He doesn’t care whether people like his music or not. “There is plenty of other music to listen to. You don’t have to listen to mine. Listen to Mozart, or the Beatles…”

I love hearing him confess that he never has a plan when he starts composing–he just starts. When asked what he was composing, he answered: “It’s the 8th Symphony, but I’m not sure whether it’s the first movement or the third movement.”

Does Glass’s music mean that we should perpetuate kosher voice leading a la Bach, or throw it out the window as any chord can really go to any chord. One this is for sure, fingers still appreciate good voice leading, regardless of the esthetic.

What blew my mind was that Glass composes with pencil. PENCIL! Can you imagine the king of repetition using a pencil? Copy and paste is what computers do best Phil!

The film gave me a new respect for Philip Glass as an artist, an American icon, and as a person.

Doodla deedla doodla deedla
Doodle diddy doodle diddy
Doodla deedla doodla deedla
Doodle diddy doodle diddy

There are interviews with the band members, clips and close-ups of the audience listening to his music, and of course LOTS of Rufus chat. In that every performance is so intense, the banter in between works well as a published live documentation. Seeing the “Release” songs live here make them come to life. All these songs “work” for me now. I get it.

I am overjoyed to see Rufus spending time crafting the difficult piano part in “Tulsa” as well as playing it and sing it at the same time. The CD version of this song had a string quartet––it works fine as a solo piano and voice arrangement, especially here. Rufus nails it.

Every member of the band (all male here btw) is a virtuosic multi-instrumentalist as well as a singer. I realized that this is not so far from the Philip Glass or Steve Reich ensembles in their early years–a little chamber orchestra to tour playing your music. What is interesting is how that instrumentation changes with every tour.

Gerry Leonard is the musical producer and guitarist for this show and does a terrific job. He is clearly senior to everyone else: hats off to Rufus for being consistently intergenerationally inclusive.

Gary Calamar

Despite having the same composer duo as seasons 1-3, someone’s wings got clipped in season 4.

As I study the credits on IMDB.com, the music figure gone after season three seems to be the music supervisor, Gary Calamar. Was it actually Calamar’s vision that made seasons 2 and 3 so terrific? I don’t know the inside story — I can only speculate: Calamar got bought away by someone else; the WeeDS team had to cut back their music budget as commissioning all those famous musicians became too expensive; or, Ms Kohan found the music was becoming too good, so much so that it was distracting from the story.

“Little Boxes” only appears in the opening episode for programmatic reasons–which is fine. Nothing really replaces the introduction now, the show just starts after we see the “previously, on WeeDS” segment. The variable theme music has been replaced by new clever Title/Creator card. Cheaper, I’m sure.

The music for season four is fine, normal, does its job like other TV shows. Too bad.

Malvina Reynolds

I have become “hooked” on the TV series, WEEDS from Showtime. (I have enjoyed the extended viewing afforded by renting the DVDs.) All of us old folkies grinned hearing the show’s adapted theme song, “Little Boxes” sung, not by Pete Seeger, from whom we heard it first,

but from its wisened composer, Malvina Reynolds (1900-1978). I must confess that her performance drove me crazy as I watched each episode in the first season, so much, that I started fast-forwarding through the song.

Clearly the producers heard us because by season two, as a cover by a different artist of “Little Boxes” opened every episode. I couldn’t wait to see whether my guess of who the artist was, was correct. Names like Joan Baez, Regina Spektor, Donovan, the McGarrigle sisters, Elvis Costello, Englebert Humperdink (sic), Randy Newman, and more. My favorite–although I Iiked them all–was Michael Franti, sounding remarkably like Dylan.

Whether intentionally or not, the producers, by lining up a wide palette of accompaniments and interpretations, have made these songs “all sound just the same.” Each cover encapsulates a branch of the popular music tradition, and it is odd that after a while the variations do indeed start sounding the same. As I am finishing season three, I’ve peaked ahead and seen very little “Little Boxes” in season four. Again, despite loving hearing all those terrific variations, NEXT.

Besides this opening amusement, the show’s real unsung sonic heroes are the composers: Brandon Jay and Gwendolyn Sanford. Through season three, their music has been thrilling. They have become masters of the micro-song, of which two are usually presented in the latter third of each episode. Sometimes these micro-songs are by guest artists, but the best were written by this team. Each micro-song has a satisfying heft, perhaps a musical equivalent to the latest culinary rage, sliders. The imagined musical languages they come up with are convincing. They sound like excerpts from a larger work, but one that sounds familiar. It’s like style composition, but instead of aping a past musical language, they invent their own.

This composerly duo seems to have come out of nowhere. They have no previous Hollywood work, and it appears they were not used after season three. Clearly, they were at the right party, but they had the goods to deliver. How composers work together in this kind of situation is still a mystery to me, but hats off to this terrific creative team.

The entire music department for this series needs to be congratulated as well. The mix of old and new, familiar and not, is continually thrilling.

I have loved the story, the actors, the character development, and the cinematographic look of the show, but I will leave critiques on this level to experts.

Showtime features a website that allows us to hear all the music used in the show. What is missing is all the original music. You’ll have to watch the show to hear that.

Brava writer/producer Jenji Kohan! Bravo Showtime!

via videosift.com

On Thursday, Ronnie and I went to hear Esa Pekka’s terrific and farewell performances of OEDIPUS REX and SYMPHONY OF PSALMS. Bill Kraft and I groused in the corner at intermission, complaining about the same issue, which I’ll omit here. Suffice it to say, the music didn’t need long interludes of slowly paced verbal dreaming, which dear Peter added, IMHO (and Bill’s). Ronnie and I both had a half dozen oysters, moules frites, and a lovely cab before.

On Saturday, Daniel and I met several new friends at Howard’s home. It became apparent that their bond was AA. Each had tremendous depth and smarts. One told us of several pop veterans who are still in bad shape from too much drugs/booze; Interesting behind the scenes political stories (her father was in California govt) and how she has helped younger alcoholic children. Another was an Oscar winning behind the scenes sound man. When I said the phrase “perforated septum” he jumped in and said “I have one of those; from too much blow.” He amazed us with interesting stories from his life, near death experiences, hitting bottom scenarios, and professional achievements. They all seemed in very good places, having heard how low they had at one time been. Daniel and I didn’t refrain from having a few glasses of wine; they didn’t seem uncomfortable at all.

After what was probably the busiest week I’ve had all year, things are slowing down, and I’m catching up. Today I grade 50 pop song analyses (many of my students are out in Coachella Valley this weekend. OY! It’s hot in LA today, probably broiling out there.); double check a TA’s grading of some chord progressions, work on promotion letters for five faculty members, work on the teaching assignment for next year, and then go to an undergraduate composer concert at 5 pm. Then, I come home, have dinner, watch a movie and veg.

There was another element to the wall-to-wall music that made me think: the music was prerecorded. There may have been performers somewhere doing transitions, but it seemed like performer-less music: a collage of Beatles music — not about performance per se. The performance component was Cirque du Soleil. They paralleled the music beautifully. No scene ever seemed to go on too long. They are brilliant athletic artists.

If you ever need an excuse to go to Las Vegas, this is one. Tourism is down there, so if you decide you want to go somewhere and get some good deals, go see and hear LOVE. If you are truly a Beatles fan, you can’t miss this.

Here is an ad, so if you decide you want to go, the number to call is at the end of the clip.

The concert opened with a piece I dreaded hearing but I became a convert afterwards: the Berio trombone sequenza. Trombonist James Miller, in clown costume, sold it to the respectable crowd.

Joanne Pierce Martin made me fall in love with John Cage. She played excerpts from his Sonatas and Interludes. Some of the most heavenly music I’ve ever heard. Bravo to John and brava to Joanne. The piano preparation sounded flawless.

I was looking forward to hearing Stockhausen’s Kontra-punkte, but ultimately found the piece BORING. No, I don’t ever need to hear it again, nor do I care how it was constructed. But, I’m very happy they programmed the piece. Beautifully played.

The final pieces were Ligeti’s Aventure and Nouvelle Aventure. I had known the pieces from LPs in the 70s and was thrilled to hear them. Pockets of the audience giggled and laughed all the way through. People seemed uncomfortable thinking there might be humor in these pieces, which I do. Come on gang, music CAN be funny. Brilliantly performed.

A lovely evening

[Photo: © Ken Hively, LA Times]

Howard got a choice box at the Bowl last night and invited Del, Larry and me to join him. We zipped into valet parking, dropped off the car and walked in, and afterwards walked to get our car and exited quickly. That by itself made the concert a thrill. The LA Phil sounded great. The Hollywood Bowl sounded great, but then we had some of the best seats in the house. We heard a set of Bartok Romanian Dances which I loved but the audience couldn’t keep the applause going for the conductor to get off the stage; the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto (3 callbacks for the soloist and conductor); and the Dvorak 7th Symphony — the latter sounding more like Sibelius to me these days. Impression: flashy concerti work well at the Bowl. Big wet pieces like the Dvorak also make for enjoyable Bowl meditations. Sit back, relax, think about stuff, listen to the beautiful sounds, the sky, the smell, your friends, and the helicopters.

There were 7 flyovers by helicopters or small airplanes last night. What’s the deal? I thought that was illegal. But Howard said that he likes to go to the Bowl for that reason. He LIKES the ambient sounds. The sneezes, the flyovers (not so much), and especially the crickets.

“We are friends. I like saying that. No one ever said this to me. I like it. We are friends. It’s good!”

Also sprach Friederich Nietzche to Joseph Breuer in the film “When Nietzche Wept” written, directed and produced by Pinchas Perry based on the best-selling novel by the same name by Irvin Yalom. The story imagines a relationship between Nietzche and Dr Breur where the two men make a deal. Dr Breur promises to heal Nietzche “physically” and Nietzche agrees to cure Mr Breuer mentally.

What is so fascinating to follow in the alternate doctor-patient, dominant-passive dance between the two characters. This experience is cathartic to both parties and psychoanalysis is born. In the film (I’m unclear what is fiction and what is true here), Dr Breuer is a mentor to young Sigmund Freud, and everything that the two go through in their ur-co-therapy ultimately shows up in Freud’s philosophy. By the end of their therapy, the two decided they are friends. And Nietzche finally articulates “We are friends. I like saying that. No one ever said this to me. I like it. We are friends. It’s good!” at which points he bursts into tears.

Doesn’t it seem that you never start to really be friends with someone until you’ve had your first fight. To have a friend who is a sounding board, who is honest with you and not afraid to disagree, someone to whom you can be vulnerable to and they to you, is a great gift. I take friendships for granted and I am foolish to do so. Take time to be a friend Roger, it’s worth it.

Ben Cross plays Breur and the amazingly brilliant Arnaud Assante plays Nietzche. The story is inspired by Freud’s “Studies on Hysteria,” the book that launched the Psychoanalytic Revolution.