Philharmonic is the greatest orchestra in the world. Now that’s a pretty big statement especially given our musical neighbors to the north and south, but in this free country, everyone is entitled to his or her opinion and that is mine. And by way, I’m right.

My partners and I feel honored and privileged to present the members of this prestigious orchestra here at Mountain Laurel, especially in this intimate environment.

The Berlin Philharmonic was founded in 1882. In their early days some of the most important names in music have conducted them including Hans Von Bulow, Brahms, Greig, Gustav Mahler, Richard Strauss and the legendary Wilhelm Furtwangler. Peter Tchaikovsky, a frequent guest said, “The splendid Philharmonic possesses a special quality for which I can find no more appropriate expression than elasticity. They are a self-governing body, they play for their own benefit and not for an entrepreneur who takes the lion’s share of the profits.”

Given the glorious artists whom we have today, I thought I would explore the different colors found in an orchestra. I’m constantly asked why a particular instrument plays a particular passage and how does the composer know when to use a French horn instead of a clarinet? This morning I plan to answer some of these questions as well as explain the delicate balance that makes up Chamber Music.

As this is the most important orchestra in the world, I thought I would discuss and explain Sonata Allegro form, arguably the most important form in Classical Music. I’ll discuss the themes and development of Dohnanyi’s Sextet in C Major. Dohnanyi is a composer I wasn’t too familiar with but when I heard Ittai Shapira and Concertante (who will be appearing here at our next concerts) play his Quintet at Merkin Hall, I became his newest fan.

We are also continuing are commitment to contemporary music. Although Alban Berg won’t be with us today (because he’s dead!) I wanted to explore into his wonderful pieces for Clarinet and Piano. Berg is one of the first composers labelled as a “modern composer.” But as far as I’m concerned he’s just as romantic and accessible as Puccini.

Once again, I’m overjoyed that our audiences have been so enthusiastic. It continues to be a great pleasure for me to share with you some of the joys of this wonderful music. Sit back and come with me to the Austro-Hungarian Empire. I wish we were serving schlag.

Glen Roven

Saturday, October 11, 2003

Program Notes Mountain Laurel

THAT’S ALL FOLK


Before Stravinsky, before Wagner, before Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms, even before Pope Gregory had his holy boys sing his Greg-orian chants, there was music. And it was made by the people, the common people, the folk. Thus, folk music.

While prehistoric cavemen were carving out their bison on the walls, they were also discovering they all got rhythm; although none of their music survives today, it is safe to assume they were sitting around the campfire singing of the day’s conquests or chanting fervently for good weather tomorrow.

Throughout history, people would make up little tunes and pass them down to their children or teach them to neighbors. And the tunes spread and spread even without MTV. In fact, during the middle ages, when there were no newspapers, people would get the 411 from strolling singing minstrels who offered the headlines sung to popular tunes. One of the chief differences between folk music and classical music is that classical music is written down, while folk music remains in the collective memory of the people.

As musical performances became more formalized, the so-called serious composers discovered they had a wealth of material at their fingertips, if they incorporated these folk tunes into their compositions. This had nothing to do with being lazy (Mozart could clearly compose an original melody); rather by using a tradition tune, the composer could imbibe his compositions with a national fervor. Imagine a 120 piece orchestra playing a huge symphony by Mahler and suddenly a traditional German folk tune makes an appearance. It practically whipped the audience into a nationalistic frenzy.

Composers loved doing it. Even Stravinsky’s quintessential 20th Century composition, The Rite of Spring, is filled with Russian folk music.

In today’s program, Ittai Shapira and I will explore music inspired by folk music. The Dvorka Sonatina is a piece he wrote for his children, aged 10 and 12 at the time. It is full of Czech and Native American melodies. David Heath’s, Lochaish, is named after a train station in Scotland. This piece is heavily influenced by Celtic elements.

The American Rag, a traditional folk style, is explored in a classical style with the composer, John Novacek playing his Ragtimes with Ittai.

And, as always, we bring you a world premier. Ittai has composed the Virtuoso Variations based on a children song that he grew up with.

Once again, we wish to thank our loyal and dedicated Mountain Laurel Audience for their support. The last concert with the Berlin Philharmonic was a triumph. The players were ecstatic about their reception and look forward to returning many times. They said you were their best audience ever. Quite a compliment, indeed.

Glen Roven

Program Notes Mountain Laurel: Chamber Series

THE VIOLINST AS SUPERSTAR

The audience is clapping, stomping and shouting his name. He teases them by making them wait. When he finally comes out-- his hair flowing, all dressed in black-- they are in a virtual frenzy. When he plays, the rumors of his Satanic connections are confirmed; no one could play like that, whispered the kids, who wasn’t involved with the dark side. He leaves the stage as quickly as he arrives. The women who weren’t fainting ran down the isles screaming for him to return. But he had left the building the same way he came in: in a black coach drawn by black horse.
Who is this musician? Mick Jagger? Marilyn Manson? No. The year was 1800 and the musician who mesmerized his audience was violinist, Niccolo Paganini. While Mozart’s concerti raised the violin concerto to it’s highest pitch of classical maturity and Beethoven’s violin concerto opened the way for a more romantic approach, Paganini revolutionized the instrument by making the neck longer and with a combination of showmanship, “devilish” technique and his sheer physical presence, became music’s first, true Superstar.
This afternoon we are honored to welcome Israeli violinist, Hagai Shaham to our second Chamber Music concert here at Mountain Laurel. Hagai and I will explore the many aspects of the Violin, concentrating on the Romantic Style pioneered by Mr. P. We will also talk about Grieg’s Piano Sonata #3 and a fantastic piece by Hubay who taught Ilona Feher who taught both Hagai and Ittai Shapira, who will perform here on November 29th.
In keeping with our commitment to new music, Hagai will be playing a piece by Menachem Zur a wonderful, award-winning composer, which was written for his son. Mr. Zur is here today and will talk about his piece, Prelude for Violin Solo.
Conchord, our first group of artists, was blown away by the warm reception they received here at MLCPA, and I was thrilled when I learned that more than half of the audience bought CDs. That meant that we really connected with our audience. Which is our goal, the goal of every artist. Enjoy Hagai and I look forward to our next concert.

Glen Roven

PS. And if you now like classical music, what till you see what we can do with Shakespeare!

Pro

Monday, July 21, 2003

Cheese, Egg and Poultry: A Few Memories of Ann Miller

When I was 19 I was the Musical Director of Sugar Babies on Broadway for the entire run. This was a pretty heavy job for a kid and when I asked Mickey Rooney if he minded that I was so young, he looked me straight in the eye (we were the same height) and said, "Kid, when I was 16 I was the biggest box office star in the world!"

During the difficult out of town try-outs the choreographer and producer were at odds with Mickey's co-star, Ann Miller, and they were also constantly trying to fire me, so Annie and I had an immediate bond: misery. Plus, she liked my conducting because I always followed her, no matter what she did. So every night after the show we would have a dinner of commiseration.

Sugar Babies made it into New York, was a huge hit, and all was forgiven. Ah, show-biz. For three years, Annie and I were inseparable. Now, remember, I was nineteen and this huge show-biz fan, so imagine what it was like for me to meet all her friends: Fred Astaire, Hermes Pan, Katherine Hepburn, etc. etc. One by one, and virtually every night they would parade into her dressing room after the show. The most fun I had though was after the shows. Mickey would rush out of the theater before I had even finished the Exit Music, but Annie would take her time, take off the famous wig, and get ready for her evening.

We would wait for the fans to leave and then Annie and I would hop into her waiting limo and head to a restaurant. Sometimes Ethel Merman came with us, sometimes Patti LuPone (she was Evita next door,) but every restaurant gladly stayed open for Annie because she was the toast of the town.

These were the days before VCRs and way before DVDs so the only way to see an old movie was to wait for it to appear on TV at 4 AM. But that wasn't good enough for Ann. She kept renting the original prints and projectors and screening all the classic MGM movies for me in her hotel suite. She claimed, "they're for your education, Glen," but I know she wanted to see them. And why not? She was amazing and gorgeous and hysterically funny.

We saw the famous ones of course, but I urge anyone who wants to pay tribute to this great lady to go out and rent Reverly for Beverly. Not quite seminal but pretty damn fun. As famous as the 500 taps per minute were her legendary gaffs. I honestly can't tell if they were unintentionally ludicrous statements or incredibly calculated brilliance. But it doesn't matter. Annie's death brought them racing back to my memory.

Mickey was out for a show and the understudy was on. The show was dying. Ann came running to me before the show and said, "Glen, it's awful. We have cheese all over our face." "Annie, it's egg." She said, "Cheese, egg, it's all poultry."

One day she came back from getting fitted for a new dress for the Tony's by Halston. Breathlessly, she said, "Glen, the dress is gorgeous. And you know what? Halston's name is spelled the same backwards as it is forward." I paused and said, "No, it's not." "Yes, it is." "No, it's not," I said more forcibly. "Yes it is…Wait a minute. It's not. Why'd he tell me that?!"

The first summer the show was in New York I rented a house on Fire Island. Because of the late night ferry connections I had to wait until Sunday morning to get to the beach. However, I realized if I gently speeded up some of the tempos I could cut 4 minutes off the show and make the Saturday night midnight ferry. (Forgive me, oh Gods of the theater, I was young.) So after she finished her first number, panting and sucking oxygen by the stage manager, she somehow got out, "I don't care…pant…pant…pant…if he is going to…pant…pant…pant…Fire Island…the tempos are too Goddamn fast!"

You gotta love her.

Thursday, May 15, 2003

SINGULAR SENSATIONS: Program Notes

Necessity is the mother of invention and in the theater, the “necessity” is usually a lack of money and the “invention” is usually how-the-hell-do-you-do-a-great-show-for-50-cents?

My partner Angelo and I were executive producers of a new Arts Center in Pennsylvania and the one thing all art centers have plenty of is no money. Their budget forced us to figure out a way to present the Broadway performers we loved for the money they had.

We came up with an idea of doing an “un-plugged” evening. No set, a great star, two stools and me at the piano (because we couldn’t afford a band.) I would interview the artists and when we got around to talking about a musical they were in, I would play the piano and they would sing. Sort of like the Actors Studio interviews done as a musical.

Patti LuPone was the first artist to agree to do this. Even though Patti and I spent time working out the interview, on stage, she was completely spontaneous and surprising. I knew most of the stories about her shows, but she had me in stitches when she started relating the indiscretions on the floor in her dressing rooms. I knew we were on to something.

In fact, to be completely honest, deep in Pennsylvania, a lot of the audience wasn’t really sure who Patti was. But it didn’t matter. They loved the feeling of intimacy, the stories, the gossip and the way we were both connected when I played. They felt as if they were watching friends have a good time together, and indeed they were.

As it happened, two Broadway producers were in the audience that night (they obviously were going to Tangelwood but made a wrong turn at 209.) They suggested we take the format to NYC and perform it at a theater with different stars each week.

So now, here at The Village Theater, I get a chance to talk to all of my favorite, legendary people, hear the stories I’ve always wanted to hear plus get the chance to accompany them. And this time, I get paid. Although I would have done it for free. (Don’t tell the producers.)