This is an evening for people who love all forms of music and are most excited to see something unlike anything else out there. If you're a true music fan, you're not going to want to miss it.
~ RVA Mag "Shows you must see this week."
Tell me something I didn't already know.
I mean, how could you call yourself a music fan and not jump on an intimate show of a string quartet performing selections from Trey Pollard's new album "Antiphones?"
Throw in that hometown-boy-made-good Matthew E. White was opening and it was a benefit for Classical Revolution RVA and you'd have to be a musical fool not to snap up tickets early. And I'm no fool, or at least, no musical fool.
Besides, despite being strangers, Trey and I go way back. I'd seen Foxygen at the National last year, the same Foxygen who'd had Trey do the arrangements for the album, which is why I went (that and local musicians backing them on said arrangements). I was part of the enthusiastic audiences that saw him play as part of Ombak at Balliceaux in 2010 and 2014. That's right, I saw him backing Lydia Ooghe at Live at Ipanema in 2010, a cozy and memorable show. Back in 2011, I'd not only heard jazz sextet Old New Things do Trey's "Americana" at the Camel, but met a middle-aged man who'd recently begun taking guitar lessons from Trey and bragged about it to me, a stranger. Heck, in 2016, he'd been part of the appeal of hearing the Scott Clark Other Other 4-tet in the dim light of the Gypsy Tea Room. For that matter, there was the time I saw him as part of the Matt White hometown show at Strange Matter touring behind Matt's "Big Love" album just when it was breaking huge. And let's not forget the Richmond Symphony Pops performance in 2017 where Trey wrote the arrangements for all the performers - Tim Barry, Bio Ritmo, Clair Morgan - and I was in the nosebleeds for them all.
But if you really want to drill down, I was at the Listening Room in April 2010 when he'd been playing pedal steel instead of his usual guitar and found myself too curious not to go up to him afterward. Music novice that I am, I'd asked him about it and been surprised when he admitted that the instrument was new to him, so it still required every bit of concentration he had.
Who knew anything musical was ever difficult for Trey Pollard?
All of that's just a long way of saying that seeing the RVA Mag piece after I'd gotten tickets for last night's birthday week fundraiser for Classical Revolution RVA was just validation that I'd made the right call.
Not that I need validation, mind you, but it's always a nice bonus.
After dinner at Goatocado - me with a Californian, Mr. Wright with a Mediterranean - you can be sure we arrived moments after the doors opened so I could have my choice of seats (second row, center, behind family members in the front row) for an evening with Spacebomb founder Matt and longtime collaborator Trey.
Spotting the usual suspects - the DJ I'd just seen at "La Dolce Vita," the Bridgepark mastermind, assorted local musicians - I somehow managed to miss a favorite girlfriend who messaged me this morning, saying she'd seen me before the show and then I'd disappeared. How we missed each other, I'm not quite sure.
Next to me was a young couple, sounding new to each other because they were sharing their musical tastes. She explained that her taste was eclectic, although she couldn't abide country and he listened politely as she told him how much more music there was where she came from than here. Still, they agreed, Richmond was getting better and they were hoping they hadn't made a bad choice in coming tonight.
I didn't have the time or inclination for some real talk with them.
Matt came out and sat down at the piano with the uber-talented Alan Parker on guitar, explaining that it had been only last night when he'd asked Alan to accompany him. That's some serious chops right there. He then proceeded to play some of his new hushed and soulful songs, his back to the room because of the piano's placement.
"I was gonna tell a Trey story between every song - I've known Trey half my life - but I decided not to," he joked at the start, a shame for those of us who love a good yarn. His song about the current dictator in the White House was entitled "No Future in Our Frontman" and got a resounding round of applause, as much for the song's urgency as its message.
If not our musicians and artists speaking out against this abomination-in-chief, then who?
Eventually, Matt relented and shared a favorite Trey story, telling us how, as a teenager, his Virginia Beach guitar teacher was always holding up Trey as the local guitar pinnacle, which was meaningless because Matt had no idea who he was. At least he didn't until he realized that the cheesy Norfolk restaurant where he was hosting had a weekly band consisting of old guys playing rock and roll covers with one young guy shredding mightily on guitar.
Matt, meet Trey.
The string quintet - two violins, viola, cello and upright bass - joined Matt for the last couple of songs, with Trey warning the room that they'd not rehearsed together for this. But these were classical musicians and pros, and they nailed his arrangements, adding an incredibly lush note to Matt's music.
They were so good, in fact, that after the final note, Matt turned to them and Trey looking terribly impressed. "Hey, that was pretty good, Trey!" he marveled since he had just heard the arrangements for the first time, too.
Apparently when you've known someone nearly all your musical life, arranging for their songs is no big deal, or at least it isn't for someone as talented as Trey.
After a brief intermission, the string quintet returned to play selections from Trey's "Preludes and Fugues for String Quartet," a series of short pieces that delivered various moods and musical expectations, only to take off in a direction that felt fresher than any string quartet music you can remember hearing.
Trey introduced the musicians, then took up a spot standing off in a corner as they played.
Like an expectant father being asked to witness his baby's delivery, Trey's focus involved listening intently to the quintet while staring down with his eyes covered or up at the ceiling, at least until his young son approached him, arms extended. Trey took in the rest of the performance with his son's head nestled in his Daddy's neck. It was incredibly sweet.
But so was being on the second floor of the Hof with a small crowd of music lovers listening to homegrown Richmond music about to be released to the world. These guys represent Richmond impressively well and anyone who knew about the show and chose not to come had missed out.
Trey and the Classical Revolution musicians got a much-deserved and extended standing ovation and every time they tried to stop bowing and leave, the clapping kicked into a higher gear. Safe to say, everyone there knew they'd witnessed something extraordinary.
Making our way out, I ran smack into the handsomest bass player I know, surprising both of us since it had been a while and I'd missed his annual Halloween extravaganza because I'd been at a black tie gala dancing to "Brick House" instead of at his house.
"As I live and breathe, Karen Newton!" he exclaimed, hugging me while holding his wife's violin off to the side.
Just another part of a stellar evening I wouldn't have wanted to miss. As the DJ and I agreed, there was absolutely nowhere better to be in Richmond this Tuesday night.
P.S. Happy sixth birthday, Classical Revolution. Helluva celebration.
Showing posts with label classical revolution rva. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classical revolution rva. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
Thursday, November 16, 2017
Roll Over, Beethoven
Let's be real here: making it to five years is an accomplishment.
If you can also score $10,000 on your fifth anniversary, there's even more reason to celebrate. No, no, I'm not talking about relationships here (though I could) but about the little music organization that could. And did.
After a delightful day in the warmer environs of Norfolk, I got home with barely enough time to shower and make it to the Hof in time to score a ticket for Classical Revolution's Birthday Bash with Beethoven's 5th.
The first people I spotted were Beckham and Beauty, but since I hadn't known I was coming, they hadn't saved me a seat in the front row with them. And by front row, I'm guessing they could have seen the fillings in the cellists' teeth if they'd yawned, they were that close.
I found a seat two rows behind them and chatted them up from there - given our shared affection for South Africa, they were the ideal friends to share the Post write-up about Stellenbosch Vineyards Four Secrets Sparkling Shiraz I was reading - as the crowd wandered in and the room began to fill up with music lovers and the 40 musicians who were about to dazzle us.
Surprisingly, I only spotted a few people I knew: the museum director, the Man About Town, the former neighbor and his main squeeze. While I read the rest of my newspaper (Roy Moore is clearly the serial pedophile from Liarsville), DJ Rattan played his always excellent music choices, nailing Latin gems, obscure foreign pop music and the random Steely Dan song, in that way he does so well.
Once the room was standing room only, Classical Revolution's director Ellen took center stage to talk about the non-profit's original mission to get classical music out of concert halls and into everyday life, where they've succeed at playing in bars and bookstores, cideries and galleries, breweries and theaters, even a pedestrian bridge.
I'm truly sorry I missed that last one. Sounds right up my alley.
She went on to issue thank yous to sponsors, the musicians volunteering their time and talent, supporters and, especially, those who'd showed their love with cash. A local couple had issued a challenge that if CR could raise $5,000 during the week of their anniversary celebration, they'd match the amount.
Today, she said, they'd surpassed their goal, so she turned toward the couple, also in the front row, and joked, "I'm going to take you up on that!" as the man extended what looked like a folded check. Real or not, the crowd went crazy hootin' and hollerin' about the good news.
After reminding the crowd that this was a raw performance - everyone was sight-reading music and there'd been no rehearsal - she introduced conductor Daniel Myssyk. He took up his wand, looked at the orchestra and turned back to us. "The beginning is very tricky, so I need to have this very brief conversation with the orchestra musicians."
Take as long as you need, Daniel. In what seemed like no time, he whirled around and said, "Easy!" and the performance began.
The beginning of Beethoven's Fifth is so instantly recognizable (come on, even cartoon fans know it) that right away, people began reacting.
More than a few closed their eyes, several with their heads back. The Hat followed the music's movement with his entire head. A redheaded woman smiled broadly as she watched. A young girl sat folded on her chair like a pretzel, busy reading a paperback rather than watching the orchestra.
Everyone experiences Beethoven in their own way. I vacillated, sometimes closing my eyes to let it wash over me and other times, focusing on a musician, section or Myssyk, who, by the way, gave good conductor face. No guitarist could have done better at guitar face.
Unlike at a more staid Richmond Symphony concert at CenterStage, this crowd, diverse with Baby Boomers, Millennials and everything in between, wasn't shy about clapping in between movements. The first time, the conductor looked surprised, but he adjusted.
You can't very well play in a bar and not expect some spontaneous reactions. The standing ovation at the end felt as much about the pleasure of hearing the music as a celebration of what Classical Revolution has accomplished in five short years.
Walking out with Beckham and Beauty, we encountered a distraught-looking woman who said in an accusatory tone, "They towed my car!" Without a word, we nodded together in sympathy and kept walking, with Beckham murmuring our thoughts, "The way to prevent that is to park legally."
We'd barely turned the corner when we saw an older couple standing in a business lot and he was testily identifying his missing car to the person on the other end of the line. "It was a Ford FAIRLANE!" No need to shout, sir.
No doubt it was a hell of a buzz kill after that fabulous performance to come out and find your car gone, but like Beckham said, there's ways to prevent that.
Kind of like there's ways to celebrate having made it five years. As a man once told me, "Five years with you will never be enough. I'll need at least 25!"
I say we raise a glass of Sparkling Shiraz to Classical Revolution's next 25 years.
If you can also score $10,000 on your fifth anniversary, there's even more reason to celebrate. No, no, I'm not talking about relationships here (though I could) but about the little music organization that could. And did.
After a delightful day in the warmer environs of Norfolk, I got home with barely enough time to shower and make it to the Hof in time to score a ticket for Classical Revolution's Birthday Bash with Beethoven's 5th.
The first people I spotted were Beckham and Beauty, but since I hadn't known I was coming, they hadn't saved me a seat in the front row with them. And by front row, I'm guessing they could have seen the fillings in the cellists' teeth if they'd yawned, they were that close.
I found a seat two rows behind them and chatted them up from there - given our shared affection for South Africa, they were the ideal friends to share the Post write-up about Stellenbosch Vineyards Four Secrets Sparkling Shiraz I was reading - as the crowd wandered in and the room began to fill up with music lovers and the 40 musicians who were about to dazzle us.
Surprisingly, I only spotted a few people I knew: the museum director, the Man About Town, the former neighbor and his main squeeze. While I read the rest of my newspaper (Roy Moore is clearly the serial pedophile from Liarsville), DJ Rattan played his always excellent music choices, nailing Latin gems, obscure foreign pop music and the random Steely Dan song, in that way he does so well.
Once the room was standing room only, Classical Revolution's director Ellen took center stage to talk about the non-profit's original mission to get classical music out of concert halls and into everyday life, where they've succeed at playing in bars and bookstores, cideries and galleries, breweries and theaters, even a pedestrian bridge.
I'm truly sorry I missed that last one. Sounds right up my alley.
She went on to issue thank yous to sponsors, the musicians volunteering their time and talent, supporters and, especially, those who'd showed their love with cash. A local couple had issued a challenge that if CR could raise $5,000 during the week of their anniversary celebration, they'd match the amount.
Today, she said, they'd surpassed their goal, so she turned toward the couple, also in the front row, and joked, "I'm going to take you up on that!" as the man extended what looked like a folded check. Real or not, the crowd went crazy hootin' and hollerin' about the good news.
After reminding the crowd that this was a raw performance - everyone was sight-reading music and there'd been no rehearsal - she introduced conductor Daniel Myssyk. He took up his wand, looked at the orchestra and turned back to us. "The beginning is very tricky, so I need to have this very brief conversation with the orchestra musicians."
Take as long as you need, Daniel. In what seemed like no time, he whirled around and said, "Easy!" and the performance began.
The beginning of Beethoven's Fifth is so instantly recognizable (come on, even cartoon fans know it) that right away, people began reacting.
More than a few closed their eyes, several with their heads back. The Hat followed the music's movement with his entire head. A redheaded woman smiled broadly as she watched. A young girl sat folded on her chair like a pretzel, busy reading a paperback rather than watching the orchestra.
Everyone experiences Beethoven in their own way. I vacillated, sometimes closing my eyes to let it wash over me and other times, focusing on a musician, section or Myssyk, who, by the way, gave good conductor face. No guitarist could have done better at guitar face.
Unlike at a more staid Richmond Symphony concert at CenterStage, this crowd, diverse with Baby Boomers, Millennials and everything in between, wasn't shy about clapping in between movements. The first time, the conductor looked surprised, but he adjusted.
You can't very well play in a bar and not expect some spontaneous reactions. The standing ovation at the end felt as much about the pleasure of hearing the music as a celebration of what Classical Revolution has accomplished in five short years.
Walking out with Beckham and Beauty, we encountered a distraught-looking woman who said in an accusatory tone, "They towed my car!" Without a word, we nodded together in sympathy and kept walking, with Beckham murmuring our thoughts, "The way to prevent that is to park legally."
We'd barely turned the corner when we saw an older couple standing in a business lot and he was testily identifying his missing car to the person on the other end of the line. "It was a Ford FAIRLANE!" No need to shout, sir.
No doubt it was a hell of a buzz kill after that fabulous performance to come out and find your car gone, but like Beckham said, there's ways to prevent that.
Kind of like there's ways to celebrate having made it five years. As a man once told me, "Five years with you will never be enough. I'll need at least 25!"
I say we raise a glass of Sparkling Shiraz to Classical Revolution's next 25 years.
Monday, November 13, 2017
With or Without Clothes
On Sunday, November 11, 2012, I saw my first Classical Revolution at Balliceaux.
I know that because one of the benefits of keeping a blog like this is being able to see where I was on any given day, assuming I blogged that day and presuming I chose to share everything I did, which no one should be surprised to learn I don't always do.
It's not just that casual revelations can backfire on me (but, oh, man, can they...), but that there's plenty that should only be shared face to face. A long-time reader recently summed it up nicely.
"All I know is the blog and that continually revolving story of events that you churn out day after day, something new, something old, hit replay or reset...offering yourself to the world (or what you want us to see)."
That's all you can know unless I want you to know more. Fair, no?
So when Beckham and the Beauty met up with me tonight for Classical Revolution's cleverly-titled "Haydn Where You Least Expect It," it was for a performance celebrating the series' fifth anniversary. That's part of the wonder of Richmond: start doing something interesting and it's bound to take off and with tending, last.
And why not celebrate at everyone's favorite lesbian bar, Babes of Carytown? Sure, I 've been there before - for the Mozart Festival, for book readings - but neither Beckham nor Beauty had ever set foot inside. In fact, it was funny, Beckham remembered it as having quite the fearsome reputation for a young male whippersnapper back when he was in high school.
Now it's just another cozy bar for Classical Revolution to share their message of bringing classical music to the kind of places popular music is so easily found.
The three of us weren't shy about claiming front row seats - Beauty immediately insisting on a "Karen sandwich" with me between them for sharing - with terrific views of two violinists, a viola and a cello player for tonight's performance of Haydn's "Emperor Quartet in C Major." Turns out it was so-called because the melody of the second movement went on to become both Austria and Germany's national anthem.
According to violinist Ellen, that came about because Haydn visited England, where he first heard "God Save the Queen," and thought to himself (her words, not mine), "Hey, we need one of those!" Further proof that musical history can be humorous and informative.
Explaining each movement before it was played went a long way toward helping the more musically-challenged among us (*raises hand) understand the nuances of the beautiful piece of music we were hearing, although as Beauty put it, "Sometimes it's nice to just lose yourself in the music and not even listen for what's going on."
Amen to that, especially on a dark, rainy night and especially after getting a chance to catch up with friends beforehand. After months of relentless studying, Beauty made me laugh rhapsodizing about the pleasures of vacuuming and her cooking faux pas at the cabin in Buckingham County.
I needed to hear that story about Beckham's cousin burning half his beard and all his eyebrows off lighting a fire with gasoline. Who hasn't made some poor choices while drinking whiskey and lighting fires? Hmm, I point out that last time I saw those two together, it involved alcohol and flames and Beckham looks mildly sheepish.
Of course that's not all we talked about - big knuckles and blood diamonds, the shawarma with preserved lemon I'd had earlier, hormones - but probably enough to share now.
"Really, in essence, what else is a writer to do? Besides, you're a blast because, to a great extent, your work is you. You make a connection. Your humanity comes shining through your endeavors. Every writer wants to be read, to be liked in some form or fashion. You're no exception. What's a poor girl to do but keep moving on?"
I'm just going to assume that's a rhetorical question and hit reset. Seems that's what I do.
I know that because one of the benefits of keeping a blog like this is being able to see where I was on any given day, assuming I blogged that day and presuming I chose to share everything I did, which no one should be surprised to learn I don't always do.
It's not just that casual revelations can backfire on me (but, oh, man, can they...), but that there's plenty that should only be shared face to face. A long-time reader recently summed it up nicely.
"All I know is the blog and that continually revolving story of events that you churn out day after day, something new, something old, hit replay or reset...offering yourself to the world (or what you want us to see)."
That's all you can know unless I want you to know more. Fair, no?
So when Beckham and the Beauty met up with me tonight for Classical Revolution's cleverly-titled "Haydn Where You Least Expect It," it was for a performance celebrating the series' fifth anniversary. That's part of the wonder of Richmond: start doing something interesting and it's bound to take off and with tending, last.
And why not celebrate at everyone's favorite lesbian bar, Babes of Carytown? Sure, I 've been there before - for the Mozart Festival, for book readings - but neither Beckham nor Beauty had ever set foot inside. In fact, it was funny, Beckham remembered it as having quite the fearsome reputation for a young male whippersnapper back when he was in high school.
Now it's just another cozy bar for Classical Revolution to share their message of bringing classical music to the kind of places popular music is so easily found.
The three of us weren't shy about claiming front row seats - Beauty immediately insisting on a "Karen sandwich" with me between them for sharing - with terrific views of two violinists, a viola and a cello player for tonight's performance of Haydn's "Emperor Quartet in C Major." Turns out it was so-called because the melody of the second movement went on to become both Austria and Germany's national anthem.
According to violinist Ellen, that came about because Haydn visited England, where he first heard "God Save the Queen," and thought to himself (her words, not mine), "Hey, we need one of those!" Further proof that musical history can be humorous and informative.
Explaining each movement before it was played went a long way toward helping the more musically-challenged among us (*raises hand) understand the nuances of the beautiful piece of music we were hearing, although as Beauty put it, "Sometimes it's nice to just lose yourself in the music and not even listen for what's going on."
Amen to that, especially on a dark, rainy night and especially after getting a chance to catch up with friends beforehand. After months of relentless studying, Beauty made me laugh rhapsodizing about the pleasures of vacuuming and her cooking faux pas at the cabin in Buckingham County.
I needed to hear that story about Beckham's cousin burning half his beard and all his eyebrows off lighting a fire with gasoline. Who hasn't made some poor choices while drinking whiskey and lighting fires? Hmm, I point out that last time I saw those two together, it involved alcohol and flames and Beckham looks mildly sheepish.
Of course that's not all we talked about - big knuckles and blood diamonds, the shawarma with preserved lemon I'd had earlier, hormones - but probably enough to share now.
"Really, in essence, what else is a writer to do? Besides, you're a blast because, to a great extent, your work is you. You make a connection. Your humanity comes shining through your endeavors. Every writer wants to be read, to be liked in some form or fashion. You're no exception. What's a poor girl to do but keep moving on?"
I'm just going to assume that's a rhetorical question and hit reset. Seems that's what I do.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
No History of Heartbreaking
Musical appetizer followed by musical entree.
Daniel Bachman was playing an in-store at Steady Sounds so I joined a room full of mostly guys to see the guy NPR described as an American primitive-style acoustic guitarist.
What I liked about him was how he got so into his songs, whether about his new home, Orange County, N.C. or his sister, that he seemed to forget about all the people in the store.
I had just read something about how Carlos Santana calls reaching that zone a "state of grace" and it sure looked to me like that's where Daniel was while surrounded by adoring guitar geeks.
Sure, I admired, but I was not worthy of admiring his talent.
Then, tonight's main event was the Listening Room, holiday edition.
That meant candy canes, hot chocolate and the usual array of baked goods, my contribution being brownies with nuts and caramel.
Given the holiday season, it was no surprise that most of the usual crew was missing in action but the second string took up the slack admirably.
The poet played door person/bouncer, stamping hands and handing out programs while updating me on her love life.
Sounds like she and the man of her dreams will be looking for some country living when he moves here come January.
The scientist who teaches at VCU came in wearing a dapper sweater vest and telling us about the cleaver tie pin (his Dad was a butcher) he intends to wear for finals next week.
I scurried back to my usual seat amongst strangers instead of familiar faces. Sadly.
Molly Parden from Nashville played first, gracing the room with her lovely voice and the beautiful tones of her guitar.
Singing songs about a friend with a messy kitchen, another from Kentucky and her Dad ("The Story of a Man") who lives in the Atlanta suburbs, she even did a Christmas one, "Through the Snow" by Nashville songwriter Nathan Phillips.
"I was a heartbreaker at nineteen," she explained introducing 'Please, Baby, Please,' "and this is the first song I wrote after breaking someone's heart."
I'm ashamed to say that I wrote nothing beyond a journal entry after breaking my first heart, although my defense is my lack of musical ability.
She entreated us to come say hello after her set, saying, "I'd love to meet you and shake your hand and meet your children if they're here."
During the break I ran into a friend who hadn't brought her child and we discoursed on the subject of getting the right ratio of hot chocolate to marshmallow, a goal as worthy as making your last bite of sandwich synch up with the final potato chip.
The second act was Classical Revolution RVA, the group devoted to taking classical music out of the concert hall and putting it in restaurants and bars where people talk over it.
Except not at the Listening Room, of course.
Ellen on violin and Andrew on classical guitar played a tango piece to great silence before telling us about an upcoming Mozart festival in Carytown.
Then there was a dark Shostakovitch piece done by a string quartet that got a partial standing ovation, no doubt partly because it was the first time classical music has ever been played at the Listening Room.
And isn't that the beauty of the Listening Room that you can hear the totally unexpected?
Last up was Timbre, also from Nashville and on a Christmas tour with Molly.
Earlier, Molly had warned us that Molly played the harp and that harps were heavenly. "You're going to hear a slice of heaven," she'd forewarned us.
Right she was as Timbre and her sister, Tetra, who'd just come back from Mozambique, proceeded to wow the crowd.
Beginning with "Silent Night," the audience was mesmerized by her voice and the sound of her harp.
Her set included a 16th century carol, "Coventry Carol," played with Tetra.
When violinist Treesa of Classical Revolutions (and the Richmond Symphony) came onstage to join Timbre, she said the plans were changed because the cellist had to leave so she didn't need any strings now.
"That was an ice-cold way to get her off stage," my seatmate, guitar god Prabir said, commenting on Treesa's abrupt dismissal.
Timbre said she was from a musical family, did annual Christmas shows and went on to sing a song she'd written based on a story about red-breasted birds her parents had read her as a child.
It was perfectly lovely if geographically inaccurate.
"The story is set in Israel and has woods and snow, " she commented, allowing for how an Israeli setting negated both those things.
But she also did "O, Holy Night" and a Sufjan Stevens Christmas song because, as she said, "he writes awesome Christmas songs."
He does, but that's no surprise. On the other hand, the last thing I expected at the Listening Room was Christmas songs and hot chocolate.
How perfectly festive that both offered themselves up.
Molly was right. It was, indeed, a slice of heaven.
Daniel Bachman was playing an in-store at Steady Sounds so I joined a room full of mostly guys to see the guy NPR described as an American primitive-style acoustic guitarist.
What I liked about him was how he got so into his songs, whether about his new home, Orange County, N.C. or his sister, that he seemed to forget about all the people in the store.
I had just read something about how Carlos Santana calls reaching that zone a "state of grace" and it sure looked to me like that's where Daniel was while surrounded by adoring guitar geeks.
Sure, I admired, but I was not worthy of admiring his talent.
Then, tonight's main event was the Listening Room, holiday edition.
That meant candy canes, hot chocolate and the usual array of baked goods, my contribution being brownies with nuts and caramel.
Given the holiday season, it was no surprise that most of the usual crew was missing in action but the second string took up the slack admirably.
The poet played door person/bouncer, stamping hands and handing out programs while updating me on her love life.
Sounds like she and the man of her dreams will be looking for some country living when he moves here come January.
The scientist who teaches at VCU came in wearing a dapper sweater vest and telling us about the cleaver tie pin (his Dad was a butcher) he intends to wear for finals next week.
I scurried back to my usual seat amongst strangers instead of familiar faces. Sadly.
Molly Parden from Nashville played first, gracing the room with her lovely voice and the beautiful tones of her guitar.
Singing songs about a friend with a messy kitchen, another from Kentucky and her Dad ("The Story of a Man") who lives in the Atlanta suburbs, she even did a Christmas one, "Through the Snow" by Nashville songwriter Nathan Phillips.
"I was a heartbreaker at nineteen," she explained introducing 'Please, Baby, Please,' "and this is the first song I wrote after breaking someone's heart."
I'm ashamed to say that I wrote nothing beyond a journal entry after breaking my first heart, although my defense is my lack of musical ability.
She entreated us to come say hello after her set, saying, "I'd love to meet you and shake your hand and meet your children if they're here."
During the break I ran into a friend who hadn't brought her child and we discoursed on the subject of getting the right ratio of hot chocolate to marshmallow, a goal as worthy as making your last bite of sandwich synch up with the final potato chip.
The second act was Classical Revolution RVA, the group devoted to taking classical music out of the concert hall and putting it in restaurants and bars where people talk over it.
Except not at the Listening Room, of course.
Ellen on violin and Andrew on classical guitar played a tango piece to great silence before telling us about an upcoming Mozart festival in Carytown.
Then there was a dark Shostakovitch piece done by a string quartet that got a partial standing ovation, no doubt partly because it was the first time classical music has ever been played at the Listening Room.
And isn't that the beauty of the Listening Room that you can hear the totally unexpected?
Last up was Timbre, also from Nashville and on a Christmas tour with Molly.
Earlier, Molly had warned us that Molly played the harp and that harps were heavenly. "You're going to hear a slice of heaven," she'd forewarned us.
Right she was as Timbre and her sister, Tetra, who'd just come back from Mozambique, proceeded to wow the crowd.
Beginning with "Silent Night," the audience was mesmerized by her voice and the sound of her harp.
Her set included a 16th century carol, "Coventry Carol," played with Tetra.
When violinist Treesa of Classical Revolutions (and the Richmond Symphony) came onstage to join Timbre, she said the plans were changed because the cellist had to leave so she didn't need any strings now.
"That was an ice-cold way to get her off stage," my seatmate, guitar god Prabir said, commenting on Treesa's abrupt dismissal.
Timbre said she was from a musical family, did annual Christmas shows and went on to sing a song she'd written based on a story about red-breasted birds her parents had read her as a child.
It was perfectly lovely if geographically inaccurate.
"The story is set in Israel and has woods and snow, " she commented, allowing for how an Israeli setting negated both those things.
But she also did "O, Holy Night" and a Sufjan Stevens Christmas song because, as she said, "he writes awesome Christmas songs."
He does, but that's no surprise. On the other hand, the last thing I expected at the Listening Room was Christmas songs and hot chocolate.
How perfectly festive that both offered themselves up.
Molly was right. It was, indeed, a slice of heaven.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Last of the Romantics
As if this unexpectedly balmy weather isn't enough to make a girl swoon, there was romance the whole night long.
Classical Revolution RVA was doing an evening called "Romantic Incarnations," so I dug up a (couple) date; left my windows open and met them at Balliceaux.
With a bottle of Domaine de Rome Sancerre and seats near the back, we were ready to hear music from the Romantic period as well as just plain romantic music.
And, let's face it, few words are as subjective as "romantic."
But Holmes and his beloved know music so I think they'd have enjoyed their first Classical Incarnations no matter what kind of music was played.
We'd missed the very beginning of the show, walking in on Alex playing violin to Debussy's "Beau Soir," followed by Stephanie singing an aria to organizer David's piano.
Andrew and his classical guitar got the award for Best Costume, coming onstage with his shirt collar up and tie unloosened, saying, "You may have asked yourself, why is he wearing his tie so ridiculously."
Seems he was emulating the look of composer Francisco Tarrega. "Google him and you'll see in the first picture that comes up. I wanted to present in the style when it was composed."
Okay, so I did look it up when I got home and he was right.
Like many other Romantic composers who incorporated their country's folk music into their compositions, Tarrega's "An Arabic Caprice" had a decided Muslim-sounding element.
At least until the guy in the bathroom near our seats dropped the toilet lid and it reverberated right to the fifteen-foot ceiling in there.
On the other hand, this is exactly what Classical Revolutions set out to do: put classical music in a relaxed bar setting instead of a concert hall.
Talking, moving around and probably even lid-dropping are all fair game, and by those standards, tonight's crowd was fairly sedate.
During intermission, I checked in with Holmes & Co. to make sure they were enjoying themselves, but then how could any music-lover not enjoy a free night of classical musicians choosing their own music?
An anniversary card was being passed around because tonight marked the end of Classical Incarnations' first year, a cultural milestone.
David came out alone to do a technically demanding Chopin scherzo, all flying fingers and, if you ask Holmes, excess of bass.
I don't presume to hear such things.
We saw two classical guitarists from VCU and a violinist named Nathan who did a lullaby written by the man he called "the czar of violinists" and for his son, Antoine.
Holmes, ever the card, leaned over and observed sotto voice, "If I were up there to play my viola, I'd tell a few viola jokes first."
I thought that was pretty hysterical.
Classical guitarist Andrew returned to give a shout-out to VCU's school of music, commenting on how many VCU alums and students were performing tonight.
"We're so lucky to have VCU in our city," he reminded everyone.
He was finishing the evening with three pieces, but first he explained to us why Liszt was the original rock star.
He was a notorious home-wrecker. He had amazing chops, touring Europe to great acclaim. He organized the first benefit concerts for earthquake relief, and then referenced Live Aid, although I'm not sure he was born yet.
I'd say Andrew made a pretty good case for Liszt.
His final song was one he said he'd learned just last night. "This last one will be short and sloppy and for that I ask your forgiveness."
As discussed with my crack team of a date, we only heard short, not sloppy.
"So that's it. We're done," David said unceremoniously to let us know it was time to exit, stage right.
It was a tad jarring after all that high quality romancing we'd just had.
But since it was still early, Holmes and the near-Mrs. invited me back for some left coast bubbles he'd recently picked up.
Treveri brut rose was not only looked like the most gorgeously feminine of pinks, but tasted that way, too, with lots of strawberry and just enough crispness.
I was invited down into the man cave, where the music, the bar and the comic book collection dwell along with the dust of ancient civilizations.
Holmes was in charge of music, although he also took requests and moderated discussions about song tempos (see: "Layla," "After Midnight" et al) when required.
Necessarily, the music followed Holmes' curve, coming as it did from his CD collection, so Byrds (I do love a twelve-string guitar), Gene Clark, Patty Griffin, that ilk.
The most unusual request came from Beloved and was for a CD of music that was played during the Kennedy years in the White House, stuff like Pablo Casals, Mahalia Jackson and Count Basie, something she'd picked up at the VMFA.
It even included the overture to "Camelot," which has one of the most romantic songs ever written.
But if I'd ever leave you
It couldn't be in autumn
How I'd leave in autumn, I never will know
I've seen how you sparkle
When fall nips the air
I know you in autumn
And I must be there
Drinking pink bubbles and listening to more romantic music, now that's the way you keep the evening's theme going.
Even solo.
Classical Revolution RVA was doing an evening called "Romantic Incarnations," so I dug up a (couple) date; left my windows open and met them at Balliceaux.
With a bottle of Domaine de Rome Sancerre and seats near the back, we were ready to hear music from the Romantic period as well as just plain romantic music.
And, let's face it, few words are as subjective as "romantic."
But Holmes and his beloved know music so I think they'd have enjoyed their first Classical Incarnations no matter what kind of music was played.
We'd missed the very beginning of the show, walking in on Alex playing violin to Debussy's "Beau Soir," followed by Stephanie singing an aria to organizer David's piano.
Andrew and his classical guitar got the award for Best Costume, coming onstage with his shirt collar up and tie unloosened, saying, "You may have asked yourself, why is he wearing his tie so ridiculously."
Seems he was emulating the look of composer Francisco Tarrega. "Google him and you'll see in the first picture that comes up. I wanted to present in the style when it was composed."
Okay, so I did look it up when I got home and he was right.
Like many other Romantic composers who incorporated their country's folk music into their compositions, Tarrega's "An Arabic Caprice" had a decided Muslim-sounding element.
At least until the guy in the bathroom near our seats dropped the toilet lid and it reverberated right to the fifteen-foot ceiling in there.
On the other hand, this is exactly what Classical Revolutions set out to do: put classical music in a relaxed bar setting instead of a concert hall.
Talking, moving around and probably even lid-dropping are all fair game, and by those standards, tonight's crowd was fairly sedate.
During intermission, I checked in with Holmes & Co. to make sure they were enjoying themselves, but then how could any music-lover not enjoy a free night of classical musicians choosing their own music?
An anniversary card was being passed around because tonight marked the end of Classical Incarnations' first year, a cultural milestone.
David came out alone to do a technically demanding Chopin scherzo, all flying fingers and, if you ask Holmes, excess of bass.
I don't presume to hear such things.
We saw two classical guitarists from VCU and a violinist named Nathan who did a lullaby written by the man he called "the czar of violinists" and for his son, Antoine.
Holmes, ever the card, leaned over and observed sotto voice, "If I were up there to play my viola, I'd tell a few viola jokes first."
I thought that was pretty hysterical.
Classical guitarist Andrew returned to give a shout-out to VCU's school of music, commenting on how many VCU alums and students were performing tonight.
"We're so lucky to have VCU in our city," he reminded everyone.
He was finishing the evening with three pieces, but first he explained to us why Liszt was the original rock star.
He was a notorious home-wrecker. He had amazing chops, touring Europe to great acclaim. He organized the first benefit concerts for earthquake relief, and then referenced Live Aid, although I'm not sure he was born yet.
I'd say Andrew made a pretty good case for Liszt.
His final song was one he said he'd learned just last night. "This last one will be short and sloppy and for that I ask your forgiveness."
As discussed with my crack team of a date, we only heard short, not sloppy.
"So that's it. We're done," David said unceremoniously to let us know it was time to exit, stage right.
It was a tad jarring after all that high quality romancing we'd just had.
But since it was still early, Holmes and the near-Mrs. invited me back for some left coast bubbles he'd recently picked up.
Treveri brut rose was not only looked like the most gorgeously feminine of pinks, but tasted that way, too, with lots of strawberry and just enough crispness.
I was invited down into the man cave, where the music, the bar and the comic book collection dwell along with the dust of ancient civilizations.
Holmes was in charge of music, although he also took requests and moderated discussions about song tempos (see: "Layla," "After Midnight" et al) when required.
Necessarily, the music followed Holmes' curve, coming as it did from his CD collection, so Byrds (I do love a twelve-string guitar), Gene Clark, Patty Griffin, that ilk.
The most unusual request came from Beloved and was for a CD of music that was played during the Kennedy years in the White House, stuff like Pablo Casals, Mahalia Jackson and Count Basie, something she'd picked up at the VMFA.
It even included the overture to "Camelot," which has one of the most romantic songs ever written.
But if I'd ever leave you
It couldn't be in autumn
How I'd leave in autumn, I never will know
I've seen how you sparkle
When fall nips the air
I know you in autumn
And I must be there
Drinking pink bubbles and listening to more romantic music, now that's the way you keep the evening's theme going.
Even solo.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
A Little Wisp of a Scherzo
You start slow and you build on a hot Wednesday evening.
Unlike last week, this week's happy hour at the Anderson Gallery required no brain power.
No talent for interpreting art and music, no ability to read into paintings of historical context.
Just the break I needed to really spend some time looking at the new exhibit, Jacob Lawrence's "The Harriet Tubman Series," and take the time to read all of Lawrence's captions written for the 31 pieces.
As if the paintings weren't painfully and exquisitely evocative of Tubman's life, the text he wrote was every bit as strong.
I took my time reading them and when I walked out of the gallery, there was a friend already sitting with beer in hand.
Like me, he wanted a good seat for GeNDeRS, the duo of singer Nelly Kate and video artist Michele Seippel.
As we sat chatting about his upcoming vacation (a much deserved three weeks), more friends came in and we noticed an unusually high percentage of babies present.
Or as one music-loving friend observed, "I feel naked without a baby!"
The performance began when Nelly emerged from the back room singing a capella and walking toward the front.
Michele's live animation was right there with her, showing on the wall she was approaching.
Once up front, Nelly began recording herself and looping, playing a keyboard and twisting knobs to layer sound at the same time Michele was layering video.
A few babies got restless, one kid licked a Popsicle while mesmerized by the video imagery and the rest of the room was rapt.
Nelly Kate, wowing people with her little girl voice and dense sound since 2011, at least in Richmond.
The addition of Michele's visuals made it even more trance-like than usual.
I thought it made for a very cool happy hour.
Sustenance was next courtesy of Mama J's right here in my 'hood and I arrived just minutes before the place filled up as if on cue.
The bartender recognized me, asked if I wanted the usual (fried chicken) and inquired about my side (collards).
Soon two guys joined me at my end of the bar and the one next to me said hello.
When he was asked for his order, he wanted catfish, but nuggets not a fillet, which aren't on the menu.
And just one fillet, not two.
But as soon as my plate arrived, he called our server over and changed his order to chicken like mine.
It wasn't long before he had regrets, though and, for the second time, changed his order back to catfish nuggets, this time two fillets cut up.
The server checked with the kitchen to see if this was possible and came back to tell the guy that they would cut up one fillet into nuggets but the second one would be whole.
"So you're telling me that's my only choice?" the customer asked, clearly not satisfied.
It was.
Personally, I think the kitchen was putting their foot down, not wanting to be back there making nuggets for this guy.
Or maybe they were tired of doing nuggets after Broad Appetit, although they did win the "To Die For" award for best entree for those very nuggets..
I know because I could see the trophy sitting right there behind the bar.
Fed and full, I wandered down 2 Street to the Speakeasy beside the Hippodrome for Pairs, the second cousin of Classical Revolution.
That's the group that's dedicated to bringing classical music to your local bar, restaurant and coffee shop, worthy aims all.
Last time the pairing had been classical and jazz and tonight's was classical and rock.
Once again, we found coasters sitting on the tables, this month's labeled "Membership Card," with the evening's program on it.
As far as how it came about, it was all about the bass.
Upright bass player Todd of My Darling Fury had mentioned that he had an arrangement of Brahms String Sextet written with a double bass part to replace one of the cellos.
Classical Revolution organizer Ellen ran with that idea, having him perform it with two violins, two violas and a cello and then follow it with a set by My Darling Fury.
Brilliant.
The four-movement Brahms piece had plenty of space in a room with 20' ceilings and the only counterpoint to it was the sound of a cocktail shaker being mixed behind the bar.
When they finished, a woman came over and joined me at my table, beer in hand and eager to chat.
"What movement was your favorite?" she asked after telling me she played cello, but "not on that level."
I hadn't considered it until she asked, but my brain told me it had been the third, the scherzo.
She liked the second, the andante, better for the recurring theme that wound its way through it.
Frankly, I was flattered that anyone would even try to talk music to me given my appalling lack of musical comprehension.
She deferred to me, however, when it came to My Darling Fury, since I'd seen them before and she hadn't.
It took an interminable time for the sound man to get it right for them but once the band started, all was forgiven.
Singer Danny has a fabulous voice, emotive and strong, and whether singing "Friendly Parasite" or about "Take her home to Mama," the songs were melodic and tightly executed.
On one song bass player Todd began beating on the back of his bass, causing a fellow bass player to holler from the bar, "Spank it, son!"
Like I said, it was all about the bass tonight.
Being the language geek that I am, I loved "Spilled Milk," full of American idioms like "big boys don't cry."
During a slow song, there were suddenly three dancers, one woman and two guys, performing in the space between the stage and the crowd.
It was totally unexpected and a few people near me laughed in amusement, so I guess modern dance wasn't their thing.
"You guys thought you were coming to see a rock show, didn't you?" the guitarist joked afterwards.
They did "The End of the World," saying, "We like to place our love songs in different settings and this one's at the end of it all."
The viola and violin players, complete with music stands, and the dancers returned for the closing song, "Magic Creature," making for a melding of the evening's pairs or perhaps a metaphor for something bigger.
I just know it was really beautiful.
My final stop of the evening was Gallery 5 for, wait for it, more music, although I'd missed the first two bands.
I made it in time for Fort Worth's War Party, who were giving it their rocking all in front of a surprisingly small crowd.
That said, there were so many good shows tonight, it was hard to know where to be.
By the time they finished their set (including a plea for somewhere to sleep and smoke), the headliner, locals Hoax Hunters, were up against the clock.
Frontman and guitarist PJ surprised the hell out of me by taking off his hat (a first), obviously anticipating a hard and fast set.
"We're not going to waste your time. We have eleven minutes, so let's do this!" he yelled before the band careened into four or five songs.
It's not every band who could cover so much material and still be finished before Gallery 5's noise cut-off kicks in.
But then it's not every night I can hear everything from classical to punk with minimalist pop and chamber rock in between, either.
Shoot, I consider this night well spanked.
Unlike last week, this week's happy hour at the Anderson Gallery required no brain power.
No talent for interpreting art and music, no ability to read into paintings of historical context.
Just the break I needed to really spend some time looking at the new exhibit, Jacob Lawrence's "The Harriet Tubman Series," and take the time to read all of Lawrence's captions written for the 31 pieces.
As if the paintings weren't painfully and exquisitely evocative of Tubman's life, the text he wrote was every bit as strong.
I took my time reading them and when I walked out of the gallery, there was a friend already sitting with beer in hand.
Like me, he wanted a good seat for GeNDeRS, the duo of singer Nelly Kate and video artist Michele Seippel.
As we sat chatting about his upcoming vacation (a much deserved three weeks), more friends came in and we noticed an unusually high percentage of babies present.
Or as one music-loving friend observed, "I feel naked without a baby!"
The performance began when Nelly emerged from the back room singing a capella and walking toward the front.
Michele's live animation was right there with her, showing on the wall she was approaching.
Once up front, Nelly began recording herself and looping, playing a keyboard and twisting knobs to layer sound at the same time Michele was layering video.
A few babies got restless, one kid licked a Popsicle while mesmerized by the video imagery and the rest of the room was rapt.
Nelly Kate, wowing people with her little girl voice and dense sound since 2011, at least in Richmond.
The addition of Michele's visuals made it even more trance-like than usual.
I thought it made for a very cool happy hour.
Sustenance was next courtesy of Mama J's right here in my 'hood and I arrived just minutes before the place filled up as if on cue.
The bartender recognized me, asked if I wanted the usual (fried chicken) and inquired about my side (collards).
Soon two guys joined me at my end of the bar and the one next to me said hello.
When he was asked for his order, he wanted catfish, but nuggets not a fillet, which aren't on the menu.
And just one fillet, not two.
But as soon as my plate arrived, he called our server over and changed his order to chicken like mine.
It wasn't long before he had regrets, though and, for the second time, changed his order back to catfish nuggets, this time two fillets cut up.
The server checked with the kitchen to see if this was possible and came back to tell the guy that they would cut up one fillet into nuggets but the second one would be whole.
"So you're telling me that's my only choice?" the customer asked, clearly not satisfied.
It was.
Personally, I think the kitchen was putting their foot down, not wanting to be back there making nuggets for this guy.
Or maybe they were tired of doing nuggets after Broad Appetit, although they did win the "To Die For" award for best entree for those very nuggets..
I know because I could see the trophy sitting right there behind the bar.
Fed and full, I wandered down 2 Street to the Speakeasy beside the Hippodrome for Pairs, the second cousin of Classical Revolution.
That's the group that's dedicated to bringing classical music to your local bar, restaurant and coffee shop, worthy aims all.
Last time the pairing had been classical and jazz and tonight's was classical and rock.
Once again, we found coasters sitting on the tables, this month's labeled "Membership Card," with the evening's program on it.
As far as how it came about, it was all about the bass.
Upright bass player Todd of My Darling Fury had mentioned that he had an arrangement of Brahms String Sextet written with a double bass part to replace one of the cellos.
Classical Revolution organizer Ellen ran with that idea, having him perform it with two violins, two violas and a cello and then follow it with a set by My Darling Fury.
Brilliant.
The four-movement Brahms piece had plenty of space in a room with 20' ceilings and the only counterpoint to it was the sound of a cocktail shaker being mixed behind the bar.
When they finished, a woman came over and joined me at my table, beer in hand and eager to chat.
"What movement was your favorite?" she asked after telling me she played cello, but "not on that level."
I hadn't considered it until she asked, but my brain told me it had been the third, the scherzo.
She liked the second, the andante, better for the recurring theme that wound its way through it.
Frankly, I was flattered that anyone would even try to talk music to me given my appalling lack of musical comprehension.
She deferred to me, however, when it came to My Darling Fury, since I'd seen them before and she hadn't.
It took an interminable time for the sound man to get it right for them but once the band started, all was forgiven.
Singer Danny has a fabulous voice, emotive and strong, and whether singing "Friendly Parasite" or about "Take her home to Mama," the songs were melodic and tightly executed.
On one song bass player Todd began beating on the back of his bass, causing a fellow bass player to holler from the bar, "Spank it, son!"
Like I said, it was all about the bass tonight.
Being the language geek that I am, I loved "Spilled Milk," full of American idioms like "big boys don't cry."
During a slow song, there were suddenly three dancers, one woman and two guys, performing in the space between the stage and the crowd.
It was totally unexpected and a few people near me laughed in amusement, so I guess modern dance wasn't their thing.
"You guys thought you were coming to see a rock show, didn't you?" the guitarist joked afterwards.
They did "The End of the World," saying, "We like to place our love songs in different settings and this one's at the end of it all."
The viola and violin players, complete with music stands, and the dancers returned for the closing song, "Magic Creature," making for a melding of the evening's pairs or perhaps a metaphor for something bigger.
I just know it was really beautiful.
My final stop of the evening was Gallery 5 for, wait for it, more music, although I'd missed the first two bands.
I made it in time for Fort Worth's War Party, who were giving it their rocking all in front of a surprisingly small crowd.
That said, there were so many good shows tonight, it was hard to know where to be.
By the time they finished their set (including a plea for somewhere to sleep and smoke), the headliner, locals Hoax Hunters, were up against the clock.
Frontman and guitarist PJ surprised the hell out of me by taking off his hat (a first), obviously anticipating a hard and fast set.
"We're not going to waste your time. We have eleven minutes, so let's do this!" he yelled before the band careened into four or five songs.
It's not every band who could cover so much material and still be finished before Gallery 5's noise cut-off kicks in.
But then it's not every night I can hear everything from classical to punk with minimalist pop and chamber rock in between, either.
Shoot, I consider this night well spanked.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Musical Coaster
On the busiest eating-out day of the year, it's hard to find a place to just eat.
I mean, I wasn't looking for a Mother's Day kind of meal, just quick sustenance before a show.
Thinking Don't Look Back would fit the bill, I was relieved of that notion simply by stepping in the door.
The place was mobbed with what looked like other Mother's Day refugees.
Rather than join the line of people waiting for a table or bar stool, I opted for eating in the "lounge," a euphemism for the back area with couches and a coffee table.
A couple was deep in discussion about dancing while rapping onstage, something he professed to have experience in while all she'd done was dance professionally.
But, hey, a server came over almost at once and my black bean nachos arrived shortly thereafter.
When the dancers left, they were replaced by a couple waiting for a table and no matter how often they were told they could eat back there, they declined.
Tables mean a lot more to some people than others.
She kept looking covetously at my food but held fast to an endless wait for that magic table.
They finally got it as I was leaving.
My next stop was Commercial Taphouse for the premiere of Pairs, a new music series showcasing classical music in the first half and jazz after intermission.
Organizer Ellen was setting out coasters on each table; one side had the info about Scrio, the avant-garde jazz ensemble playing tonight, and the other side wittily read, "On tap."
Listed out were the six pieces to be performed, along with the musicians names and instruments.
It was easily the cleverest program I've ever seen. And useful.
Symphony violinist Treesa came in, looking fabulous with her purple-streaked hair and instrument in hand, pointed at me and said, "I knew you'd be here!"
Since I'd last seen her from afar earlier at the symphony performance this afternoon, she'd been hosting a party of symphony musicians at her house.
She'd slipped out long enough to come play at Pairs and was hoping to return without anyone noticing her absence.
It'd be tough not to notice the purple hair was missing, though.
The first piece featured Mary who, we were told, had been the first trumpet at today's performance, doing an Albinoni piece.
The clear tones of her trumpet were a thing of beauty in that small room.
She shone again in a Vivaldi double horn concerto with Rachel on French horn.
Ellen gave us a quick lesson in the make-up of a string quartet, followed by the fact that she'd quilted together a four-movement string quartet of four movements from composers spanning 200 years.
So we first heard Haydn (the father of string quartets), then Schumann, followed by Debussy and finally Shostakovich.
It was an incredibly brilliant and beautiful way to teach the ignorant among us (okay, me) about the movements and various compositional styles of string quartets.
But things stayed real when we heard fajita meat sizzling in the pan in the nearby kitchen during the Haydn movement.
Classical music, it's not just for stuffed shirts anymore.
The moment it ended, the guy behind me exploded out of his seat to go to the bathroom, telling his friends, "I've been holding it. You don't want to walk through a string quartet to pee."
His Momma didn't raise no fool.
Intermission followed, meaning Scott Clark, one of the the three musicians with Scott in his name who form Scrio (Scott trio, get it?) set up his drums.
It really doesn't take any time for Scott Burton to take his guitar from its case or Jason Scott to hook his sax around his neck.
But then who in RVA doesn't understand how jazz time works?
The talented trio played music from a variety of sources - an early '80s jazz composer, guitarist Scott, saxophonist Jason, John Coltrane ("But just the melody because it's so good").
"We're playing pretty much the entire sax/guitar/drum repertoire that exists," Jason joked.
Both the Burton and Scott pieces had #2 in their title, causing him to wax poetic, "We're a trio playing songs with the number two in them. Deep."
Okay, not that deep, but full of Scott's alternately busy and spare drumming, Scott's nuanced and tasty guitar playing and Jason's melodic wailing on sax.
It was a far cry from a string quartet or double horn concerto, but every bit as impressive to hear, as evidenced by all the classical players who hung around for it.
But then, it was an enviable port in a Mother's Day storm.
I mean, I wasn't looking for a Mother's Day kind of meal, just quick sustenance before a show.
Thinking Don't Look Back would fit the bill, I was relieved of that notion simply by stepping in the door.
The place was mobbed with what looked like other Mother's Day refugees.
Rather than join the line of people waiting for a table or bar stool, I opted for eating in the "lounge," a euphemism for the back area with couches and a coffee table.
A couple was deep in discussion about dancing while rapping onstage, something he professed to have experience in while all she'd done was dance professionally.
But, hey, a server came over almost at once and my black bean nachos arrived shortly thereafter.
When the dancers left, they were replaced by a couple waiting for a table and no matter how often they were told they could eat back there, they declined.
Tables mean a lot more to some people than others.
She kept looking covetously at my food but held fast to an endless wait for that magic table.
They finally got it as I was leaving.
My next stop was Commercial Taphouse for the premiere of Pairs, a new music series showcasing classical music in the first half and jazz after intermission.
Organizer Ellen was setting out coasters on each table; one side had the info about Scrio, the avant-garde jazz ensemble playing tonight, and the other side wittily read, "On tap."
Listed out were the six pieces to be performed, along with the musicians names and instruments.
It was easily the cleverest program I've ever seen. And useful.
Symphony violinist Treesa came in, looking fabulous with her purple-streaked hair and instrument in hand, pointed at me and said, "I knew you'd be here!"
Since I'd last seen her from afar earlier at the symphony performance this afternoon, she'd been hosting a party of symphony musicians at her house.
She'd slipped out long enough to come play at Pairs and was hoping to return without anyone noticing her absence.
It'd be tough not to notice the purple hair was missing, though.
The first piece featured Mary who, we were told, had been the first trumpet at today's performance, doing an Albinoni piece.
The clear tones of her trumpet were a thing of beauty in that small room.
She shone again in a Vivaldi double horn concerto with Rachel on French horn.
Ellen gave us a quick lesson in the make-up of a string quartet, followed by the fact that she'd quilted together a four-movement string quartet of four movements from composers spanning 200 years.
So we first heard Haydn (the father of string quartets), then Schumann, followed by Debussy and finally Shostakovich.
It was an incredibly brilliant and beautiful way to teach the ignorant among us (okay, me) about the movements and various compositional styles of string quartets.
But things stayed real when we heard fajita meat sizzling in the pan in the nearby kitchen during the Haydn movement.
Classical music, it's not just for stuffed shirts anymore.
The moment it ended, the guy behind me exploded out of his seat to go to the bathroom, telling his friends, "I've been holding it. You don't want to walk through a string quartet to pee."
His Momma didn't raise no fool.
Intermission followed, meaning Scott Clark, one of the the three musicians with Scott in his name who form Scrio (Scott trio, get it?) set up his drums.
It really doesn't take any time for Scott Burton to take his guitar from its case or Jason Scott to hook his sax around his neck.
But then who in RVA doesn't understand how jazz time works?
The talented trio played music from a variety of sources - an early '80s jazz composer, guitarist Scott, saxophonist Jason, John Coltrane ("But just the melody because it's so good").
"We're playing pretty much the entire sax/guitar/drum repertoire that exists," Jason joked.
Both the Burton and Scott pieces had #2 in their title, causing him to wax poetic, "We're a trio playing songs with the number two in them. Deep."
Okay, not that deep, but full of Scott's alternately busy and spare drumming, Scott's nuanced and tasty guitar playing and Jason's melodic wailing on sax.
It was a far cry from a string quartet or double horn concerto, but every bit as impressive to hear, as evidenced by all the classical players who hung around for it.
But then, it was an enviable port in a Mother's Day storm.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Walk This Way
Today was like a day in Italy.
The weather was beautiful and I spent the day walking everywhere.
The only thing missing was the overly-forward men leering and saying inappropriate things.
Ah, Italian men.
First there was the hilly walk to the Bottom in search of lunch, a challenge after 2:00 we discovered.
Eventually we found settled in at Globehopper for sandwiches in the sunny room surrounded by people on laptops.
The walk back up the hill was far shadier, but still temperate enough to convince me I wanted an evening of the same.
Playing tourist, we stopped to admire the public art along Main Street, notable mainly for how inoffensive and uninteresting it was.
Really, in the city with the number one sculpture school in the country we can't find better large scale sculpture?
After cleaning up and a change into evening attire, it was soon time to set out for Balliceaux and Classical Incarnations with members of the Richmond Symphony playing in small chamber group iterations.
The music began with a duo who morphed into a trio.
Next up was a guy on upright bass with a looping pedal, so I saw the equivalent of Dave Watkins done classically.
Very cool.
Next came a guy on guitar doing a Steve Reich composition with 16 guitar parts. As he explained it, it had been written in the 1980s and to do it all himself, he'd had to record all 16 tracks individually.
Tonight, he'd recorded all but one, saying, "Now I'm doing it with a laptop."
The New Age sounding piece was a dense layering of guitars.
We went on to hear a duo do a piece they said demonstrated Prokofiev's beautiful harmonies and did it ever.
Then came a favorite, a Brahms horn trio for piano, violin and French horn.
The horn player called it, "The quintessential chamber music for horn players."
I knew two of the three.
Russell Wilson, the Symphony's pianist tore it up, even turning up the volume on his keyboard early on.
Treesa Gold's blond hair was flying as she got into her part and the horn player looked blissed out.
After intermission, they did a Brahms sonata that came about after another violinist and Russell had been jamming (i.e., sight-reading at a practice) on it last week.
It was a mashup of lullaby and lively.
Singer Lisa did two songs ("In English!") to Russell's accompaniment while the guy next to me noted, "This is chick music."
There were so many things I could have said, but why ruin a lovely Italian day?
My hands-down favorite piece was by Hayden and affectionately called "The Rider" for its galloping rhythms on two violins, viola and cello.
A demented waltz by Shostakovitch was a killer finish as I looked around to see a roomful of classical nerds smiling broadly at this madcap ending.
From classical music, we set out again, this time for Live at Ipanema and dessert.
Double chocolate cake and Franco Serra Dolcetta d'Alba took care of the last course of the day as the band set up.
Ocean vs. Daughter was playing so while we still had keyboards, it was quite a change from what we'd just heard.
More Tori Amos, less long hair music.
And definitely more D.I.Y., with photographer P.J. Sykes saving the day by finding a piece of cinder block for the cellist to prop his instrument against.
There were friends to talk to- musicians, a teacher out too late, and restaurant types - all out looking for music to end their weekend.
Lead singer Flanna began solo but soon we got the benefit of Kevin's drums (and background vocals) and the cello.
Her material done alone was of the confessional girl sort, but it was the louder songs that won over the crowd.
Or maybe that was just me.
They did a song they'd never played out before ("We'll see what happens") and nailed it.
And then it was over and time to head out into the still decidedly un-December like weather.
In other words, it was a lovely walk home.
Unlike in Italy, though, we passed no gelaterias or pastry shops open late along the way.
Still, a midnight walk is always to be appreciated, whether here or in the land of the leer.
The weather was beautiful and I spent the day walking everywhere.
The only thing missing was the overly-forward men leering and saying inappropriate things.
Ah, Italian men.
First there was the hilly walk to the Bottom in search of lunch, a challenge after 2:00 we discovered.
Eventually we found settled in at Globehopper for sandwiches in the sunny room surrounded by people on laptops.
The walk back up the hill was far shadier, but still temperate enough to convince me I wanted an evening of the same.
Playing tourist, we stopped to admire the public art along Main Street, notable mainly for how inoffensive and uninteresting it was.
Really, in the city with the number one sculpture school in the country we can't find better large scale sculpture?
After cleaning up and a change into evening attire, it was soon time to set out for Balliceaux and Classical Incarnations with members of the Richmond Symphony playing in small chamber group iterations.
The music began with a duo who morphed into a trio.
Next up was a guy on upright bass with a looping pedal, so I saw the equivalent of Dave Watkins done classically.
Very cool.
Next came a guy on guitar doing a Steve Reich composition with 16 guitar parts. As he explained it, it had been written in the 1980s and to do it all himself, he'd had to record all 16 tracks individually.
Tonight, he'd recorded all but one, saying, "Now I'm doing it with a laptop."
The New Age sounding piece was a dense layering of guitars.
We went on to hear a duo do a piece they said demonstrated Prokofiev's beautiful harmonies and did it ever.
Then came a favorite, a Brahms horn trio for piano, violin and French horn.
The horn player called it, "The quintessential chamber music for horn players."
I knew two of the three.
Russell Wilson, the Symphony's pianist tore it up, even turning up the volume on his keyboard early on.
Treesa Gold's blond hair was flying as she got into her part and the horn player looked blissed out.
After intermission, they did a Brahms sonata that came about after another violinist and Russell had been jamming (i.e., sight-reading at a practice) on it last week.
It was a mashup of lullaby and lively.
Singer Lisa did two songs ("In English!") to Russell's accompaniment while the guy next to me noted, "This is chick music."
There were so many things I could have said, but why ruin a lovely Italian day?
My hands-down favorite piece was by Hayden and affectionately called "The Rider" for its galloping rhythms on two violins, viola and cello.
A demented waltz by Shostakovitch was a killer finish as I looked around to see a roomful of classical nerds smiling broadly at this madcap ending.
From classical music, we set out again, this time for Live at Ipanema and dessert.
Double chocolate cake and Franco Serra Dolcetta d'Alba took care of the last course of the day as the band set up.
Ocean vs. Daughter was playing so while we still had keyboards, it was quite a change from what we'd just heard.
More Tori Amos, less long hair music.
And definitely more D.I.Y., with photographer P.J. Sykes saving the day by finding a piece of cinder block for the cellist to prop his instrument against.
There were friends to talk to- musicians, a teacher out too late, and restaurant types - all out looking for music to end their weekend.
Lead singer Flanna began solo but soon we got the benefit of Kevin's drums (and background vocals) and the cello.
Her material done alone was of the confessional girl sort, but it was the louder songs that won over the crowd.
Or maybe that was just me.
They did a song they'd never played out before ("We'll see what happens") and nailed it.
And then it was over and time to head out into the still decidedly un-December like weather.
In other words, it was a lovely walk home.
Unlike in Italy, though, we passed no gelaterias or pastry shops open late along the way.
Still, a midnight walk is always to be appreciated, whether here or in the land of the leer.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Slave to the Notes
I got a couple of firsts in tonight.
After dinner at Toast with two of my favorite people, I made my way to Balliceaux for Classical Revolution RVA. I'd missed the chance to see classical musicians doing small group performances as part of this new series, so tonight was my chance to see what it was all about.
I loved their issue with live music: that all kinds of music are available easily and cheaply around town...except classical. And their aim is to correct that.
Walking in, I found a friend at the front bar and spent some time discussing my recent trip to Italy. Since he's been there many times, he was curious to hear my impressions.
"Yea, the men are really bold," he grinned.
Once in the back room, a chair was found for me and when I heard they were out of Cazadores, my server graciously offered to introduce me to a new tequila. It was Kah Reposado, which sounds innocuous enough, but comes in a yellow skull-shaped bottle with Day of the Dead imagery on it.
The bottle was so over the top that I assumed the tequila couldn't be any good. Wrong.
With my front row seat and new libation, I was all set for an evening of classical interpretations. Unfortunately, I'd missed the first couple of them.
I arrived in time for some Shostakovitch duos played spiritedly enough to assure me I was in the right place. That was followed by a duo doing Dvorak's "Slovanik Fantasy" but only after apologizing for having played it as recently as August.
As one who'd missed August's performance, I had no problem with a repeat in November.
Maria and Ross followed doing Stravinsky's "Duo Concertant," a piece they'd been playing for the Richmond Ballet's Studio 2 series the past two weekends. But as Ross explained, when doing it for the Ballet, they'd been slaves to the dance and now planned to do the five movements exactly as Stravinsky had notated them.
Translation: wicked fast.
Maria's hand over hand technique and the speed of the piece resulted in her hands being nothing short of a blur most of the time. Later she admitted that while it was difficult to learn, now it was just fun to play. That's a musician nerd for you.
We moved from the past to the present with Michael Daugherty's "Diamond in the Rough," a 2006 piece based in Mozart. The trio had way more than three instruments to bring this piece to life: violin, viola and an array of percussion and a percussionist with passion.
Playing chimes, glockenspiel, triangle, tambourine and four wine glasses filled to varying heights with water, he was a one man band inside the trio. Rubbing the glasses emitted an eerie whine. The glockenspiel provided the energy. The triangle punctuated at just the right moments. And the tambourine was really a movable drum.
By the end of the piece, the whole thing sounded like a hoedown on speed. And then it was over. Classical Revolution RVA starts on time and ends at a reasonable hour.
In between, people eat, drink and listen to music with no annoying chatter to distract from the musicians doing their thing. I just may have a new series to add to my calendar.
We'll see about adding the Kah to my rotation.
After dinner at Toast with two of my favorite people, I made my way to Balliceaux for Classical Revolution RVA. I'd missed the chance to see classical musicians doing small group performances as part of this new series, so tonight was my chance to see what it was all about.
I loved their issue with live music: that all kinds of music are available easily and cheaply around town...except classical. And their aim is to correct that.
Walking in, I found a friend at the front bar and spent some time discussing my recent trip to Italy. Since he's been there many times, he was curious to hear my impressions.
"Yea, the men are really bold," he grinned.
Once in the back room, a chair was found for me and when I heard they were out of Cazadores, my server graciously offered to introduce me to a new tequila. It was Kah Reposado, which sounds innocuous enough, but comes in a yellow skull-shaped bottle with Day of the Dead imagery on it.
The bottle was so over the top that I assumed the tequila couldn't be any good. Wrong.
With my front row seat and new libation, I was all set for an evening of classical interpretations. Unfortunately, I'd missed the first couple of them.
I arrived in time for some Shostakovitch duos played spiritedly enough to assure me I was in the right place. That was followed by a duo doing Dvorak's "Slovanik Fantasy" but only after apologizing for having played it as recently as August.
As one who'd missed August's performance, I had no problem with a repeat in November.
Maria and Ross followed doing Stravinsky's "Duo Concertant," a piece they'd been playing for the Richmond Ballet's Studio 2 series the past two weekends. But as Ross explained, when doing it for the Ballet, they'd been slaves to the dance and now planned to do the five movements exactly as Stravinsky had notated them.
Translation: wicked fast.
Maria's hand over hand technique and the speed of the piece resulted in her hands being nothing short of a blur most of the time. Later she admitted that while it was difficult to learn, now it was just fun to play. That's a musician nerd for you.
We moved from the past to the present with Michael Daugherty's "Diamond in the Rough," a 2006 piece based in Mozart. The trio had way more than three instruments to bring this piece to life: violin, viola and an array of percussion and a percussionist with passion.
Playing chimes, glockenspiel, triangle, tambourine and four wine glasses filled to varying heights with water, he was a one man band inside the trio. Rubbing the glasses emitted an eerie whine. The glockenspiel provided the energy. The triangle punctuated at just the right moments. And the tambourine was really a movable drum.
By the end of the piece, the whole thing sounded like a hoedown on speed. And then it was over. Classical Revolution RVA starts on time and ends at a reasonable hour.
In between, people eat, drink and listen to music with no annoying chatter to distract from the musicians doing their thing. I just may have a new series to add to my calendar.
We'll see about adding the Kah to my rotation.
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