Pilgrimage to Mazatlán

January 22, 2012

Angela Peralta

THE STORY:
Internationally renown opera star, Angela Peralta (1845-1883) travels to Mazatlán with her company, where they struggle to make music in the face of a plague. As the death toll mounts, Angela and those closest to her come to terms with their complex feelings for one another.

Last week, I went to Mazatlán with friend, colleague and librettist of my opera, Mitchell Morris, to do some final research on Angela Peralta, the heroine of our new opera, ANGELA PERALTA. I wanted Mitchell to see where our Angela met her untimely demise. We found two books with extensive information on her, and an article written by her great-niece (sitting in a display case which I photographed and sent to Patricio and Marta Duarte who are helping us with translations and 19C Mexican customs). We visited the Teatro Angela Peralta to experience the hall, and identified the hotel where she spent her final days. We dined under the corner of that hotel, looking up at her balcony, imagining ourselves to be the impatient crowd shouting ¡VIVA MEXICO! ¡VIVA LA PERALTA! We spent time in the Plaza Machada, which is where the crowd gathered in hopes of hearing the Mexican Nightingale.

Although I wrote a treatment of the opera in 2005, I gave it to Mitchell with permission to make any changes he wishes. We are now both on sabbatical with the goal of finishing the opera by September for a workshop performance at UCLA.

The primary characters in the opera are Angela and her lover, Julián Montiel y Duarte, his (fictitious) wife, Rosa, and a captain who ferries their opera company from La Paz to Mazatlán. We have both enjoyed doing research on the actual story. So much continues to be unearthed that can’t help but make its way into the story. But then, the work will be “Inspired by a true story” and certain liberties will be taken to make an amazing story even more amazing.

One of the questions we solved in Mazatlán was whether to quote Yradier’s “La Paloma” — we decided to write our own, and did so while we were there: “The Dove in the Tree”. The Duartes have done a Spanish translation as well. If I do say so myself, I think we have a hit on our hands. For the moment, I’m hearing k d lang sing it in my head, but I wrote it for Juliana Gondek, who will have a blast with the role.

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Teatime with Alan Rickman

January 13, 2012

Should you be so lucky as to have tea with Alan, realize that sometimes he gets a little capricious.

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"Dancer" by Roger Bourland

“Paintings” was in many ways an homage to a teacher and colleague of mine: William Thomas McKinley, who composed many works called “Paintings”––a collection of short contrasting pieces composed to show off the colors of the ensemble and the talents of the performers. The work was commissioned, premiered by, and dedicated to Pacific Serenades in 1987.

Serenade No.2: Paintings
for flute, clarinet, violin, cello, piano
(commissioned by Pacific Serenades)

1. Orange Dancing
2. Pink Mobile
3. Red Glass
4. Blue Tears
5. Grey Heat
6. Black Fire
7. Yellow Dancing

»Score available from Pacific Serenades Sheet Music

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Piano as Art

December 31, 2011

C Major (2009) Recycled antique ivory piano keys; 19 x 33 x 5


Check out a very new way of looking at pianos: Piano as Art.

© 2011 Penny Putnam and Shauna Holiman BenisonStudios.com

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Here are five versions of one of my all time favorite songs, Chimes of Freedom.

First, Bob Dylan’s original:

Second: The Byrds’ version (live) who made the song famous

Third: Gene Clark’s version from ca. 1985.

Fourth: Roger McGuinn revisits the song solo with his famous Rickenbacker 360/12

Fifth: Concert composer John Corigliano sets Dylan’s song in a completely new way. According to a comment in the YouTube video, John never heard Dylan’s original. Go figure.

Sixth: A wonderful reworking by Youssou N’Dour.

And finally, the finale with Bruce Springsteen, Tracy Chapman, Sting, Peter Gabriel, and Youssou N´Dour. (from Amnesty International 1988)

Chimes Of Freedom
by Bob Dylan

Far between sundown’s finish an’ midnight’s broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
An’ for each an’ ev’ry underdog soldier in the night
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

In the city’s melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden as the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin’ rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an’ forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burnin’ constantly at stake
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
An’ the poet an the painter far behind his rightful time
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

In the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an’ blind, tolling for the mute
For the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an’ cheated by pursuit
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Even though a clouds’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An’ for each unharmfull, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

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Mitchell Morris and I were researching the history of the famous Spanish-Mexican song by a Cuban-influenced, Spanish-born composer Sebastián Iradier Salaverri (Salaberri) (20 January 1809 – 6 December 1865), “La Paloma”. In our opera, the song looms over us as it was a song Angela Peralta sang her entire career. Here is one of the many performances of the song:

In doing a little more digging around, I discovered that he composed another famous song “EL ARREGLITO: Cancion Habanera” which turns out to be the Habanera from Bizet’s CARMEN. What??? Take a listen to the song; I’m unclear whether this orchestration is original or not as I only have the piano vocal score):

Evidently Bizet thought that this little song was an common, anonymous folk song that was in public domain. Silly him. It was indeed composed by Maestro Iradier. The fact that this was also penned by the author of La Paloma was a mind-blower. Iradier (later Yradier) died in poverty. Look at this photo of him: he looked like quite a character.

Sebastián Iradier Salaverri

Now Bizet can join Aaron Copland in the COMPOSERS WHOSE MOST FAMOUS TUNES AREN’T THEIR OWN CLUB. Here is Maria Callas singing the Habanera from CARMEN by Bizet in Covent Garden.

My friend and advisor, Patricio Duarte wrote me later: [From Wikipedia] Its score was adapted from the habanera “El Arreglito,” originally composed by the Spanish musician Sebastián Yradier. Bizet thought it to be a folk song; when others told him he had used something that had been written by a composer who had died only ten years earlier, he had to add a note to the vocal score of Carmen, acknowledging its source.

Well, this WIki info is all very well and good, but I have two different orchestral editions of CARMEN and one makes no mention of Yradier, and the other has a footnote in the habanero stating “Imitated from a Spanish song.” I will check out other editions. I’m afraid that had Maestro Yradier lived longer and with today’s copyright laws, he would have had a successful suit against Bizet.

See for yourself: you may examine the score for Yradier’s habanero here.

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We have a very hip Dean in the Arts at UCLA. Dean Waterman shared this great YouTube clip on his FaceBook wall. Randy Bachmann reveals how that opening chord to “Hard Day’s Night” was put together. I took out my 12-string guitar and couldn’t get that F-chord with the G’s on top and bottom to work. (Note in my transcription of the chord, you have to include all the octave doublings in the 12 string guitar. All the instruments sound an octave lower.)

I wish I could have seen how Randy did it. My guess is that because it’s a Rickenbacker guitar, the neck is thin and narrow, so the thumb could rap around the opposite side of the next to cover the G and C in the bass. But on my Taylor, it’s damn near impossible, and I know that the Martins would be even more difficult. So what Randy ISN’T telling us here, is that the 12-string chord can ONLY be played on a Rickenbacker 12-string. This is the same guitar, by the way, that the Byrds’ Roger McGuinn used in most of the early Byrds music.

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1971 all over

December 13, 2011

Alan Tower with didgeridoo

Alan and Neika stopped over for dinner and a visit yesterday. Alan Tower is one of my long-time friends who I have known since 1971. I may have been instrumental in lighting his enthusiasm for playing the guitar, or some teaching here and there, but that was a long time ago. He has now blossomed as a remarkable musician and is involved in some new very exciting projects.

Our evening ended with yours truly playing Beatles with Daniel, Alan and Neika singing along, first on guitar, then on piano, and closing with “Teach your children” in a pretty good three-part harmony. As I had put down my guitar for 30 years, it was fun having someone who knew me back when I played really well, hear me again. He sez I’m still doin’ the same stuff I did back then, and is amazed that I remember it (as am I). I am so fortunate to know a body of music that can be sung by a lot of people. An after-dinner musician at dinner parties in Silicon Valley could be an interesting future. In addition to a few other dreams.

Yeah, it was a hoot, teaching them their parts by ear, just like I did in high school. A marvelous flashback.

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As I’ve been playing a lot of 12-string guitar of late, it was great to hear the master fool around on one.

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Revisiting Madama Butterfly

December 11, 2011


As I compose my own opera, I am learning and revisiting the master operas. This week I’ve been studying Puccini’s “Madama Butterfly.” Puccini did five revisions of the piece before he was satisfied. The press and audience were less than enthusiastic with the premiere, but its second performance was a success.

The opening of the opera is puzzling: we get a fugue. What does it mean?

I love Puccini’s treatment of his great melodies: they are shared by the orchestra and the voices, and when the singers need to take a breath, the tune keeps going in the strings. His sense of orchestral-doubling is marvelous: sometimes the whole orchestra will be playing the tune along with the singer, and sometimes the singer is unaccompanied. This dynamic is a fascinating one to watch in Puccini’s orchestration.

I still find operatic orchestration somewhat untruthful in what it asks for. In the conductor’s score, there are many places that ask the orchestra to play ff (fortissimo, or very loud), but we know that if they really play that loudly, you wouldn’t be able to hear the voices. So these dynamics are really for the benefit of the conductor. The performer may not really know how loud an ff is until s/he gets to the performance hall.

I like Puccini’s orchestration overall, but he has one annoying habit: having oboes play in unison. I am sensitive to this because a) Gunther Schuller taught me to avoid doing this; and b) because the oboe has such a rich array of overtones in its core sound, probably more than any other western orchestral instrument. So when two oboes play the “same” note, you hear that they really aren’t the same notes because the overtones clash. Most great orchestrators know that to create a core sound, you need at least three instruments. With two, you hear the differences — especially with the oboe — not as much of an issue with other instruments, but is still always a factor. I have found that most composers have avoided it over the centuries with the exception of loud passages — and Puccini. Perhaps, and most likely, he liked the sound.

One composer who obviously likes the sound of unison oboes is Thomas Newman–listen to the theme of the TV show, SIX FEET UNDER, where it sounds like a herd of oboes (they may be English horns) all crying out that unforgettable theme in unison.

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