Today this blog expands its dimensions into a new Facebook page, VOAWorldMusic, in the interest of finding a wider audience with a more active exchange of ideas, and sharing of discoveries and experiences.
Let us know your thoughts, either here or there!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Friday, May 1, 2009
Musical Manifesto for May First
What is music? What is its role in our lives? Why is it so inseparable from the most basic human experiences?
The current state of music in the world is that literally millions of individuals—sometimes as themselves, sometimes forming groups with individuals of similar convictions, sometimes aspiring to national stature, sometimes challenging and crossing an incredible complex of difficult, even deadly, boundaries—are committing themselves to musical offerings, statements, masterpieces, or even failures, from no less a primal source than their very souls, and their deepest and most sacred dreams and hopes of simply connecting with other beings, with the prospect of sharing the magic of music with those who care to—or have the opportunity to—or are (by those around them) forced to—listen . . . .
Music is the other language of today’s media—sometimes called the lingua-franca of this world, of human hearts and throats and tongues, and if it is not too much to wish for, of the souls of our fellow inhabitants of this complex, constantly changing, and constantly challenging planet (to our immediate knowledge, and infinite loneliness: the only proof-positive of the presence of life within the vastness of the perceivable universe. . . . )
So let us sing, let us play the music of our hands and voices and hearts; let us celebrate the myriad musics of our pluralistic world, to accompany the ultimate poetry and drama and philosophy of this miraculous—and yet gloriously ordinary—existence we share together today, and we hope, tomorrow.
When we think about music, many questions arise:
Why, since the dawn of human existence, have we been moved to sing, or to create musical instruments, however primitive, and play them?
Similarly, why has song, for millennia, been so fundamental an expression of the human spirit?
Why do humans sing when alone, as in tending herds of sheep, or together in vast choruses in towering cathedrals?
What joy, what fulfillment, is achieved by creating some new piece of music?
What reward is to be found in playing the music created by someone else?
Why are lullabies almost universal among human societies?
Why are gramophone records, or 45s, or long-playing records, or cassettes, or CDs, or now Mp3s such important cultural artifacts collected by millions with such devotion?
Why are the musical aspects of radio and television so fundamental to our culture?
Why is the music industry so huge?
Why is music used as a mobilizing force for religion, for sports competition, for war?
Why is music so important for dancing, or other bodily expressions?
Why is some music considered profane or even erotic, and other music held to be sacred?
Why is music used as enhancement for plays, for films, or for advertisements?
Why is music sometimes used as an element of torture?
Why can music provoke such strong feelings, either negative or positive, to send people dancing and celebrating in the streets, or to threaten or even kill those who propagate music, either by performing it or by being merchants of music?
Why does every nation have a national anthem?
Why does virtually ever religion have some sort of liturgy, or hymns, to awaken and enhance religious feelings, whether of humility, or celebration, or joy?
Why can music be divisive, in separating generations, social groups, or national entities?
Why can a bugle, or drums, motivate soldiers to fight and kill?
Why is song, or at least music, so intricately intertwined with expressions of love?
Why do hymns and songs assist in comforting in times of grief and loss?
Why can music constitute an expression of absolute, transcendent joy?
Why does some music make us laugh, some make us weep?
Why can the cacophony, or sheer boredom, of one musical expression as perceived by one individual or group, express the quintessential nature of an individual or cultural or national expression for which it is a source of pleasure, inspiration, or succor?
Why are new avenues of musical expression and innovation constantly sought?
Then again, why are the newest musical creations and styles able to generate extreme hostility, even violence, as well as an exultant sense of discovery and liberation?
Why is it that music is able to bring people together in extraordinary displays of unity and common purpose, even across line that otherwise promote violence and even slaughter?
Why are some simple sounds pleasing to some, and anathema to others.
Why is there such an extraordinary diversity of musics in the myriad cultures of the world?
How can one song or collection of songs mobilize an entire social movement, or express and comfort the aspirations and despairs of an entire generation, or a dissonant splinter group?
Why is song, and not just words, used to tell the history, sometimes in entire epics, of a tribal group that exists without the benefit of literacy?
Why can music bring such an intense, even mystical, personal experience, associated as it is with the process of memory and nostalgia?
How does human music relate to the unchallengeable musicality of bird song, or the songs of whales?
Why do the songs of insects and other creatures have, to the human ear, musical qualities?
What is the relationship of music to science and mathematics—as in the Music of the Spheres, or the Pythagorean considerations of music.
Brian Q. Silver
07.18.08
* * * * * * *
I look forward to hearing your thoughts on any of these matters, and continuing to share the rich experience of music with you.
The current state of music in the world is that literally millions of individuals—sometimes as themselves, sometimes forming groups with individuals of similar convictions, sometimes aspiring to national stature, sometimes challenging and crossing an incredible complex of difficult, even deadly, boundaries—are committing themselves to musical offerings, statements, masterpieces, or even failures, from no less a primal source than their very souls, and their deepest and most sacred dreams and hopes of simply connecting with other beings, with the prospect of sharing the magic of music with those who care to—or have the opportunity to—or are (by those around them) forced to—listen . . . .
Music is the other language of today’s media—sometimes called the lingua-franca of this world, of human hearts and throats and tongues, and if it is not too much to wish for, of the souls of our fellow inhabitants of this complex, constantly changing, and constantly challenging planet (to our immediate knowledge, and infinite loneliness: the only proof-positive of the presence of life within the vastness of the perceivable universe. . . . )
So let us sing, let us play the music of our hands and voices and hearts; let us celebrate the myriad musics of our pluralistic world, to accompany the ultimate poetry and drama and philosophy of this miraculous—and yet gloriously ordinary—existence we share together today, and we hope, tomorrow.
When we think about music, many questions arise:
Why, since the dawn of human existence, have we been moved to sing, or to create musical instruments, however primitive, and play them?
Similarly, why has song, for millennia, been so fundamental an expression of the human spirit?
Why do humans sing when alone, as in tending herds of sheep, or together in vast choruses in towering cathedrals?
What joy, what fulfillment, is achieved by creating some new piece of music?
What reward is to be found in playing the music created by someone else?
Why are lullabies almost universal among human societies?
Why are gramophone records, or 45s, or long-playing records, or cassettes, or CDs, or now Mp3s such important cultural artifacts collected by millions with such devotion?
Why are the musical aspects of radio and television so fundamental to our culture?
Why is the music industry so huge?
Why is music used as a mobilizing force for religion, for sports competition, for war?
Why is music so important for dancing, or other bodily expressions?
Why is some music considered profane or even erotic, and other music held to be sacred?
Why is music used as enhancement for plays, for films, or for advertisements?
Why is music sometimes used as an element of torture?
Why can music provoke such strong feelings, either negative or positive, to send people dancing and celebrating in the streets, or to threaten or even kill those who propagate music, either by performing it or by being merchants of music?
Why does every nation have a national anthem?
Why does virtually ever religion have some sort of liturgy, or hymns, to awaken and enhance religious feelings, whether of humility, or celebration, or joy?
Why can music be divisive, in separating generations, social groups, or national entities?
Why can a bugle, or drums, motivate soldiers to fight and kill?
Why is song, or at least music, so intricately intertwined with expressions of love?
Why do hymns and songs assist in comforting in times of grief and loss?
Why can music constitute an expression of absolute, transcendent joy?
Why does some music make us laugh, some make us weep?
Why can the cacophony, or sheer boredom, of one musical expression as perceived by one individual or group, express the quintessential nature of an individual or cultural or national expression for which it is a source of pleasure, inspiration, or succor?
Why are new avenues of musical expression and innovation constantly sought?
Then again, why are the newest musical creations and styles able to generate extreme hostility, even violence, as well as an exultant sense of discovery and liberation?
Why is it that music is able to bring people together in extraordinary displays of unity and common purpose, even across line that otherwise promote violence and even slaughter?
Why are some simple sounds pleasing to some, and anathema to others.
Why is there such an extraordinary diversity of musics in the myriad cultures of the world?
How can one song or collection of songs mobilize an entire social movement, or express and comfort the aspirations and despairs of an entire generation, or a dissonant splinter group?
Why is song, and not just words, used to tell the history, sometimes in entire epics, of a tribal group that exists without the benefit of literacy?
Why can music bring such an intense, even mystical, personal experience, associated as it is with the process of memory and nostalgia?
How does human music relate to the unchallengeable musicality of bird song, or the songs of whales?
Why do the songs of insects and other creatures have, to the human ear, musical qualities?
What is the relationship of music to science and mathematics—as in the Music of the Spheres, or the Pythagorean considerations of music.
Brian Q. Silver
07.18.08
* * * * * * *
I look forward to hearing your thoughts on any of these matters, and continuing to share the rich experience of music with you.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
The shape of things to come . . . .
The relative sparsity of recent posts herein is due in part to the process of re-imagining and enhancing both the format and the content of this blog, with the intention, as a first step, of adding pictorial and audio components, and subsequently, as time and resources permit, video clips. While a document in the written word alone has many advantages of a unified focus in its very singularity, a purely textual form also has its limitations and challenges, particularly in the multimedia dimensions of the new and evolving digital journalistic (and perhaps scholarly) universe.
In addition, the past two months have offered me the opportunity to experience a splendidly rich--in fact, too rich--sequence of concerts that I have attended with the intention of writing reviews. But I must in all honesty confess that I have not yet developed my chops as purely a reviewer who is always able to craft swiftly a review in the day or two following the event, after the decades I've spent in more timeless scholarly pursuits, with any given piece of writing evolving over a period of a number of days, if not weeks or months. Add to this the imperative of having some sort of "hook" (to use the trade term) to snare the reader's interest, which is particularly necessary given the current vast scope of writing on the Internet.
And finally, there is the issue of reader response--whether reinforcement (praise or appreciation always being welcome); enhancement (through additional contributions or observations from others, using what I have written as a point of departure to expand the scope of the original); or challenge (of a critical or disputative nature, so as to stimulate debate)--without which these writings do not move beyond their original premises.
In short, I have spent recent weeks in exploring ways of renovating and improving the content of my VOAWorldMusic efforts, and ask the blessings (in good South Asian fashion) of all who take the trouble of accessing this site, as well as your input as just outlined in the previous paragraph. At the same time, I'm also exploring avenues to make the format itself more dynamic and flexible, and welcome any thoughts you may have along these lines as well.
In addition, the past two months have offered me the opportunity to experience a splendidly rich--in fact, too rich--sequence of concerts that I have attended with the intention of writing reviews. But I must in all honesty confess that I have not yet developed my chops as purely a reviewer who is always able to craft swiftly a review in the day or two following the event, after the decades I've spent in more timeless scholarly pursuits, with any given piece of writing evolving over a period of a number of days, if not weeks or months. Add to this the imperative of having some sort of "hook" (to use the trade term) to snare the reader's interest, which is particularly necessary given the current vast scope of writing on the Internet.
And finally, there is the issue of reader response--whether reinforcement (praise or appreciation always being welcome); enhancement (through additional contributions or observations from others, using what I have written as a point of departure to expand the scope of the original); or challenge (of a critical or disputative nature, so as to stimulate debate)--without which these writings do not move beyond their original premises.
In short, I have spent recent weeks in exploring ways of renovating and improving the content of my VOAWorldMusic efforts, and ask the blessings (in good South Asian fashion) of all who take the trouble of accessing this site, as well as your input as just outlined in the previous paragraph. At the same time, I'm also exploring avenues to make the format itself more dynamic and flexible, and welcome any thoughts you may have along these lines as well.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
El Sistema!
Last night was an absolutely astonishing concert by Gustav Dudarmel and the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra (Orquesta Sinfónica Simón Bolívar) in the Concert Hall of Washington's Kennedy Center. But tonight I have the opportunity to meet maestro José Antonio Abreu, the founder of El Sistema and the man ultimately reponsible for the concert, the orchestra and its conductor, and I should like to meet him before I complete my review of the event. In the meantime, here is an updated version of an earlier post:
* * * * *
The concept was developed by José Antonio Abreu, an economist and musician who had studied piano, harpsichord, and organ to supplement his academic work at institutions which included the University of Michigan. In his description of the effects of the program, "A child's physical poverty is overcome by the spiritual richness that comes from music."
El Sistema has attracted widespread media attention (listen to a BBC/WGBH program) and has been featured in a 2006 film documentary, Tocar y Luchar (To Play and To Fight), which has won a number of awards in international film festivals.
* * * * *
I have just learned that I will be able to attend a concert next year of the Simon Bolivar National Youth Orchestra here in Washington, led by the dynamic young conductor, Gustavo Dudamel, and presented by the Washington Performing Arts Society.
This extraoridinary young man (and the equally extraordinary ensemble) had first come to my attention when, earlier in the year, CBS' 60 Minutes aired a feature on the Venezuelan musical phenomenon, called El Sistema (The System), in which over a hundred young people's ensembles have been developed in the Latin American country, not only to nurture young musicians, but also to give youngsters from economically depressed and crime-ridden neighborhoods a chance to find self-esteem and confidence, and a future through music.
This extraoridinary young man (and the equally extraordinary ensemble) had first come to my attention when, earlier in the year, CBS' 60 Minutes aired a feature on the Venezuelan musical phenomenon, called El Sistema (The System), in which over a hundred young people's ensembles have been developed in the Latin American country, not only to nurture young musicians, but also to give youngsters from economically depressed and crime-ridden neighborhoods a chance to find self-esteem and confidence, and a future through music.
The concept was developed by José Antonio Abreu, an economist and musician who had studied piano, harpsichord, and organ to supplement his academic work at institutions which included the University of Michigan. In his description of the effects of the program, "A child's physical poverty is overcome by the spiritual richness that comes from music."
Children as young as two years are initiated into the program, learning the basics of music. Thousands of trained musicians participate in teaching their young students, who, as stated on El Sistema's Website, number 350,000 in 180 ensembles throughout the country. During the past 32 years, according to Dr. Abreu, some 800,000 children have participated in El Sistema. In the words of one instructor interviewed for the CBS program, "when they sit in one of these churches in the orchestra, they think they are in another country, on another planet, and they start changing."
El Sistema has attracted widespread media attention (listen to a BBC/WGBH program) and has been featured in a 2006 film documentary, Tocar y Luchar (To Play and To Fight), which has won a number of awards in international film festivals.
Performances of the Simon Bolivar National Youth Orchestra, the program's flagship ensemble, have astonished audiences all over the world, under the leadership of conductor Dudamel, himself a product of El Sistema, and a prodigy who was recently appointed Musical Director of the prestigious Los Angeles Symphony Orchestra, as illustrated in yet another episode of 60 minutes; see also a video portrait of the conductor by the prestigious label Deutsche Grammophon, which has released three CDs by the SBNYO.
I look forward to blogging on the concert, which will include a performance of Igor Stravinsky's revolutionary The Rite of Spring--which was probably the most influential piece of classical music to which I was exposed in my childhood. But more on that personal note later. . . .
I look forward to blogging on the concert, which will include a performance of Igor Stravinsky's revolutionary The Rite of Spring--which was probably the most influential piece of classical music to which I was exposed in my childhood. But more on that personal note later. . . .
Thursday, April 2, 2009
In memoriam Stuart Cary Welch, 1928 - 2008
This afternon will be a memorial ceremony at Memorial Church at Harvard University for Stuart Cary Welch, who was Curator of Islamic and Later Indian art at the Harvard Art Museum from 1979 to 1987, among other positions. For me, this will be a bitterwseet occasion, mourning Cary's passing, while celebrating the richness of his life and remembering his generous spirit, as well as his intense interest in the related arts of poetry and music.
I first met Cary in 1968 through Jim Rubin and Hyman Bloom (see my previous entry, and continuing here an exploration of connections between music and painting), when he kindly sponsored a house concert at his home from my sitar teacher, the late Ustad Ghulamhusain Khan, during a U.S. tour that I organized as a guru-dakshina (offering) following my becoming his ganda-bandh shagird (or lifelong disciple--see my earlier post.)
It is generally felt among seasoned lovers of Hindustani (north Indian) classical music that the best performances occur in a small gathering, or mehfil, where there is the greatest possibility of intimate contact, even interaction, between the performer(s) and the audience. And on that occasion at Cary's home, along with the performance itself, there was a continuing discussion among those present of some of the principles of the arts of India, with Cary sharing some of his expertise on Indian art. Of course, one looked around the walls of his home and saw various exquisite samples of Indian miniature painting, of which he was one of America's most accomplished collectors.
When I came to teach at Harvard in 1973, at every possible opportunity I sat in, along with my senior colleague the late Annemarie Schimmel, in Cary's superb annual lecture courses, which each year focussed on some period of either Mughal or Rajput painting. A person of considerable financial means, and a collector of exquisite taste and eye, Cary had gathered over the years a range of masterpieces in these genres, which were on rotating display at the Fogg Museum, where as noted above he was Curator of these genres.
In 1980 I was approached by H. Peter Stern, then and currently President of the Storm King Art Center in Mountainville, New York, to organize an annual concert of Hindustani music in the Indian room at the Fogg in collaboration with Cary, with the intent of having a musical mehfil among some of the greatest works of Indian miniature painting, with traditional floor seating and no amplification (something that has come to mar the majority of small concerts these days). Thus, in a room that could accommodate, in addition to the artists, 40 people at most, we were able to experience in natural sound wonderful musical evenings, in what was indeed a recreation of the divaan-e-khaas, or the private audience of the Mughal emperors.
On a previous recording trip to Indian with Jim Rubin in 1968, I had met the late vocalist, Pandit Amar Nath, and I had hoped in the ensuing years to arrange a U.S. performance for him.
He sang in the style of the much revered vocalist, the late Ustad Amir Khan, who had developed his own own distinctive style of singing khayal, the dominant style of Hindustani vocal music, and who is considered one of the greatest vocalists of the last half of the Twentieth Century. We were fortunate to arrange for him to come to Cambridge exclusively to inaugurate this series.
The second year, we arranged for a performance by Ustad Nasir Zahiruddin Dagar and Ustad Nasir Faiyazuddin Dagar, known as the Younger Dagar Brothers, who were at that time the leading practitioners in the dhrupad style of vocal music, the most ancient of the north Indian classical vocal genres. The Dagar family played the central role in the propagation of dhrupad during the second half of the Twentieth Century, and is generally credited for saving this august tradition from extinction.
In the third year the performer was Ustad Imrat Khan, the world's acknowledged master of the comparatively rare surbahar, which he is credited has having brought as a solo instrument to the concert stage. Followign an opening solo on the that instrument, he took up his sitar, and was accompanied (also on sitar) by his eldest son, Nishaat Khan, and his youngest son, Shafaatullah Khan, on the tabla.
(Because it seemed to me a missed opportunity to have only the one exclusive concert by these outstanding artists, in the second and third year's I organized a Saturday night public concert, following the previous night's event in the Fogg, which we termed divaan-e-'aam, referring to the hall of public audience of the Mughal emperors. This was held in a large room in Hilles Library which could accommodate perhaps two hundred people, most sitting in traditional style on the floor, with chairs arround the walls to accommodate those for whom floor seating was difficult.)
But the defining experience of the Fogg concerts was precisely the experience of divaan-e-khaas, with Cary presiding over the occasion with his inimitable combination of erudition, wit, and warm hospitality, and the extraordinary visual treasures he had collected over the years adorning the walls in truly regal glory.
(More to come following today's memorial.)
I first met Cary in 1968 through Jim Rubin and Hyman Bloom (see my previous entry, and continuing here an exploration of connections between music and painting), when he kindly sponsored a house concert at his home from my sitar teacher, the late Ustad Ghulamhusain Khan, during a U.S. tour that I organized as a guru-dakshina (offering) following my becoming his ganda-bandh shagird (or lifelong disciple--see my earlier post.)
It is generally felt among seasoned lovers of Hindustani (north Indian) classical music that the best performances occur in a small gathering, or mehfil, where there is the greatest possibility of intimate contact, even interaction, between the performer(s) and the audience. And on that occasion at Cary's home, along with the performance itself, there was a continuing discussion among those present of some of the principles of the arts of India, with Cary sharing some of his expertise on Indian art. Of course, one looked around the walls of his home and saw various exquisite samples of Indian miniature painting, of which he was one of America's most accomplished collectors.
When I came to teach at Harvard in 1973, at every possible opportunity I sat in, along with my senior colleague the late Annemarie Schimmel, in Cary's superb annual lecture courses, which each year focussed on some period of either Mughal or Rajput painting. A person of considerable financial means, and a collector of exquisite taste and eye, Cary had gathered over the years a range of masterpieces in these genres, which were on rotating display at the Fogg Museum, where as noted above he was Curator of these genres.
In 1980 I was approached by H. Peter Stern, then and currently President of the Storm King Art Center in Mountainville, New York, to organize an annual concert of Hindustani music in the Indian room at the Fogg in collaboration with Cary, with the intent of having a musical mehfil among some of the greatest works of Indian miniature painting, with traditional floor seating and no amplification (something that has come to mar the majority of small concerts these days). Thus, in a room that could accommodate, in addition to the artists, 40 people at most, we were able to experience in natural sound wonderful musical evenings, in what was indeed a recreation of the divaan-e-khaas, or the private audience of the Mughal emperors.
On a previous recording trip to Indian with Jim Rubin in 1968, I had met the late vocalist, Pandit Amar Nath, and I had hoped in the ensuing years to arrange a U.S. performance for him.
He sang in the style of the much revered vocalist, the late Ustad Amir Khan, who had developed his own own distinctive style of singing khayal, the dominant style of Hindustani vocal music, and who is considered one of the greatest vocalists of the last half of the Twentieth Century. We were fortunate to arrange for him to come to Cambridge exclusively to inaugurate this series.
The second year, we arranged for a performance by Ustad Nasir Zahiruddin Dagar and Ustad Nasir Faiyazuddin Dagar, known as the Younger Dagar Brothers, who were at that time the leading practitioners in the dhrupad style of vocal music, the most ancient of the north Indian classical vocal genres. The Dagar family played the central role in the propagation of dhrupad during the second half of the Twentieth Century, and is generally credited for saving this august tradition from extinction.
In the third year the performer was Ustad Imrat Khan, the world's acknowledged master of the comparatively rare surbahar, which he is credited has having brought as a solo instrument to the concert stage. Followign an opening solo on the that instrument, he took up his sitar, and was accompanied (also on sitar) by his eldest son, Nishaat Khan, and his youngest son, Shafaatullah Khan, on the tabla.
(Because it seemed to me a missed opportunity to have only the one exclusive concert by these outstanding artists, in the second and third year's I organized a Saturday night public concert, following the previous night's event in the Fogg, which we termed divaan-e-'aam, referring to the hall of public audience of the Mughal emperors. This was held in a large room in Hilles Library which could accommodate perhaps two hundred people, most sitting in traditional style on the floor, with chairs arround the walls to accommodate those for whom floor seating was difficult.)
But the defining experience of the Fogg concerts was precisely the experience of divaan-e-khaas, with Cary presiding over the occasion with his inimitable combination of erudition, wit, and warm hospitality, and the extraordinary visual treasures he had collected over the years adorning the walls in truly regal glory.
(More to come following today's memorial.)
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