Big W, little Y | 5 . August . 2010

I found this while researching Bessie Smith — for a future project involving Mellissa, Martha, and consecutive üümlauts.  One of my favorite songs, by one of my favorite [living] singers, adapted by — yes, again — Sesame Street.

Speaking of Yodel…

In other news, living it up monastically in the Berkshire foothills, accompanying grand jetés and coccyx balances at Earl Mosley’s dance institute in Kent, CT. Lots of little homemade projects in the works — to be revealed later… On the drive up, I had a Proustian moment, with the windows rolled down and the smell of slow-smoked barbeque peeling over the slope of route 22 heading north. My brother had just delivered a pulled pork feast for the 4th of July in North Carolina, so I couldn’t help turning in to Big W’s, just south of Wingdale, NY. The biggest sandwich I’ve ever eaten — behold:


living in a tin Can | 27 . June . 2010

April always gets credit for being the month of transition, thanks to the showers-to-flowers trope.  Though for me, June has historically been the time where things jump, flip over, and hit the ground running again.   e.g. . . Getting awesome new saddle shoes (1989).  Graduating from fourth grade (1992).  Going to Kinhaven (1997).  Leaving for a year’s exodus from the motherland (2004).  Moving (2007).  Moving (2008).  Moving (2009).  And moving (2010).

Time to move again, by the end of this month.  Boxes — bubble wrap — stairs — doors — keys — cash — a van — sweat — traffic — time — and that epic anvil, nostalgia.

The whole process coincides with rehearsals this week for the Bang on a Can marathon (tonight), singing Shelter.  It’s a shared musical project by Michael Gordon, Julia Wolfe, and David Lang, with Deborah Artman (text) and Bill Morrison (film).  About an hour long, in seven movements, the piece operates with a wide aperture in considering the idea of shelter.  Sometimes it’s close up, reverently articulating the motions of entering one’s house (“…I pat my pockets for my keys/ I leave my shoes at the door/ I push aside the skin of the door/ I adjust my eyes to the dark…”).   Another movement expands into front-porch reverie, both romantic (“summer evening and lemonade”) and realist (“air conditioning and tv”).  The last movement I haven’t gotten yet.  It’s a vicious lament or a denial — I’m not sure (“No house/ No tower/ No temple/ No castle/ No dwelling built by human hands is eternal”) — loud and wild.  (The singers have been told we sound like aliens.)

One movement, with brutal homophony, catalogs the materials needed to build an American Home: “concrete/ twenty yards/ reinforced steel/ one thousand feet/ lumber/ one thousand/ two by tens two by sixes/ two by fours” … “plumbing fixtures/ electrical fixtures/ two tubs and a shower/ three sinks/ tile/ two hundred square feet/ oven/ refrigerator/ microwave/ kitchen countertops…” Today I emailed my movers with a very similar sounding rundown of the contents of my room — cataloging those things that constitute my dwelling place — bookshelves, 8x2x1; dresser, 6x3x2…

Ironic twist >> I’m moving everything out on the 29th.  We’re recording for Cantaloupe Records on the 30th.   Which means that on Wednesday I’ll be spending all day in a recording studio, singing about shelter and home, while all of my possessions will be in my car or in a 5×10′ storage unit on Flatbush Avenue.  Home?

(No, I’m not really homeless. Spending some relaxing time at my family’s home in North Carolina, and moving to Princeton in September. Temporarily drifting.)

I do like Junes, and upheaval. But I also really loved my Brooklyn apartment, and cooking.  One of my last domestic activities in this place before moving — late lunch of arugula, broiled lamb, strawberries, and kiwi…


macabrilliosity | 31 . May . 2010

Totally brilliant this weekend — Ligeti’s Le Grand Macabre, via the New York Phil. Maybe I’m just more attracted to theatrical gestures these days, but that was one of the greatest “concerts” I’ve been to. Presented semi-staged in Avery Fischer, the whole production translated Ligeti’s grand scheme better (I think) than what full staging could have offered — really going for the irony and meta-ness of it all (as “anti-anti-opera” — Richard Steinitz), from the personally engaged orchestra players (Dicterow cracked a smile) to the delicately hilarious live animation happening in the corner. Omg, puppets. More puppetry in opera, pretty please.

And that’s all I have to say about that.  (Er…)

In kind of a similar, macabrillious, neo-Baroque, makeup-caked, Gaga-esque vein — though in Brooklyn rather than Lincoln Center — Company XIV‘s Le Cirque Féerique. It’s commedia dell’arte with some contemporary snap — exaggerated period gesture to guide the narrative (they take you through six or seven fairy tales — Grimm, Andersen…) and charged modern dance moves to keep things interesting. And WIGS. Some very serious 18th century wigs.  Love it.

Coming up soon — round two of the Roomful of Teeth mega-session up in Massachusetts.  This is one of the most interesting ensembles starting up now, and it’s like nothing you’ve/I’ve ever heard.  The premise for the group is essentially > take 8 classically trained singers with killer pitch, rhythm and sight-reading skills; introduce a wide range of vocal techniques both foreign and domestic (Tuvan throat singing, belting, yodeling…); commission composers to write new music for this expanded sound set; stir, drink & repeat.  While there is a dangerous risk of kitschy pastiche or disrespectful appropriation of the traditions of other cultures, I think the yield from last year’s project managed to avoid that pitfall and to really reimagine vocal ensemble writing as orchestration, treating voices as nimble players capable of being a contrabassoon, then clarinet, then piccolo.

Read more & listen to samples here.  Support the group here.


Lena Horne (1917-2010) | 11 . May . 2010

Beautiful singer. I knew her first only from her conversations with Grover but have since heard/seen more…

Any opportunity to include a Sesame Street video.

Speaking of shy –


holbein, monteiro, and a volcano | 6 . May . 2010

Somewhere in the weeks since I last posted, there was a volcano in Iceland, days of extreme heat and cold, and the first exciting thunderstorm of the season. Apocalyptic signals aside — it’s fascinating to really consider these undulations of spring weather and the spastic texture of the earth’s crust. (Makes for better pondering than sovereign debt and the fragility of the airline industry.)

One of the performance casualties from Eyjafjallajokull (I had to cut/paste that) was the cancellation of the American premiere of Louis Andriessen’s “Life” — a piece for the Bang on a Can folks, with a beautiful video component by Marijke van Warmerdam. I was in The Hague last month visiting HC and friends, and I got to see BoaC perform this shortly before they became stranded in Europe, missing their Carnegie show. It’s a really affecting piece — hope the performance will be rescheduled here soon.

I don’t pretend to know anything about Portuguese cinema, or really anything in particular about films, but I went to see the creepy fairy tale Silvestre last week at BAM, which is featuring a run of films by João César Monteiro.  I think I decided to go just because of the wild color saturation of the film’s promo photo, and its reminiscence of Holbein and Cranach portraits and St. Vincent’s latest album.  And because BAM is a five minute walk down the street… Awesome.

In other news, played a fun concert with the Red Light Ensemble on Tuesday, at Symphony Space (Nimoy).  A portrait of composer Nils Vigeland, with some bits of Ives and Feldman to map the celebration.   My deltoids made it into the New York Times…


mysterious barricades | 11 . April . 2010

Finally walked across the Brooklyn Bridge a couple days ago (my first time), under the blaring sun. Beautiful day. Some photos/sketches. My soundtrack included Francois Couperin’s “Les baricades mysterieuses” from the sixth Ordre de clavecin (1717) — played by Violaine Cochard. And Radiohead’s “Everything in its Right Place” from Kid A (2000?). Some music is just so good and sad…

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grab bag musicke | 6 . April . 2010

I found a combination of items for the piano this morning (accompanying a modern dance class) that generated some particularly salient colors which were fun to fold into a groove.  I usually just pull things out of my bag, looking for a mix of weight (e.g. wallet) and texture (often paper, of different qualities).  The Clif Bar was the real winner today — great combination of medium weight, in a compact but evenly distributed shape, with the wrapper to give it some buzz.  (Kind of like what’s done with mbiras, adding bottle caps for extra rattle.)

I’ve never released any clips of the music I improvise for dance classes, mostly because it’s an extremely personal thing, and it’s very important to me to keep that for myself and for those in the studio.  But I was trying out a new recording app today and caught the first half of the class…  Some samples of the prepped piano, and one bit of violin…

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Lachenmann — and seeds get in your teeth | 3 . April . 2010

My neighborhood in Brooklyn may be the land of organic free-range grass-fed shade-grown milk and honey, but there are no pomegranates.  (Til next season.)

So instead, raspberries.  (Here’s one I photographed before it disappeared in my mouth.)  As close as I could come to the kind of precious, translucent quality of a pomegranate seed.

I’ve been thinking about pomegranate seeds since Thursday night’s Helmut Lachenmann concert at Miller Theatre.  Some exquisite, sensual, beautiful sonorities in his music.  I felt like I was wandering through a greenhouse, overwhelmed by the delicate scents and textures of cucumbers, papaya, jasmine, mint, and exotic fruits that would never meet outside a planned environment.  It made me think about how some [other] music is like a constructed meal, with careful consideration of baking processes and the effects and sensual/emotional/cultural associations yielded by particular combinations (e.g. lamb and horseradish, or sweet potatoes and rosemary).  Lachenmann’s music sometimes seems like the sanctuary of a botanist whose pleasure comes from discovery and exhibition, more than consumption and digestion

And now for something completely different — !  Tonight at 7pm, at the Bell House in Brooklyn — Sarah Snider‘s “Penelope”, delivered by Signal (same folks who played the Lachenmann show, oddly enough) and the beautiful voice of Shara Worden (My Brightest Diamond). Haunting text by Ellen McLaughlin.  We rehearsed yesterday, and I haven’t been able to get some lines out of my head > “Never never never never will I sleep like that again.”  It’s a beautiful musical setting of McLaughlin’s luminous and modern reading of the old story of Penelope.  The song “Lotus-Eaters” ripped my heart out.


drawing st. basil | 24 . March . 2010

Some sketches from yesterday morning > the Red Square, St. Basil’s, and some iconography from the cathedral of the Archangel in the Kremlin. (Click for larger image.)


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mmdg > moscow or bust | 21 . March . 2010

Headed to Moscow tonight, to play Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas with the Mark Morris Dance Group. There are lots of MMDG videos up online, including several of Dido, but here’s one that’s way less serious. And there are puppets.

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covers | 19 . March . 2010

Last week I played at the Greenwich House in the west village with one of my “bands,” the Hudson Quartet, along with the wonderful singer Abigail Lennox. Among the galactical premieres we presented was a new setting of old gospel and old-time lyrics (text only, not tunes) that I wrote for string quartet and singer. I love these old hymns and songs, but I think I hear the words to be much darker than they sound in familiar recorded versions.
– A simple example – “I’ll Fly Away” :

Ralph Stanley (2005)

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Kanye West (2004)

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CAS (2010) — pdf score

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This stuff is just so traaaagic and rich…  I just love certain simple turns of that language, like “when the shadows of this life are over” and “when I die hallelujah by and by”.   Not complicated rhetoric here.  But so beautiful.

Later I’m going to follow this up with another post that indexes some recorded covers of “Oh Death”, the song made famous by Ralph Stanley (and featured on O Brother Where Art Thou) but originally written about 1916 by Lloyd Chandler, a preacher from a region of western NC where some of my family is from.

Heading to Galapagos Art Space tonight, to sing the part of Praise Choir Girl #3 in Matt Marks’ pop opera The Little Death, vol. 1.  Starring Matt Marks and Mellissa Hughes; with Ted Hearne, Jeff Gavett, Martha Cluver, and me. Directed by Rafael Gallegos. Produced with support from New Amsterdam Records, the number 3, and the letter M.

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s n o w | 26 . February . 2010

Dear Diary – 
Today it snowed.
Totally amazing.

Although my flight was canceled, I got to enjoy hours upon hours of fluffy stuff. I grew up in North Carolina, where it was a rare but real thrill to see something opaque fall from the sky. School closed and hot chocolate emerged from somewhere in the back of the cabinet.

The real upside to this afternoon’s flight cancellation was getting to catch QQQ and the janus trio (my first time for both) tonight at Galapagos. Some concerts just really make me happy about Music. I’ll leave it there.

Two bits of today’s snowday soundtrack >>

Lena Willemark is a Swedish singer/fiddler (from Dalarna) whose music always brings me back to the cold, icy months I spent in a very small town in Sweden, about halfway up the coast, in 2004. Here is Mikkelkwenn, from Älvdalens elektriska >

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And Byrd’s Ne Irascaris (beginning here by the Tallis Scholars) is one of my favorite motets from late nights singing in the compline loft of Christ Church New Haven.

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because we all secretly want to dance | 15 . February . 2010

What could possibly follow a somber post about surrealist poetry and Estonian choral music? THIS – THE BEST VIDEO EVRR. It was filmed last spring in the beautiful Antwerp train station as a promo for a Belgian show (though somehow everybody else in the world saw this youtube sensation and I’m just now – er – stepping in line). It’s just such a joyful, cathartic explosion of the universal love we share for The Sound of Music. For Julie Andrews. For Rogers & Hammerstein. For musicals and spontaneously choreographed efforts in public spaces.

And now let us all read together an article titled “Kitsch and Aesthetic Education” (Morreall & Loy, 1989).

One more bit — congrats and love and wonderful wishes to Ted & Janina, who got hitched last night. There was indeed spontaneous dancing, utterly and superbly unchoreographed…


üleliia ülbe’eksi? | 11 . February . 2010

Busy week here, recording some incredibly thick and chewy 20th-C choral works with the Trinity Wall Street choir and Stefan Parkman.  The concert was Monday night, and the subsequent recording sessions (in the church — on the not-so-quiet intersection of Wall Street and Broadway) run into early next week.  On the platter: Schönberg’s luscious (!) Friede auf Erden, Jaakko Mäntyjärvi’s Stuttgarter Psalmen (2009) and Canticum calamitatis maritimae (In memoriam, MS Estonia, 1994), Veljo Tormis’ Raua needmine, and Poulenc’s Figure humaine.

Paul Éluard’s poetry (set by Poulenc during WWII) is baffling, grotesque & beautiful, so shiny and vivid I could almost sink my teeth into it [in what would be true surrealist fashion]. Though “faites face à leurs yeux liquides / C’est la toilette des éphémères” is a particularly elusive line for me. The last movement of Figure humaine, LIBERTÉ (Poulenc’s capitalization?), is a setting of the famously patriotic 1942 poem which is a triumphant litany of everyday places/objects where “j’écris ton nom” (Liberté). While I’m not usually swept up by political works, Poulenc’s framing of that mantric phrase in the last movement is pretty overwhelming.


oom-chuck — v. | 30 . January . 2010

On a brief tour now with Paragon (ragtime music with classic silent films) in the southeast. Getting to say hello to family along the way (thanks for coming Mon & Tues!).

The rhythmic contrast between last week’s music and this week’s is interesting: After days of syncopated-quintuplet-sixteenths-molto-sul-pont-ppp, I’m now oom-chucking my way through fully diminished turnarounds in front of Charlie Chaplin’s moustache.

A few photos from the road. San Diego, Los Angeles & Spindale, North Carolina. Click on photo for full image.



rainy San Diego | 22 . January . 2010

In southern California (recipient of record rainfall this week), waiting backstage before a performance of new works by students in the formidable UCSD composition program, including Vince Raikhel, Tania Lanfer, David Wightman, Carolyn Chen, Dan Tacke, and Charlie Wilmoth.  Playing fiddle with the Red Light ensemble, a fun group of new music folks from New York.  We’ve been rehearsing and recording since Monday, in the incredible, awesome, beautiful Studio A at UCSD.

It might be weird — but I love the sound of a piano or harpsichord being tuned.  It’s kind of therapeutic, and it’s often been the sound I listen to right before a performance.  I’ve been taking some photos of the brand new hall here, and I couldn’t help catching a little video of this.  A placid prelude to a concert of modernist premieres.


buffalo jimmy | 14 . January . 2010

I finally bought the remainder of the French band Moriarty‘s latest album, after going song-by-song for a while on itunes. Like today’s kiddies who will grow up with kindles, I’ve grown up downloading songs rather than going to record stores, for better or worse. Live shows are forever though — right, right? Got to see Moriarty at Joe’s Pub last summer, three feet from the stage.  The lead singer’s presence is cold yet magnetic, and she has a voice like something poured out of an old Edison cylinder.  Check out their full-time harmonica guy, too.


Balerina na korable | 12 . January . 2010

This is just so lovely and adorable. Old Russian animated short from 1969 by Lev Atamanov, with music by Schnittke and choreography by two dancers from the Bolshoi.


leftover quartet pudding for supper | 11 . January . 2010

Last night some friends came over to my place to eat, drink, gossip, and read quartets (some Beethoven 59′s and Mozart 590).

One day later – Hungry, looking at this plate of leftover baguette from the quartet feast.  What ensued pretty much captures my approach to cooking, and probably to other things (music?).  Take good stuff.  Add other stuff.  Add heat.  See what happens.  In this case, I attempted something in the realm of Bread Pudding (a home favorite).  Which, I figured, just involves stale bread, milk, sugar, spices, and an egg or two.  I’m in a very experimental stage of cooking, so I’m actually more into going on instinct (i.e. I don’t know where the measuring cups and spoons are in our kitchen).  It’s a very satisfying process, but the glop is still in the oven and has yet to be tasted…

These same friends who were over last night also kindly read through a recent piece I wrote, for string quartet.  (It will be premiered by another wonderful group of friends I play with, the Hudson Quartet, on the North River Music series in the west village, at the Greenwich House, on March 11.)

I just spooned out some of the improvised pudding, and although the texture is a little unremarkable, it’s pretty delicious…  (Probably helps that I would eat anything right now.)

Here, in its internet pre-premiere, for the five people who actually check this site — Punctum, for string quartet.  (Title is from Barthes’ Camera Lucida, 1980 — I owe Stanton many thanks, and a visit, and a phone call,  and your copy of the book back!! )

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| Click for pdf score.

Recorded reading by Alex Fortes, CAS, Jenn Chang & Eli Lara.


from the margins | 8 . January . 2010

In October I got to be part of a really beautifully produced show at the Brooklyn Lyceum (From the Margins, This, Unmentioned), featuring the music of Bryan Senti and the choreography of Bronwen MacArthur, as well as the awesome performances of Ted Hearne, Andie Springer, Erin Wight , Jessie Marino, Nate Koci, Eileen Mack, Trevor Gureckis, Jay Wadley, Mellissa Hughes, Daisy Press, Matt Hensrud, Scott Dispensa, and some other amazing musicians and modern dancers, a few of whom I’ve since seen around the infamous 890 Broadway studios.  A video trailer for the show (which was completely sold out, all three nights — a very, very remarkable feat for contemporary dance and music) was recently realeased, and I just wanted to post it here.  Cheers to whoever was responsible for the lighting!


Happy Merry | 24 . December . 2009

It’s been a mad rush to the finish line this month, but it’s nice to be home in North Carolina for the holidays. Before making the long drive down, some great friends came over Tuesday night to my place in Brooklyn, for some caroling. (Much to the dismay of my eccentric landlady, who lives on the first floor.)   I geekily made a little booklet of old standards and even older standards (Byrd, Sweelinck), plus some of Ryan’s scrumptious Katzenjammers arrangements with a bajillion flats.

Anyhow, this is my Christmas post.  Merry Happy!

And now for something totally amazing. From the 1994 album whose shocking title alone took the world by storm — Mariah Carey’s “O Holy Night” from Merry Christmas…  Seriously, this is ridiculous and wonderful.

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where’s my music stand? | 11 . December . 2009

Just finished designing a poster for an upcoming concert in New Haven with some friends.  Great music (Corelli, Bach & van Wassenaer) in Dwight Chapel, the beautifully vertical gothic space on Yale’s old campus.  Played with some old drawing exercises in Alberti perspective. Remembered nights I used to spend in Dwight, improvising with friends til 3am.

Click on image for full pdf.  And come to the show!

2009 poster small for web

Also, come to Red Light New Music‘s funky holiday gala this Saturday at 8pm (doors open at 7), at the International House (500 Riverside Drive).   The mixtape-mish-mash-modernist “12 Days of Christmas” and Ted‘s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” are super fun.


I have a Messiah in Jersey | 6 . December . 2009

Apparently my messiah lives in Princeton, New Jersey.

The last week I’ve responded several times to the question, “What are you up to this weekend?” with “I’ve got a Messiah in Jersey.”  And it wasn’t until yesterday that it occurred to me how amazing and absurd and vaguely  prophetic this phrase is.  For freelance musicians in the U.S., Messiahs in [insert region here] abound, and we utter versions of that sentence “I have a Messiah in Jersey” constantly during the month of December.  I’m only playing one performance this season, but there are musicians who will go from production to production this month, like a Broadway gig.

I’d like to take a moment here to geek out (again) about Handel.  I can’t get enough.  I’ve been absorbing harmonic sequences through a catheter this last month while writing a string quartet (that plays with the legibility and rhetoric of these progressions), so I’m ubersensitive to any chains of secondary dominants.  This kind of makes playing the Messiah a totally trippy and extremely beautiful experience.

One of my strongest musical memories is of Jimmy Taylor singing “Comfort Ye” in Christ Church New Haven.  I was working as an alto in the choir then, in the legendary days of Rob Lehman, and I remember so clearly that floated cadenza in the beginning of the aria, unaccompanied, spinning out into the candlelit ether.

Here he is (James Taylor, tenor) in a recording with Rilling at the Oregon Bach Festival:

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bistro out of carolina | 12 . November . 2009

On a brief tour with the Paragon Ragtime Orchestra, playing music from a nearly forgotten era which reached its peak in the late 1920s (thousands of cinemas across the U.S. operating with house orchestras). Great scores from Joplin, Kern, Hirsch, and Handy, along with adorable films from Charlie, Buster, and Harold Lloyd.

DSC00867

Yesterday we stopped for lunch at the Passion8 bistro, just off the highway Fort Mill, SC. Decked out with rich red drapery and antiques, it had the feel of a prohibition-era brothel (which it had been, back in the day). There was just something really compelling about the place, from the menu to the subtle game of presentation (fries in a glass tumbler, round scoops of tiramisu instead of rectangular, square plates & stemless goblets), and for me it paired perfectly with the music and films of the week — well-crafted & functional, yet with enormous charisma and intention.

Along with Schnittke, Couperin, Handel & Kurtag, becoming a little obsessed with Joplin this fall… Joshua Rifkin playing “Heliotrope Bouquet” (btw, omg, what a title…):

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look see make have | 30 . October . 2009

A while back I nested a link about the “I heart NY” logo, which was designed by Milton Glaser, graphic designer and founder of the iconic Push Pin studios. Interesting figure, and I like what he says about drawing in this simple video. I’m also reading again a couple of books about seeing, through drawing and through photography.  (Or both, as in Henri Cartier-Bresson’s L’imaginaire d’après nature > “The photo is an immediate action; the drawing, a meditation.”)  I used to draw a lot, as a way to see and remember things, and to figure out form.  I draw infrequently these days, but it’s coming back.

Two amazing musicians I know are also sensitive visual artists. Composer Timo Andres and pianist Amy Yang. Timo is a connoisseur of type and graphic design (and vintage furniture, and many other things), and Amy is one of those exceptional drawers whose sketches really have life (check out her records of Marlboro). They’re both incredibly compelling people, and I wonder sometimes how their musical sense is informed by their particular kind of visual conscience and awareness.


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