Nonetheless, I’ve somehow found myself in a position where I make decisions that impact eighth blackbird’s life on the road (silly birds).  And so we, in our collective wisdom, wondered if it might not be a bad idea for me to come on the road with them.  To see firsthand the swarms of surly roadies setting up the instruments, to hear the deafening din of the roaring crowd, to assist in the last minute scramble for another score of coke to get Tim Munro through another night, to help pick out which of the eager young woman will accompany an unnamed percussionist back to the hotel, to buy off another photographer whose equipment Nick Photinos’ infamous and increasingly expensive temper has destroyed, to wake in a stranger’s hotel room with nothing but the smell of cheap beer as a blanket. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.  eighth blackbird actually drinks very good beer on the road.

This spring provided a perfect opportunity.  The birds were to fly out to California for a Wednesday performance of Mark DeChiazza’s production of Pierrot Lunaire, oddly paired with the tape-version of Double Sextet, at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), travel a little further north for a recital the next night at California State University Northridge (CSUN), then fly to Minneapolis for a Saturday evening performance of the only moving thing, including an all live version of Double Sextet with the local new music ensemble Zeitgeist at the Walker (Walker). Three completely different programs over four days, involving six other musicians, five additional staff and over two dozen different suitcases all with unique itineraries.  Bring on the glamour.

First, I had a task: chairs.  Mark’s production of Pierrot Lunaire involves the use of several chairs.  They have a specific look, size and sound. Or rather, lack of sound.  We have these chairs and intended to ship them to L.A.  I went to the UPS store, along with a whole different set of equipment to ship to Minneapolis, including 50 pounds of quinoa, the explanation of which I’ll leave to your imagination.  Just getting these oversized boxes from the studio to the store was a task worthy a Greek epic, if the hero of the epic were a 150 pound intellectual with the physical coordination of a turtle.  Luckily I was assisted by our Production Manager, Emily Upson. Who is pregnant.  Come to think of it, it was more like an English farce.  Anyhow, as it turns out, it was going to cost $150 to get the chairs to L.A.  Even more to completely guarantee they arrive on time.  And another $150 to ship them back.  For those of you struggling with the math, that’s at least $300.  For four chairs.  We took the chairs back to the studio, providing some free street theater for passersby, where a little research uncovered the exact same chairs at an Ikea near LACMA, in stock and ready for pickup.  $20 a piece.  I decided to just buy the chairs in L.A. and then donate them to LACMA.  Even wonder why a small arts organization should hire an administrator?  It’s because we’re trained to make tough executive decisions like this.

Emily and Ryan Ingebritsen, our sound engineer, went out to L.A. first to begin setting up for Pierrot.  eighth blackbird is an odd duck (gaggle?) within the music world.  We’re frequently booked for chamber music series, but we’re often booked because we do much more than chamber music.  The problem is that the presenters for such series aren’t really equipped for the ‘more’.  They know eighth blackbird performs Pierrot Lunaire from memory, and they’re excited by the idea that the group moves around on stage, but when we show up with sound reinforcement, hanging light bulbs, an umbrella, dancer, etc., they can get a little nervous.  There’s an old story that the indigenous peoples literally couldn’t see the boats of the first American settlers.  Because they had no framework, no concept, for such massive ships, they would be so anomalous as to become invisible (perceptual blindness).  I’m pretty confident that specific story is bullshit, but the basic idea holds. If presenters have only ever seen chamber music groups show up with their instruments and play, no amount of advance paperwork ever really prepares them for eighth blackbird. Sending out our tech crew in advance is therefore essential for a production like Pierrot.

Ryan and Emily were followed a day later by the ensemble, and then myself with Mark, dancer Elyssa Dole and special guest soprano, the incomparable Lucy Shelton. Our car ride included a very serious conversation between Mark and Lucy about the nuances of very specific hand gestures.  Mark is one of those rare directors, nay, rare people, who puts thought into every detail of a performance.  His production is so saturated with intention that he earns your trust quickly, allowing you to relax into the experience.  It’s an odd bit of alchemy.  (Read more about the production here.) LACMA, an art museum, booked eighth blackbird as part of their Art & Music Series, American Stories.  How does Pierrot Lunaire fit into American Stories?  I have no idea, but the crowd loved it, so who’s to argue with what works?  Even more exciting, some of Herr Schoenberg’s family, including his son, were present for the performance and chatted approvingly with the musicians afterwards.

When traveling, the group is often responsible for booking their own lodging. For most of their 14 years on the road, this has meant a lot of cheap motels and even the occasional outbreak of bed bugs (Matt Albert recently attained an advanced degree in Priceline bidding, so the situation has improved a bit).  Other times, presenters provide lodging. This has, no kidding, sometime meant the musicians end up in the guest rooms of a friend or donor of the presenter. Lucky for us, LACMA has a relationship with the Sofitel, so we were housed in unusual comfort.  LACMA Music Director Mitch Glickman, along with a few local friends, composers and musicians, met at the hotel afterwards for drinks.  We were to leave early the next morning, so one by one the crowd thinned out until was just me, Ryan and our particularly gregarious waitress, who was campaigning to become Miss California.  This was my first encounter with a true California girl, and I have to confess that I’m always a little comforted by having my stereotypes reinforced.  When I finally left at 2:00 a.m., I turned the corner only to find Matthew Duvall still chatting away with an old friend, another in an endless parade of fascinating composers, musicians, thinkers, writers, artists and Obies I was to encounter over the next few days.  After having left my own home in Chicago about 20 hours earlier, I finally retired to my room for a four hour nap.  I think Matthew might still be in the bar talking.

The next morning, Emily and Ryan flew on to Minneapolis to prep for The Only Moving Thing at the Walker, while the group and I drove up to Northridge for an acoustic performance that evening.  I was quickly learning the basic formula that has probably existed since the time of Homeric bards with only minor variations: rise early, travel, load in, rehearse, residency activity, rehearse, perform, socialize, drink, sleep, repeat.  The residency activity for CSUN was an open rehearsal and Q&A with a composition class.  eighth blackbird seems particularly well suited to engaging with students.  I don’t know if it’s because they’re still relatively young, that they’ve pioneered their own unique path, or simply their personalities, but they connect with aspiring musicians and composers in a truly remarkable way.  A few stilted, generic questions elicit disarmingly honest answers and soon it’s just a conversation between peers about what composers should expect from their musicians, and vice versa, the realities of life on the road, the mechanics of an effective rehearsal, the process of commissioning, etc.

One of the advantages of late-season bookings of the acoustic program is the group’s familiarity with the rep.  By spring, they’ve performed these pieces a dozen times and perform them with greater confidence and ease.  They play, in the wonderful multiple meanings of the word. There was a good crowd that evening, and the birds soaked up the love and threw it right back.  The highlight of the acoustic program is Stephen Hartke’s Meanwhile, which in addition to being fully memorized and staged, is one of the few pieces unequivocally beloved by all six musicians. Stephen was in the audience that evening, perhaps adding even further incentive to let loose.  This was also right about the time my last blog post was accumulating spirited comments and sparking several other online conversations, so Stephen and I had the chance to discuss our occasionally divergent perspectives in person.  Much like his music, Stephen is beguiling mix of academic intelligence, quirky wit and playfulness.

There was another early flight the next morning, so rather than hang around Northridge, we traveled back to L.A. to stay at a hotel next to the airport.  I had been hearing stories about In-N-Out burgers, so Michael Maccaferri was kind enough to take me to one on his way to pick up a barely used iPad from a local contact (yes, that does sound sketchy).  Mythical burger, fries and shake in hand, grateful for late night HBO, I finally retired to my room for another four hour nap.

On the way to the airport early the next morning, I began questioning my decision to tag along on this particular trip.  We were only halfway done and I was already growing to resent the intrusive quality of daylight.  We flew to Denver, then on to Minneapolis, then drove straight to the Walker for an interview with Fred Childs for the nationally syndicated Performance Today.  The group was exhausted and hungry and it began to show in the interview.  It wasn’t anything anyone else would notice, but like a play you’ve seen enough times to spot subtle differences in an actor’s performance, or more like a family dinner where you’re attuned to the loaded raise of an eyebrow, I could hear the the rough edges of normally smooth replies.  The group then went right into rehearsal for Double Sextet, which they were to perform live with local new music ensemble Zeitgeist.  At 9:00 that evening, they then began a tech run though of the other half of The Only Moving Thing program, singing in the dead of night (by Bang on a Can with choreography by Susan Marshall).

What’s truly remarkable is that once on the stage, all those rough edges instantly disappeared.  All six of the musicians in eighth blackbird are tremendously capable people, whatever they do they do very well, so much so that I sometimes forget that they are, in fact, musicians first and foremost.  There is a strength, grace and playfulness to their collective personality on stage that is magnetic, a presence that draws you in and holds you tight.  Over the course of those few days, I witnessed one quality, which above all others I believe constitutes the essential structure of such presence: an unrelenting work ethic.  They just don’t ever stop.  No section is ever good enough.  There’s always time for one more pass.  The two expressions I may have heard most were, “Stop, I fucked up,” and “Let’s try that one more time.”  And what happens in those few rare hours when they’re not on stage rehearsing together? They go off and practice individually.  This, of course, is the great open secret to success, but to see it in action first hand . . . well, it’s inspiring, and that’s not a word I use lightly.

Like Cinderella at the ball, though, even eighth blackbird gets a few hours to look pretty and kick up their glass slippers.  That night we hooked up with some old Oberlin friends, who are to be found wherever eighth blackbird goes, and some other musicians in town for the 2010 International Marimba Festival.  We drank and talked deep into the night, much of it involving Steve Reich, the one common musical factor.  I had slept about 12 hours over the last four days, but the conversation got my blood pumping, so I decided 1:00 a.m. was the perfect time to really get to know downtown Minneapolis.  And as I’ve learned, every hotel’s overnight staff knows where to find a good late night pizza joint.  I wandered off into an astonishingly active downtown where I quickly learned that Minneapolis’ denizens make up for a long winter’s worth of hiding flesh by exposing as much of it as possible in the few months of warmth.  My stomach and eyes happily sated, I returned to the hotel for another four hour nap.

Technically, we had the morning off, but as it happens, our friend/mentor Tom Morris was in town, and when you have a chance to be in Tom’s presence, you take it.  Tom, Lisa, Matthew and I met for breakfast, talked big hairy audacious goals and stuffed ourselves with eggs, pancakes coffee and ideas.  Then it was back to the Walker for another full day of rehearsals.

eighth blackbird performed that evening.  It went very well.  We love the Walker.  There was an after party.  There were drinks.  Then pie.  At some point we returned to the hotel.  I convinced Matt Albert to venture out into the night again for pizza and sights.  A few hours later we were on another plane, finally returning to Chicago.  I felt a year older.  Which, if my math is right (and it never is), the birds must each feel about 942.

I don’t know about the others, but I like to begin and end journeys with a shower.  In my delirious state, I saw a profound encapsulation of life on the road embedded like a secret code in the shampoo bottle instructions:  ”Rinse. Repeat.”

Coming Next: An Education – Part 2: The Currency of Conversation (A New Music Listening Guide)

I was in eighth blackbird’s studio when  Jennifer Higdon’s concerto came in the mail. I have witnessed this piece’s growth from its infancy to its world premiere in Atlanta with Robert Spano and the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. Jennifer came to the studio for rehearsal and I was surprised at how smart, kind, and genuine she truly is. “On A Wire” is an exceptionally difficult and colorful concerto that features solos from all the members of eighth blackbird. Upon looking at the score for the first time, the only thing I could think was: I have never seen so many notes! The package arrived with Jennifer’s piano bows made of fishing line. From Lisa Kaplan’s first note on prepared piano, I was hooked. The music was hypnotic and the difficulty level couldn’t be higher. After a number of rehearsals, the ensemble started to truly “play” this piece and “On A Wire” was on its way to becoming a masterpiece.

One issue that eighth blackbird had early on was the prepared piano sections. It was then assigned to me to procure/create a piano bow that was easily playable and also produced a lush, full, and vibrant sound. After many hours of fiddling with many materials including weed-wacker thread and orange flagging tape, I had a couple of solutions that I presented to the blackbirds. We decided the best sound and most playable was a “bow” made from interwoven synthetic bow hair. Jennifer came to the studio just after receiving her Pulitzer Prize and Grammy and the bow debacle was discussed. She was very intuitive and was adamant about the sound she wanted (as a Pulitzer Prize winning composer should be). Drawing extended techniques from a previous piece that Higdon composed for eighth blackbird, “Zaka,” she employed a large array of extended techniques. Some of these techniques are amazingly colorful when the entire sextet is doing them simultaneously. From using a guitar pick inside the piano and muted piano harmonics to Tim Munro’s very loud and definitive tongue ram on flute, this piece has everything a listener can ask for.

The ensemble took all of her words of criticism to heart and began to rehearse with a new energy. This piece was on the way to becoming a living and breathing thing except something was missing…..the orchestra. The ensemble had been listening to the MIDI recording of the piece since its arrival but I had not heard it and was unaware of how it would really sound. I know this concerto very well but I only know the sextet’s concerto, not the sextet + orchestra concerto, BIG DIFFERENCE.

When I heard that the ensemble planned on memorizing this piece, I wasn’t surprised. I have no idea how much each player practiced but with a piece of this size and difficulty, it must have been a true challenge and commitment. One of eighth blackbird’s signatures is performing new music from memory and true to their word, they did.

One “fear” everyone had expressed is they had no idea what “On A Wire” would actually sound like with the orchestra. A common discussion during rehearsal was how to blend and perform with the orchestra while still being heard and remaining musical. Blackbird would rehearse sections repeatedly with small (but important) changes each time and discuss what sound would be best. Sitting in front of the ensemble with the score in hand, I have heard this piece performed a thousand different ways. I can say that eighth blackbird has a truly great taste for making the music shine as well as themselves. They can add the right color and energy to a small section that can make the piece go from good to great. The week before leaving for Robert Spano and the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra was full of nervous excitement and the ensemble couldn’t wait any longer. The nervous smiles on all of their faces led me to believe that the premiere of this concerto was going to be amazing and truly special.

So with all this context established, let’s talk about the premiere. Wow. I was a ball of nerves leading up to Lisa’s very first bowed note and when she started, a huge sigh of relief rushed over me. When the orchestra entered for the first time my face was frozen and my jaw was on the floor. Jennifer truly outdid herself and lived up to her recent Grammy and Pulitzer Prize. Watching eighth blackbird’s faces of frustration from early rehearsals to seeing them smile and adding a jovial wink during the performance showed that this piece had truly come to fruition. The audience was enthralled and captivated and nearing the end of the piece, I heard the sextet’s ending section and braced myself for a roaring finale. Needless to say, standing ovation.

“On A Wire” has been a journey of true musicianship and dedication. Who knows what this piece will be like with the next orchestra…and the next….and the next…

-Brian Malnassy

If one hasn’t personally experienced performing chamber music memorized, the conversation usually runs its course to a sort-of “I’ll take your word for it that it’s nice for you but remain skeptical that it would actually benefit me” conclusion.

*shrug*

I heard a wonderful feature this morning on Weekend Edition (btw: Support your local public radio stations! Both news and classical programming! Thanks.) about the Tanglewood Festival Chorus. Their conductor, John Oliver, requires that the chorus memorize most of their music, and commented as follows:
“Memorization is not a trick. It internalizes the music for you; it makes the music, somehow, a part of your own physical being,” Oliver says. “And you can express so much more like that. If you don’t see a singer’s face and you don’t see the posture of a singer, the address of a singer to the audience, you’re really not getting what a singer can deliver in music and what composers expected the singers to deliver.”
Insert “musician” every time he says “singer”.
We’re working to memorize Jennifer Higdon’s new concerto for it’s premier with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra next week. With the first rehearsal only a few days away, this was a nice reminder as to why we make the effort, and it gave me some motivation to keep at it.
Thank you, Mr. Oliver.

I recently had the privilege of attending a talk by Greg Sandow. Chances are that if you’re here, you’re already familiar with Mr. Sandow, but if you’re not, get ‘ye to Arts Journal and sample a bit of his iconoclastic musings.

Greg was in town to give a talk, sponsored by the Cultural Policy Center, on The Rebirth of Classical Music to students at the University of Chicago .  The good folks at Slover-Linett correctly assumed there would be enough arts administrators, like myself, to justify an informal talk and conversation early the same day. Among the attendees were Seth Bousted from Accessible Contemporary Music, Karen Fishman from Music of the Baroque, Kevin Giglinto from the CSO, Steve Robinson from WFMT, Joan Harris and several other important players in Chicago’s classical music scene.

Greg riffed on the state of our field like a jazz musician.  He began with the familiar theme, ‘oh why oh why has classical music become so irrelevant’, and improvised in several directions.  Naturally, some of his off-the-cuff explorations led to spontaneous insights and provocative questions, while others failed to coalesce into any cohesive narrative.  Some of what may have been new or threatening to the established institutions represented was already well-treaded territory for eighth blackbird or ACM.  In the end, it was the best kind of talk, the kind that lead to passionate discussions between participants who lingered in the room afterwards for far longer than the event itself lasted.

Greg’s first and primary point was that we need to recognize and address the lack of relevance in classical music.  He mentioned that today at dinner parties, the intellectuals and artists all discuss various theatrical productions, dance companies, art exhibits, etc., but they do not discuss classical music.  Further, he dismissed the ‘charming myth’ that classical music really matters.  If it did, he argued, more people would be engaged.  His prime example was a hypothetical educated, cultured young person who can ‘chew on Derrida’, but doesn’t attend the orchestra. However, that person listens to indie-rock in the same way audiences used to listen to classical music: closely and repeatedly.

It so happens, I am that hypothetical person (though I’ll take my aesthetics straight from the tap, i.e. Heidegger, rather than Frenchified).  I am not a trained musician or composer, but I LOVE music, of all types, spend a lot of money and time on it, and engage with it on a very intimate level. (Why yes, I am single. How did you guess?) I do not, however, frequent classical music performances, nor do I buy many classical recordings, at least not compared to other genres.

There is an important distinction to make here though.  I’m referring here to classical classical music.  I do listen to new/contemporary/indie/alt/watchamacalit classical music.  I didn’t come to work for eighth blackbird just for bling; I really love what they do.  It engages me fully.  Through their recordings and performances, I’ll listen to Missy Mazzoli and David Lang right alongside Arcade Fire and The National.  Steve Reich’s Double Sextet has as high a play count in my iTunes as any Radiohead track.

To my mind, then, Greg’s points have two different contexts.  Can traditional classical music be reborn and find relevance?  And can the modern heirs of that tradition find a wider audience?  As to the former, I honestly don’t care so much.  As long I can still get recordings of Palestrina-through-Mahler and occasionally indulge in the aural magnificence of a symphony orchestra performance, I’m not concerned about relevance.  There is a timelessness to the high arts that doesn’t require rebirth.  Is anyone worried about the relevance of 15th Century Italian art?

I am, however, deeply concerned about the latter.  That is, why do the same people who jump at the chance to see a new play at Steppenwolf, who don’t hesitate to attend an exhibition by an unknown artist at the MCA, who expect there to be a new work on each Hubbard Street Dance Company program, why do these same people not also fill up the Harris Theater for eighth blackbird, Fulcrum Point or MusicNow (at least not without free beer and pizza)?

There is a sense, I believe, that while enjoying new theater only requires you to be human and open, appreciating new music requires training, initiation into the secret meaning of all those farts and squeaks. This to me is the great challenge of new music: how to disabuse wider audiences of the notion that they need to come to a concert with anything other than open ears in order to have an engaging aesthetic experience.  I know, as a fact, that those who attend an eighth blackbird concert on a whim or at the behest of a friend, leave converted.  What I don’t know yet is how to get new audiences to attend in the first place.  I have some ideas, but I’d love even more to hear yours.

As those of you who follow us on Twitter know, Greg called eighth blackbird “the biggest missed opportunity” in the field.  He specifically meant that the ensemble should have a bigger audience.  He said we shouldn’t depend on the gatekeepers, the people who present and represent us, to find our audience.  Rather we should find them ourselves.  I trust Greg will tell us more about what he means, and perhaps even offer suggestions.  I ask the same of all of you.  I’m a firm believer that a rising tide lifts all ships.  If we can tap a wider audience for new music, all performers and composers would benefit.

Thanks for listening.

P.S.  My favorite moment of the event was when Joan Harris, one Chicago’s most important music patrons, calling Seth Bousted “a 19th century elitist”.  Yes, seriously.  Both Joan and Seth have earned my respect and affection over the years, and their exchange was the result of a simple misunderstanding.  Seth expressed trepidations about achieving too high a level of success, one that could potentially alienate him from his audience.  Joan, who doesn’t know Seth, responded as if he meant that his music was intended for a small, discerning audience, a not uncommon attitude amongst more academically minded composers and musicians.  Seth was actually just discussing issues of scale.  Obviously the man who founded Accessible Contemporary Music isn’t arguing that contemporary music shouldn’t be . . . accessible.  Unless he’s aiming for the ultimate irony.  In which case, kudos!  Of course, Seth’s fears are also unfounded, and as Greg himself said to Seth: “I don’t believe you.”  I’ve been to eighth blackbird concerts with over 700 attendees; they were still able to meet and greet all who remained afterwards.  And not only are the opportunities for directly engaging audiences outside of the performance multiplying daily, it’s becoming de rigueur to do so.

eighth blackbird announced its new composition competition (creatively named “eighth blackbird composition competition”) in early February. The initial response was positive, with enthusiastic online notices and a few very early entries, but we did start to get hammered in some quarters for our comp comp’s rules and regulations. These negative reactions surprised us, but on reflection we feel that some of the criticism was deserved. In the strine-tinged words of Kevin Rudd, Australia’s illustrious current Prime Minister, “fair cop, mate.”

In response to the many constructive and informative comments we’ve received, we have decided to postpone the competition.

8bb remains committed to the original intent of the competition – to discover, recognize and perform/record an undiscovered compositional gem – and we will relaunch the whole shebang by June.  In the meantime, we’ll be on the hunt for the best way to create an event that is awesome for all involved. Any works that are currently being written will remain eligible for the relaunched competition, and any application money already submitted will of course be refunded.

In the meantime, feel free to let us know your thoughts about your perfect, utopian, idealized nirvana of a comp comp, either by commenting on this post, or by dropping us a line, at brian@eighthblackbird.com. Oh, and creative name suggestions would be most welcome!

The application deadline is fast approaching for the Music10 festival happening in Blonay, Switzerland, June 21-July 2.

Performers who are accepted to this program will work intensively and perform new compositions by America’s most talented young composers. Each ensemble will consist of a member of eighth blackbird along with a carefully selected group of young instrumentalists. Concurrently, the instrumentalists will prepare and perform works by the three principal composers, Martin Bresnick, Stephen Hartke and Joel Hoffmann. This repertoire will be performed in a series of concerts throughout the festival in Blonay and surrounding locations.

Blonay is a beautiful village, located between Lake Geneva (Lac Leman) and the Swiss Alps. Nearby cities are Montreux and Lausanne. The Hindemith Foundation is a fully-equipped music residence center, whose purpose is to present short-term international festivals and workshops on the highest level.

When we say Blonay is beautiful, what we mean is BEUWWWWWWWWWWWWDIFUL, as in un-bloody-believably-spectacularly-idyllic.

Come and join us for 10 days in our little musical utopia in Swiss paradise! Click here to apply.

Here’s the info:

Tim Munro (flutist with Grammy-winning ensemble eighth blackbird) and Jennifer Gunn (piccoloist with the Chicago Symphony) present Trembling Air at Roosevelt University’s Ganz Hall, February 3, 2010. Flutes sing, speak, growl, wheeze and chirp in this surprising, kaleidoscopic musical patchwork.

Ben Broening’s Trembling Air possesses an ethereal, other-worldly beauty that collides dramatically with Grawemeyer-winner Brett Dean’s virtuosic, hellish Demons. Munro is joined by Chicago Symphony star piccolo player Jennifer Gunn for the hypnotic repetitions of Philip Glass’s Music in Fifths and rolling dark waves of Helena Tulve’s Soaring.

The program also includes the world premiere of Tai-Kuang Chao’s Isolated Dance on a Bench, winner of Roosevelt University’s first flute composition competition, and Grey Light, Early Morning, a haunting piece from the pen of Gerard McBurney (Chicago Symphony’s “Beyond the Score” maestro).

What: Trembling Air

Where: Ganz Hall, Roosevelt University, 430 S. Michigan Ave., 7th Floor, Chicago (312-341-3780)

When: February 3rd at 7.30pm

Tickets: Free entry

Program: Ben Broening Trembling Air for solo flute (2009, World Premiere)

Ross Edwards Ecstatic Dances for two flutes (1990)

Tai-Kuang Chao Isolated Dance on a Bench for solo flute (2009, WP)

Gerard McBurney Grey Light, Early Morning for alto flute (1992)

Brett Dean Demons for solo flute (2004)

Helena Tulve Soaring for two flutes (2007)

Philip Glass Music in Fifths for two flutes (1969)

For more information: http://ccpa.roosevelt.edu/ccpa-calendar.php

It’s official – we’re doing a crazy/cool benefit with Mario Batali and Paul Kahan at The Publican on March 15th.

For those who attended eighth blackbird’s 2007 benefit with Paul Kahan and Mario Batali at Blackbird, we don’t need to tell you just how special the 2010 event will be. If you are one of our newer fans, or simply couldn’t participate previously, then don’t miss what is sure to be one of the year’s artistic and culinary highlights.

eighth blackbird begins the evening with a short concert at the Packer Schopf Gallery, featuring highlights of our 09-10 touring program and complemented by an exclusive arrangement by Wilco’s Glenn Kotche, performed by eighth blackbird with Chef Batali on guitar. Following this, Chefs Kahan and Batali will present a five-course meal, with wine and beer pairings, at Chef Kahan’s own gastro-pub, The Publican. These celebrated chefs accepted our challenge to base the menu on our musical selections, so both your ears and mouth will be treated with fresh Catch, a few of These Broken Wings, Meanwhile, a bite of Spam and a serving of Still Life with Avalanche.

To buy tickets, visit this website:
http://www.eighthblackbird.com/benefit/

For further information, please email benefit@eighthblackbird.com.

As part of this shebang, I was asked to write a blog entry that dealt with our relationship with Reich, forged during the commissioning of the Pulitzer Prize-winning Double Sextet. A couple of months ago, I asked the composer for permission to publicly share some emails from our correspondence with him, in the hope that it might shed some light on his working methods. I was surprised that he said yes (and he emailed me back within the hour!), but decided to use them for WQXR’s request.

You can read the entry below, or on WQXR’s comprehensive all-Reich-all-the-time mini-website.

Steve Reich has graciously allowed me to share a few emails from his correspondence with eighth blackbird during the composition and preparation of his Pulitzer Prize-winning 2008 work Double Sextet. I hope these shed a little light on his creative process. You can also read an interview I did with Steve here.

It was with excited trepidation that I approached working with Steve. He was by far the most famous composer who’d written for eighth blackbird, and was a boyhood hero of mine. We’d been warned about his uncompromising vision, mostly via second- or third-hand rumors that were some variation of, “He’s really demanding, and will freak out if he isn’t happy with what you’re doing.”

As a successful composer, Steve is lucky in only needing to write one new piece each year, which allows for each work to have a generous, patient gestation period. Below is an email written almost 20 months before Double Sextet‘s world premiere, setting out some of the composer’s initial ideas for the work.

From: Steve Reich
Date: Mon, 3 Jul 2006

Matt,

I did start work on your piece which I have tentatively called Double Sextet – for obvious reasons. I just got about 4 pages of it begun and need to revise those. It is quite angular and more percussive than my recent works and should be a bit of a wake up for the audience. It’s also immediately involved with short motives and their retrogrades. Haven’t done that before.

As for the doublings, i did assume they were what you say and am not sure which I will be using. For percussion, i am sure both the live sextet and the pre-recorded sextet will each have a vibe and “mini set” of snare and kick drum. Please tell Matt. I have started out with 2 flutes and 2 B♭ clarinets for the live and recorded sextets plus two pianos, two violins and two celli. Nice to hear there’s bass clarinet and viola waiting in the wings. – We’ll see.

Give my greetings to all the musicians.

And thank you once again for your e mail.

All best,

Steve

The differences between the composer’s original thoughts and the finished product are interesting. Early in the process, Steve thought it will be “angular and more percussive” than other works, something that’s clearly related to the “mini set of snare and kick drum” he originally envisaged for the score. These instruments don’t appear in the final version, and as a result, the work isn’t more percussive than any of Steve’s other recent pieces. (In fact, the variations movement that provides the beating heart of Double Sextet signals a move for the composer into uncharacteristically lyrical territory). He also says that it’s “involved with short motives and their retrogrades.” Double Sextet, like all of Steve’s compositions, is constructed almost entirely of short motives, but there is no evidence at all of “retrogrades” (in which the tune would be played backwards).

Steve’s interactions with eighth blackbird were different from what we were used to. Once we received a finished composition we typically have very limited contact with the work’s composer before a pre-premiere rehearsal, at which time they offer comments on our performance. This “alone time” for the ensemble enables us to put the piece together into a well-drilled, dramatic, convincing, fully-committed interpretation, without feeling an intimidating warm breath over our collective shoulder.

What set Steve apart was his desire to work with the ensemble throughout the rehearsal process. Although he wasn’t ever actually in the room with us until the day of the premiere, we sent him recordings of ourselves at every step in the process of preparation, from the day of our first rehearsal until the day of the premiere, on which he would offer his comments in detailed, often illuminating emails.

A short note about the piece: For most performances of Double Sextet, eighth blackbird plays live with a recording of ourselves. So in order to perform the work for the first time, we recorded one sextet part, then practice playing the other live sextet with our recording.

Below are two emails, written after he heard our initial pre-recorded sextet rehearsal recordings. This first email deals with the first movement, and all of the numbers are measure numbers in the score.

From: Steve Reich
Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2008

Lisa,

First off: BRAVO! You got it and its going to be great. This based on opening to 122. Now for the details:

At 122 first chord is too short and too loud on second chord. Don’t forget the dash on first chord here and two bars later. Try and even the two chords off. Very good after that until 203 when same sort of thing happens. Too much accent on second chord which is naturally heavier because of bass so give full length to (put in a dash on) first chord. Similarly to 208.

Vibes at 315 – 323 practice by himself and make sure upper voice-melody is heard. Maybe one mallet in right hand two in left or slightly harder mallet on top – whatever. Vibes again at 368. I can hear strings fine but vibes are lost. Its a bit hard playing the clusters, so work on by yourself and then get closer to mic or slightly harder mallets. Vibes at 381 that chord is F, B♭, A♭. (its a rough passage…)

Winds, strings and vibes from 409 – 432 are a bit “blocky.” Try to always have the music “leaning forward” vis a vis the beat and not right on top of it, hammering it. Light and always moving ahead (not rushing) wins the day.

And from there to the end is excellent. For a first rehearsal this is really wonderful!

Best – and BIG thanks,

Steve

Why does Steve get so involved in this process? For much of the composer’s early maturity, the Steve Reich Ensemble (including Steve himself as percussionist) was the only group performing his music. They evolved a distinctive-sounding “house style” with its own unique energy. Rather than worshipping at the altar of the score as an exact set of Google Map directions, pieces like Drumming and Music for 18 Musicians were taught, learned, and developed without much recourse to the printed page. In some ways Steve must feel that this intense, collaborative process, and also the energy of the Ensemble’s particular style of playing, have become inseparable from his music, and should be passed down to all ensembles that are encountering a new work for the first time. Interestingly, this can ensure a sort of “legacy” for performances of his music during Steve’s lifetime, but what about well into the future?

The email above contains a typical entreaty to trust the markings on the printed page, but early in the process this sort of comment was difficult to decipher, especially as we didn’t yet speak fluent Steve Reich. How does one accurately perform a “dash” in Steve’s music? Play longer? Give it a stress that isn’t quite an accent? It would take several dances around the Maypole until we found what that meant in practice.

In trying to develop our understanding of Steve’s “house style,” I found his comment about the “blocky”-ness of our playing – where he cajoles the ensemble to giving him more “lightness” and a sense of “leaning forward” – particularly useful.

From: Steve Reich
Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2008

Lisa,

Here we go on mvmnt two.

Opening in piano and vibes ok – a little more flowing maybe. When strings and winds come in at 537 its a bit too “espressivo” – just a bit cooler will do it. Held notes have no crescendo – just evenly held. Think baroque. Also really need more vibes here which will keep one foot in Africa (as well as baroque.) Either closer to mic, play a bit stronger or harder mallets.

At 597 strings & winds please keep that first eighth separate and similarly throughout – don’t run it into following longer note. Single eighths are the punctuation throughout movement and we need them.

664 vibes needs the notes. In general there is a tentative feeling in vibes when it should be an equal partner to piano in volume and feel.

You are all way ahead and should have no problem making dynamite performances.

I’ll send this and take a break before i go through 3rd mvmnt.

Many thanks to all!

Steve

This email created heated arguments among the “front row” of eighth blackbird (flute, clarinet, violin, cello). What did Steve mean by comments entreating us to play “a bit cooler” and to “[t]hink baroque”? We liked the aria-like quality of the tune, and really wanted to bring it into the 19th century a little, giving it a little Puccini-esque character. Should we do it with less vibrato? More sustained and straight-tone? Held notes with “no crescendo”? Also, the comment about separated eighth notes took us by surprise, and our first attempts at it sounded very strange to our ears. Shouldn’t those notes be part of the phrase rather than cast adrift?

And those rumors of Steve as an unreasonably hard task-master? Hugely exaggerated. After such an exhaustive, intense process of preparation we were all a little jittery about what the composer might say when he heard us play the piece live. So you can imagine our relief when, at the end of the first complete run of Double Sextet for the composer, his only reaction was, “Wow, fantastic. I really have nothing to say.”

10) running to the Tiergarten
Morning of March 27th. Day before, we’d landed in Berlin, checked into our hotel, and played a concert for the Berlin Festival — a concert which I felt really great about, mostly because of the awesome work that Ryan (sound) and Emily (lighting) did in preparation for our arrival. But it was that Friday morning run, jetlagged and slightly hungover and therefore not very fast, that I remember. I checked out some maps and realized I could make it from our hotel to the Tiergarten. I remember reading about Rhoda Henry walking through the garden in The Winds of War, and as I ran through it (passed by many more fit Germans) I thought a lot about how lucky I was to have a job that took me to Berlin. Yeah, it was a crazy itinerary, with only 48 hours in Europe, but somehow running those paths made me feel like it was worth it.
9) listening to the Harp at UR
At the University of Richmond, one of our responsibilities is to do coachings for the student chamber music ensembles the weeks that we’re in residence. This past spring, I had the honor to coach a group of four students playing Beethoven’s Op. 74. It was a hard piece for them, but they drew on their experience playing together the previous year, and they took it seriously. The evening in April when I sat on the edge of my seat, mentally cheering their ambitious tempos while making checklists for things I wished drilled them more on, reminded me why sometimes I love teaching as much as I love performing.
8) cousins in Tallahassee
This was just crazy. Like a fox. In a good way. We played a concert at FSU for a great new music festival they have there. And for some amazing reason, three of my cousins, two of whom I hadn’t seen in years, decided to make a roadtrip for the evening. Denise, Shannon, and Molly — you made my night. Sorry your car got towed.

Denise, Shannon, Molly, and Matt