Molto Agitato

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

I attempted to sleep in a different room in my home last night. The slight variances in the hum, buzz and whoosh of appliances, wind, passing vehicles and furnace were just different enough to forestall sleep.  Much as I was thrown off by the ambient noise, I’m obsessed with the varied sonic textures of three solo piano recordings released in the first couple weeks of 2021.

The splashy sound of Behzod Abduraimov’s Debussy Chopin Mussorgsky resembles a raging torrent on the precipice of a waterfall.  The more conventional sound field of Beethoven: Piano Sonatas, a compelling new recital by MinJung Baek, possesses the resonance of a concert hall.  The treated instrument played by Raffaele Grimaldi on John Cage: In a Landscape/Dream/Haiku sounds more like a harp than a piano on “Dream.”  Elsewhere, the 21-minute EP emphasizes the manipulated components of the apparatus.

Jason Moran further advances pianistic evolution on his forthcoming solo album The Sound Will Tell You by applying “a filter to allow the sound (to) cast a shadow” on some tracks.  The wealth of possibilities inherent in the seemingly staid instrument remains staggering.  I intend to have sweet dreams about the only live ticket I’m holding: a fourth-row center seat I purchased at a steep discount for a rescheduled Daniil Trifonov concert in 2022.

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I review Blob Castle’s La Tierra Se Está Doblando at the Kansas City jazz blog Plastic Sax.

Clipping

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

Nostalgia is a noxious trap.  I’m careful to avoid becoming ensnared by the unhealthy sentiment as I excavate the moldy contents of dusty boxes and rusty file cabinets during my seemingly endless quarantine.  Yet I was snagged by an overwhelming rush of memories when I uncovered the pictured advertisement printed next to one of my record reviews in a 1993 copy of The Pitch.

While I have no clear recollection of Abbey Road, I associate each of the other retailers listed in the promotion with youthful music discovery and carefree hangs with friends both living and dead.  Ron Rooks, the late owner of the vinyl behemoth The Music Exchange, was one of my worthiest adversaries.  I also miss Anne Winter of Recycled Sounds and Dan and Dave Conn of the Music Exchange.  Dan later worked at Disc Traders.

I bought my first ECM album at Classical Westport.  Exile stocked irresistible novelties behind a glass counter.  The shops in Lawrence were often engaged in enthrallingly spiteful competition.  And I was introduced to the aloof indie aesthetic at Spiney Norman.  Was life better in 1993?  Not necessarily.  I’m just grateful to still be here wistfully recalling the bygone era.

Album Review: Miguel Zenón and Luis Perdomo- El Arte Del Bolero

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

I welcome music that inspires homework.  When it comes to appreciating the repertoire of Miguel Zenón, the extra credit assignments are entirely pleasurable.  Contextual awareness isn’t necessary to appreciate the saxophonist’s extraordinary improvisations and delectable embrace of melody, but it certainly helps.  The six selections on El Arte Del Bolero, a new duet album he recorded with the pianist Luis Perdomo 14 weeks ago, are interpretations of vintage material.  As with Zenón’s albums Sonero: The Music of Ismael Rivera (2019) and Alma Adentro (2011), an understanding of El Arte Del Bolero is enhanced by familiarity with the original versions.  Here are links to the acutely romantic songs: Benny Moré- "Como Fue", Sylvia Rexach- "Alma Adentro", Ray Barretto- "Ese Hastío" aka “Piensa En Mi”, Arsenio Rodriguez- “La Vida Es Un Sueño”, La Lupe- "Que Te Pedí" and Cheo Feliciano- “Juguete”.  Benny Moré is among the referenced artists who have long infused my life with joy, but I know pitifully little about La Lupe, the electrifying performer once billed as the Queen of Latin Soul.  Thank you, Zenón and Perdomo, for the wonderful El Arte Del Bolero and for furthering my musical education.  Adult learning has rarely been more rewarding.

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I’ve previously neglected linking to my most recent appearance on 90.9 The Bridge’s Eight One Sixty program.

Never Too Much: Playboi Carti and R.A.P. Ferreira

Screenshot of Komische Oper Berlin’s production of "Semele" by There Stands the Glass.

Two hip-hop albums I’ve listened to compulsively in the last several days have almost nothing in common.  Playboi Carti’s synthetic Whole Lotta Red is a decadent exercise in willful stupidity.  R.A.P. Ferreira’s organic Bob's Son: In the Garden Level Cafe of the Scallops Hotel resembles the extracurricular activities of an undergraduate teacher assistant in an elite university’s philosophy department.  I love ‘em both.  The loony idiocy of Whole Lotta Red is propelled by exhilarating digital beats.  And while the Atlantan’s lyrics are absurd, Carti possesses the flow of a futuristic jazz artist.  Ferreira actually is a sort of jazz artist.  Bob’s Son sounds like a J Dilla remix of a collaboration between Frank Zappa and the Last Poets.  Yet one element of Bob’s Son is disappointing.  A few of his raps about rapping- one of my biggest pet peeves- can be interpreted as insults of mumble rappers like Carti.  Why so reactionary?  My world is big enough to accommodate the wildly disparate work of both men.

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I’m already backsliding.  Three days after concluding my opera-a-day marathon, I began watching Komische Oper Berlin’s production of "Semele", a remarkably saucy George Friedrich Handel opera I’d yet to see.  I was rewarded by the discovery of "Endless Pleasure, Endless Love" at the end of the first act.  Playboi Carti would approve.

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I review The Standards, Vol. 1, the new album by the Christopher Burnett Quintet, at Plastic Sax.

Gesamtkunstwerk

Screenshot of Uwe Schönbeck in Komische Oper Berlin’s production of Jacques Offenbach’s “The Tales of Hoffman” by There Stands the Glass.

It’s over.  My daily opera initiative will end on New Year’s Eve when I finish watching the 285th opera I’ll have taken in on 285 consecutive days.  The binge expanded my worldview, enhanced my appreciation of all forms of music and provided an ideal diversion during the pandemic.  Yet it’s become a burdensome chore.

Now that my taste has developed, I’m no longer willing to accept whatever’s available.  I’ve grown frustrated by the scarcity of productions consistent with my sensibilities.  Multiple versions of hits like “La Bohème,” “Die Zauberflöte” or “La Traviata” are always on tap, but tracking down videos of operas I haven’t seen is increasingly difficult.

More significantly, the obligation became a hassle.  Rather than enjoy an unseasonably warm day a couple weeks ago, I was tethered to a four-hour and 45-minute production of Richard Wagner’s “Götterdämmerung.”  Brünnhilde wouldn’t approve of my decision to stay indoors to see her self-immolate a third time. 

I don’t intend to go cold turkey.  I’ll still watch an opera when the mood strikes me, maybe once a week.  Viewing 52 virtual operas a year sounds about right.  And I’ve just begun exploring the colossal vault of opera recordings.  Even so, I have a crucial void to fill.  I have a few tricks up my rolled-up sleeve as I await my vaccine injections.

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I ranted and raved on KCUR’s Christmas Eve broadcast about The 10 Best Songs to Come Out of Kansas City In 2020 and The 10 Best Holiday Songs by Kansas City Artists. And no, I didn’t title the segments.

We Will Now Receive Your Offering

Original image of a Louisville church’s signage by There Stands the Glass.

Attending a Latin mass at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in January was a highlight of my churchgoing life.  I’ve since been reduced to watching virtual worship services on Sunday mornings.  Two recent releases remind me of what I’ve been missing.

Emmanuel, a 12-minute EP by Kanye West’s Sunday Service choir, catapulted me back to Jerusalem.  The odd variant of the Latin hymns sung at Catholic, Anglican and Episcopalian churches toys with convention.  The impossibly esoteric recording may have a target audience of one.  Thanks to everyone involved- I treasure my bespoke Christmas gift!

While decidedly secular, Yo-Yo Ma and Kathryn Stott’s Songs of Comfort and Hope is typical of the inspirational music occasionally performed as offering plates are passed among affluent Protestant congregations.  In addition to providing uplifting beauty, cello and piano duets in this vein are likely to inspire bouts of generosity. 

Treacly readings of classic melodies such as “Over the Rainbow” will undoubtedly provide comfort and hope to thousands of anxious souls, but Ma and Stott’s unabashed sentimentality sometimes makes me want to throw bricks through stained glass windows.  Even so, a third of the 79-minute public service project is positively divine.

K.T. Oslin, 1942-2020

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

K.T. Oslin was among my life partner’s favorite artists in the late ‘80s.  I must have heard "Hold Me", "80s Ladies” and “Hey Bobby” hundreds of times during those years.  I never complained.  While the production applied to her songs was too slick for my taste, Oslin’s salty attitude and convincing twang made her as compelling as her hit-making contemporaries like Randy Travis, Rodney Crowell and Patty Loveless.  The ticket stub pictured above reflects Oslin’s popularity in 1991.  I paid $22.50 a pop for tickets to a concert she headlined at a 18,000-capacity outdoor venue.  Oslin died today.

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I blurt wildly inappropriate things when I’m not raving about artists including Bad Bunny, Blackstarkids and Beatrice Dillon on 90.9 The Bridge’s weekly Eight One Sixty program airing at 6 p.m. CST Tuesday, December 22.

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I review Alaturka’s new album In Concert with KU Ensemble I at Plastic Sax.

Game Over

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

I’ve long mused that if every aspect of my charmed life were to suddenly fall apart, I could numb myself by acquiring the latest video game equipment.  The virtual abyss might provide a modicum of consolation. 

The learning curve would be steep.  I haven’t played a video game of any type in more than 30 years.  While musicians occasionally recast melodies from video games as novelties, I was confident I wasn't missing anything by ignoring their nerdy inclinations.  That’s changed.

The soundtrack of Cyberpunk 2077 includes tracks by notable musicians including Yugen Blackrok and Run the Jewels. Colin Stetson and Arca contributed music to Red Dead Redemption 2. I’m very curious about the context of each song’s use. My hypothetical downfall has a small upside.

O Fortuna

Screenshot of Jean-Pierre Ponnelle’s 1975 lurid interpretation of Carmina Burana by There Stands the Glass.

I’m mutating before your very eyes.  With the task of making life-and-death decisions such as whether or not the slightly cloying adult pop of Lianne La Havas’ self-titled album really belongs on my year-end album list finalized, I have time to begin exploring the alien sonic terrain I’ve discovered through my ongoing opera binge. Examples:

*What in the wide, wide world of sports is a-goin’ on here?  I may never recover from witnessing a German troupe’s lighthearted depiction of sensual pleasures and eternal damnation set to Carl Orff’s infamous canticle Carmina Burana.

*I stumbled upon the Empty Concertgebouw Sessions series via Brad Mehldau’s breathtaking entry, but the Van Baerle Trio’s stunning interpretation of Beethoven’s “Ghost” floored me.  I’m also pleased to learn of Lilian Farahani.

*Back on the opera beat: 1992 production of Claude Debussy’s “Pelléas et Mélisande”- #264 in my daily binge- shook me.

My tiny world is rapidly expanding. Paraphrasing Aristotle, the more I know, the more I realize I don’t know. Yet it’s still too soon to say farewell to the old me. I recently admired Shawn Mendes’ latest homage to Paul McCartney, the Kansas City rapper Rich The Factor’s eighth release of 2020, Doug Carn’s solid contribution to the excellent Jazz Is Dead series and Kelly Finnigan’s impressive new Christmas album.

Mingus, Nils and Orff

Original image of Nils Frahm at the Big Ears Festival by There Stands the Glass.

I’ve waved off criticism concerning the presence of songs by a couple of notoriously awful men on my Best Songs of 2020 list.  One’s a compulsive jerk.  The other is a convicted criminal.  While many of their actions disgust me, I’m not willing to pretend I don’t admire their work.

Charles Mingus was an unsavory character.  His problematic behavior doesn’t lessen my appreciation of his brilliance.  After obsessing over @ Bremen 1964 & 1975 in recent days, I admire Mingus more than ever.  The new four-hour set documents of a pair of ferocious German concerts.

Even though I’d previously heard hours of Mingus’ material from these eras, I’m struck by the immediacy of the Bremen shows.  The message of the artistic and societal prophet is just as urgent today as it was decades ago.  Bursting with caustic rage, absurd pastiches and futuristic blues, both sets contain the best type of protest music.

The bands operate as cohesive units, but pianist Jaki Byard occasionally outshines saxophonist Eric Dolphy on the first date while the genius of pianist Don Pullen stands out amid the 1975 all-star band.  A mountain of Mingus- including instructive footage of the 1964 tour- has long been available.  But when it comes to one of the most consequential artists of the previous century, too much can never be enough. 

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I might have dismissed Tripping with Nils Frahm had I not caught an hour of the talented cult hero’s appearance at the Big Ears Festival in Knoxville last year.  The new live set showcases the German’s remarkable range.  Frahm offers safe harbor for people who’ve aged out of electronic dance music but have yet to dig Bill Evans.

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In order to keep my daily opera streak alive- the count is now up to 261- I turn to relatively compact compositions when I’m busy or suffering from opera-induced ennui. Grainy footage of the Bavarian State Opera’s rowdy 1965 staging of Carl Orff’s “Der Mond” recently reminded me that a curious gander at a 71-minute obscurity can be as rewarding as a three-hour immersion in a classic work.