Professor K forbids her students to use the word interesting, so I won't. But, I found [insert word that means interesting here] today the various reactions many of us had to a Chopin Society recital this afternoon. The well-known British pianist Imogen Cooper played works of Bach and Schubert. (Many, many works of Schubert. But oops, perhaps I give too much away.)
I found the recital dull, sloppy, and uninspired. An eminent pianist, and my former piano teacher, was in the row ahead and had a similar, though more articulate, response. But Eric loved the section of the recital I hated most. And BossOfMe enjoyed herself quite a bit. Hell, several of the audience gave Cooper a standing ovation at intermission, and in true Minnesota style, everyone was on their feet at the end of the recital (I was too, but that was to beat a hasty exit before being subjected to an encore).
As I prepare a research proposal that explores issues of art and criticism and yes, blogs, today's event made me wonder about all of us sitting in Macalester's recital hall having such disparate reactions to what we'd heard. Some of us in the audience know a fair amount about music and didn't find much to like. On the other hand, I overhead another pianist in the audience remark, "At least now we know how to play Schubert." [I refrained from piping up, "Badly?"]. Many people love the music of Schubert and thoroughly enjoyed the experience of an afternoon of music-making. Perhaps some of them didn't notice the many wrong notes in the final movement of the A-major sonata. Maybe they did, but didn't care. Was their enjoyment of the recital more or less legitimate than my irritation with what I heard? If only those in the know can decide if the music was good, why should anyone else attend such an event? On the other hand, if it's elitist to think the recital was crap as a result of knowing something about music and performing, why have any standards at all? If anyone can get up on stage and perform, do we then decide who gets heard based on whoever cuts the sexiest figure onstage?
Oh, hi; I forgot you were reading. Working out these questions is at the heart of my proposal, which is due in twelve days. As you can see, I have a lot of work to do. I'd be curious to know what you think: What is taste? Who decides who has taste? Does it matter?
UPDATE: I thought this grammatical point was clear, but perhaps I should explain. In the sentence, "Who decides who has taste?" the final clause is understood. Silent, as it were. The full, kind of obvious, sentence reads: Who decides who has taste, other than me?
7 comments:
I have a similar reaction when I hear people gushing about mass-consumption books like The Da Vinci Code.
Most of my friends at my last job raved about it, but I thought the novel was little more than a Hardy Boys book for adults with a thin Parisian veneer that made people believe they were reading "literature."
I mostly just kept my mouth shut rather list all the things I thought were wrong with the novel.
I also can't deny that I'm envious that someone who writes so badly could make so much money.
I think being a good critic means you are consistent. Then the consumer knows how to 'read' that criticism. We are all critics of what we experience and some of us have more experiences to base our opinions on and therefore set the standard of taste. Whether or not you agree with that standard is up to each individual and that taste standard is ever changing.
I think there is a place for all forms of expression otherwise creativity would not be inspired.
I don't think I'm going to answer any of your questions. Instead I'm going to type what's in my head, because I thought quite a bit about it too.
I describe myself as a pleasantly mediocre adult pianist. I'm not very disciplined. I don't practice like I should. The music I play now is approximately the same difficulty as the music I played when I was fourteen. I still exempt myself from learning fingering unless I have to for some unforeseen reason. I can't memorize, or maybe I'm just absolutely certain I'm not going to try. You're 1000 times better than I am, and our teacher is stratospherically better than I am. You started with better raw materials, you've put all but about three years of your life into it, and you've developed extraordinary talent.
I do really love piano, though, and I've sought it out all my life. Having more piano around in the last few years, and hanging out with more pianists, has been so sweet for me.
(It has not dulled my senses about the insanity of The Bush Years, but that's probably fodder for another time.)
I read an interesting (provocative? fetching?) thing about competence and incompetence in the NY Times a while back. The conlusion was that "Incompetent individuals were less able to recognize competence in others."
secondary link here: http://www2.lingsoft.fi/~reriksso/competence.html)
You and Our Teacher (are we not saying her name here?) have probably played all the pieces on today's program. You know them intimately, have thought through the historical and performance subtleties, and are able to apply them in the real world.
Alternately, here's what I was thinking:
about the Bach: can't go wrong with black velvet pants, bad starting notes, hard to watch, harsh tone, OK now she's relaxing and it's getting better, gee Bach was good, this is pretty music, i wonder why nothing is staccato, i thought we were supposed to work it out beforehand and have some staccato and some phrasing, i wonder if i've heard parts of this before, i guess not, gee Bach was really good, All Bach Is Hard, she plays like a girl, i wonder if scott could play this for me, probably, maybe i should get a CD of the partitas, this is nice sunday afternoon background music.
about the impromptus: i've just played my first Schubert ever this winter and it was so helpful to get feedback from the piano clubbians and from Our Teacher. i think the old chestnuts are chestnuts because they're more accessible, easier to like, or simply so common that they've become part of the background noise of life. i think they should still be played, because i always have hope of a newmoment of delight. Lang Lang played Beethoven's 5th in a way that was fresh and truly engaged. the impromptus were pretty. the second one she played was kind of a thrill for me, because i just finished studying it a few weeks ago. i've never been to a concert before where a piece that i can play is on the program. that was quite cool for me. and i'm not tired of the schubert impromptus.
the last schubert: left me cold. i thought the piece just noodled around, not my favorite, she definifely hit some wrong notes with exuberance or indifference. seemed too slow. hated the second movement. glad you didn't pick this for yourself.
There might be more. I have to go to bed now.
Scott, those are all interesting, um, compelling questions and comments. I can't wait to read your research proposal.
My own feeling is that there is very little art that appeals to everyone: it's all niche audiences. The more you know about something the more sophisticated your palate becomes. Sometimes your palate becomes so sophisticated that you can't enjoy things that you previously found wonderful. In fact, there are fewer moments of enjoyment because there are fewer examples of things that are pleasing.
Is this a bad thing? As long as you can still remember why you used to enjoy it, then I think it's okay that you don't anymore. In that way you can see how you've changed. And isn't that what art is supposed to do: teach us something about ourselves?
Some would say that it's the pursuit that brings happiness. Searching for (or trying to create) the perfect thing, whatever that is: a song, a book, a movie, a cupcake.
It's true, I did enjoy the first half more than the second, and the full program was all new music to me. The Bach was good and I didn't mind the first batch of Schubert; like Deb, the second impromptu was my favorite. But the second batch of Schubert was just boring and bad. It repeated itself too many times, and her performance was just plain sloppy. I've never hated the deceptive cadence more than during the final movement--it seemed like it ended at least seven times.
Prior to yesterday's concert, I only knew Ms. Cooper as the one who accompanies Wolfgang Holzmair, one of my favorite barihunks, on the two CDs I have of their lieder. Their work together is marvelous. I told Scooter going into the concert that I was still holding out that Mr. Holzmair would make a surprise appearance, but alas, no. Maybe that's why I hated the second half so much, having realized at intermission that my dream would never come true.
Is it me, or don't you think a concert hosted by the Chopin Society should at least feature a little of Frederic's music in the program? I know it's not a requirement, and that one doesn't go to the Schubert Club to hear Franz's music, but it'd be a nice gesture.
Hello again.
I think I've already established my piano credentials. While I'm probably not among the Great Unwashed, I'm *certainly* not among the Great Full Over-the-Elbow 10-minute Surgical Scrubs of piano. I suppose I'm one of the Casual Rinse-offs of piano.
However, I have other areas of strength and expertise. What I'd like to mention now is my extremely well-developed palate for chocolate ice cream.
Chocolate is the high wire act of the ice cream world. The flavor of chocolate is best released in a warm mouth, so ice cream is a trickier medium than brownies or truffles. The mouthfeel of chocolate is partly determined by the micron-tiny-ness of the cocoa butter fat molecules. Do it wrong and the elixir will turn waxy or grainy.
Just as I consciously flower my life with piano, I am a shameless suck-up to anyone who will partner with me in my chocolate pursuits.
I come here now to state publicly that there is a new gold standard of chocolate ice cream against which all other chocolate ice creams will be measured going forward, worldwithoutendamen, and it is Haagen Dazs Mayan Chocolate. The original chocolate, it says on the container. I have some in my mouth this very moment, and I'm so happy about it that I've come here to the Internet to do a little witnessing and share the good news, praise the lord.
Probably you should try it soon. I think ice cream is always a little at risk in the summer - it just doesn't seem to travel as well in the heat, and that grainy crystal formation is commoner.
So who says who has taste? On this topic, me. I do.
You'll thank me.
Keeping with the raw diet, is it made with goat's milk and is the cocoa content 70 percent or higher?
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