Showing posts with label nadia boulanger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nadia boulanger. Show all posts

Friday, July 3, 2015

PHILIP GLASS MEMOIR

philip glass

Closing in on the end of Philip Glass's memoir, Words Without Music, only twenty pages to go, I don't want it to end. He's wrapping things up, approaching the moment he's writing from. He did a rare thing, wrote his way to a composer successful in the world of music and successful within himself, without teaching. He saw that he wanted to live and work in New York. An academic job could settle him in Phoenix or Seattle. He wanted the creative energy New York generates. He worked moving furniture and driving a cab through his twenties and thirties, jobs flexible enough he could take time off to do a gig in Germany or California. He is the first composer to use amplification. He liked the dynamic sound amplification gave rock, even put together a small group of musicians, a band, The Philip Glass Ensemble, a vehicle for his compositions. He plays an electric keyboard. While reading in the memoir, I've been listening to some of his music in my collection, hearing it with fresh ears. Before, I only knew I liked hearing his music, everything I've heard. Now I have a little bit of an idea of what his music is about, what he's doing and the spirit he's doing it in, esp the spirit. I hear more in his music than ever before. 

philip glass ensemble

Playing now, La Belle et la Bete, Beauty and the Beast, Glass's opera of French poet, Jean Cocteau's surrealist film. It's a soundtrack to the film Cocteau made in 1946, soon after the war in Paris. The Glass music is from 1994. The film with Glass soundtrack can be seen on YouTube, the full film. I've seen it before Glass and after Glass. It is a glorious, beautiful film, either way. I first saw it in an art film series in Charleston, 1968, thereabouts, before Glass. It was such an exhilarating film, the audience broke into spontaneous applause at the end. Saw it with Glass music a few years ago from netflix. The music doesn't change the film. It gives the film a new dimension, even fades into the background watching the film, at the same time gives the black and white film a contemporary edge. It was contemporary half a century before Glass's soundtrack, become ancient in film history, a timeless ancient tale of a prince and princess, made contemporary again by Philip Glass's musical vision. 

la belle et la bete

A man of many dimensions, Glass paid attention to music from all over the world. He found in Indian music a structure different from European, studying with Ravi Shankar, and found more in West Africa. Just now took an interlude and found on YouTube a tune of Glass with Gambian kora player, Foday Musa Suso. A kora is a big gourd body, a long hardwood neck with 21 strings he plays like a harp. It has subtleties the master knows.  Glass's musical education had been in European ideas of music, though he came to see music a fluid form he could play with in new ways never explored before. He was a yoga practitioner, vegetarian, meditated, went to Nepal to a Tibetan village, Darjeeling in India, high elevation in the Himalaya, looking for an advanced meditation teacher. He started collecting Tibetan art for his home, was drawn to Tibet like moth to light source. Learning of his connection with Tibetan spiritual teachings answered why I felt Tibetan music in his work. He made soundtrack for the Scorsese film, Kundun, a Tibetan story, which I think I'll run to the top of the netflix Q to see it again soon, while Glass and his music is fresh in my head. 

philip glass

I've enjoyed watching the fate of a remarkably brilliant human being unfold in his own observations and words. It can be said he was destined from birth to do what he has done single-mindedly, like somebody born knowing what he had to do. He wasn't long getting it and walked like climbing a staircase, one step at a time, learning with a quick, retentive mind. He plays his compositions from memory. His study in Paris with Nadia Boulanger I found perhaps most interesting of all the steps along his way. She is a teacher in Paris anyone who is serious about composition must study with. Like in bluegrass, young musicians got their bluegrass credentials picking with Bill Monroe. I'd wondered about Nadia Boulanger for decades. I remember when a biography of her was published. I wanted to read it, but it was a peripheral interest at the time and I was off on the trail of one or more of my more direct interests at the time. I've had this curiosity of what it was about her touch that was so valued by composers. She was like the most advanced of advanced teachers, so advanced she could teach at home and the students came to her. Glass gave me a sense of presence, her teaching, self-knowledge gained, how she confirmed the young composer in his own direction.   

nadia boulanger


*


Sunday, June 21, 2015

SENSE AND SENSELESSNESS

'
matisse 

Saturday, I had so many places to be, so many things to do, I decided to stay home, write and have a long nap. I'm thinking this is today's agenda as well. I'm seeing a pattern in  behavior. When I have too much expected from outside self, I tend to balk like a donkey and stand still, unmoveable. I wanted to go everyplace expected. First, a bluegrass jam at friend's house with some good musicians, also my neighbors and friends. An old-time band I like and haven't seen in a few years was playing at the bandstand in the Sparta park. At the next house down the road, Josh was visiting for the weekend with a handful of musician friends, interesting people. I looked forward to it until the day it all happened. On the day it happened, I didn't want to do any of it. It was exhausting to think about. I could have made videos and written about the experiences, but when it came time to go out the door, I didn't care enough to go. Went to bed, took a good nap. Woke up ready to write and wrote up into the evening. Went next door to see Josh and friends, stayed until really late, sitting about, talking, relaxed. Three of them, at different times, picked up a guitar and sang a couple of their own songs that were good-worded and well performed, just sitting quietly, all of them good musicians. 

matisse

I'd been going every day for three weeks, and last week refused to go anywhere, had the whole week at home. By Saturday, I was so content not going anywhere, I couldn't stand the thought of going out into the world, reminding self, this is the Age of Television, I'm expected to smile a lot, talk and watch everything I say. Reading in Philip Glass's memoir, he quoted Nadia Boulanger, "Il faut faire un effort." In English, it is necessary to make an effort. She was talking about the artist with one's form, in this case music composition. I bring this up, because it came to mind when I was thinking it's too much effort to go from one place to another all day. Busy-mind self said to relaxed-mind self, It's necessary to make an effort. Relaxed mind self responded, But necessary only in one's art form, not for when the effort involves driving and drains on energy. I pre-forgave self for side-stepping a logjam. 


matisse

The day's rain has begun, a gentle summer shower sounding like wind in the leaves. And then it stopped. Everywhere I look online today and yesterday, I see pictures of the white guy that shot up the black church in Charleston. Every picture I see of him reminds me I don't even want to think about this latest effort for a guaranteed spot on national news by another psychotic child-adult. Something happens we call senseless is no longer unusual. Senselessness, mindlessness, is the new normal. I think it's interesting. It can rightfully be said of this time, "That doesn't make any sense," It reminds me there is no sense anyway. Our traditional, collectively believed ideas of order are breaking down now, changing. That which worked before doesn't work anymore. This is something I must accept or go nuts with frustration. Everything traditional doesn't work anymore. The rules have changed mid-game without notice. I don't see much of the rational anywhere in everyday life. We live by habits, schedules and distractions. I see so little of the rational that I tend to choke when somebody remarks, What happened to reason? I don't see reason anywhere. Reason is good for problem solving, and that's about it. 


matisse

I see the world I live in, near and extended, without sense. Somebody comments on irrational behavior in alarm, and I don't know what to say. It makes perfect sense to me. Of course I don't expect rational behavior in this time. We depend on certain social rules that keep us from killing each other. Somebody side-steps the collectively agreed upon rules and it's called senseless. Just about everything we do is senseless, this church shooting just another senseless act. It had plenty of thought behind it, but no sense. I notice the cops didn't beat him to near death when they arrested him. They were good to him. He'll be the star of the white gangs in prison. Of course, the people of color in the prison will see him through cross-hairs. The white gangs will be his backup. I can't even get near processing the grief that erupted in the church. I can't think about it, because it's too big, way too big to get my mind around. That the same people might have died in the wreck of a church van on the interstate is quite a different thing to mourn than shot down in church by a mean little bastard. I can't dismiss the event or the mind behind it, can't accept it either. The enormity of the grief around this event is too big for my mind to behold, and has the capacity to break my heart if I go with it. The craziest aspect of all, it was no surprise to anybody. When the book is written, it will take a thousand pages.  


matisse by matisse



*