INSPIRATION
The year is 1807. We are in a fifth-floor dilapidated studio in the middle of a brutal Viennese winter. Freezing wind blows through the tattered curtains of a broken window. Beethoven is struggling to write a new symphony but the music paper is blank. He’s too worried about his bills and debts to concentrate. Suddenly, his landlord begins pounding on his door. Bang Bang Bang Baaaang. ‘Where is the rent?!’ Bang Bang Bang Baaaang. “Mein Gott!” shouts Ludwig as if struck by lightening. “That’s it. Bang Bang Bang Baaang. My fifth symphony.”
Now, even I, one of the most gullible people alive, don’t believe that. (In actuality, people say that a sweet little bird-call inspired Ludwig’s famous 4 note “fate theme.”) But the point is this: all composers, artists in general, are inspired by something and I would say 99.99% of the time, that ‘something’ certainly not a bolt out of the blue.
This first of our Family Chamber Concerts here at Mountain Laurel is titled, Inspiration, and this morning I will attempt to offer a little insight into two pieces that have been inspired by material written by other people.
The first is by the aforementioned Beethoven who took a famous theme of Mozart’s and spun out variations.
The other is a World Premier by a young English composer Nicholas Korth, who is here with us to day. Korth’s piece was inspired by a Whitman poem. In fact, every concert will feature a new composer and most of them will be here to discuss their pieces. (This is, in fact, our second world premier here at Mountain Laurel; the first, The Nightingales Prepare, was premiered by Dick Hyman in June.)
Music can be the most communicative force between human beings. From Beethoven to Korth, it contains human thoughts and emotions that cannot (and should not!) be expressed in words. Now, it is not my intention to cram 4 years of music theory into a 40-minute lecture. But I’m hoping to give you a key that might unlock the door to a couple of pieces of music. Hopefully, you’ll be inspired to come back and hear the next 4 afternoon concerts. Or even go out and hear another concert on your own. That would be great!
Enjoy.
Monday, December 6, 2004
Friday, November 12, 2004
You Gotta Go To Placido's: Some Memories of my Times with Hildy Parks
To me, Hildy Parks embodied the uber-New York Woman, the career gal/mom who had it all long before having it all was in the American vocabulary. Think Rosalind Russell mixed with Holly Hunter when she's feisty; then add a bit of Meryl Streep and Julie Andrews for good measure and you have the whirl-wind I knew as Hildy Parks.
Every day, she got up at the crack of dawn to swim a few laps before breakfast. Then she'd rush to her office at the Shubert Theater to write a network TV special. At a time when there could be 10 to 20 writers on any given project, Hildy wrote the entire script (or the whole enchilada as she used to call it) by herself. Of course, Alex produced the whole enchilada by himself too, but that's another article.
After lunch she'd work with Alex on the creative side of producing Broadway plays and musicals. Whenever they would have a disagreement, she would look to the heavens for guidance and like a Mom scolding a petulant child she'd moan, “Jeeeze, Alex, what are we going to do with you?”
At night when she wasn't at the theater, Hildy had meetings with the local school boards, or the local community boards, or the landmarks commission, or worked with the World Health Organization or the UN. There was always something to do to make the world better. All this in addition to looking after her two boys. In the morning the exhausting cycle would start again. Exhausting to anyone but Hildy.
I worked closely with Hildy for about 15 years writing/arranging/conducting the music for her television shows. My phone would ring at 9 AM: “Hello, TC. It's Hildy.” TC stood for Tiny Composer. I rather enjoyed being referred to as tiny by a woman who barely cracked 5 feet. “Listen, what are you doing today? You gotta go over to Placido Domingo's house and work with him.” I was barely 21. Imagine getting a call like that. Throughout the next 15 years, there would always be a similar phone call with a different name: Julie Andrews, Patti LaBelle, Peter Brook. It was a very heady experience.
The first TV show we did together was called Parade of Stars. I was hired to put together a Broadway tribute that was going to be performed by 35 stars. I had some general meetings with Albert Stephenson, the choreographer, and we went into her office to discuss the number. When we got there she said, “Well, lemme hear it.” I blanched and stuttered, “We need a bit more time.” Hildy gave one of her “Jeeze, Alex” looks, threw a legal pad in the air and said, “We're shooting this next week. Let's do it now. What should Linda Lavin sing?” And led by this feisty spark plug, we finished the number in 15 minutes.
My friend Robin and I were on vacation in England once. Hildy called and said she was in town for the day and wanted to work on the Emmy show. I politely told her I was going to Glyndebourne, a country opera house that is sold out for years in advance. You have to go in black tie, take a train 2 hours outside of London, eat between acts, and then return. Very English and very exclusive. Hildy said she'd meet us on the train and come too. Robin was relieved because he felt she would never get a ticket on such short notice and he was confident we would continue our much-needed vacation.
Just as the train was pulling out of Victoria station and Robin was breathing a sigh of relief, the door to our compartment swung open and there was Hildy, in full evening gown regalia, but holding her legal pad. “But how did you get a ticket?” Robin asked stupefied. “Oh, I called Peter Hall. Now, what should Hal Linden sing in the Opening?”
I remember shows where we would shoot for 24 hours straight. Everyone was exhausted, but not Hildy. I once tried to grab a cat-nap in a dressing room when she walked in, “Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you. But as long as your up, have you thought about the closing of Night of 100 Stars III? And this years Tony's, let's do a tribute to Kander and Ebb. Think about it.”
I was doing a production of my first musical in Cleveland. We were having our last dress rehearsal where nothing was going right. Actors were forgetting lines, dancers were forgetting dance steps, the usual. I was much younger then so I didn't quite know how to remain calm in the face of adversity. After one particularly bad flub I had had enough: I looked to the heavens and screamed “Jeeze” and threw my legal pad in the air. Everyone stopped. They had never seen me so upset. But my friend Robin easily broke the tension by saying, “Don't worry. He's just doing Hildy.”
After doing the Tony for 25 years, Alex had some sort of problem and he and Hildy did not do the 1987 Tonys or any subsequent ones. This was very hard on both of them because the Tony's were their baby. This was the best award show on TV and the entire industry knew it was because of Hildy and Alex. We were all nominated for an Emmy for something else that year and gathered in their living room to see if we had won. The Tony Award show was nominated for Best Variety show and it won. Alex was very magnanimous and you would swear he was glad the show's quality would continue. But Hildy looked at me and she quietly said, “Oh well. You're worst nightmares do come true.” I had never seen her so vulnerable before. That's the Hildy I remember most.
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
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
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!
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!
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
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
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."
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